Tens of thousands signed up to serve in dedicated cycling units during 20th century conflicts. Will there ever be a place for bikes in wars again?

My regular bike ride takes me past a couple of village war memorials, but to the best of my knowledge, none of the names engraved in the stone was ever a member of Britain’s specialist cycling corps.

Tens of thousands of “cyclist soldiers” signed up to serve during both world wars and other conflicts. Recruitment posters in Britain on the eve of war declared: “Are you fond of cycling? If so, why not cycle for the King? Bad teeth no bar.”

Other countries – notably Italy and Germany – also had dedicated cycling units. In fact, the world’s last surviving cycling regiment was disbanded by the Swiss Army only 10 years ago.

The origins of cycling soldiers can be traced back to the second Boer war in South Africa at the end of the 19th century. Historian Colin Stevens, who curates an online museum dedicated to vintage and military bicycles, says:

Remember that the messenger pigeon was one of the most advanced communication methods of the time so this was a logical step, especially as automobiles and motorcycles were still far and few between. And [bicycles] did not require the constant care and feeding that horses did.”

The cyclist soldiers weren’t merely confined to scouting and messenger duties. Plenty of them saw frontline action. When a Boer position was attacked, “a cyclist or two would be with the leading rank,” according to Jim Fitzpatrick, author of The Bicycle In Wartime. “By the end of the war, Lord Kitchener was asking for several more cyclist battalions,” says Fitzpatrick.

And during the early weeks of the first world war, before the fighting became trench-bound in northern France, several cycling units were involved in daring raids on German ammunition wagons, according to breathless reports in the weekly “military cyclists’ journal”, Cycling.

As an example of what the cycling corps could achieve, Fitzpatrick quotes the case of the 2nd Anzac cyclist battalion – comprised mainly of New Zealanders – that earned 72 medals despite suffering 59 fatalities during its 32 months fighting on the western front. It was also honoured by the town of Epernay for its role in repelling a German attack.

Campaigning for more cyclist battalions to be formed in 1908, Captain A. H. Trapmann tried to convince a military panel of the merits of soldiers on bikes:

The cyclist does not suffer from sore feet, nor does his mount ever get out of condition. The longer a campaign lasts the fitter the cyclist becomes. When on the move the cyclist offers a much smaller and at the same time more difficult target to hit than even the infantryman. He can ride behind hedges with body bent low and remain invisible…It may also perhaps be of interest to note that the great majority of cyclists are practically teetotallers.”

After the first world war, Britain disbanded its specialist cycling battalions, partly because of the difficulties of riders steering and firing their rifles at the same time, and also because the bicycle had proved useless at transporting heavy loads such as machine guns. A 1932 history of the London Cyclist Battalion noted that though “it was the ambition of every hardy cyclist to get posted to the Gun Section … only the hardiest enjoyed it.”

The Germans and Italians, however, commissioned extensive studies into the effectiveness of their cyclist-soldiers. As a result, German Radfahrtruppen were involved in the blitzkriegs of world war two – “several hundred thousand, right behind the Stukas and Panzers,” according to Fitzpatrick – while units of cyclists riding folding Bianchi bicycles with optional machine gun mounts were added to Italy’s elite regiments of Bersaglieri (marksmen).

In Britain, though, soldiers on bikes were largely limited to home defence duties, until BSA designed its folding “Airborne” bike for paratroopers jumping from gliders. However, by the time of the D-day landings, much larger gliders – big enough to accommodate jeeps – had been produced, so instead the “airborne” bikes were carried by infantry soldiers arriving by sea. According to Stevens:

Going down the ramp of a landing craft carrying a rifle or Bren Gun, a heavy ruck sack, ammunition and a bicycle was very difficult and some soldiers drowned when they fell into the water and could not get rid of their load. Even once they were on shore, cyclists quickly ran into the problem of flat tires due to the broken glass, shell fragments etc. that littered the roads.”

Despite such shortcomings, the legacy of military bikes lives on in today’s designs. A modern, US version of the BSA Airborne, the Montague Paratrooper Tactical Folding Mountain Bike, was used during the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. A civilian version – still in camouflage colour but minus the gun rack – is available for $725.

A folding bike co-designed by French Army lieutenant Henry Gérard in 1893 became the first mass-produced bike of its type when Peugeot won the contract to supply it to the French, Russian and Romanian armies.

And the 1912 model designed by Bianchi for Italian troops is widely regarded as the forefather of modern mountain bikes, thanks to its slightly smaller wheels, rear suspension and front shock absorbers.

Will there ever be a place for bikes in wars again? Fitzpatrick points to one quality the humble machine has over its rivals in an age of surgical strikes and thermal detection technology: