1914 the Russians, after their crushing defeats of the Austrians, had
advanced through Galicia to within a hundred miles of Cracow. At that
time it seemed to us in the West that the Russian left would be almost
certain to capture the great Galician fortress, and advance into Silesia
and across the Carpathians towards Vienna within the next few weeks.
Meanwhile we believed that the Russian right would be over the German
frontier in full march for Berlin. It was rumoured--falsely, as we now
know--that the Austrians shared our belief, and that their Government
had decided to leave Vienna for Salzburg[151] or Innsbruck.[152] Though
the Allies in the West were held up by the Germans on the Aisne, the
prospects of their rapid and complete success in the East seemed very
bright indeed.
Then suddenly came a great disappointment. We learnt that, instead of
advancing on Cracow, the Russians were retreating from Galicia. By the
middle of October they were back again on the San, with nothing to show
for their victories and their weeks of hard fighting. Why had they
retreated? They were not pushed back by the Austrians; they were
retiring of their own accord in order to meet a new and dangerous
movement which the Germans had begun to make in Russian Poland.
On the frontier of East Prussia there was a deadlock, and von Hindenburg
had come to the conclusion that all the victories that could be won in
that deadly region of lake and swamp would avail him nothing. His
business was to destroy the Russian armies, and that could not be done
by even a dozen successful campaigns in East Prussia. He must strike
hard at the Russian centre--somewhere across the Polish plain, which was
then but lightly held by his enemy.
At what point in the Russian centre should he try to break
through?--that was the question. There was one point that seemed to
beckon him with the promise of full and speedy success. I have already
told you that on the Vistula, half-way between the German fortress of
Thorn and the Galician frontier, stands the great city of Warsaw.[153]
It is not only a great place of manufactures, but a powerful fortress
and the capital of Russian Poland, which contains twelve million
people--Poles, Germans, Russians, and half a score other races. Amongst
these mixed peoples Germany had many friends who would spy for her, and
otherwise help her to win the city. Though the Tsar had promised to set
up the old kingdom of Poland again if all went well with his arms,
nobody yet knew whether the Poles would be loyal to Russia, or whether
they would throw in their lot with the Germans. The Kaiser's agents had
been secretly at work amongst them, striving hard to show that Codlin
was their friend and not Short.[154] They believed that if the Germans
could seize the capital of Poland the Poles would declare for them.
There was another and more important reason why von Hindenburg should
launch his attack against Warsaw. The city is a great railway junction.
Four railways, with cross lines to relieve the pressure on any one line,
meet at Warsaw. One of these lines runs northwards to East Prussia; a
second goes north-east to Petrograd; a third eastwards to Moscow; a
fourth south along the right bank of the Vistula to Novo Alexandra,
where it sweeps eastwards, and links up with the main system of South
Russia. If Warsaw could be seized the Russian communications would be
cut; a wedge would be thrust in between the northern army and the
southern army in Galicia, and, so divided, they would be an easy prey.
Clearly, Warsaw was the place at which the Russian centre must be
broken.
The task was by no means easy. Warsaw itself lies on the west bank of
the Vistula, with strong forts and lines of entrenchments in front of
it; but the main railway stations are on the east bank of the river in
the suburb of Praga, which is connected with the city proper by three
bridges--the fine Alexander Bridge, for foot passengers and ordinary
traffic, in the middle; the new road bridge to the south of it; and the
railway bridge, protected by the guns of the citadel, to the north.
Between the city and the main railway stations flows the river Vistula,
broad, deep, and rapid--the greatest military obstacle in Eastern
Europe. The capture of the city alone would not be sufficient for von
Hindenburg's purpose. If the Russians could hold the eastern bank they
could still bring up reinforcements, and could still maintain
communications with their armies to the north and south. If, however,
the stations in Praga could be seized, the Russians could not use their
railways, and, as you know, a modern army cannot live long without
railways. Further, the Germans would be in an excellent position to
carry the whole line of the Vistula; and, once this was won, the
Russians could be kept at bay by means of comparatively small forces,
and prevented from making war in Poland until they had retaken the line
of the river. The bulk of the German armies would then be able to leave
the Eastern theatre of war and fall in strength upon the Allies in the
West.
Now, it was highly important that von Hindenburg should capture Warsaw
without loss of time. The autumn rains were setting in, and the Polish
roads, never good, would soon be quagmires, through which heavy guns and
wagons could only be hauled with great difficulty. The Russians believe
that General Winter always fights for them; in Poland, General Mud is
their equally good friend.
In the early days of October, by means of the gridiron of railways which
Germany has constructed on her eastern border for the express purpose of
invading Russia, von Hindenburg massed about a million men all along the
frontier from Thorn southwards, and soon they began to move across the
rolling ridges and low boggy valleys towards the Vistula. The left (A)
advanced towards Warsaw along both banks of the Vistula; the centre (B)
pushed eastwards from Kalisz; while the right (C) moved north-eastwards
from Silesia. The right consisted of three columns, the most southerly
of which was composed of Austrians, who were to push along the Upper
Vistula. This Austrian column was to work with the column on its left,
and both were to strike at Josefov, which stands between the confluence
of the Vistula and the San and the fortress of Ivangorod.
A glance at the map below will explain why an attempt was to be made to
force the river at this point. There is no railway on the eastern bank
of the Vistula between Novo Alexandra and the San. The railway strikes
off south-east from Ivangorod, and the nearest point on it to Josefov is
Lublin, thirty-three miles away. All the roads in this region are bad,
and the forces fighting in it are at a great disadvantage, because they
have no railway by which to bring up troops, food, ammunition, and big
guns. The Russians defending Josefov had no railway on the eastern side
of the river within thirty-three miles, while the Germans had a railhead
about ten or twelve miles away on the western side.
[Illustration: Von Hindenburg's First Advance on Warsaw.]
If von Hindenburg could force the river at Josefov, and cut the railway
at Lublin, while his northern columns seized Warsaw, the Russians would
be in a bad way. They would have to retreat from the line of the
Vistula, and for months to come would be unable to take the offensive in
Poland. The German plan was excellent if only it could have been carried
out secretly. The Russian cavalry, however, soon let the Grand Duke
Nicholas know that the German columns were advancing, and he was clever
enough to guess exactly what von Hindenburg was trying to do. He knew
that if his armies remained to the west of the Vistula they would be
badly supplied with food and munitions, because the railways of the
Polish plain are few and far between, and also because his forces might
easily be divided by the German centre, one column of which was pushing
along the north bank of the broad, muddy river Pilitza. He determined to
risk nothing, and leaving a screen of light horse west of the river to
keep in touch with the enemy, ordered the rest of his forces to fall
back behind the San and the Vistula. The march on Cracow had, therefore,
to be abandoned; the grip on Przemysl to be loosened; and the Russian
army in Galicia brought back for fifty miles, as you have already heard.
All Russian Poland west of the Vistula was thus given up to the enemy.
The Russians have always had the courage to retreat when the way of
safety lies to the rear, but they only recoil for a stronger and fiercer
leap forward. They were not greatly disturbed even when the German
centre entered Lodz, the Manchester of Poland. The capture of this great
industrial city was, of course, a great loss to Russia, but an attempt
to hold it would have resulted in disaster. Nor were they dismayed when
the German right centre, pushing through Radom, reached the Vistula
below Ivangorod, and began to cross.
The German advance was slow, but it was very thorough. As the columns
proceeded eastwards they felled whole forests to form corduroy roads by
which their guns could cross the marshes. Even the gauge of the railway
from Kalisz by way of Lodz to Warsaw was altered so that German rolling
stock could be used. They advanced as though they intended to occupy the
country for all time.
They were full of confidence. Captured Poles had told them that the
Grand Duke did not intend to defend Warsaw, and that he meant to give up
the valley of the Vistula. German aviators reported that they had seen
troop trains moving from the capital and from Ivangorod eastwards. Van
Hindenburg was completely misled, and began to dream of a new
Tannenberg.[155]
By 15th October the Germans were attacking the line of the Vistula in
force. An attempt was made to cross the river between Ivangorod and
Warsaw. Raft after raft crossed the stream, and soon two battalions of
infantry were drawn up on the eastern bank waiting for their fellows to
arrive. Suddenly from the woods and coppices the Russians sprang forward
in overwhelming numbers. The two battalions were wiped out, and the
crowded rafts on the river disappeared as the Russian shells crashed
down upon them. A strong assault on the bridgehead at Ivangorod met with
the same terrible fate. A pontoon bridge was thrown across the stream,
but when it was thick with marching men, shrapnel began to burst above
it. The river ran red with blood, and the stream was choked with
corpses.
These two attempts to cross the river were but feints. The real attempt,
as we know, was being made at Josefov, where the river narrows. The
eastern shore seemed to be held lightly; there was no sign of the enemy,
and a large German force with guns crossed the river by means of
pontoons, and pushed on towards the railway from Ivangorod to Lublin,
fully believing that it had turned the Russian left. Then came a rude
awakening. On 21st October General Ruzsky fell upon them at a village in
the midst of swampy flats, eight miles from Novo Alexandra. The Russians
plied the bayonet with deadly effect, and few Germans escaped to tell
the tale. Next day Ruzsky was over the river, driving the Germans before
him.
He counter-attacked both north and south of Ivangorod, and thus was able
to cut off the German centre and left from the German right. The
invaders were now in two groups, the one to the north and the other to
the south of the Pilitza. Advancing with great spirit, the Russians
thrust the enemy out of the open country near the river into the great
spruce woods which extend westwards for ten miles. Countless
hand-to-hand engagements took place in their marshes and forest glades.
The slaughter was terrible. At a village north of the railway between
Radom and Ivangorod, the Russians buried 16,000 dead, their own and the
enemy's. When the tide of war had rolled by, the forest seemed as though
it had been swept by a hurricane. The Germans were forced into the open
country beyond the woods, and as they emerged the Russian guns caught
them and mowed them down in thousands.
The Germans fought desperately, but every attempt to make a stand was
crushed, and the remnants were forced back. By the 25th they were at
Radom, and the Crown Prince, who had been waiting to enter Ivangorod in
triumph, boarded the train which was waiting with steam up, and hurried
westwards into safety. The Russians gave the retreating enemy no rest
day or night. Near Kielce[156] they stood at bay. The strongest position
in their line was a graveyard, with a little white church in the middle.
The Caucasians[157] poured like a torrent over the wall and seized the
gate, which was the only outlet. In the darkness, amidst the graves, men
fought with clubbed muskets and cold steel until the ground was
literally soaked with blood. Ringed round by foes, the Germans and
Austrians strove with the fury of despair, but they were no match for
the Caucasians. The enemy's loss was very heavy, and 12,000 prisoners
and fifty guns were taken. At one o'clock on 4th November the Russians,
horse, foot, and artillery, poured into Kielce. Meanwhile the extreme
left of the Russians had won Sandomir[158] after storming a triple line
of defences, and the routed enemy was flying south-west towards Cracow.
[Footnote 151: Picturesque town on the Eastern Alps, 155 miles west by
south of Vienna.]
[Footnote 152: Capital of the Tyrol; on the Inn, a tributary of the
Danube.]
[Footnote 153: See Vol. II., p. 58.]
[Footnote 154: See Dickens's _Old Curiosity Shop_, chap. xix. Each of
these worthies tried to prove to Little Nell that he was the friend to
be trusted and not the other.]
[Footnote 155: See Vol. II., p. 71-72.]
[Footnote 156: _Kyel´tseh_, on the railway, about eighty miles as the
crow flies south-east of Ivangorod.]
[Footnote 157: Natives of the Caucasus, a Russian territory between the
Black Sea and the Caspian. The Caucasians are very fierce and warlike.]
[Footnote 158: On the left bank of the Vistula, a few miles above its
junction with the San.]
CHAPTER XXV.
VON HINDENBURG FOILED.
Meanwhile, what was happening at Warsaw? The coming of the enemy was
heralded by airships and aeroplanes, which hovered over the city,
dropping bombs on the railway stations, and showers of leaflets urging
the Poles to take sides with the Germans. The city was full of spies,
and many of the Jew inhabitants were friendly to the enemy. Spies were
shot and hanged daily. The coming of the aircraft created a panic, but
the terror soon passed away. Then Uhlans appeared eight miles from the
centre of the city, and numbers of well-to-do residents fled into
Russia. Despite these "excursions and alarms," most of the people in
Warsaw went about their business or pleasure quite unmoved.
On Friday, the 16th, the fight for Warsaw began. Von Hindenburg himself
directed the operations of the five army corps which were to make the
grand assault. On Sunday, the 18th, the Germans were on the edge of the
city, and the shells from their field howitzers were bursting in the
suburbs. The windows of Warsaw shook with the roar of guns, and at night
the western sky was bright with the flashes of artillery and the flames
of burning homesteads. Fierce warfare was raging only a few miles away,
but the citizens seemed as gay and light-hearted as ever. They thronged
the pavements, the cafés, and the cinema shows in the old accustomed
way, and save for the cannonading, the streams of wounded, the
occasional appearance of a Taube, and the soldiers in the streets, there
was nothing to indicate that a desperate battle was being fought five
miles away.
Outside the forts to the west of the Vistula the Grand Duke had dug
lines of trenches; but when the fight began they were but thinly held.
It is said that there was a period of seven hours during which the
Germans might have entered the city unopposed. Along one of the main
roads leading directly to Warsaw there were no Russians capable of
holding back the enemy for a single hour. For some unknown reason the
Germans failed to take advantage of this gap in the line of defence.
Just at the critical moment reinforcements arrived, and the people
poured into the streets to welcome them. The first corps to reach the
city consisted of Siberians, who were so eager to meet the enemy that
they leaped down from the cars and formed up without a moment's delay.
In a very brief time they were swinging over the Vistula bridge, through
the main street, and on their way to the trenches. These men had been
brought by rail from Moscow. The people cheered them to the echo, flung
flowers amongst them, and pressed cigarettes and other gifts on them.
[Illustration: German Infantry moving across the Plain towards Warsaw.
_Photo, The Sphere._]
The big stubborn Siberians bore the brunt of the German attack, and made
a most determined defence. They were assisted by their old enemies and
present friends, the Japanese. Several batteries of heavy guns, served
by Japanese gunners who had travelled from the Far East by the Siberian
railway, now came into action. Nevertheless, the situation was still
full of peril.
More reinforcements followed, and soon the Russians were so strongly
entrenched as to defy all von Hindenburg's efforts. Many of the
newcomers had marched from Galicia amidst terrible weather along the
right bank of the Vistula, over roads deep in mud or flooded by swollen
streams. We do not know exactly the strength of the relieving army, but
a Russian writer tells us that in one day "four columns, each 250,000
strong, crossed the Vistula over sixteen pontoon bridges," and deployed
on the left bank ready for an advance.
By the evening of Monday, the 19th, the German attack slackened and died
away, and "on Tuesday there returned to the city thousands of tired-out,
woe-begone Siberian Cossacks and Caucasian cavalrymen--the soldiers who
had turned the scale. All Warsaw turned out in the rain to give them
cakes and cigarettes, handshakes and cheers."
Why had the Germans given up their attempt on Warsaw? The Grand Duke was
not content with merely holding Warsaw. While the German guns were
hurling their shells at the Russian trenches, General Rennenkampf[159]
was making a flank attack on the Germans from the fortress of Novo
Georgievsk, lower down on the Vistula. We do not know exactly what
happened in this part of the battlefield, but one thing is certain--the
German left was attacked with crushing force. It was rolled back from
the Vistula, but was still fighting hard; but when Ruzsky, on the 22nd,
began to carry all before him south of the Pilitza, it was bound to
retreat. Rennenkampf followed it up and retook Lodz, while von
Hindenburg sullenly retreated towards his frontier, fighting innumerable
rearguard actions by the way. Thousands of his men were sacrificed to
prevent stores and guns from falling into the hands of the Russians, and
the whole country over which he passed was turned into a desert. In one
case the lives of 2,000 men of the rearguard were thrown away in order
to save a convoy. The roads which von Hindenburg had made during his
advance were blown up; railway lines, stations, bridges, and towers were
destroyed, and even the rails were twisted into the shape of corkscrews.
When the Germans ran short of explosives they found other means of
destruction. A water-tower, for example, was destroyed by sending a
railway engine full tilt against it. Telegraph wires were cut into
sections, the posts were broken or sawn through, and the insulators were
smashed in pieces. It looked as though the Germans did not intend to
travel that road again. But there was method in von Hindenburg's
madness. He was devastating all Poland _except the northern quarter_.
This he left intact, because he meant to make another advance through it
when the time was ripe. For this reason he retreated, not through the
northern quarter of Poland, but towards the south-west.
What were the Austrians in Galicia doing while disaster was thus
overtaking the German armies? In the first two months of the war they
had been badly led, and had suffered much. But under new leadership they
proved themselves far more successful. They swept through Galicia,
seized Jaroslav, relieved Przemysl, and nearly recaptured Lemberg. The
starving garrison at Przemysl received food and supplies, and was thus
given a new lease of life. When, however, the Germans farther north were
forced to retreat, the Austrians were bound to do so too. They were,
however, in no hurry to retire. They only withdrew to the south of the
Upper Vistula when the Russians were beginning to envelop them.
[Illustration: The Grand Duke Nicholas.]
Thus ended the first attempt to capture Warsaw. The nut was too hard for
von Hindenburg to crack, though he had by no means given up his attempts
to crush it. He had been foiled; but, as we shall learn later, he was to
come on again and again with wonderful perseverance. For the moment,
however, he had failed, and failed badly. While the Allies in the West
were only just holding back the desperate assaults of the enemy from
Arras to the sea, the Russians were rejoicing in victory, and British
newspapers were painting rosy pictures of the Grand Duke leading his
triumphant armies within a few short weeks into the German capital.
Alas! the hope was vain; rivers of blood were to flow before that happy
day was even in sight.
[Illustration: Homeless and Ruined.
_Photo, Daily Mirror._
The Germans have burned down the houses of these Polish peasants, and
have destroyed their little all. The latter are here seen raking over
the ground in the hope of finding something which has escaped
destruction. The bitter Russian winter is rapidly approaching, and they
have no where to lay their heads.]
[Footnote 159: See Vol. II., p. 65.]
CHAPTER XXVI.
STORIES FROM THE BATTLEFIELDS.
