THE CRISIS OF AGADIR
1911
On the idle hill of summer,
Sleepy with the sound of streams,
Far I hear the steady drummer
Drumming like a noise in dreams.
Far and near and low and louder,
On the roads of earth go by,
Dear to friends and food for powder,
Soldiers marching, all to die.
THE SHROPSHIRE LAD, XXXV.
Agadir—The _Panther_—The Alarm Bells of Europe—Sir Edward Grey’s
Warning—The Period of Silence—Situation in the Cabinet—Decision of
the Chancellor of the Exchequer—His Mansion House Speech—The
German Rejoinder—Naval Precautions—Effect of the Mansion House
Speech on German Policy—British Apprehensions of Attack—The Naval
Magazines—Vulnerable Points—The Military Situation—Sir Henry
Wilson—A Talk with the German Ambassador—Count Metternich—The Old
Diplomacy—Meeting of the Committee of Imperial Defence, August
23—Sir Henry Wilson’s Forecast—Admiralty Views—Divergences Between
the Generals and Admirals—My Memorandum of August 13—The Twentieth
Day—The Fortieth Day—Plans for Army Expansion—Continued
Anxiety—My Letter to Sir Edward Grey, August 30—End of the
Crisis—Consequences in Germany—The Prime Minister Invites Me to Go
to the Admiralty—The Ninth Chapter of Deuteronomy.
In the spring of 1911 a French expedition occupied Fez. This action,
added to the growing discontent in Germany over the Moroccan question,
tempted the German Government at the beginning of July to an abrupt act.
The Brothers Mannesmann, a German firm at that time very active in
European financial circles, claimed that they had large interests in a
harbour on the Atlantic seaboard of the Moroccan Coast and in the
hinterland behind it. This harbour bore the name of Agadir. Herr von
Kiderlen-Wächter, the German Foreign Minister, raised this point with
the French. The French Government fully realised that the advantages
they were gaining in Morocco, justified Germany in seeking certain
colonial compensations in the Congo area. The German press on the other
hand was indignant at exchanging German interests in the moderate
climate of Morocco for unhealthy tropical regions of which they had
already more than enough. The questions involved were complicated and
intrinsically extremely unimportant. The French prepared themselves for
a prolonged negotiation. So far as the harbour and hinterland of Agadir
were concerned, there seemed to be no difficulty. They denied altogether
the existence of any German interests there. They said there was only a
sandy bay untouched by the hand of man; there was no German property on
the shore, not a trading establishment, not a house; there were no
German interests in the interior. But these facts could easily be
ascertained by a visit of accredited representatives of both countries.
Such a visit to ascertain the facts they professed themselves quite
ready to arrange. They also courted a discussion of the frontier of the
Congo territories.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, on the morning of July 1, without more ado,
it was announced that His Imperial Majesty the German Emperor had sent
his gunboat the _Panther_ to Agadir to maintain and protect German
interests. This small ship was already on its way. All the alarm bells
throughout Europe began immediately to quiver. France found herself in
the presence of an act which could not be explained, the purpose behind
which could not be measured. Great Britain, having consulted the atlas,
began to wonder what bearing a German naval base on the Atlantic coast
of Africa would have upon her maritime security, “observing,” as the
sailors say when they have to write official letters to each other, that
such a fact must be taken in conjunction with German activities at
Madeira and in the Canaries and with the food routes and trade routes
from South America and South Africa which converged and passed through
these waters. Europe was uneasy. France was genuinely alarmed. When
Count Metternich apprised Sir Edward Grey of the German action, he was
informed that the situation was so important that it must be considered
by the Cabinet. On July 5th, after the Cabinet, he was told that the
British Government could not disinterest themselves in Morocco, and that
until Germany’s intentions were made known their attitude must remain
one of reserve. From that date until July 21 not one word was spoken by
the German Government. There is no doubt that the decided posture of
Great Britain was a great surprise to the German Foreign Office. There
ensued between the Governments what was called at the time “the period
of silence.” Meanwhile the French and German newspapers carried on a
lively controversy, and the British press wore a very sombre air.
