The Second World War saw in Britain a systematic programme to produce guidebooks designed for use by the military. Travel writers who hoped such endeavours might provide a steady source of income were disappointed, for the entire project was entrusted to academic geographers. The School of Geography at the University of Oxford took the lead in a publishing programme which relied not merely upon Oxford-based staff but also upon their counterparts (or rivals) from the University of Cambridge.
The sponsoring agency was the Naval Intelligence Division of the Admiralty, and the resulting series of 31 titles, running in total to 58 volumes published in just five years, are often referred to as the Admiralty Handbooks.
From Iceland to Albania, from Corsica to Norway, some of Britain’s leading geographers produced vast quantities of texts and maps in record time. Even diminutive Luxembourg had its own guide, a volume of 355 pages. The geographical net was cast wide with books covering the Asia-Pacific region and many parts of Africa. The final book in the series, not published until 1946, was a 659-page treatise on Western Arabia and the Red Sea.
A cautionary note appeared at the start of each volume advising that “This book is for the use of persons in H.M. Service only and must not be shown, or made available, to the Press or to any member of the public.” Each book was prepared to a uniform scheme, although there are some minor differences between the volumes compiled in Oxford and Cambridge. These books are hard to track down these days, but they remain hugely interesting, not only as insights into a clandestine area of professional geographical endeavour in the early 1940s, but also as meticulous accounts of various countries.
With their fine attention to detail there was something of a Baedeker quality about the Admiralty Handbooks, but one is left pondering quite how Oxbridge dons knew so much about the exact axle loads permitted on bridges leading to minor Adriatic ports. Just as one may question whether invading forces punctiliously observed such restrictions. Yet in their encyclopaedic approach, the Admiralty Handbooks had a touch of Baedeker style and no doubt Britain’s military planners were greatly assisted by the comprehensive account of the Lisbon earthquake of 1 November 1755 or the excellent description of Yezedi fashion which featured in books in this remarkable series.