Were the French alone in performing poorly during the campaign? And were they justified in claiming that they had been let down by the Dutch Army? These are two important questions that deserve careful examination.
In the following sections, we shall attempt to address both issues by assessing the conduct of the French and Dutch forces in the broader operational context of the campaign.
The complex issue of defending the southeastern Netherlands has already been discussed elsewhere. Nevertheless, it is essential to understand the strategic considerations that shaped Dutch planning before May 1940.
Long before the outbreak of war, Dutch defence planners had selected the Peel-Raam Line as the principal defensive position in North Brabant. This choice was not arbitrary. The terrain, the geostrategic characteristics of the region, and the broader Dutch defence concept had all been carefully evaluated. The extensive marshlands and peat areas of the southeast offered favourable conditions for defence. The movement of heavy equipment was restricted to a limited number of routes, while the region's relatively sparse road network further constrained an attacker's operational options. These factors made it possible to establish a strong defensive position. Moreover, the Peel-Raam Line formed a logical extension of the central Dutch defensive system and, at the same time, protected Belgium from the danger of a wide-open northern flank.
Unlike the Bath Line and the Zanddijk Line, the Peel-Raam Line was not a thin defensive screen. It possessed considerable depth. The most forward positions were constructed behind a substantial anti-tank obstacle known as the Defence Canal, an extension of the Zuid-Willemsvaart. A dense line of concrete pillboxes protected the forward positions, while a second line of fortifications provided depth and redundancy. Behind these stood the main trench system, protected by extensive minefields and barbed-wire entanglements.
Of all Dutch defensive lines in 1940, the Peel-Raam Line came closest to contemporary French ideas of a properly prepared defensive position. Considerable resources had been invested in its construction, both in terms of money and labour.
The Netherlands adhered strictly - some would say naively - to its policy of neutrality. The Dutch government prohibited formal military cooperation with foreign powers. Only after the outbreak of war in Western Europe in September 1939 did a limited number of secret contacts take place between Dutch, Belgian, and French military staffs. These contacts remained infrequent and were often conducted without the knowledge or approval of the Dutch government itself.
From these discussions it became apparent that the Belgians were unwilling to extend their defensive positions northward to connect with the Peel-Raam Line. Likewise, the French had no intention of advancing into eastern North Brabant. This created a serious strategic problem for the Dutch.
The gap between the southern end of the Peel-Raam Line and the Belgian defences extended for roughly forty kilometres. To defend such an area effectively would have required a highly mobile force of perhaps 20,000 to 25,000 men, supported by substantial artillery and armoured reconnaissance assets. The Dutch Army simply lacked the necessary resources. Its only genuinely mobile formations were the Light Division and the cavalry regiments. The latter were too lightly equipped for such a mission, while retaining the Light Division in Brabant would have weakened the defence of Fortress Holland to an unacceptable degree, albeit that the Light Division was shaped for the task.
A second option involved abandoning the Peel-Raam Line and constructing a new defensive position around Tilburg. This proposed "Orange Line" would have connected with Belgian defences and aligned more closely with the French Dyle-Breda strategy. The concept was studied extensively, but serious obstacles quickly emerged.
The Peel-Raam Line was nearly complete, whereas the Orange Line would have to be built from scratch. Time was already running out. Furthermore, the Tilburg region offered few natural obstacles and consisted largely of open terrain to its north, with a major urban area at its centre. The (projected) line missed the possibilty of defence-in-depth. Although the Orange Line would have been shorter and therefore easier to man, it was judged militarily inferior.
The commander of the Dutch Field Army had previously advocated such a line, arguing that it would shorten the withdrawal route to Fortress Holland. However, most senior Dutch officers rejected the proposal. They feared that a German breakthrough near Tilburg would immediately cut off the escape route of the Dutch forces deployed in the south. As a result, the concept never progressed beyond the planning stage.
French planners briefly considered extending their own deployment even further north, perhaps as far as Dordrecht, in order to secure the approaches to Rotterdam. These ideas were quickly abandoned because the Moerdijk bridges represented a major logistical vulnerability. On this point, French and Dutch commanders largely agreed.
Dutch planners were acutely aware of the growing importance of air power in modern warfare. They recognised that large troop movements across open terrain, especially movements requiring the crossing of major rivers, would be highly vulnerable to aerial attack.
For these reasons, in March 1940, General Winkelman decided that the Third Army Corps and the Light Division should withdraw into Fortress Holland approximately twenty-four hours after the outbreak of hostilities, conducting the movement under cover of darkness.
His predecessor, General Reynders, had favoured a different approach. Reynders intended to defend the Peel-Raam Line to the utmost and regarded its abandonment as strategically unsound. This disagreement formed one of the principal reasons for his replacement in January 1940.
Reynders believed that the Germans would attempt a breakthrough in the north, near Mill, rather than undertake a major outflanking movement through Belgium. While he was correct that the Germans concentrated their efforts at a limited number of decisive points, it is doubtful whether the Peel-Raam Line could have been held indefinitely. Had the line remained intact, the Germans would almost certainly have mounted a large-scale outflanking operation through Belgium, particularly given their rapid successes there after 10 May.
Indeed, on 11 May a strong German reconnaissance detachment discovered that the area south of the line was virtually undefended and used it to go around the Peel defences in the south. The finding became operationally irrelevant only because the breakthrough at Mill had already rendered the matter moot. Nevertheless, the incident demonstrated the vulnerability of the southern flank.
The withdrawal of the Third Army Corps and the Light Division was therefore arguably the most rational element of Dutch strategy. Yet it inevitably raised questions about the reaction of the future Allied powers.
The Belgian General Staff was fully aware of Dutch concerns. During confidential staff discussions, Dutch officers made it clear that the failure to extend Belgian defences northward would significantly reduce the expected lifespan of the Peel-Raam Line. Belgian officers even inspected the line in person. Curiously, they were unimpressed by the fortifications, despite the fact that few Belgian field positions could match the Peel-Raam Line in terms of passive defensive strength.
When Dutch officers explained that the open southern flank would likely force an early withdrawal, leaving them no option that to stay in the Peel-Raam Line, the Belgian General Van Overstraeten reportedly replied: "Then you choose the option of total strategic isolation."
The remark contained an element of truth. Yet neither the French nor the Belgians offered meaningful support for the Peel-Raam Line, nor did they provide guarantees of reinforcement for Fortress Holland. Also, a proper Belgian defence in connection to a projected Orange Line remained absent too. Given these circumstances, Winkelman's strategic options were extremely limited.
It is beyond doubt that General Gamelin and the French High Command were largely aware of Dutch intentions in North Brabant. Through military attachés, intelligence contacts, and discussions with Belgian officers, both sides possessed a reasonably clear understanding of each other's plans. It was also known in The Hague that a French Army intended to advance no further east than the Tilburg-Breda line.
Any remaining uncertainty disappeared on the morning of 10 May when Winkelman and Gamelin spoke by telephone for approximately twenty minutes. By that time Winkelman had already ordered the withdrawal of the Third Army Corps and the Light Division after learning of the very early German breakthrough at Mill. The GQG was therefore fully informed of Dutch intentions, also via its attaché in the Hague.
What remains difficult to explain is why many French field commanders who arrived in the Netherlands in the following days appeared entirely unaware of these arrangements. Their surprise helps to explain why some later accused the Dutch of having abandoned them.
One possible explanation lies in French internal politics. Generals Georges, Billotte, and Giraud had long opposed the Dyle-Breda variant of the French deployment plan. They preferred to retain the Seventh Army as a strategic reserve behind the French Second and Ninth Armies in the north of France. Had Gamelin informed them that the Dutch intended only a temporary defence of North Brabant, they might have found additional reasons to resist the implementation of the Dyle-Breda plan.
Whether this was indeed Gamelin's reasoning remains speculative. What is certain is that many French field commanders were genuinely surprised to discover that the main Dutch forces had already withdrawn from North Brabant on the very first day of the campaign. This misunderstanding would colour Franco-Dutch relations throughout the fighting and long afterwards.
The Dutch forces that remained in North Brabant, along the Meuse sector and in the Peel-Raam Line, generally performed well. In some cases, they performed exceptionally well. German casualties along the Meuse in North Brabant and Limburg were considerable and far exceeded German expectations. The assault on the Peel-Raam Line at Mill proved particularly costly. The breakthrough was achieved only after fierce fighting, at a much higher price in men and time than German planners had anticipated although the Germans had expected to be faced by a much stronger force than opposed them in reality. They would only find out on the third day that the Dutch main force had silently moved out of their way and they had been battling the rear guard. During the twenty-four hours of combat around Mill, the Germans suffered around 150 men killed and wounded, while the defenders lost only about 40 men KIA.
These Dutch units fought under highly unfavourable circumstances. At virtually every engagement they were outnumbered and outgunned. They lacked modern artillery support and operated without air cover or AAA. Nevertheless, the troops defending the Meuse positions and the Peel-Raam Line generally acquitted themselves well and, in many cases, displayed remarkable determination and resilience.
The Dutch soldiers who later arrived in Zeeland largely originated from sectors that had not been directly attacked. Between 10 and 13 May they were repeatedly ordered to move from one position to another as the situation deteriorated. During these movements westward, they were subjected to continuous attacks by the Luftwaffe. For three consecutive days many of these men endured air attacks, strafing runs, and the constant threat posed by German aircraft.
By the time they reached Zeeland, many had already undergone a severe physical and psychological ordeal. Under such circumstances, it is hardly surprising that some had lost much of their motivation and discipline. The failure to restore these troops to an effective state of organisation and combat readiness was primarily a leadership issue rather than a reflection of the soldiers themselves.
This aspect will be examined in greater detail in the next chapter, which deals with command and leadership.
The French formations that entered North Brabant during the first three days of the campaign often appeared uncertain about their precise orders. Moreover, they showed little inclination to coordinate closely with their Dutch allies. Numerous contemporary accounts attest to this attitude. French commanders were reluctant to advance into eastern North Brabant and equally reluctant to support Dutch efforts to recapture the Moerdijk bridges. From the outset, it was clear that the primary purpose of the French presence in the Netherlands was the protection of the Antwerp sector and the northern flank of the Allied front.
A prolonged defence of the Peel-Raam Line would undoubtedly have assisted the French by buying time for the establishment of their defensive positions around Antwerp and Breda. However, later claims by some French officers and historians that French forces would otherwise have advanced deep into eastern North Brabant are difficult to sustain. The French Seventh Army had been instructed to establish its main defensive position along the Dyle Line in Belgium, with a northern extension covering Antwerp. The cavalry and reconnaissance formations assigned to the Dutch theatre were intended primarily as flank and forepost guards until these principal defensive positions behind them had been fully occupied. In the end only elements of 25.DIM and a few light formations of 1.DLM were intended to take more firm positions on Dutch soil.
The critical phase of this deployment was expected to last approximately five days. Although some French units did indeed reach the eastern parts of North Brabant via Belgian territory, they were recalled before any systematic deployment could take place. The reason lay not in the fate of the Peel-Raam Line, but in developments on the central Belgian front. The break-out of the Eben-Emael sector and rapid advance of the German General Hoepner's armoured formations towards the Gembloux Gap fundamentally altered the operational situation and forced the French command to reconsider its priorities.
Any substantial French advance northeast of Tilburg would have exposed the entire left flank of the Allied position beyond the protection of the KW Line and its extensions. Such a deployment would have been operationally unsound. In reality, French frustration over the Dutch evacuation of the Peel-Raam Line stemmed primarily from the loss of time needed to organise defensive positions around Tilburg and Breda. It was this lost time - not the abandonment of eastern North Brabant itself - that caused concern among French commanders.
Even if the Dutch had succeeded in holding the Peel-Raam Line longer, the projected French positions around Tilburg and Breda would almost certainly have been abandoned once the strategic situation in Belgium deteriorated. The decisive factor was not the Dutch withdrawal but the rapid advance of the German Sixth Army towards the Gembloux sector. By 12 May, the penetration of the central Belgian front had already made any prolonged defence beyond Breda increasingly difficult. To persist in such a defence would have risked exposing the entire northern Allied flank to encirclement.
Although French commanders were unpleasantly surprised by the Dutch withdrawal from the Peel-Raam Line, events in Belgium on 11 and 12 May quickly overshadowed developments in North Brabant. The collapse of the Belgian forward positions in the morning of the 11th shifted Allied attention to the KW Line and the Dyle defences. Under these circumstances, a prolonged defence of North Brabant beyond Tilburg became increasingly impractical.
The French deployment in the Netherlands and around Turnhout was further complicated by a constant stream of revised orders and counter-orders. That what the French Military Academy taught its staff officers to prevent, Ordre, contre-ordre, désordre" [order, counter-order, disorder], was exactly what unfolded. As a result, French operations often appeared confused and inefficient. Much of this confusion originated within the French command structure itself. Both Army Group No. 1 and Seventh Army headquarters instructed subordinate commanders to avoid major engagements until the main defensive positions had been secured. General Giraud was primarily concerned with preserving the cohesion of his army and completing its deployment. Consequently, units were repeatedly shifted from one sector to another, often without ever establishing a stable defensive front.
To Dutch and Belgian observers, the result was striking. French troops seemed constantly on the move and appeared reluctant to engage the enemy. This perception not only undermined confidence among their allies but also encouraged the German attackers. Ironically, many of the French units involved - including the armoured formations of the Divisions Légères Mécaniques - were better equipped than the German forces they encountered. Yet the battlefield impression was often the opposite. Time and again, German infantry and reconnaissance units succeeded in forcing French armoured formations to withdraw, despite possessing little or no tank support themselves.
This perception of poor French performance was reinforced by two particularly embarrassing episodes. The first concerned French support for the Dutch Sixth Border Infantry Battalion during the attempts to recapture the Moerdijk bridges. The French armoured cars available in the area possessed more than enough firepower to challenge the lightly armed German airborne troops holding the southern bridgehead. Yet the attack was poorly and slowly prepared, even more poorly executed and quickly abandoned.
The second episode occurred around Bergen op Zoom and Woensdrecht on 14 May. There, a substantial French force, supported by numerous medium tanks and armoured vehicles, confronted two battalions of the SS Regiment Deutschland, supported by only a handful of armoured cars and limited artillery. Despite their numerical and material superiority, the French withdrew with minimal resistance. In the process, they abandoned large quantities of equipment, including dozens of tanks and armoured cars, many of them still operational. The Germans gladly incorporated much of this matériel into their own stocks. The episode did considerable damage to the reputation of the French Army among both its allies and its enemies.
Thus, two realities existed simultaneously. On the one hand, French commanders had legitimate operational reasons for abandoning any plans to advance east of Tilburg after 11 May. The deteriorating situation in Belgium forced them to redeploy their forces and continually adjust their dispositions. On the other hand, when French units did come into contact with German forces, their battlefield performance often failed to match either their equipment or their numerical strength.
We have already established that the Dutch forces in North Brabant partly met the expectations placed upon them. Their conduct provides a useful benchmark against which the performance of the Dutch troops in Zeeland can be assessed.
Measured against that standard, the performance of the Dutch forces in Zeeland was deeply disappointing. One may point to mitigating circumstances, such as the capitulation elsewhere in the Netherlands, the departure of the Queen and Cabinet, and the general sense of isolation that prevailed in the province. Yet these factors cannot obscure the fact that many Dutch units in Zeeland failed to fulfil their primary military responsibilities. While any generalisation risks overlooking individual acts of courage and determination, it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the shortcomings were widespread rather than exceptional. The impression is one of a collective failure among a force of roughly 8,000 Dutch troops.
This may help explain why the Zeeland campaign attracted relatively little attention from Dutch military historians in the decades that followed. Those who did devote significant attention to the fighting were often authors with a particular connection to the province itself.
