by hook or by crook

Medieval manuscript image of a large demon holding hooks in either hand, surrounded by four smaller demons holding the same

Image of Satan and demons holding hooks, 15th century, from the manuscript Oxford Bodleian Library, MS Douce 134, fol. 98r

13 June 2025

The phrase by hook or by crook means by any means, fair or foul. Its origin, however, is not known. Over the years it has accumulated a number of alleged etymologies, most of which can be readily dismissed as implausible, if not downright impossible. There is one, however, that seems more likely than the others. But before we start examining the different etymological possibilities, it would be a good idea to establish what the facts are and what evidence of the phrase’s early use is available.

The earliest known use of the words hook and crook in close proximity can be found in the manuscript Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, in a text rubricated as Les Diz de Seint Bernard (The Sayings of Saint Bernard). The manuscript was compiled sometime between 1272 and 1282. The relevant passage describes humanity’s three foes: the flesh, the world, and the fiend—i.e., Satan. Of this last foe, it says:

He wolde hauen þin herte blod;
Þou be war of his hok!
Do nou also ich haue þe seid,
And alle þre sulen ben aleid
Wiþ here owene crok.

(He would have your heart’s blood;
You beware of his hook!
Do now as I have told you,
And all three should be vanquished
With their own crook.)

The connection to Satan is strengthened when we look at the words individually. Hook was used in the fifteenth century to refer to Satan’s claws, and demons were commonly depicted in medieval illustrations as carrying meat hooks for use in roasting bodies in hell. Crook was similarly used for Satan’s hook or clutches, as well as for tricks or deceptions by Satan and others since the end of the twelfth century, Satan being depicted as some sort of evil shepherd, leading his flock to perdition. A poetic homily on Matthew 2:20 in the Ormulum manuscript, copied c. 1200, has this line:

Þa wære he þurrh þe deofless croc I gluterrnesse fallenn.

(That it was through the devil’s crook I fell into gluttony.)

Of course, these individual uses and the hooks and crooks in The Sayings of Saint Bernard aren’t arranged in the phrase that’s familiar to us today. That would come about a hundred years later in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College Library, MS 296, a collection of Lollard tracts once ascribed to John Wyclif, but now known to be by a number of authors. The manuscript was compiled after 1383, but the individual texts were composed earlier.

The first tract in this manuscript to use the phrase is The Great Sentence of the Curse Expounded which denounces corrupt priests:

and þei sillen sacramentis, as ordris, and oþere spiritualte, as halwyng of auteris, of chirchis, and chircheȝerdis; and compellen men to bie alle þis wiþ hok or crok

(and they sell the blessed sacraments, [just] as [they do] orders, and other spirituality, as the hallowing of altars, of churches, and churchyards; and compel men to buy all these with hook or crook)

The second tract in the manuscript that uses the phrase is Why Poor Priests Have No Benefice:

& ȝif þei schullen haue ony heiȝe sacramentis or poyntis of þe heiȝe prelatis, comynly þei schulle bie hem wiþ pore mennus goodis wiþ hook or wiþ crok

(and if they should have any high sacraments or appointments from the high prelates, frequently they must buy them with poor men’s possessions with hook or with crook)

Both of these texts use the phrase in the context of buying ecclesiastical services and favors.

So we have both hooks and crooks associated with Satan and the earliest appearances of the phrase by hook or by crook used in the context of the corruption of the clergy. The available evidence indicates that the phrase is a reduplication that originally referenced the powers, strategies, and deceptions of the devil and those whom he corrupted. While we can’t say with absolute certainty that this is the origin, this explanation is reasonable and fits the available evidence rather well.

As for other explanations that have been proffered, none have strong (or any, really) evidence to support them.

One explanation that has been revived by etymologists Anatoly Liberman and Michael Quinion is that the phrase has its origins in the medieval right of firebote. Peasants were granted the right to collect dead wood from forests but were not allowed to cut down trees. They would use hooks and crooks to pull down dead branches. It’s a neat explanation that has been floating around since 1850, but the trouble is that the only evidence for the phrase being used in this forestry sense comes later. There is this from a fragment of a petition from the town of Bodwin to Henry VIII, written some time between 1529 and 1539:

Where the said inhabitants have used to have common pasture, with all manner of beasts, and common fuel, in a wood called Dynmure Wood, a mile from the said town, that is to say, with hook and crook to lop and crop and to carry away, upon their backs, and none other ways, the same Prior hath not only within this 15th year caused the said wood to be inclosed, and gates locked, so that the said Inhabitants have much labour and pain going to and from the said wood, to fetch their foresaid fuel, and thereby utterly excluded from their said common and pasture.

While this use of the phrase is noteworthy, it’s not conclusive. First, the appearance of the phrase here is some 150 years after the earliest known use of the phrase, and some 250 years after the use of hook and crook in The Sayings of St. Bernard. So it’s not good evidence of the origin of the phrase. Second, the phrase is used literally, with actual hooks and crooks, well after the metaphorical use had already been established. Third, this published version is clearly edited with modernized spelling. Without looking at the manuscript, it’s impossible to tell what interventions the nineteenth-century editors made, and the published version does not give any identifying information as to where this manuscript might be found. It’s intriguing but somewhat suspect until the original, or at least an accurate transcription, can be found.

Other explanations that have been offered are that it refers to two gentlemen with the names Hook and Crook. Who these gentlemen were varies with the telling, but in all cases they postdate the appearance the phrase. Another explanation is that it refers the English invasion of Ireland and is a reference to the location of the English army’s landing. But again, there are different versions. One places its origin with Cromwell’s 1649 invasion, again a postdating of the phrase’s appearance. Another is the twelfth century Norman invasion of Ireland. That one is chronologically feasible, but again there is no evidence connecting the phrase to the event.

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Sources:

“Fragment of Petition from the Town, to Henry VIII” (between 1529–39). The Bodmin Register, 19 September 1835, 306–07. Google Books.

Furnivall, F. J., The Minor Poems of the Vernon MS, part II, 1901, 761. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

“The Grete Sentence of Curse Expounded.” 267–337 at 331. In Thomas Arnold, ed. Select English Works of John Wyclif, vol. 3 of 3. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1871, 267–337 at 331. HathiTrust Digital Archive. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College Library, MS 296.

Liberman, Anatoly, “By Hook or by Crook,” OUPblog, 25 May 2016.

Middle English Dictionary, 4 March 2025, s. v. hok, n. and crok, n.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s. v. hook, n.1 and by, prep & adv.

Quinion, Michael. “By Hook or by Crook,” World Wide Words, 7 June 2016.

“Secundum Matheum XX” (homily). In Robert Holt, ed. The Ormulum, vol 2 of 2. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1878, 39–82 at 50. HathiTrust Digital Archive. Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Junius 1.

“Why Poor Priests Have No Benefice.” In F. D. Matthew, ed. The English Works of Wyclif Hitherto Unprinted. Early English Text Society O.S. 74. London: Trübner, 1880, 244–53 at 250. HathiTrust Digital Archive. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College Library, MS 296.

curmudgeon

Cartoon of a newspaper with an image of an old man yelling with raised fist and the headline “Old Man Yells at Cloud”

Screenshot from The Simpsons (2002)

9 June 2025

A curmudgeon is an ill-tempered person, usually used in reference to an old man. The origin of curmudgeon is not known for certain, although etymologist Anatoly Liberman provides a reasonable explanation. What we do know for certain is that the earliest known use of the word can be found in Richard Stanyhurst’s history of Ireland, which appears in the 1577 edition of Holinshed’s Chronicles. (The OED cites the second, 1587, edition, but it also appears in the earlier one). The passage in question describes how, in 1537. Eleanor McCarthy accepted an offer of marriage to Manus O’Donnell, the curmudgeon in question, in order to guarantee the safety of her nephew, Conn O’Neill, but once his safety was guaranteed she did not go through with the marriage:

The Ladie Elenore hauing this, to hir contentation bestowed hir nephew, she expostulated verie sharpely with Odoneyle as touching hys villanie, protesting that the onely cause of hir match with him proceeded of an especiall care to haue hir nephew countenanced: and now that he was out of his lashe, that mynded to haue betrayed him, he should well vnderstande, that as the feare of his daunger mooued hir to annere to such a clownish Curmudgen, so the assuraunce of his safetie, should cause hir to sequester hirselfe from so butcherly a cuttbrote, that would be like a pelting mercenarie patche hyred, to sell or betray the innocent bloud of his nephew by affinitie, and hirs by consanguinitie. And in thys wise trussing vp bag and baggage, she forsooke Odoneyle, and returned to hir countrey.

Liberman suggests a Gaelic etymology, from muigean, “a churlish, disagreeable person,” plus car-, literally meaning “twist, bend” but when used as a prefix can have an intensifying effect, the Gaelic equivalent of the Latin dis-. Liberman’s etymology is not only linguistically plausible, but Stanyhurst was Irish and writing in an Irish context, so the Gaelic connection is a reasonable surmise.

Other suggested etymologies are more likely to be found on the internet but are not supported by evidence. One such is that it is a variation on cornmudgin. The Middle English muchen means to hoard. So a cornmudgin is someone who hoards grain. The problem with this explanation is the only known use of cornmudgin is from Philemon Holland’s 1600 translation of Livy’s Romane Historie, where the word appears twice. The first instance describes how, during a famine in 439 BCE, Spurius Melius, a wealthy grain merchant attempted to sell his grain at a low price in order to win the affection of the people and be crowned king:

Howbeit, the Claudij and Cassis, by reason of the Consulships and Decemvirships of their own, by reason of the honourable estate and reputation of their auncestors, & the worship and glory of their linage, tooke upon them, became hautie and proud, and aspired to that, wherunto Sp. Melius had no such meanes to induce him : who might have sit him downe, well enough, and rather wished and praied to God, than hoped once for so much, as a Tribuneship of the Commons. And supposed he, being but a rich corne-mudgin, that with a quart (or measure of come of two pounds) hee had bought the freedome of his fellow cittizens?

And the later appearance mentions fines for hoarding grain:

Also P. Claudius and Serv. Sulpitius Galbe, Ædiles Curule, hung up twelve brasen shields, made of the fines that certeine commudgins paid, for hourding up and keeping in their graine.

Since curmudgeon is older than this, it is more likely that Holland’s cornmudgin is a one-off pun, playing on curmudgeon, especially given Holland’s affinity for colloquial speech and how he “framed [his] pen, not to any affected phrase, but to a meane and popular stile.”

Another unsupported etymology is from Samuel Johnson’s 1755 dictionary:

CURMU´DGEON. n.s. [It is a vitious manner of pronouncing coeur mechant, Fr. an unknown correspondent.]

Coeur mechant means bitter or evil heart in French. Johnson’s dictionary is a landmark lexicographic achievement, but he got a lot wrong, and his etymologies are often particularly suspect. This one that Johnson received from the unknown correspondent is one such case. It’s not a bad off-the-cuff guess, but it’s not supported by any evidence.

Johnson’s etymology has also given rise to one of the worst lexicographic howlers in history when in 1775 lexicographer John Ash misread Johnson’s entry and gave the etymology as:

CURMUDG´EON (s. from the French cœur, unknown, and mechant, a correspondent).

Other suggestions made over the centuries are that it comes from a supposed Old English word *ceorlmodigan (churlish minded); from the medieval Latin corimedis (one who is liable to pay tax); or somehow related to dog/cur in the manger. None of these are supported by any evidence.

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Sources:

Ash, John. The New and Complete Dictionary of the English Language, vol. 1 of 2. London: Edward and Charles Dilly and R. Baldwin, 1775, s.v curmudgeon. Archive.org.

Johnson, Samuel. A Dictionary of the English Language. 1755, 1773, s.v. curmudgeon. Edited by Beth Rapp Young, Jack Lynch, William Dorner, Amy Larner Giroux, Carmen Faye Mathes, and Abigail Moreshead. 2021. Johnson’s Dictionary Online.  

Liberman, Anatoly, An Analytic Dictionary of English Etymology, University of Minnesota Press, 2008, s. v. mooch, 162–65.

Livy. The Romane Historie. Philemon Holland, trans. London: Adam Islip, 1600, 4:150, 38:1004, and sig. A.vi–vii. ProQuest: Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s. v. curmudgeon, n.

Stanyhurst, Richard. “The Thirde Book of the Historie of Ireland, Comprising the Raigne of Henry the Eyght.” In The Historie of Ireland, Raphaell Holinshed, ed. London: John Hunne, 1577, 102. Archive.org.

Image credit: “The Old Man and the Key,” Lance Kramer, director; John Vitti, writer; Matt Groening, creator. The Simpsons, 13.13, broadcast 10 March 2002. Fair use of a single frame to illustrate the topic under discussion.

agree to disagree

Photo of statue of a seventeenth-century preacher

Statue of John Wesley in Melbourne, Australia by Paul Raphael Montford

9 June 2025

It is commonly claimed, especially in Methodist circles, that the phrase agree to disagree was coined by John Wesley, the founder of Methodism. The claimants point to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), where indeed a 1775 letter by Wesley that uses the phrase is the first citation. (Although it is preceded in that dictionary entry by two uses of agree to differ, both in a theological context.) But this is a good example of how the OED, while it endeavors to include the first known use of a word or phrase, can often be antedated.

The Wesley quotation in the OED comes in 3 November 1775 letter:

No man is a good judge in his own cause. I believe I am tolerably impartial; but you are not (at least, was not some time since) with regard to King Charles I. Come and see what I say. If the worst comes, we can agree to disagree.

But this is not even the first use of the phrase by Wesley. He uses it in an 18 November 1770 funeral sermon for the Reverend George Whitefield:

In these [less essential doctrines] we many think and let think; we may “agree to disagree.” But mean time let us hold fast the essentials of the faith, which was once delivered to the saints; and which this champion of God so strongly insisted on, at all times, and in all places.

The use of quotation marks in the print edition (which may or may not have been indicated by a change in intonation in the oral delivery of the sermon) indicate that this was already a set phrase and was probably also a nod to an earlier use of the phrase by Whitefield twenty years earlier.

In a 29 June 1750 letter, Whitefield, a strong advocate for ecumenism, wrote:

If you and the rest of the preachers were to meet together more frequently, and tell each other your grievances, opinions, &c. it might be of service. This may be done in a very friendly way, and thereby many uneasinesses might be prevented. After all, those that will live in peace must agree to disagree in many things with their fellow-labourers, and not let little things part or disunite them.

Wesley and Whitefield frequently disagreed, yet Whitefield asked Wesley to preach his funeral sermon. So Wesley’s use of the phrase in that 1770 sermon was quite apt but hardly a coinage.

But Whitefield didn't coin it either.  The earliest use of the phrase that I can find is in another funeral sermon preached some 175 years earlier in 1601 by William Harrison, a clergyman who argued against the existence of purgatory:

It would require a longer discourse, then now I can stand vpon: to descend into each of these particulars, beeing limited with the time, mine owne weakenes, and your wearines; yet if any man doubt, let him demurre with mee vpon a further tryall, and conference, when I shall (if God will) satisfie him to the full; that in all these seuerall points, they doe nothing else but agree to disagree: in the meane time I dare auouch as first I did, that purgatorie is not at all.

And in a secular and poetic context, William Wycherley used it in a 1704 poem about the marriage of two “ill natur’d,”  Black enslaved persons who were to be emancipated upon their marriage:

In vain then, shou’d I give you Devil’s Joy,
Which both resolve, by Wedlock, to destroy,
Who, like Black Fiends, agree to disagree,
Each other’s Torment, out of Love to be,
More bound to be, with your selves, but more free.

While the poem is secular, unlike Harrison, the poet is arguing that this particular marriage will be a sort of purgatory.

Agree to disagree is a good example of how coinages credited to famous people are often incorrect. Celebrities get the credit because either their words are preserved while those of lesser mortals are forgotten, or simply because more people read them and they come to the attention of lexicographers (and in this case, preachers).

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Sources:

Harrison, William. “The Soules Solace Against Sorrow” (1601). Deaths Aduantage Little Regarded, and The Soules Solace Against Sorrow. London: Felix Kyngston, 1602, 32–33. ProQuest: Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, September 2012, s.v. agree, v.

St. Clair, Stan. “Where Did That Come From?—Agree to Disagree.” Southern Standard, 8 March 2025.