During the Russian retreat to the Vistula it was necessary to destroy a
bridge over which the Germans must pass. It had to be done at the moment
of their crossing, and no body of men could be spared to remain behind
for the purpose. A simple soldier, well aware that only a miracle could
save him, offered to do the work alone. Breast deep in icy cold water,
he placed the charges of dynamite beneath the bridge, but had no time to
fix wires to the fuses and lead them away to a safe distance. Still in
the water, he waited for the Germans; and when they were tramping across
the bridge above his head, he fired the fuses, and the whole structure
crashed into fragments. Strange to say, he escaped unhurt, and swam
ashore miles down the stream. When he told his tale he simply added, "It
wasn't meant for me to be killed just yet."
* * * * *
On another occasion four sappers with their officer were told off to
blow up a bridge immediately the Russians had crossed it, and before the
Germans, who were close on their heels, could reach it. There was no
time to make the usual preparations. The officer handed out charges to
the men, who fixed them to the bridge. Then he gave each of them a
cigarette and took one himself. They lighted their cigarettes and lay
down, each man close to his charge. "Mind, boys," said he, "that the
cigarettes don't go out. Smoke quietly till the enemy reaches the
bridge; then when I say 'One, two, three!' put them to the fuses and run
if you can."
The men smoked quietly as they watched the Germans rushing down the bank
towards the bridge; then, as the officer counted, "One, two, three,"
they placed their cigarettes to the fuses and ran for their lives to the
Russian bank. In a few moments there was a loud explosion, and the
bridge simply disappeared. The baffled Germans opened a furious fire,
but to no purpose. Their path was blocked by a deep, rapid river.
* * * * *
Here is another story of heroism at a bridge. When the Russians were
following up the Germans during their retreat from the Vistula, they
reached a bridge across a tributary of the Warta. The fact that it was
standing was clear proof that it was mined, and that sappers had been
left behind to blow it up as soon as the Russians began to cross it. The
rearguard of the Germans had trained guns on the bridge. A Russian
engineer officer thought that it might be cleared of mines and
preserved. He therefore called for volunteers to undertake the delicate
and difficult task. Everyone of his Caucasian sappers volunteered, but
he only chose those who had no parents alive.
It was ten o'clock at night, and quite dark, when the attempt was made.
In the thick gloom the seven chosen men silently wormed their way on to
the bridge. They groped about, and discovered that it was covered with
planks nailed on to it in various directions. At once they guessed that
the charges were laid under these planks. Almost noiselessly they
removed the boards and the charges, and then cleared away every inch of
the fuses round the woodwork under the bridge. To do this they had to
hang down over the water, holding on with one hand and unfastening the
interlacing fuses with the other. In some places they hung by their
feet, head downwards, in order to have both hands free.
Their comrades waited breathlessly on the bank for a full hour, and then
the seven men who had been working on the bridge reappeared and quietly
said, "The way is clear." Thanks to their extraordinary skill and
devotion, the bridge was now safe, and the Russians crossed without
mishap.
* * * * *
The Grand Duke Nicholas, the Commander-in-chief of the Russian armies,
is a man of the most fearless courage and the idol of his soldiers. A
correspondent says: "During the terrific fighting to the north of the
Radom-Ivangorod railway, the Grand Duke's motor car, marked by a blue
and white flag, drove slowly down a road on which German shells were
falling. The Siberians, with whom the Commander-in-chief is particularly
popular, raised such a cheer that their comrades in the trenches
imagined that a great victory had been won. The omen was fulfilled, for
next day the Germans were driven along the Pilitza, and were obliged to
abandon four guns. 'Big Nicholas' let down the roof of his motor car and
praised the soldiers as '_Molodsti_' (fine fellows)--the usual
salutation of a general. A chorus of '_Radi staratsa_' ('We are
delighted to do our best') was the reply."
* * * * *
You will remember that there were very fierce struggles in the woods
which lie to the west of the Vistula and to the north and south of the
Radom-Ivangorod railway. A correspondent[160] thus describes the
fighting in the woods, and their condition when the Germans had been
driven out of them:--
"Day after day the Russians poured troops in on their side of the wood.
These entered, were seen for a few minutes, then disappeared in the maze
of trees, and were lost. Companies, regiments, battalions, and even
brigades were quite cut off from each other. None knew what was going on
anywhere but a few feet in front. All knew that the only thing required
of them was to keep advancing. This they did, foot by foot and day after
day, fighting each other hand to hand, taking, losing, and retaking
position after position. In all of this ten kilometres[161] of forest I
dare venture to say there is hardly an acre without its trenches, rifle
pits, and graves.
"Here one sees where a dozen men had a little fort of their own, and
fought furiously with the enemy a few feet away in a similar position.
Day after day it went on, and day after day troops were poured into the
Russian side of the wood, and day and night the continuous crack of
rifle fire and the roar of artillery hurling shells into the wood could
be heard for miles. . . . The forest looks as though a hurricane had
swept through. Trees staggering from their shattered trunks, and limbs
hanging everywhere, show where the shrapnel shells have been bursting.
Yard by yard the ranks and lines of the enemy were driven back, but the
nearer their retreat brought them to the open country west of the wood
the hotter the contest became; for each man in his own mind must have
known how they would fare when, once driven from the protecting forest,
they attempted to retreat through the open country without shelter.
"The state of the last two kilometres of the wooded belt is hard to
describe. There seems scarcely an acre that is not sown like the scene
of a paper-chase; only the trail here consists of blood-stained bandages
and bits of uniform. Here also there was small use for the artillery,
and the rifle and the bayonet played the leading part. Men, fighting
hand to hand with clubbed muskets and bayonets, fought from tree to tree
and ditch to ditch. . . .
"But at last the day came when the dirty, grimy, blood-stained soldiers
of the Tsar pushed their antagonists out of the far side of the belt of
woodland. . . . Once out in the open, the hungry guns of the Russians
got their chance. Down every road through the wood came the six-horse
teams, with the guns jumping and jingling behind, with their
accompanying caissons[162] heavy with shrapnel. The moment the enemy
were in the clear, these batteries, eight guns to a unit, were
unlimbered on the fringe of the wood, and were pouring out their death
and destruction on the wretched enemy, now retreating hastily across the
open."
* * * * *
The Russians, as perhaps you know, are a deeply religious people. A
soldier thus tells us how he went into battle during an assault:--
"Our hearts were beating wildly. I felt a choking sensation in my
throat, and my spirit boiled up within me. I heard myself shouting, and
in my brain something was urging me to 'run, run' against the enemy.
Some one in the front ranks began to sing the majestic hymn,
'O Lord, save Thy people.'
Before he had finished the first line the rear ranks have taken it up
and continued it,
'And bless Thine heritage.'
The waves of the melody seem to dash against the faces of the enemy. At
first only a few voices joined in the hymn. More and more began to sing.
The whole column seemed to give forth one vast wave of sound. It seemed
as though even the dying lying around joined in with their last breath.
A dark-faced Jew lad who ran beside me joined in too. I saw his open
mouth and heard his rich baritone voice. Death seemed to have no terror.
We felt that our death was necessary, as is the death of the autumn
leaves which fall from the trees to fertilize the soil for the future
harvest."
* * * * *
You have heard of General Ruzsky, who commanded the army which wiped out
the German troops across the Vistula, and then flung his legions across
the stream to drive the enemy before him in rout. He was then a man of
sixty years of age, with wrinkled brow, gray hair and moustache, and a
stoop in his shoulders. In battle he exposed himself without fear,
believing that his example would inspire his men. Not only was he famous
as a fighter, but also as a student. At home, he lived a simple life in
a small flat at Kiev.[163] He did not drink or smoke, and his spectacles
gave him the look of a professor. Ruzsky drove about in a motor car with
orange-coloured tyres, which caught the eyes of his soldiers and told
them that their general was amongst them.
[Illustration: Siberian Cavalry crossing a River.
_Photo, Record Press._]
* * * * *
Russian boys were very eager to go to the war, and some of them followed
regiments to the front. A group of three rosy-cheeked schoolboys from
Petrograd--Pete, Jack, and Eustace--carrying home-made pistols roughly
carved out of chunks of wood, with cartridge cases for barrels and wire
hooks for hammers, hung on to a detachment of Guards, and actually
reached the war zone, but were caught by a policeman as they were hiding
behind a railway embankment, cooking porridge at a fire. The policeman
took them to the nearest officer, who asked,--
"Where did you get those weapons?"
"I made them," Jack explained. "I can cut one out in three hours."
"And why," inquired the officer, "have you a pistol without a barrel?"
"It flew off when I fired," replied Eustace.
The officer laughed, and the policeman searched the would-be-soldiers'
pockets. He found in them some home-made gunpowder, a pipe-lighter, and
a bottle containing some liquid. He discovered that the pipe-lighter was
for the purpose of making a fire, and that the bottle contained spirit
to put in the pipe-lighter. The boys had come prepared with everything
for the campaign. To their great distress they were taken to the railway
station and sent back to their parents. The Russian writer who tells the
story thus concludes: "God grant, little children, that you may preserve
the fire of your loyal little hearts till the day when you are men, and
then Russia will have need of you."
* * * * *
You know that the Germans and Austrians made great efforts to win over
the Poles by all sorts of lavish promises. Professor Bernard Pares, an
Englishman with the Russian army, tells us that most of the Poles
remained faithful to the Tsar, and that they were confident that he
would set up their old kingdom again when he was victorious. "I saw at
Kielce," he says, "ample evidence of the enthusiasm of the Poles for the
Russian cause. They show the greatest courtesy and kindness to Russians,
especially in the villages. I am told on good evidence that when a
German soldier defaced a portrait of the Tsar, a Polish official struck
him in the face, and for this was bound to a telegraph pole for two
days, and then taken down and shot. . . . Yesterday the commander of a
Russian army corps at Radom,[164] where the Germans had remained over a
month, issued the following letter of thanks to the people of the
town:--
"'Poles,--Our wounded officers and soldiers, and also our
prisoners who had fallen into the hands of the enemy, and had
passed through the town or province of Radom, speak with deep
gratitude of your cordial treatment of them. You have tended the
wounded, fed the starving, and clothed and sheltered from the
enemy those escaping from captivity. You have given them money
and guided them to our lines. Accept from me, and from all ranks
of the Army entrusted to me, warm and hearty thanks for all
your kindness, for your Slavonic sympathy and goodness.'"
* * * * *
A correspondent thus describes the touching spectacle which was to be
seen every day at the Sacred Gate of Vilna,[165] when the fate of Warsaw
was hanging in the balance: "Above the gateway is a chapel with wide
open doors showing a richly-gilded and flower-decked image of the
Virgin. At one side stands a row of leaden organ pipes, at the other
stands a priest. Music is wafted through the air with incense and the
sound of prayers. Down below in the narrow, muddy roadway kneel many
poor men and women with prayer-books in their hands. They are Poles. But
through the gateway come incessantly, all day and all night, Russian
troops going to the front. And every soldier or officer as he comes
lifts his hat and passes through the praying throng uncovered. This is
beautiful. Let Russia always be so in the presence of the Mother of
Poland."
* * * * *
The following story illustrates the doggedness of the Russian soldier.
"A detachment of twenty Russian cavalry met a hundred of the enemy's
horsemen, and, being so greatly outnumbered, decided to beat a retreat.
One of the Russians, however, was slightly wounded, and thrown from his
horse. As he lay on the ground he took up his rifle and began to pick
off the Germans who were pursuing his comrades. His shooting was so good
that he killed three of them. Peasants came up and offered to carry him
to a place of safety; but he said, 'No, I will not hide from Germans,'
and went on firing. Meanwhile the enemy, suspecting an ambush, gave up
the chase. When they returned and found that they had been foiled by a
single man they at once finished him off. He died happy, knowing that he
had by his self-sacrifice secured the safety of his comrades."
* * * * *
Here is a grim story which illustrates the splendid patience and
uncomplaining endurance of the Russian wounded:--
"A tall, thin soldier stopped near. 'You are wounded, old chap?'
inquired the general.
"'Yes, sir,' the man replied, not recognizing the general in the gloom.
'How do I get to the hospital?'
"'You ought first to find your regiment, and give up your rifle and
cartridges. But can you get there? where are you wounded?'
"The soldier threw open his cloak, and the general examined him with a
pocket electric torch. The entire shirt and the inner part of the cloak
on the breast were soaked with black blood. One knew that underneath was
an enormous gaping wound. The soldier stood erect, slightly supporting
himself on his rifle.
"'Go to the hospital,' said the general. Then he turned to me. 'You saw?
That is what they are like, and all are the same.'"
* * * * *
Professor Pares gives us the following picture of the Russian soldiers
on the march:--"We travelled in the midst of troops all hurrying forward
to participate in the taking of Kielce. They moved slowly along the road
in straggling groups like an enormous family on its way to a huge
picnic; but the unit of each regiment is never lost, and all meet at
'the appointed place.' When they come to a barrier in the road they show
great readiness and resource in removing it, and all work together like
brothers. Any number of men run up from their loose ranks to push a
motor or cart or transport wagon over a marshy stream, and those who are
so assisted call back, 'Thank you, brothers.' It is like a current that
slows up and takes thought against some barrier, but whose general
movement seems not even to be checked. Some of the side-tracks looked
very bad indeed, but every one somehow got through, no matter what the
size of their carriage. Often at such points there were companies that
rested along the grassy banks of the road; in other places one saw by
the side large numbers of gray transport wagons. Those carrying straw
for the bivouacs were in front; sometimes one came upon a resting
battery. The brotherhood between officers and men is another notable
feature of the march of a Russian army."
* * * * *
"The next day we returned to Radom, occupying seats in the motor of a
Russian general. The great stream of troops was still flowing on. There
were troops of all kinds. We called to ask the names of each regiment,
which they always gave in a kind of jovial chorus. There were food
transports, field kitchens, pontoons, and, not least important, the
post. At one point we saw a large body of Austrian prisoners sitting by
a wood drinking water with their very small escort. These men helped
some of our motors over difficult places. The great current of men and
wagons still flowed on. Teams of white horses which, because they can be
so clearly seen, are only allowed to serve in the transport, were
dashing through mud and water with an ardour as great as though they
were on the field of battle. At one place a bread wagon dropped all its
cargo and turned over on its side; but horse and driver, evidently not
noticing, carried it on into the stream without checking the pace, one
wheel flying in the air and the other broken beneath the wagon.
"Our general spoke frequently with the men, who helped us in getting our
motor over difficult places. When the trouble was over he said heartily,
'Once more, thank you, brothers.' Nothing will remain with me longer
than these endless, irregular lines of big, sleepy, almost
stupid-looking men, moving at a walk which might last for ever, and all
in one direction, and all with set eyes--the people that lies down to
sleep at the roadside, that breakfasts off stale biscuit soaked in
water, that carries nothing but what it can put to a hundred uses, that
will crouch for days without food in flooded trenches, that can die like
flies for an idea, and is sure sooner or later to attain it--the people
that never complains, the people of brothers."
[Footnote 160: Mr. Stanley Washburn, special war correspondent of the
_Times_. The quotation is from his "Field Notes from the Russian
Front."]
[Footnote 161: Between six and seven miles.]
[Footnote 162: Ammunition limbers.]
[Footnote 163: Or Kieff, chief town of Little Russia; on the Dnieper,
660 miles south of Petrograd.]
[Footnote 164: On the railway, about thirty miles west of Ivangorod.]
[Footnote 165: Town of Russia, on a tributary of the Niemen, 190 miles
east of Königsberg in East Prussia.]
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE SECOND RUSSIAN ADVANCE ON CRACOW.
At the close of Chapter XXV. we left the Germans, who had been beaten
north of the Pilitza, retreating rapidly towards the Warta, and those
who had suffered defeat south of that river hurrying towards Cracow. As
you know, they wrecked the roads, railways, and bridges on their line of
retreat, and the work was done with such thoroughness that a whole army
must have been detailed for the purpose. So rapidly, however, did the
main bodies of the Germans move that they did not even pause to bury
their dead properly. Consequently, they left behind them but few
prisoners and guns. In some places they had prepared strong positions,
but these they abandoned almost without striking a blow.
You know that the Germans had set their hearts on Warsaw, because it
would enable them to control the sheaf of railways by means of which the
Russians were able to maintain their armies in Poland. The Russians, on
the other hand, had set their hearts on Cracow, because it would give
them a road along the river Oder to Berlin, and another across the
Carpathians to Vienna. Now that the Germans and Austrians were in
retreat, the Grand Duke was able to advance again towards Cracow. When
the Germans attacked him along the line of the Vistula he had four
armies, which we will call A, B, C, D, holding that river. The army A
extended from the fortress of Novo Georgievsk to the south of Warsaw;
the army B continued the line to the south of Ivangorod; and the armies
C and D lay still farther south up to the junction of the San with the
Vistula. Along the San was Brussilov's army, which had retreated from
Galicia.
The Grand Duke knew that while Brussilov advanced again through Galicia
he must protect Brussilov's flank, so that the Germans could not
interfere with his movements. In order to do this he must hold the
Germans who had retreated towards the Warta by means of armies A, B, and
C. If fortune favoured him he might, by means of the army A, roll up the
left flank of the Germans, and hem them in between C and his fourth
army, D, which was now marching south-east towards Cracow. He therefore
hastened the advance of his troops all along the line. Army A advanced
along the Vistula towards Thorn, and the cavalry screen of Cossacks,
riding hard, was not twenty miles from that fortress on 9th November.
Army B struck at the Warta in the neighbourhood of Kolo, and on 10th
November its vanguard was actually across the German frontier, and had
cut the railway from Posen to Cracow. Meanwhile Army C was striking at
the Upper Warta, while Army D was pushing south-east. By 12th November
the cavalry of this fourth army had got within twenty miles north of
Cracow. While these movements were going on Brussilov was pushing
westward once more, and had already reached and reoccupied the main
passes of the Western Carpathians.
Everything was going well, and many people in this country fully
believed that the Russians would be in Cracow before long. But wiser
folks wondered what new move von Hindenburg was about to make. It was
not likely that the Germans would sit still under the terribly rough
handling which they had recently received. They had lost very heavily,
and they had been beaten back to their frontier, but they were still
full of fight. On 13th November it was evident that they were going to
make a very powerful counter-attack.
Let me remind you of two facts which it is important that you should
remember. The first is, that along the Polish frontier the Germans
possess a network of railways which enable them to move troops from
north to south very rapidly; the second is, that though the Germans had
devastated much of Poland they had kept the roads and railways intact in
the northern quarter of the country. As soon as von Hindenburg had
withdrawn his left and centre behind his own frontier, he put his troops
into trains, and hurried them northward to the neighbourhood of Thorn,
where he had large reserves. Some of these reserves came from Germany,
and some were brought from the Western front. Altogether he gathered in
an astonishingly brief time a striking force of about 800,000 men, and
behind them he had many thousands more. He now began to push eastward on
a forty-mile front between the Warta and the Lower Vistula towards
Warsaw once more.
[Illustration]
As the roads and railways in this region were good, he hoped to make a
rapid advance, and fall on Warsaw before the Russians could bring up
reinforcements along the broken railways and ruined roads farther south.
Even if his centre were heavily attacked he had the means of retiring
rapidly. It was a very ingenious plan which he was now about to carry
out. General von Mackensen was to command the armies in the field.
The Russians, you will observe, were very badly placed to meet the
sudden thrust that was now about to begin. They were strung out upon a
huge curve of a thousand miles in length, and their communications were
bad. As the railways had been destroyed, reinforcements from the south
would take a long time to come up, and before they could appear von
Mackensen hoped to be in Warsaw. The Army A which he had to meet was
only about 200,000 strong. Of course it might be strengthened by new
forces brought up from behind Warsaw, but in this case, too, there would
be much delay. Everything promised a speedy victory for the Germans.
In the next chapter we will see how they fared. In this chapter we will
follow the fortunes of the two armies that were advancing on Cracow. I
have already told you that the cavalry of Army D under General
Dmitrieff, a Bulgarian, who fought bravely in the Balkan War and
afterwards offered his sword to Russia, was twenty miles north of Cracow
on 12th November. At that time the main body was about sixty miles
behind. For three weeks it pushed on slowly but steadily, and meanwhile
Brussilov had recaptured Jaroslav, had again besieged Przemysl, and,
leaving a force to mask that fortress, was pushing into the passes of
the Carpathians, which, as you know, form a great natural barrier
between Galicia and the Hungarian plain. As the Carpathians figure
largely in this and in future fighting, I will give you a brief
description of them now.
* * * * *
[Illustration: The Tatra Range of the Carpathians.
_Photo, Exclusive News Agency._]
The Carpathians curve for 1,000 miles like a huge sickle round the
Hungarian plain from the deep trench of the Danube, known as the Iron
Gates, to what is called the Moravian Gate, beyond which lie the
Bohemian mountains. The southern portion of this range, which barricades
Hungary against Rumania, consists of high and bold ridges and lofty
rocky tablelands; it forms a stronghold so well fortified by nature that
it has been called the "Eastern citadel of Central Europe." That
portion of the range which overlooks Galicia may be called the "waist"
of the Carpathians, for here it is at its lowest, and is crossed by a
number of passes, over which roads and railways have been made. Still
farther west, fronting Silesia on the north is the loftiest and boldest
part of the range--the High Tatra. Here we find a great mountain wall of
granite, with steep, rocky ramparts and jagged crests, varied by
beautiful lakes, which lie in the cup-shaped hollows. The High Tatra is
as grand in its way as the Alps of Switzerland. Nowhere, however, do the
Carpathians reach the snow-line, so the range contains no glaciers such
as you find in the Alps. The lower slopes are generally covered with
forests of beech, oak, and fir; but higher up, amidst the rocks, even
the hardy pine can find no foothold. In the forests of the High Tatra
the bear, wolf, and lynx are still to be found.
The part of the Carpathians which chiefly concerns us now is neither the
high, bold ridges which look towards Rumania, nor the great rocky
wilderness of the High Tatra, but the "waist" which lies between Galicia
and the Hungarian plain. No great range of mountains is so easily
crossed as this section of the Carpathians. It consists mainly of
sandstone, which, for the most part, affords easy slopes, rounded tops,
and wide valleys. Here we find the five principal passes by which
traffic across the range is maintained. All of these passes are low and
easy. They rise from flats in the foothills, which are themselves one
thousand to twelve hundred feet above the sea-level, and the highest of
them does not rise two thousand feet higher. The summits of one of them,
the Dukla Pass, are less than six hundred feet above the last flats of
the foothills.
As these passes will occur again and again in the course of our story,
it is necessary that we should know their position and something about
each of them. The first of them to the east is the Delatyn Pass, the
highest of all; then, going west, we reach the Beskid Pass, across which
the railway from Lemberg runs down to the Hungarian plain. Still farther
west is the Uzsok Pass, which is less than three thousand feet above the
sea-level, and carries a good road and a railway. It is probably the
most difficult of all the passes to force. The next gateway in order is
the Lupkow Pass, which is not two thousand feet above the sea, and is
also crossed by road and railway. About twenty miles to the west is the
Dukla Pass, which is the lowest and easiest of all. Though it does not
carry a railway, it is nevertheless the key to the Western Carpathians.
Its saddle is only 1,500 feet above the sea; it is ten miles wide, and
can be crossed even in winter by a large army. Whoever holds the Dukla
Pass can turn all the passes to the east against an invader coming from
either north or south.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Now let us return to the Russian armies invading Galicia. While
Brussilov was seizing and holding the Uzsok, Lupkow, and Dukla Passes,
Dmitrieff, commanding what I have called Army D, was pushing his way
towards Cracow. As he moved westwards he had some heavy fighting to do.
He carried a strongly fortified town by assault, and his men waded up to
the neck in ice-cold water through the river Raba in the face of a heavy
fire. One bitter day they carried trenches and wire entanglements at the
point of the bayonet. They were seasoned by forty-five days of almost
continuous struggle, and were in the highest spirits. By the end of the
first week in December his Cossacks were in the suburbs of Cracow, and
his main force was about twelve miles east of the fortress. His right
was preparing to wheel round so as to close in on the city from the
north, where it was hardest to defend. On 4th December it was only three
and a half miles from the outer fortifications.
A month previously, when the Russians were within a hundred miles of the
fortress, it was ill prepared to stand a siege. While they were retiring
to the San and advancing again, the Austrians had been busy
strengthening its defences by making a wide circle of trenches around
the city, and putting big movable guns into them, as the French had done
at Verdun.[166] No field army, however, had been placed in these
trenches, because it was hoped that Mackensen's new move on Warsaw would
be sufficient to cause the Russians to retire again. By the end of the
first week in December it was clear that Brussilov and Dmitrieff were
not going to be drawn off by any threat in Poland, but were going to
leave the defence of Warsaw to the other Russian forces. The Austrians
now saw that they must attack the Russians in Galicia, unless they were
prepared to see Cracow fall into the hands of the enemy.
Two armies were, therefore, launched against the Russians. The first
army, which consisted largely of Hungarians, pushed up from the plain to
the south through the Carpathian passes in order to sweep Brussilov out
of them and then threaten the Russian rear and its lines of
communication. Meanwhile a second Austrian army moved from the
south-west amongst the foothills of the Carpathians, and struck at the
left of the Russians in front of Cracow. The two armies attacked at the
same time. On 8th December, while Brussilov was heavily engaged in the
mountains, Dmitrieff fought a battle on the outskirts of the city. He
held his own well, but he found that the Austrian right was working its
way through the higher glens so as to reach the valley of the river
Donajetz[167] and threaten his rear, and that at the same time a third
force from the direction of the Warta was strongly attacking his right.
He was, therefore, obliged to fall back.
[Illustration: Position of the Russians in Galicia at Christmas.]
Four days later the Austrians succeeded in seizing the broad and easy
pass of the Dukla, and were in a position to pour their forces down upon
Galicia, and hold up the rear of Dmitrieff's army while the other army
strongly attacked it from the west. The position of the Russians was now
very dangerous, and another retirement was necessary. Dmitrieff fell
back behind the line of the river Donajetz and its tributary the Biala,
so as to cover the mouth of the Dukla Pass. His front now curved from
the Vistula to the east of its confluence with the Donajetz, Tarnow on
the Biala, past Krosno, and almost to the head-waters of the river San.
Brussilov continued the line south-eastwards, and covered the northern
exits of the Lupkow Pass and the Uzsok Pass.
There was great disappointment in France and Great Britain when the news
arrived that the Russians were again retreating. So far, however, there
was no disaster. As long as the enemy could be held in the passes all
might yet be well. If, however, the Uzsok Pass, which carries a railway
from the Hungarian plain to Przemysl and Lemberg, could be captured by
the Austrians, Brussilov would have to retire northwards, in which case
the enemy would be able to regain the besieged city of Przemysl. While
the struggle was raging in the mountains, the Russians heavily bombarded
the city, in the hope of capturing it and setting free the troops that
were around it. Unhappily, the bombardment had no effect.
[Illustration: Russian Artillery in the Carpathians.
_Photo, Record Press._]
A few days later the Austrians seized the crest of the Lupkow Pass, and
began fighting hard for the Uzsok Pass. Before, however, they could
become really dangerous, Russian reinforcements arrived, and a
counter-attack began. About 20th December, when the snow lay thick on
the mountains and icy blizzards were sweeping across the passes, the
Russians once more advanced. The left, swinging south-west from Krosno,
seized the mouth of the Dukla Pass, and cut off and captured more than
10,000 Austrians. Meanwhile the centre and right moved forward to the
position shown on the map (p. 249), and by Christmas Day Brussilov was
holding the mouths of the Lupkow and Uzsok once more. He did not fear
fresh attacks by way of the passes, for the wild wintry weather forbade
the passage of troops even across the lowest gaps in the chain. At the
end of the year the Russians were still besieging Przemysl, and their
right was within forty miles of Cracow.
The city had been saved by the valour of the Hungarians. But for their
stubborn fighting in the passes, Dmitrieff would have eaten his
Christmas dinner on the banks of the Oder, and his joyful toast to his
soldiers would have been, "Onward to Berlin."
[Footnote 166: See Vol. II., p. 280.]
[Footnote 167: _Doon-a-yetz´_, rises in the Carpathians and flows north
to the Vistula, about forty miles east of Cracow.]
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE SECOND ASSAULT ON WARSAW.
We must now learn how von Mackensen made his swoop on the threatened
city of Warsaw. When the Cossacks in Galicia were within an easy day's
ride of Cracow, and North Poland was shrouded in white, clammy mists
which no eye could pierce for more than a few hundred yards, his troops
set out from Thorn on the second great venture. The first had failed,
but the second might be a triumph. Who could say?
About 13th November Ruzsky's outposts along the Vistula were driven in,
and his scouts reported that a very strong force of Germans was
advancing along both banks of the river. The Russian general had far too
few troops to meet the large numbers now flung against him, and, as I
explained in the previous chapter, he could not expect reinforcements
either from the south or from beyond the Vistula for a considerable
time. He was, therefore, forced to retire, and by the 16th November the
Germans were fifty miles to the east of their frontier, and half-way to
Warsaw. No doubt during their advance they captured many prisoners and
many guns, but owing to the straggling character of the Russian march,
which was described on page 239, the losses of our ally were not so high
as they would have been in the case of a Western army. The
Turkomans,[168] mounted on fine horses, and wearing orange and scarlet
sheepskin coats, flashed to and fro in the midst during many rearguard
actions, and managed to delay the enemy's advance. One of these
delaying fights took place on the night of the 15th-16th November, and
was claimed by von Hindenburg as a great victory. He reported that he
had captured 28,000 prisoners, and Berlin went mad with delight. The
commander-in-chief was at once rewarded--he was made a field-marshal.
Ruzsky's idea was to fall back in good order behind the river Bzura,
which rises near Lodz, flows northwards for twenty or more miles, then
runs eastwards for about forty miles, and finally flows north to join
the Vistula, some ten miles below Lowicz.[169] During its eastward
course the river flows through a great belt of marshes, which lie partly
in the course of the river and partly to the west of it. The marshes are
crossed by a few small paths totally unfitted for the passage of large
bodies of men with heavy guns. All the bridges along the river had been
broken down, but in its upper reaches the river could be forded. Look at
this little map. You will find on the railway from Thorn to Lowicz the
town of Kutno, and almost due south of it, beyond the Bzura, you will
see Piatek. Between these two places the marshes are crossed by a great
causeway, along which the heaviest traffic can make its way. From what I
have told you of the Bzura, you will gather that an army lying behind
the marshes of the river would be in a very strong position to meet a
frontal attack. They could only be assailed in front along one road--the
causeway already mentioned. They might, of course, be outflanked by a
force crossing the river below Lowicz (A), or fording the stream to the
south of the marshes (B). The Germans, as we shall see, made not only a
frontal attack along the causeway, but also flanking attacks at A and B.
[Illustration: Diagram showing the Russian Position behind the Marshes
of the Bzura.
Notice the causeway leading from Kutno to Piatek. Along this causeway
the Germans made their frontal attack.]
About fifteen miles to the south of Piatek is Lodz, the "Manchester of
Poland." It contains half a million people, and has grown more rapidly
than any other city of Europe. Its chief industry is cotton, but there
are also large factories in which silk, woollen, and linen fabrics are
made, as well as numerous dye-works, flour mills, distilleries, and
machine shops. The Germans had captured it during their first march on
Warsaw, but had lost it during the retreat. They were now to make a bold
bid for it again.
Accordingly the German right now pressed hard against the Bzura at B,
south of the marshes. While the right was crossing the river at B, the
extreme left moved towards Plock, so as to outflank the Russian position
by crossing the river at A. The main attack, however, was to be made not
on the flanks but in the centre, across the causeway at C. Now I want
you to notice that if Russian reinforcements could have come up from the
south, the German flanking forces at B would have been hemmed in between
the Russians to the north of Lodz and those advancing on the city from
the south. Von Hindenburg, however, felt quite sure that the Russians
from the south could not arrive in time owing to the broken roads and
railways. Long before they came up he hoped to be in Warsaw.
[Illustration: A German Battery overwhelmed by Cossacks.
This grim picture illustrates the fate of the Germans who were trapped
in the "pocket" as described on page 255.]
An extraordinary state of things soon occurred. At first the Russians
beat off attacks on the causeway, and held the German army in the
villages north of the marshes. But on 19th November von Mackensen made a
huge effort. He crossed the causeway, and pushed the Russians well south
of Piatek. For the next four days his troops tramped across the
causeway, and the Russians fell back more and more, till there was a
deep sag in their line east of Lodz. Von Mackensen pushed this sag
deeper and deeper, and wider and wider, until it resembled a pocket, and
on 23rd November the bottom of the pocket fell out, and the Russian army
was split into two parts, as shown in the diagram on the next page. The
Germans burst through the gap, and the Russians were now in a most
dangerous plight, especially as the enemy was bringing up strong forces
both from the south-east and the south. Lodz was now being attacked from
the front, from the flank, and from the rear. The Germans appeared to
have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams.
"There's many a slip between the cup and the lip," says the old proverb.
The Germans now expected to envelop the divided forces of the Russians,
and make an end of them altogether. But when the cup was almost at their
lips, the slip took place. The Russians had hastily summoned guns and
men from Asia, and troop trains had been rolling for weeks past at top
speed along the Siberian railway. The Siberians were detrained at a
station on the railway south of Lowicz, just as reinforcements from the
south were at last coming up. On the 24th the Siberians appeared on the
field; another day, and they would have been too late--the Russian left
would have been destroyed for ever.
Ruzsky, now reinforced, did his utmost to close up the mouth of the
pocket, and thus cut off the 90,000 Germans who were within it. For two
days he pressed together the edges of the top of the pocket, and more
and more shut in the trapped corps. More troops were needed to close it
completely, and Rennenkampf, on the extreme right, was ordered to push
forward with the utmost speed. Unhappily, he arrived a day too late, and
the pocket was never wholly shut up.
[Illustration]
Von Mackensen strove hard by bringing up reserves to force back the
Russians who were pinching him on either side, and by doing so managed
to provide an exit for his trapped troops. From 24th to 26th November a
furious struggle continued night and day. Battalions were broken into
fragments, and the men roamed about the frozen and deserted land "like a
pack of hungry wolves." By the 26th something like 40,000 men had
escaped, and had reached their own lines. Amongst them was a remnant of
the Prussian guards. Not only had thousands of Germans been killed and
wounded, but multitudes of prisoners were in Russian hands. A few days
later Warsaw was swarming with them. But for Rennenkampf's late arrival
Russia would have accomplished a new Sedan.
[Footnote 168: Natives of Russian Central Asia.]
[Footnote 169: _Lo´vitch_, 44 miles west-south-west of Warsaw.]
CHAPTER XXIX.
WARSAW AGAIN SAVED.
Fresh troops were now brought up from Germany, and a determined effort
was made to envelop the Russians by striking hard at their left while
the rest of the line was strongly held up. The Russian left wing was
pushed back, chiefly because it had broken roads and railways behind it,
and was farthest from its base of supply. Lodz, to the rear of the
Russian lines, now formed an ugly salient, much like that at Ypres.
Ruzsky knew that if he were forced to retreat through the seven miles of
the Lodz streets he could only march slowly and in crowded formation,
and would probably be badly cut up in the process. It was a risk which
there was no reason to face. Lodz was of no value in his plan of
campaign, though, of course, it was valuable to the enemy because of its
resources. Ruzsky therefore determined to give it up, and to straighten
out his line by falling back. Accordingly, on the 27th he slowly
retreated. His withdrawal lasted more than a week. German shells began
to fall in the streets of Lodz on 5th December, and the next day the
enemy entered the city, and were received with great joy by their
fellow-countrymen, who form a large part of its population. For the
second time the Germans were masters of Lodz.
There was much joy in Berlin, and the capture of the city was acclaimed
as a great victory, in which "we did not lose a single man." As we have
seen, the Russians gave it up of their own accord, because the game of
holding it was not worth the candle. As a matter of fact, there was no
battle and no victory. It is said that for fifteen hours the Germans
shelled empty trenches, from which the Russians had withdrawn on the
previous day. Nevertheless they still speak of the Battle of Lodz, and
consider it a feather in their caps.
A few days later von Hindenburg thus addressed his men:--
"In the course of severe fighting, lasting several days, my
troops have brought to a standstill a Russian army superior in
numbers. Over 60,000 prisoners, 150 guns, and about 200 machine
guns have fallen into our hands. But the enemy is not yet
annihilated. Therefore, forward, with God, for King and
Fatherland, till the last Russian lies beaten at our feet."
No doubt the Germans had made large captures, but so had the Russians.
Von Hindenburg, though he called upon his men to rejoice, knew that he
had really failed in his object, which was to make the Russians retire
from Galicia and come to the help of their hard-pressed comrades in
North Poland. They had done nothing of the sort. As you know, the
Galician campaign went on without interference.
Von Hindenburg had promised his troops that they should eat their
Christmas dinner in Warsaw. He was still seventy miles from the city,
and December was already six days old. There was no time to be lost if
his promise was to be kept.
He now hurled his left against the Russian right wing, which lay north
of the Bzura and well east of Lowicz. At the same time he increased his
forces in East Prussia, and ordered them to march southwards from Mlava
so as to cut the main railway from Warsaw to Petrograd. Had this move
succeeded, the Russians would have been obliged to abandon Warsaw.
Happily, a force advanced from the fortress of Novo Georgievsk, and
drove back the Germans from East Prussia almost to their frontier. For
the time being, the Russian right flank was secure.
[Illustration: The Battle of the Bzura. Russian Field Artillery in
Action.
_By permission of The Illustrated London News._]
The Russian wing just south of the Vistula was not, however, well placed
to meet the other attack. It was cut into two by the river Bzura, and
its communications were very bad. So, with great wisdom, Ruzsky
determined to withdraw this wing behind the Bzura and its tributary the
Rawka, which flows north to join the Bzura, a few miles east of Lowicz.
Behind these rivers he would have good communications, by means of
which he could easily bring up food, munitions, and reinforcements. So
far the winter frosts had not been severe; there was only a thin coating
of ice on the Polish bogs, and the Vistula and the Pilitza were still
open for river traffic. Just when Ruzsky was planning his retirement a
complete thaw set in, and in a few days the whole countryside was one
slough of despond. The Germans advancing against his new position would
have to flounder through many feet of mud to get at him.
For a fortnight the Russians slowly fell back all along the line, and
the towns to the west of the line of the Bzura and the Rawka were
occupied by the Germans. By the 18th of December the Russians were in
their new position, which soon proved itself to be as strong as the
Allied position from Arras to Nieuport. The same kind of warfare now
took place both in East and West. The Russians dug themselves in close
to the shallow, muddy streams, and on the other side the Germans
occupied the fairly high bank which marks the rim of an old channel.
Attacks and counter-attacks were nightly incidents of the struggle. When
the early darkness set in, the Germans, in close formation, crashed
through the cat-ice along the shore, waded breast-high through the
bitterly cold waters, and, in spite of severe losses, frequently gained
the Russian bank. Sometimes they captured an advanced trench, but rarely
could they hold it, and all the time they were losing heavily. Warsaw
was only thirty-five miles away, and the roar of the German guns was
clearly heard in the city. But there was no panic; the Russian lines
were proof against every assault. By Christmas Eve the enemy was doing
no more than hold his trenches. In East and West alike stalemate had set
in.
* * * * *
A writer thus describes Christmas Day in the Russian lines: "The Bishop
of Moscow," he says, "arranged a solemn Christmas Day service, with
trained singers who were serving in the army. He later visited the
hospitals, giving short and plain addresses, and blessing each branch of
the service in turn. There was a great Christmas tree in the station,
where presents were distributed to the wounded. Gifts were also
distributed under fire by the hospital workers to the soldiers in the
trenches. In the evening I took part in a Christmas gathering in one of
the big hospitals. Every one's health was drunk in turn; the persons
toasted were mentioned by their Christian names, and all was woven into
a long song. Afterwards we sang songs of the Volga."
* * * * *
The failure of the second attempt to capture Warsaw brings us down to
the end of the year 1914, and the moment is convenient for summing up
the work of the Russian armies during the first five months of the war.
In common with her Allies, Russia was not ready to take the field when
war was declared; most of her soldiers had yet to be called up, and she
had not sufficient rifles, ammunition, and uniforms for them. Further,
by means of her very imperfect railway system, she had to transport such
forces as were ready many thousands of miles before they could reach the
theatre of war. In spite of all these difficulties, she had a force
prepared to strike a full fortnight before the Germans believed that she
could put her men into the field.
While the Kaiser's hosts were swinging through Belgium, in the hope of
overwhelming the French and the British, the Russians, though still too
weak for the purpose, invaded East Prussia, the sacred land of the
German squires, and by doing so relieved to some extent the strain in
the West. Dearly did Russia pay for this act of chivalry. She suffered
one of the most terrible defeats in her history at Tannenberg; but she
was still undismayed. In Galicia, on the other hand, she crushed the
Austrians in two mighty battles before the Germans could come to their
aid, and captured the whole eastern half of the country.
Her troops were rapidly approaching Cracow, which alone barred the road
to Silesia and Berlin, when the Germans, who from the first were greatly
superior in numbers, made a dangerous move against Warsaw, the great
railway centre which it was essential for Russia to hold if she was to
maintain the war on the enemy's frontier. To meet this grave threat, the
Grand Duke ordered his forces to fall back from Galicia, and hold the
long line of the Vistula against the determined invader. Then when von
Hindenburg had made his furious thrust, and had been flung back almost
from the gates of Warsaw, the Russians sprang forward once more, and
drove the Germans in rout behind their own frontier. Again they swept
into Galicia, and there they were maintaining themselves when the year
1914 came to a close.
By means of the network of railways on the German frontier von
Hindenburg rapidly massed troops for a march across the undevastated
north of Poland towards the city which had already foiled him, hoping
that this new threat would have the former effect. It failed in its
purpose. The Russians met his many with their few behind the marshes of
the Bzura, and the late arrival of Rennenkampf's troops alone saved the
Germans from being completely wiped out. As it was, they suffered
terribly, but reinforced, made another frenzied attempt on Warsaw. Again
the Russians retreated, and behind a river front of great strength
defied the Germans to do their worst. By Christmas Eve the Germans had
failed, for the second time in three months, to capture the city of
their desire.
[Illustration: Christmas in the Trenches of Poland.
_Photo, Alfieri._
This photograph shows an advanced trench in Poland as held by the
Germans on Christmas Day. It will be noticed that two sentinels in full
marching order keep watch, and that the rifles of the defenders lie in
position, ready to be discharged at a moment's notice. A typical German
officer is seen sleeping close to the sentry in the foreground.]
Such in the briefest possible outline is the record of Russia's part in
the war during the year 1914. The Russians had most loyally supported
the Allies; they had sacrificed thousands of men in order to draw
against them the greatest number of Germans, and by their stubborn and
persistent efforts they had caused the enemy after 15th November to
abandon his offensive movements in the West. Their commander-in-chief
and most of their other leaders had shown fine generalship and great
resolution, and their soldiers had given fresh proof of the dogged
courage for which they have always been renowned.
All this came as a great surprise to those who remembered that the
Russian armies had been utterly baffled and overthrown in the war which
they had waged ten years before against Japan. Then they were badly
trained, badly equipped, and badly led; but Russia had taken to heart
the bitter lessons of defeat, and during the intervening years had so
thoroughly reorganized her forces that they were now able to inflict
defeats upon the foremost military nation of the world. As an armed
power Russia had been born anew.
CHAPTER XXX.
AT WAR WITH TURKEY.
At the beginning of the great struggle King George sent a message to the
Sultan, in which he referred to the friendship which had existed between
the United Kingdom and Turkey for more than a century. Two days before
the fall of Tsingtau this old friendship was broken; we were forced to
declare war on the Power which we had so often befriended during more
than a hundred years. The fact was that Germany had become all-powerful
in Turkey, and the Sultan was merely a puppet in the Kaiser's hands.
I have already told you how the Kaiser courted the Sultan in 1889,[170]
and won for Germany many important industrial and commercial advantages
in Asia Minor. In July 1908 an event took place in Turkey which seemed
at first to be a great blow to Germany. Up to that time the government
of Turkey had been Oriental; the Sultan was absolute; there was no
parliament, and bad governors robbed the people right and left. Western
ideas, however, had gradually been gaining ground, especially amongst
the younger men. In July 1908 the Young Turks, after long preparation,
rose in rebellion under a vain but very pushing man named Enver Bey. The
Sultan, the Kaiser's friend, was deposed; his younger brother was placed
on the throne, and a new form of government, in which the people had
some share, was set up. Before long, Enver Bey became the most powerful
man in the country. He was a simple captain when the reform movement
began, but he rapidly rose to be Chief of the General Staff and
Secretary for War.
This revolution seemed to have overturned Germany's plans, and to have
robbed her at one blow of all the power and influence which she had
gained in Turkey. Thanks, however, to the army which von der Goltz had
drilled and trained and officered, Germany managed to retain her
influence. Enver Bey and other leading Young Turks were won over, and
Germany continued to hold the reins of military power. Then came the war
with Italy, and in 1912 the sudden and unexpected Balkan War, in which
the German-trained Turkish army was badly beaten. When all was over,
Turkey had been reduced to a little country less than twice the size of
Wales.
After this disaster the Turkish army was practically handed over to
Germany, lock, stock, and barrel. German officers were poured into the
army, and nearly all the divisions and brigades had German commanders.
In January 1914 General Liman von Sanders became commander of all the
thirteen corps of the Turkish army.
Now, I think you can understand that when the great European war broke
out it was highly improbable that Turkey would remain neutral. We were
most anxious to keep Turkey out of the fight, and on 7th August Sir
Edward Grey promised, on behalf of Great Britain, France, and Russia,
that if she would refrain from war we would guarantee her independence,
and would see that she lost no territory when the struggle was over. We
also undertook to make no change in the government of Egypt, which, as
you know, was then supposed to be under the overlordship of the Sultan.