By 14 May, when the ground war reached Zeeland, approximately 8,000 Dutch soldiers were present in the theatre. At least half of these remained organised in coherent military units. When the Bath Line came under attack, however, it collapsed under relatively limited German pressure. This was not necessarily catastrophic in itself, since the Bath Line was intended primarily as a forward position screening the main defences of the Zanddijk Line.
The Zanddijk Line offered considerably greater defensive potential. Nevertheless, German forces succeeded in penetrating it without extraordinary effort. The first determined assault, conducted by little more than a company-sized force, proved sufficient to break the defence. Within twenty-four hours - much of which was consumed by troop movements and deployment - two defensive lines had effectively ceased to exist. The fact that only nine Dutch soldiers were killed in these engagements illustrates how limited the actual fighting was.
French observers must have been surprised by the speed with which both the Bath Line and the Zanddijk Line collapsed. At the time, they could not fully appreciate the circumstances or the limited resistance that had been offered. Yet it was already evident that many defenders had withdrawn successfully and that neither line had been overwhelmed by a major German assault. It is difficult to imagine that such events inspired great confidence among the French forces that were expected to continue the fight.
The French, in turn, would soon face their own test. At the Canal through Walcheren and later at the Sloedam, French troops demonstrated that they too were vulnerable to the effects of sustained artillery bombardment and air attack. Some positions were abandoned under pressure, and several units withdrew after the first major assaults. Yet there was also a notable difference. Behind the canal line and elsewhere on Walcheren, French troops repeatedly established local strongpoints and fought a series of determined delaying actions. Whatever criticism may be directed at the French performance elsewhere, these actions compared favourably with the conduct of many Dutch units in Zeeland.
The French also faced circumstances that differed fundamentally from those of their Dutch counterparts. They were fighting on foreign soil, defending territory that was not their own. Yet this fact did not always seem to influence the attitudes of the Dutch troops they encountered. Contemporary accounts contain examples of Dutch soldiers retreating and handing their weapons to French troops, effectively leaving the burden of resistance to their allies. Whether these incidents were isolated or representative is open to debate, but they contributed to a perception among the French that they were being asked to shoulder a disproportionate share of the fighting.
The final defence of Walcheren was, in essence, largely a French effort. Most Dutch troops had withdrawn to the western part of the island, while the principal defensive positions at the Sloe were held by French forces. The Germans attacked these positions with considerably greater force than they had employed against the earlier Dutch defences. The Luftwaffe operated in strength, while six artillery battalions supported the assault.
The French initially repulsed the first German attacks. Only after prolonged aerial bombardment and heavy artillery fire did the line finally give way. It would be unfair to portray the defence of the Sloe as a model of military perfection. The French positions ultimately collapsed, and not all units performed equally well. Nevertheless, to dismiss their efforts would be equally unjust. Under difficult circumstances, French troops demonstrated determination, courage, and a willingness to continue fighting when the outcome was already becoming inevitable.
In that respect, the defence of Walcheren stands in marked contrast to many of the earlier engagements fought in Zeeland.
So how should we answer the two central questions? (i) Were the French alone in their shortcomings during the campaign, and (ii) were they justified in claiming that they had been let down by the Dutch Army?
In North Brabant, French performance was undoubtedly disappointing. Yet Dutch observers often judged that performance without fully understanding the operational context in which the French commanders were operating. French field officers were confronted with a constant stream of revised orders and were repeatedly instructed to avoid major engagements until the broader Allied deployment had been completed. To Dutch soldiers and officers, this frequently appeared as timidity or even cowardice. While such a judgement is understandable, it is not entirely fair.
That said, certain French actions are difficult to defend. The hasty withdrawal from the Bergen op Zoom sector on 14 May was a poor performance for which there is little operational justification. Likewise, the often inadequate coordination with Dutch forces cannot be excused by changing circumstances alone. Dutch officers frequently felt ignored, sidelined, or treated with condescension by their French counterparts. Similar complaints were voiced by Belgian officers who worked alongside French formations. It is therefore reasonable to conclude that French performance in North Brabant fell well below the expectations of both allies and adversaries alike. Operational circumstances explain some of the French reluctance to engage, but when decisive action, coordination, and determination were required, French commanders often failed to deliver.
