5. Le Maréchal Murat and the Helium Wars: illustrated history of landships, 1858-2008
All Rights Reserved, 2023. See author's note.
Author’s note: As far as we are aware, all images are taken from public domain sources; please inform the author of any mistakes in this regard. In terms of any original sketches, these are amateur attempts based on the author’s own archival research. He welcomes improvement from any professional illustrators interested in enhancing this work. ~ CAH, 2023
In memory of Dad, who taught me a love for all things historical, and in homage to William Pène du Bois, who opened up my imagination.
Part One: Introduction and the Great Gravitational Shift
Part Two: The Sally Ann and Westward Expansion
Part Three: The Boudreaux Circus Ship and Reconstruction
Part Four: HML Transvaal and British Colonialism
Le Maréchal Murat, 1896
As one of the first tracked and helium-buoyed ships the pre-dreadnaught, Maréchal Murat, marks a turning point in the the history of military landships.
Class & Type: Murat, pre-dreadnought (one of four built)
Crew: c. 60 (7 officers, 53 enlisted legionnaires)
Capacity/Complement: a squad of dismounted riflemen
Construction: El-Kébir Hélium Industries, Algiers, 1896
Hull: steel
Buoyancy: 6 x helium Zeppelins, rigid, semi-lofted
Buoyancy source: pumps when in port
Wheels/track: 4 x tracks, 8-9 wheels each
Propulsion: powered tracks
Sail Plan: n/a
Power plant: gas-powered steam turbine
Length: 275 ft
Beam: 40 ft
Decks: 4, incl. signal tower
Weight (empty): 141 tons
Clearance: 5 ft
Steering: trailing wheels
Speed: 6-8 mph
Armor: 2” hull, 3” front and gun casements
Armament: 2 x 8” guns, 5 x 4” guns
Communications: semaphore (mechanical), pigeons; speaking tubes
Other Transportation: n/a, camel
Amenities: small cantina and library
Fate: destroyed outside Metz, France, 1914
The discovery of helium in 1868 by Pierre Jannsen and Joseph Lockyer (months apart and independently from one another) would forever change landship architecture. This was followed by Luigi Palmieri discovering helium’s definite presence on earth in 1882 by analyzing lava from Mount Vesuvius.
A dozen years later, two near simultaneous events would alter history. First, the Scottish chemist, William Ramsay, learned how to capture helium for human use. Secondly, large quantities of natural gas were discovered in Algeria, which after the United States, became the largest producer of helium.
Officially, a department of the Republic of France since 1848, various Arab and Berber uprisings over the decades limited de facto French control of Algeria to the coastal regions, where most of the European immigrants (pieds-noirs), settled. That satisfied the French well enough - until the discovery of vast natural gas reserves in the interior regions of the colony.
At first, agreements were made with various Arab and Berber tribes which satisfied both sides. But soon, oppressive French industrial policies led to a break down in labor relations. The conflict came to a head in August of 1895 when members of the Al-Markisi (Arab Peoples Party) seized parts of Oran, erecting large barricades and establishing the short-lived “Oran Commune.”
The French were soon able to establish control in the major cities, but President Félix Faure and his government faced a problem. How could they regain control of the gas fields in the Sahara and secure supply routes to the coast? They dared not risk full out war, lest they lose Arab support across Algeria.
Adding to the complexity Faure faced was intense international interest in the burgeoning helium market. The United Kingdom, Italy, Austria-Hungary, and the Ottomans all threatened to assist the Berbers if their interests were not upheld.
At the Malta Conference of 1895, Foreign minister Théophile Delcassé proposed Concessions after the model of the Sino-European arrangement. Under pressure, representatives from the main Arab and Berber tribes agreed. Concessions were granted in the interior of Algeria to France, Spain, the UK, Italy, Austria-Hungary, and the Ottoman Empire. Other nations, notably, Germany and Russia, were excluded.
However, the arrangement was not without its complexities and in 1897, an uprising occurred in the Concessions of Ain-Sefra and Ghardaia, later spreading to Touggourt and Biskra. Soon, all six European nations found their garrisons besieged, and their helium plants nationalized by the rebelling Arabs.
Thus began the Helium Wars of 1897-1899. Fortunately for the major powers, construction on several new landships in the coastal cities of Algeria had begun, and many were ready to launch by the time of the uprising. Foremost among this new class of landships was Le Murat, the forerunner of the pre-dreadnaught class. (It should be noted that terranavisologists are divided on whether to treat pre-dreadnaughts and dreadnaughts as separate landship classes.)
The visionary for the Murat class was General Pierre Surcouf, a cavalry officer in the French Foreign Legion. According to his memoirs, Une Vie Décriée (1919), Surcouf was inspired by his time in Annam (modern day Vietnam), in which he witnessed elephant-mounted cannons. His vision was to apply the new landship technology to direct combat roles, a modern form of French cuirassiers - heavy cavalry.
Relying further on the Napoleonic legacy, Surcouf included an etching of a proposed invasion craft and asked the question, “If on sea, why not on land?” With the Great Gravitational Shift of 1855, this was not an absurd question. It is what greets young French aspirants over the gates of the École Militaire Bateau de Terre outside Rouen: “Si en mer, pourquoi pas sur terre.”
