In 1940, The Battle of France ended in a humiliating defeat – more of a debacle, actually – for the Western Powers. In just six weeks, the Germans did what they had been unable to do in four years during World War I, by routing the British and French armies, and forcing France to surrender. By late May, the rampaging Germans had pushed the remnants of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) into an ever-shrinking pocket surrounding the port of Dunkirk, and seemed on the verge of annihilating the defenders.
Then, seemingly inexplicably, with a decisive victory over the British in his grasp, Hitler ordered his panzers to halt, and left the task of reducing the surrounded forces to the Luftwaffe. The British took advantage of the breather, and managed to pull off a miraculous evacuation. That gave birth to a false narrative to explain what came to be known as “The Miracle of Dunkirk“. In it, Hitler’s halt decision was depicted as a gesture of goodwill, by which he deliberately allowed the British, whom he admired, to escape. As seen below, it is as false as false gets.
9. Far Fetched Reasoning to Explain a Seemingly Inexplicable Act
In late May of 1940, some German panzer formations were just a few miles from the disorganized British milling about the beaches of Dunkirk. That was when Hitler ordered them to halt for 48 hours in order to rest and refit. The Fuhrer’s generals loudly protested the halt, but to no avail. What happened next proved them right: the British made use of the breather to organize a defense that eventually allowed them to evacuate about 338,000 Allied soldiers to safety.
Casting about for an explanation for a seemingly inexplicable act, some have claimed that Hitler deliberately let the British go to demonstrate that he did not wish them ill. However, credible mainstream historians give short shrift to the fanciful notion of a merciful Fuhrer letting the British go as a sporting gesture: there is no evidence to support the assertion. Nonetheless, crackpot revisionists have persisted in peddling the false notion that Hitler intentionally let the British escape in order to look magnanimous, and thus draw Britain into peace negotiations.
8. How Self-Serving Spin by German Generals Gave Birth to a False Narrative
There is no historic support for the false notion that Hitler had intentionally allowed the British to escape from Dunkirk. Even for a figure as notoriously irrational as Hitler, deliberately letting the British escape would have been too irrational. For somebody who wanted to bring Britain to the peace table, holding hundreds of thousands of British soldiers as POWs in Europe – which would have happened if the Germans overran the British at Dunkirk – would have been quite a bargaining chip. More so than if those soldiers were back in Britain, armed and defiant.
Additionally, the fatal halt order to halt the German panzer divisions had not even originated with Hitler. A panzer unit commander who had lost half his armored forces and needed time to regroup, requested a halt from Army Group A’s commander, Gerd von Rundstedt. Rundstedt agreed, and passed it up to Hitler, who rubber-stamped the order to halt. After the war, German generals – including Rundstedt himself – pinned the blame on Hitler instead of on themselves for ruining the opportunity to win the war in 1940.
7. The Depiction of These Dogs Conducting Alpine Rescues With Kegs of Brandy Strapped to Their Necks is False
Saint Bernards were immortalized in Stephen King’s horror novel Cujo. The ginormous dogs are named after the Great Saint Bernard Hospice, an Alpine monastery atop the Great Saint Bernard Pass between Switzerland and Italy. The monks bred Saint Bernards in the Swiss Alps, and used them as rescue dogs. Long before Cujo, Saint Bernards were known in popular culture as the dogs that conducted Alpine rescues, with a small keg strapped to their necks, full of warming brandy for stranded mountaineers.
While that image is captivating, what it depicts is, unfortunately, false. While the giant Swiss dogs were actually employed in rescue operations, the monks who bred and used them never sent them out with brandy barrels tied to their necks. The first time a Saint Bernard rescued somebody with a barrel of spirits strapped to its neck did not occur in Switzerland. Instead, it took place in England in 1820, in the art studio of then-seventeen-year-old Edwin Henry Landseer (1802 – 1873). He depicted it in a painting entitled Alpine Mastiffs Reanimating a Distressed Traveler.
The false belief that Saint Bernards ran around the Swiss Alps with kegs of brandy strapped to their necks owes everything to an English teen prodigy. Edwin Henry Landseer was reportedly ambidextrous and could paint with both hands simultaneously. While one of his hands painted a dog’s head, the other would be busy painting its tail, and both would meet in the middle. The creator of the Saint Bernard and brandy kegs myth had actually never been to the Alps. However, Landseer had seen and was impressed by a Saint Bernard – which had not yet gained that name – that had toured England on an exhibit.
The Great Saint Bernard Pass, the birthplace of the dog breed that became famous the world over, has been used to cross the Alps for thousands of years. The Romans built a temple for Jupiter there, and in 1049, Saint Bernard of Menthon, patron saint of the Alps, built a hospice atop the temple’s ruins as a shelter for travelers. Monks maintained the hospice, took care of guests, and guided people through the pass. They also formed search and rescue teams for lost or injured Alpine travelers.