Wesley, John. Letter, 3 November 1775. The Letters of the Rev. John Wesley, vol. 6 of 8. John Telford, ed. London: Epworth Press, 1931, 186. Archive.org.

———. A Sermon on the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, London: J. and W. Oliver, 1770, 23. Gale Primary Sources: Eighteenth Century Collections Online (ECCO).

Whitefield, George. Letter, 29 June 1750. In The Works of the Reverend George Whitefield, vol 2 of 6. London: Edward and Charles Dilly, 1751, 362. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

de Wit, Willem-Jan. “Was John Wesley the First to Put the Phrase ‘Agree to Disagree’ in Print?” (blog), 12 April 2019.

Wycherley, William. “An Epithalamium on the Marriage of Two Very Ill Natur’d Blacks, Who Were to Have Their Liberty, in Consideration of the Match.” Miscellany Poems. London: C. Brome, J. Taylor, and B. Tooke, 1704, 431–32. Gale Primary Sources: Eighteenth Century Collections Online (ECCO).

Photo credit: Adam Carr, 2005. Wikimedia Commons. Public domain photo.

right stuff

Photo of seven men in flight suits standing in front of a jet fighter

The Mercury Seven astronauts with a US Air Force F-106B jet aircraft. From left to right: Scott Carpenter, Gordon Cooper, John Glenn, Gus Grissom, Wally Schirra, Alan Shepard, and Deke Slayton

6 June 2025

Today the phrase the right stuff is inextricably linked to test pilots and astronauts, thanks to Tom Wolfe’s 1979 book The Right Stuff and the 1983 Hollywood movie made from it about the early years of the U.S. space program. The right stuff is that ineffable quality that makes one right for a particular job, a combination of skill, determination, audacity, and intelligence, along with properly tempered ambition. But Wolfe was not the first to use the phrase in this sense; far from it.

The phrase can be found as far back as 1748 in the sense of an alcoholic drink, but the application to human qualities is first found in Samuel Foote’s 1778 play A Trip to Calais, where the right stuff is used to refer to the qualities that make a young man a hard-partying man-about-town, and given the earlier sense, implies that the men may not be drunk enough:

Yes, yes, they look of that cut; not of the right stuff, as the French say, to make bucks desprits on.

A century later, James Fenimore Cooper uses the phrase in the sense familiar to us today in a biographical sketch of Edward Preble which appeared in Graham’s American Monthly Magazine in May 1845. Preble was the naval officer who commanded the blockade of and assault on Tripoli during the First Barbary War, an operation perhaps best known from the reference to the “shores of Tripoli” in the Marines’ Hymn. Cooper writes about a boyhood incident where, during a boating party, Preble threw stones at a boat containing his father, General Jedediah Preble:

Many anecdotes are related of the boyhood of young Preble, all tending to prove his courage, determination and high temper. On one occasion, his father was about to go on an excursion to the neighboring islands, with a party of gentlemen, and the boy was denied a place in the boat, on account of his tender years. In order to get rid of his importunities, his father gave Edward a task, which it was thought could not possibly be completed in time, with promise that he should go, did he get through with it. The boy succeeded, and, to his father’s surprise, appeared on the shore, claiming the promised place in the boat. This was still denied him, under the pretext that there was not room. Finding the party about to shove off without him, young Preble, then about ten years of age, commenced hostilities by making an attack with stones picked up on the wharf, peppering the party pretty effectually before his laughing father directed a capitulation. It seems the old general decided that the boy had the “right stuff” in him, and overlooked the gross impropriety of the assault, on account of its justice and spirit.

While the anecdote is too perfect to be true, a hagiographic illustration of the boyhood of a future naval hero, Cooper is using the phrase in exactly the same sense that Wolfe would over a century later.

Other writers have used the phrase over the years prior to Tom Wolfe, most notably Virginia Woolf, who wrote in The Voyage Out in 1915:

He told me all about his life, and his struggles, and how fearfully hard it had been. D’you know, he was boy in a grocer’s shop and took parcels to people’s houses in a basket? That interested me awfully, because I always say it doesn’t matter how you’re born if you’ve got the right stuff in you.


Sources:

Cooper, James Fenimore. “Sketches of Naval Men. Edward Preble.” Graham’s Magazine, 27.5, May 1845, 205–15 at 206. Archive.org.