When we declared war on Germany there were in this country two
men-of-war which Messrs. Armstrong, Whitworth, and Company had built for
the Turkish Government, but which had not been handed over to their
owners. According to what is called International Law,[171] a nation
going to war has a perfect right to acquire any warships which have been
built or are building in its ports, but have not left the country. Our
Admiralty very properly bought these vessels from the builders. Sir
Edward Grey telegraphed to the Sultan on 25th August, expressing his
deep regret that the Government had been obliged to take this course,
and promising to restore the ships at the end of the war if Turkey would
remain strictly neutral. There seemed to be a good deal of angry feeling
against Britain in Constantinople when the Turks learnt that we had
taken over their ships. The Turkish Prime Minister, however, assured us
that this angry feeling was largely pretence, and meant nothing. Turkey,
however, was soon to show herself in her true colours.
In Chapter XXI. of our second volume I told you that the two German
cruisers _Goeben_ and _Breslau_ were chased by a British squadron in the
Mediterranean, but that they managed to escape, and on 10th August took
refuge in the Dardanelles. It was the duty of Turkey as a neutral Power
to see that these ships did not pass through the Strait, and that they
were either sent off to sea again in the course of twenty-four hours, or
were disarmed and interned until the end of the war. Next day, to the
astonishment of the world, the Turks announced that they had bought the
cruisers from Germany because Britain had seized the ships which had
been built for them on the Tyne. I have already told you that Britain
had every right to take over the Turkish ships. On the other hand,
Turkey had no right whatever to buy warships from a nation that was at
war with another nation. To do so was a friendly act to Germany and an
unfriendly act to Britain, France, and Russia. If the Turks had acted
according to international law, they would have ordered the _Goeben_ and
_Breslau_ out of their waters, in which case the Allied ships in the
Mediterranean would have captured them. By buying them, the Turks
prevented Britain from reducing the enemy's naval strength, and at the
same time they assisted Germany by paying over their price. By means of
these ships the Turks hoped to make themselves masters of the Black Sea.
This unfriendly act in itself afforded Great Britain good grounds for
declaring war on Turkey; but she was very patient, and confined herself
to protests. The Turkish Government promised to send away the German
officers and crews of the _Goeben_ and _Breslau_, but did not do so. All
the while the Turkish Prime Minister was protesting that Turkey wished
to be neutral; but he was merely playing for time. Attempts were being
made to stir up rebellion in Egypt and India, and Turkey was holding her
hand until the Moslems in these countries should be ready to rise.
Towards the end of October the British Government learned that Turkish
ships, without any declaration of war, and without warning of any kind,
had wantonly attacked open, undefended Russian towns on the Black Sea.
It was well known, too, that Enver Bey, the Turkish Minister of War, was
strongly pro-German, and that since the war began German officers in
large numbers had poured into Constantinople. Certain rights enjoyed by
foreigners living in Turkey had been abolished; the army had been
mobilized, and there was no doubt that an attack was being prepared
against Egypt. On 29th October a horde of Bedouins[172] invaded the
Sinai Peninsula,[173] and seized certain wells. The same day Turkish
torpedo boats raided Odessa, sank and damaged several ships, and
bombarded the town.
Next day the ambassadors of the Allies had interviews with the Sultan
and his advisers. The Sultan and the Prime Minister were in favour of
peace, but Enver Bey and the military party overruled them. On 1st
November the ambassadors left Constantinople, and four days later the
King issued a proclamation which began as follows:--
"_Owing to hostile acts committed by Turkish forces under German
officers, a state of war now exists between Us and the Sultan of
Turkey._"
Before I describe the part played by Turkey in the war during the year
1914, let me tell you something about the army which she was able to put
into the field. Every man in Turkey is supposed to serve, but as a rule
only Mohammedans are called upon to do so. The conscript belongs to the
army for twenty years--nine in the Nizam, or first line; nine in the
Redif, or Active Reserve; and two in the Mustafiz, or Territorial
Militia. Probably, at a pinch, the Turks could put into the field
between 700,000 and 800,000 men, providing there was equipment for them.
Their artillery had suffered heavily in the Balkan War; but since then
Turkey had bought many quick-firing guns from Krupp and the famous
Austrian firm of Skoda. Germany had also provided the Turks with a
number of heavy batteries.
The Turkish foot-soldier has always been famous as a fighting man. He
is, as a rule, strong and well built, his nerves are steady, he is very
stubborn in defence, and he can bear fatigue wonderfully well. But, as
you know, he did not come off with flying colours during the Balkan War,
probably because the German discipline to which he had been subjected
had robbed him of his old dash and go, and because he was not in full
sympathy with the German officers who commanded him. As a soldier, he
was half Turk, half German; he had lost many of his Turkish virtues as a
fighting man, and had not fully acquired those of Germany. Nevertheless,
he is still brave, still dogged, still much enduring, and will always
prove a formidable foe.
An American caricature of the time showed the Sultan laying his head
upon a block and chopping it off with his own hand. Most observers in
Western Europe felt that by acting as the cat's-paw of Germany, Turkey
was deliberately committing suicide. She was solving the century-old
problem--Shall Turkey remain a European Power? However the war might
end, Turkey was bound to be wiped off the map of Europe as an
independent state. There were many people in this country who were
deeply sorry to see a brave people thus tricked into disaster for a
cause which they could not understand, and for which they had no
sympathy. Before long, however, the children of Osman[174] were fighting
and dying amidst the snows of the Caucasus or on the sands of the desert
in their old fearless, uncomplaining fashion--fighting and dying for no
purpose save to ensure the destruction of their race as a ruling power.
[Illustration: Constantinople, the ancient Byzantium.
_Photo, Exclusive News Agency._]
* * * * *
Naturally the Turks wished to fight in the Balkan Peninsula, and to
recover, if possible, some of the territory which they had lost during
the recent disastrous wars. This, however, they could not do, because
Greece and Bulgaria, their neighbours, remained neutral. The Germans
wished to use the Turkish army to create diversions--that is, to attack
the Allies at a distance from the main theatres of war, and thus compel
them to divide their forces. The frontiers of Turkey in Asia touch that
wild, mountainous region in which Russia holds sway beneath the towering
masses of the Caucasus; they also touch the bounds of Egypt, in which
Britain is supreme, and draw near to the head of the Persian Gulf, which
for generations we have watched and guarded in the interests of our
Indian Empire, and have long regarded as a British sphere of influence.
In these three regions the Turks might be of real assistance to their
German masters. If they fought in Transcaucasia, they would draw off
Russian troops from the thousand-mile line which the soldiers of the
Tsar were then holding from the Niemen to the Dniester. If they attacked
the Suez Canal, they might bar Britain's short road to India, and force
her to keep a large army in Egypt. Further, when the Turks advanced,
their Moslem brethren in Egypt and India might rise in rebellion, and
force Britain to withdraw troops from the Western front to put them
down. Then, again, the Turks might push down to the shores of the
Persian Gulf, and obtain a foothold from which India might be threatened
and the oil fields of Persia secured. The Turks, therefore, attacked on
the Persian Gulf, in Transcaucasia, and in Egypt. With their descent
upon the Suez Canal I shall deal in our next volume; in this and the
next chapter I will describe the fighting at the head of the Persian
Gulf, and afterwards I will tell you something of the operations in
Transcaucasia.
* * * * *
South of Transcaucasia lies the Armenian plateau, which consists of
lofty ranges of sterile mountains, with fertile vales and wide plains
between them. The highest peak of this plateau is Ararat, on which it is
said that the Ark rested after the flood. Ararat stands where the
Russian, the Turkish, and the Persian empires meet, and from its
southern slopes that famous river the Euphrates goes leaping through the
mountain gorges on its way to the distant Persian Gulf. In the mountains
to the south-east of Ararat rises the Tigris, which also flows towards
the Persian Gulf, and gradually draws nearer and nearer to the
Euphrates, with which it finally unites. Between the two rivers is
Mesopotamia, which in early times was a wonderfully fertile country,
but under the blighting hand of the Turk has become a wilderness, though
it might again "blossom as the rose" if the waters of the rivers were
properly distributed over the land.
On the plain of the Euphrates and the Tigris are the ruins of cities
which were famous at the very dawn of history. Near the busy town of
Mosul, on the Tigris, is the site of the ancient city of Nineveh; and
near the Euphrates, not far from the town of Hilla, are the ruins of
Babylon. Two hundred miles below Mosul is Bagdad, which recalls the
"Arabian Nights." Above Basra, the city of Sindbad the Sailor, the
Euphrates and the Tigris unite, and the combined stream flows for about
seventy miles to the Persian Gulf as the Shat-el-Arab. On the eastern
side of its lower course is Abadan Island, on which about 1,000 tons of
crude oil are refined daily. The oil comes down a pipe line from the
wells, which are about 150 miles north-east of the refinery.
[Illustration: The Persian Gulf.[175]]
The region between Basra and the Persian Gulf is the ancient land of
Chaldea, the original home of Abraham, the father of the Hebrew people.
Britons and Turks were now to meet in warfare on the river flats where
the written history of the world began.
You can easily understand that the refinery at Abadan and the pipe line
from the oil wells would be open to attack if we should go to war with
Turkey. To lose this great source of supply would be a grievous blow to
us, for more and more of our warships now raise their steam with oil
instead of coal. As soon as the European war began the Government of
India dispatched an Anglo-Indian force, consisting of the 2nd Dorsets
and of Indian infantry and artillery, to the Persian Gulf. This force
was landed on the island of Bahrein, but when war was declared with
Turkey it re-embarked, and on 7th November reached the bar at the mouth
of the Shat-el-Arab, near the village of Fao. A gunboat bombarded the
mud fort of this village, and reduced it to silence in about an hour. A
force of marines was then landed, and the place was occupied.