The Dutch performance in eastern North Brabant presents a very different picture. Along the Meuse and at the Peel-Raam Line, Dutch troops generally fought well and sometimes exceptionally so. German officers repeatedly expressed respect for the resistance they encountered. At Mill, for example, German forces suffered hundreds of casualties and lost an entire day against a relatively small Dutch force without proper support. Three German regiments and an armoured train were eventually committed to overcome a position defended by little more than two Dutch battalions. In retrospect, German commanders themselves found it difficult to believe how much resistance they had encountered.
The tragedy was that French field commanders knew virtually nothing about these events. They were unaware that Dutch strategy had always envisaged a relatively rapid withdrawal from North Brabant. When French units arrived on 10 and 11 May, they saw only the consequences: German forces advancing rapidly and Dutch formations moving westward. To them, it appeared as though tens of thousands of Dutch soldiers had collapsed in a matter of hours, a few days. The resulting disruption to French plans and timetables created understandable frustration. Yet the fault lay largely within the French chain of command, which had failed to inform its field commanders adequately about Dutch intentions, albeit that the absence of Dutch liaison officers to explain the Dutch strategy did not help.
Just as Dutch officers knew little about the operational difficulties facing the French, French officers knew little about Dutch operations in eastern North Brabant or the rationale behind the evacuation of the Peel-Raam Line. Both sides judged each other without possessing the full picture. In that sense, each blamed the other for shortcomings that neither fully understood.
In Zeeland, however, the situation was markedly different. There the roles were, to a considerable extent, reversed. Whereas the French had often disappointed in North Brabant, Dutch performance in Zeeland was frequently poor and at times deeply disappointing. Many Dutch units showed little willingness to fight, while French troops on Walcheren and elsewhere generally displayed greater determination and cohesion. Although French units also suffered from panic and disorganisation under heavy bombardment, they nevertheless mounted a number of credible defensive actions and bore the brunt of the fighting during the final stages of the campaign. In the process they bled, considerably.
The answers to our two questions therefore become clearer.
The French performance in North Brabant was undeniably below standard. Whatever operational difficulties they faced, French commanders should have performed better, particularly in matters of command and control, cooperation with allies, and determination in combat. Their conduct often failed to meet the expectations that their allies - and indeed their own reputation - had created.
In Zeeland, however, it was the Dutch who largely failed to meet expectations. The French had legitimate grounds for their frustration with the conduct of many Dutch units in the province. Moreover, French officers had no knowledge of the determined resistance offered by Dutch troops along the Meuse and at the Peel-Raam Line. Their perception of Dutch performance was shaped instead by retreating Dutch formations in North Brabant, rumours of a rapidly abandoned Peel-Raam defence, and what they witnessed firsthand in Zeeland.
Viewed from that perspective, it is hardly surprising that many French officers emerged from the campaign disappointed and even resentful. Their judgement was incomplete and, in some respects, unfair. Yet given what they had seen and experienced, one can understand why they reached the conclusions they did.
In summary, the Dutch may have had legitimate grounds for questioning the French performance in North Brabant. Equally, however, the French were fully justified in their frustration with the conduct of many Dutch units in Zeeland.
One conclusion stands out above all others: the French and Dutch were allies largely in name rather than in practice. Both armies failed to meet the expectations that genuine wartime allies should have of one another. Coordination was poor, mutual understanding was limited, and neither side possessed a clear appreciation of the other's strategic constraints, operational realities, or battlefield experiences. The Dutch often viewed the French as hesitant, unreliable, and unwilling to fight, while the French frequently regarded the Dutch as ineffective and too ready to abandon the struggle. Both perceptions contained elements of truth, but both were also shaped by incomplete information and mutual misunderstanding.
The campaign in the southern Netherlands therefore offers a striking example of the difficulties of coalition warfare. Not only did the Allies struggle against a highly effective German opponent, they also struggled to work effectively with one another. The result was a partnership that existed formally, but rarely functioned as a truly integrated alliance on the battlefield.