Foote, Samuel. A Trip to Calais. London: T. Sherlock for T. Cadell, 1778, 25. Archive.org. (The OED gives a 1775 date for this play, which I believe is in error. Foote published a prose piece of the same title that year.)

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, June 2010, s.v. right, adj. & int.

Woolf, Virginia. The Voyage Out. London: Duckworth, 1915, 224. Archive.org.

Photo credit: NASA, 1961. Wikimedia Commons. Public domain image.

D-Day / H-Hour / J-Day

B&W photo of soldiers in a landing craft heading toward a beach filled with troops and military vehicles

American troops landing at Omaha Beach, Normandy, 6 June 1944

4 June 2025

D-Day is probably best known as a name for 6 June 1944, when Allied troops landed on the coast of German-occupied France during World War II. It was the largest seaborne invasion in history, with over 150,000 American, British, and Canadian troops landing in Normandy, including 23,000 airborne paratroopers, and involving almost 7,000 ships, boats, and landing craft. But it turns out that the term has an older, more general meaning, and it is also something of a redundancy.

The term comes out of the American military and is used in the planning for any operation, the Normandy invasion being only the most famous example. The simply stands for day, so literally, D-Day is day-day. The term is used in coordinating the timing of a military operation. D+0 ("D plus zero"), or D-Day, is the start of the operation. D+1 ("D plus one") is the next day, D+2 is the day after that, etc. Similarly, D-1 ("D minus one") is the day before the operation and used to designate the timing of preparations. and H-Hour are used in a similar fashion. The advantage of this system is that if the date of the operation is advanced or delayed, the plans don’t need to be revised. In fact, the Normandy landings were originally scheduled for 5 June 1944, but bad weather delayed the operation by one day.

D-Day and H-Hour were not invented in World War II; instead they date to World War I. And before D-Day was coined, the term J-Day was used to signify the beginning of an operation. The J is from the French jour (day), and the American military practice of planning the timing of an operation in this fashion was adopted from the French, with whose army the WWI American Expeditionary Forces often had to coordinate operations. The use of the letter J to signify the day of an attack appears in a French operations order from October 1917:

Les coups de mains sont de plus en plus nécessaires à mesure que le jour J—le jour de l'attaque—se rapproche.

(The sudden attacks in force become more and more necessary as the day J—the day of the attack—approaches.)

The earliest American use of J-Day and H-Hour that I have found is in an operations plan of the U.S. 16th Infantry Regiment, part of the 1st Division, from 21 February 1918:

Artillery: From J minus 5 day to J day—Cutting gaps in the enemy’s wire at points other than that of the real objective, namely, Salient LAHAYVILLE and Salient 2520.

[…]

Box Barrage—A box barrage of 45 minutes duration will be held at H hour as shown on the sketch. At H plus 25 the box barrage will close down to the enemy’s first four lines which will be heavily shelled till close of operation.

D-Day enters U.S. Army nomenclature later that year. The earliest citation in the Oxford English Dictionary is from the First Army, American Expeditionary Force in Field Order No. 8, issued on 7 September 1918:

The First Army will attack at H-Hour on D-Day with the object of forcing the evacuation of St. Mihiel salient.

An alternative suggested origin for J-Day is that it stands for jump-off day. The phrase jump off was used by the AEF in World War I, but it is more likely that the French practice was adopted by the less-experienced American forces and then later anglicized to D-Day. The use of J-Day in English was limited to official operations plans and orders—or at least I’ve found no examples of it in less-official sources. If it were from jump-off day, then one would expect to see it in wider use.

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Sources:

Headquarters, 16th Infantry. “Plan for Raid on Richecourt Salient.” 21 February 1918. World War Records First Division A.E.F. Regular, vol. 10. First Division Museum.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s.v. D-Day, n., H-Hour, n.

D'un poste e commendement (P.C. du 21e C.A.) Bataille de l’Ailette (23 octobre–2 novembre 1917). Paris: E. Flammarion, 1918, 61. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Reitan, Peter. “‘H-Hour’ and ‘J-Day’, 21 Feb 1918.” ADS-L, 4 May 2025.

Photo credit: Herman V. Wall, 1944. Wikimedia Commons. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.