In point of fact, the Murat overall had a successful career, despite frequent breakdowns in the desert sands. Surcouf’s problem was not in his original pre-dreadnought phase, but his insistence that France build increasingly large landships buoyed by helium alone (and sometimes hydrogen!). The land dreadnought arms race of the early 20th century ended disastrously with one assassin’s bullet in June, 1914. No amount of helium or steel can make up for the pride of nations.
But the significance of Maréchal Murat was her cutting edge adaptation of the scientific advances of the day, beginning with her six fully rigid helium buoys. By design the Murat could function, albeit more slowly, with only four intact buoy zeppelins. This was tested in the battle of Bir El Garama when two were lost. The advantage of helium rather than hydrogen zeppelins, of course, is that when one buoy was hit, it did not automatically result in an HMS Hood level catastrophe.
The other great terranavisologist advance was Surcouf’s adoption of the gas engine invented by Étienne Lenoir, allowing sails to be discarded altogether. This provided enough steam to power the four tracks, although it did require a sizeable crew to maintain, and the Sahara winds did the delicate intake valves no favors. Steering was directed from the bridge, and still used rear steering wheels as differentials were not yet in use.
The Murat’s main armament was a pair of 8” La Hitte muzzle-loading guns on a single turret. These could be used for both indirect and direct fire as needed. Her secondary armament consisted of five 4” Deport guns, four aside the bridge and one aft between the funnels. These were largely used in an anti-personnel fashion, although they could also help batter fortifications when called upon. Armor was also much improved over previous landships, but was still relatively light compared to later military classes, especially after 1939.
For close quarter action, the Murat deployed Legionnaires from the rear hatch, a foreshadowing of 20th century armored personnel carriers. Camels were also known to be smuggled aboard for scouting purposes, and sadly in one instance during the long Kousseri campaign, for supplementing the evening meal.
For communications, the Murat relied upon a mechanical semaphore system (“optical telegraph”) and for longer distances, kept a small kit of pigeons aboard. The bird messengers were intended for outgoing messages only, but a remarkable number of pigeons found their way back to the Murat, even when it was en route. For onboard communications, a standard air pipe system was used between the bridge, engine room and gunnery sections.
The crew of the Murat class consisted of approximately seven officers and fifty-some enlisted Legionnaires. The commander was usually a Commandant (Major), assisted by two captains, an executive officer and a chief engineer. Lieutenants served as navigation, signals and gunnery officers. The squad of riflemen also usually had a lieutenant in charge of scouting and dismounted operations. The occasional cadet (aspirant) could also be assigned to the ship for training.
Non-commissioned officers served as assistants in each of the departments, and were led by the Sergent-Chef du Bateau. Each gun turret also had a sergeant in charge. Intelligence was usually handled by the executive officer and scout lieutenant.
Besides the non-commissioned officers, the enlisted ranks typically included two dozen gunners and ammo loaders, a bridge crew, an engine room crew, two chefs, and a dozen riflemen, for a total crew of about sixty Legionnaires. Life aboard was fairly austere, though the French made certain to include a small cantina and library on each ship to keep the crew entertained and educate the foreign-born Legionnaries in the ways of France.
In terms of the Murat’s history, it is best to refer to the relevant chapters in William Shirer’s The Rise and Fall of the Arab Labor Movement, 1892-1899, or Barbara Tuchmann’s famous, The Guns of Helium. The Murat was assigned to the 2me Régiment Étranger de Cavalerie, where it earned distinction, fighting its way through Algeria and Mali to secure French interests. The truth is that the Murat was slow enough that for the most part, Arab guerillas avoided direct combat wih her. But it is also fair to say that she served as something of a moving fortress and anchor for the Regiment on their long march to Chad.
In terms of the overall war, the French and other European powers finally prevailed in the Helium Wars, although the seeds of Arab nationalism were never far from the Sahara surface. Finally, after a decade of renewed conflict, Algeria achieved its independence in 1962.
Four Murat class landships were built in total, two in Algiers, one in Tianjin, China and one in French Guyana. Lasalle, built in Tianjin, saw action during the Boxer Rebellion and was sold for parts in 1912. Guyot, in Guyana, never saw combat and was used as a prison from 1933 until 1998 when Amnesty International waged a successful campaign to force its closure.
As for Maréchal Murat, its infamous ending has been sung in French schoolyards for almost a century:
Maréchal Murat, Maréchal Murat:
Où es-vous? Où es-vous?
Les allemands arrivent! Les allemands arrivent!
Bing bang boum. Bing bang boum.
Sadly, this is what General Surcouf is remembered more for than his earlier successes. When war broke out in August, 1914, Surcouf advised that the Murat and her sister ship, Le Duke de Valmy, be dissassembled and shipped to Marseilles, to then be reassembled to assist in the retaking of Alsace-Lorraine.
As is well known, the German Schlieffen Plan outflanked the French armies by invading Belgium. The subsequent “Race to the Sea” had little for large landships in the Meuse region to do, and in November 1914, German artillery destroyed both the Murat and de Valmy within a matter of minutes.
Public controversy ensued whether blame belonged to the Foreign Legion crew, or to General Maurice Sarrail, commander of the Third Army to which they had been attached. It is said that this conflagration in the press, more than the actual loss of the landships, is what led to General Surcouf’s forced retirement. Either way, one thing was sure: Le Maréchal Murat was gone.