5. Saint Bernards Traced Their Roots Back to Giant Roman Mastiffs
Monks of the Alpine monastery founded by Saint Bernard of Menthon began training large farm dogs for rescue work in the sixteenth or seventeenth century. The big canines were descended from mastiff-type Molossian hounds, that had been introduced to the region by the Romans. Those dogs were strong, had weather-resistant coats, and possessed an exceptionally good sense of smell. That made them well-suited to guide and rescue travelers. The dogs were accompanied by monks, who sometimes carried flasks of brandy and shared them with travelers.
That might have started the association between Saint Bernard Pass rescues and brandy. It eventually grew into the false notion that it was the dogs themselves, not the monks, that carried kegs of brandy. Over a period of hundreds of years, from the sixteenth or seventeenth century to the early nineteenth, the monks of the Great Saint Bernard Hospice bred an excellent search and rescue dog. However, severe winters from 1816 to 1818 saw an unusually high number of avalanches that killed many of the breeding dogs during rescue operations.
4. The False But Widely Accepted Belief That Saint Bernard Rescue Dogs Looked Like Today’s Saint Bernards
To save the Saint Bernard breed, the dogs that had survived the disastrous stretch from 1816 to 1818 were mated with Newfoundland dogs, imported in the 1850s. The long fur resulting from crossbreeding with the Newfoundlands – a prominent feature of modern Saint Bernards – made the dogs less suitable for rescue work. The extra fur ended up gathering snow, freezing, and weighing the dogs down. Another false aspect of the Saint Bernard myth is the assumption that the rescue dogs looked like the current ones. As seen in the above painting of Barry der Menschenretter, the most famous Saint Bernard, the original dogs looked significantly different from today’s Saint Bernards.
Original Saint Bernards – the ones that did most of the work in the breed’s heyday as rescue dogs – were about half as big modern ones. They were roughly the size of German Shepherds, had longer snouts than today’s Saint Bernards, and shorter fur. Saint Bernards got so huge because kennel clubs and dog shows concentrated on appearance instead of the dogs’ working ability. As Saint Bernards became bigger and their fur grew longer, they became less suitable for Alpine rescue work. The extra weight caused them to plunge deeper into the snow, while the increasingly longer fur froze and weighed the dogs down even more.
The most famous Saint Bernard of all was Barry der Menschenretter (1800 – 1814). Weighing about 95 pounds, he was significantly smaller than modern Saint Bernards, who weigh between 180 to 300 pounds. He gained the name Menschenretter, which means “People Rescuer”, because he is credited with saving between 40 to 100 people. His most famous rescue was of a little boy, whom he found in an ice cavern. Barry warmed the kid by licking him, then maneuvered him on his back, and carried him back to the hospice.
Barry conducted rescue operations for twelve years. As it does with all, age eventually caught up with Barry. When he ceased to be fit for rescue operations, he was parted from the monks and taken to Bern, Switzerland, for a well-deserved retirement. After his death, Barry’s body was donated to the Natural History Museum of Bern, and was preserved by taxidermy as an exhibit. As it stands today, however, it is a false depiction of how Barry actually looked in life. A 1923 restoration had altered his pose, and modified the shape of Barry’s skull to resemble the Saint Bernards of that time.
The days of heroic Saint Bernard Alpine rescues – even without kegs of brandy strapped to their necks – are long gone. They have been replaced with dog breeds better suited to avalanche search-and-rescue work, such as German Shepherds and Golden Retrievers. Among other things, those dogs have an advantage over the giant Saint Bernards in that their smaller size allows them to fit more easily in rescue helicopters. The last recorded instance of a Saint Bernard doing search-and-rescue work occurred in 1955.
However, the dogs stayed with the monks for years afterward. Out of a sense of tradition, the big dogs were kept at the Great Saint Bernard Pass Hospice until 2004. That year, the monks sold their entire kennel of 34 Saint Bernards to local animal associations. They still return to the hospice every summer during tourist season. Nowadays, because the myth of the Saint-Bernard-and-brandy-barrel has become so widespread, the monks actually do outfit the dogs with cute little brandy kegs around their necks.
1. The False Belief That Brandy – or any Alcohol – Warms Up the Body
There is a widespread belief nowadays – which was even more widespread in centuries past – that brandy or other strong spirits can warm a person. Because of that, the notion that a freezing traveler caught up in an Alpine blizzard could be revived and warmed up with brandy makes intuitive common sense. However, a lot of stuff that makes intuitive common sense does not actually work anywhere near as well as common sense says it should. That includes the assertion that alcohol warms us, which is actually false.
Drinking strong spirits like whiskey or brandy does lead to a warming sensation, but that sensation is illusory. What alcohol does is bring our blood closer to the skin, which makes us think that we are warming up. What it does not do, however, is warm up our vital organs, whose failure from excessive cold could seriously harm or kill us. Bringing somebody’s blood closer to the skin in the cold actually speeds up the lowering of our core body temperature, and places our vital organs at greater risk. So it is a good thing that Saint Bernards toting brandy barrels is a myth: otherwise many rescue attempts would have backfired.
Where Did We Find This Stuff? Some Sources and Further Reading