It was difficult to divine from the long strings of telegrams which day
after day flowed in from all the European Chancelleries, what was the
real purpose behind the German action. I followed attentively the
repeated discussions on the subject in the British Cabinet. Was Germany
looking for a pretext of war with France, or was she merely trying by
pressure and uncertainty to improve her colonial position? In the latter
case the dispute would no doubt be adjusted after a period of tension,
as so many had been before. The great Powers marshalled on either side,
preceded and protected by an elaborate cushion of diplomatic courtesies
and formalities, would display to each other their respective arrays. In
the forefront would be the two principal disputants, Germany and France,
and echeloned back on either side at varying distances and under veils
of reserves and qualifications of different density, would be drawn up
the other parties to the Triple Alliance and to what was already now
beginning to be called the Triple Entente. At the proper moment these
seconds or supporters would utter certain cryptic words indicative of
their state of mind, as a consequence of which France or Germany would
step back or forward a very small distance or perhaps move slightly to
the right or to the left. When these delicate rectifications in the
great balance of Europe, and indeed of the world, had been made, the
formidable assembly would withdraw to their own apartments with ceremony
and salutations and congratulate or condole with each other in whispers
on the result. We had seen it several times before.
But even this process was not free from danger. One must think of the
intercourse of the nations in those days not as if they were chessmen on
the board, or puppets dressed in finery and frillings grimacing at each
other in a quadrille, but as prodigious organisations of forces active
or latent which, like planetary bodies, could not approach each other in
space without giving rise to profound magnetic reactions. If they got
too near, the lightnings would begin to flash, and beyond a certain
point they might be attracted altogether from the orbits in which they
were restrained and draw each other into dire collision. The task of
diplomacy was to prevent such disasters; and as long as there was no
conscious or subconscious purpose of war in the mind of any Power or
race, diplomacy would probably succeed. But in such grave and delicate
conjunctions one violent move by any party would rupture and derange the
restraints upon all, and plunge Cosmos into Chaos.
I thought myself that the Germans had a certain grievance about the
original Anglo-French agreement. We had received many conveniences in
Egypt. France had gained great advantages in Morocco. If Germany felt
her relative position prejudiced by these arrangements, there was no
reason why patiently and amicably she should not advance and press her
own point of view. And it seemed to me that Britain, the most withdrawn,
the least committed of the Great Powers, might exercise a mitigating and
a modifying influence and procure an accommodation; and that of course
was what we tried to do. But if Germany’s intention were malignant, no
such process would be of the slightest use. In that event a very decided
word would have to be spoken, and spoken before it was too late. Nor
would our withdrawing altogether from the scene have helped matters. Had
we done so all our restraining influence would have vanished, and an
intenser aggravation of the antagonistic forces must have occurred.
Therefore I read all the papers and telegrams which began to pass with a
suspicion, and I could see beneath the calm of Sir Edward Grey a growing
and at some moments a grave anxiety.
The sultry obscurity of the European situation was complicated by the
uncertain play of forces within our own council chamber. There again in
miniature were reproduced the balances and reserves of the external
diplomatic situation. The Ministers who were conducting the foreign
policy of Britain, with the ponderous trident of sea power towering up
behind them, were drawn entirely from the Liberal Imperialist section of
the Government. They were narrowly watched and kept in equipoise by the
Radical element, which included the venerable figures of Lord Morley and
Lord Loreburn, on whose side the Chancellor of the Exchequer and I had
usually leaned. It was clear that this equipoise might easily make it
impossible for Great Britain to speak with a decided voice either on one
side or the other if certain dangerous conditions supervened. We should
not, therefore, either keep clear ourselves by withdrawing from the
danger nor be able by resolute action to ward it off in time. In these
circumstances the attitude of the Chancellor of the Exchequer became of
peculiar importance.
For some weeks he offered no indication of what his line would be, and
in our numerous conversations he gave me the impression of being
sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other. But on the morning of
July 21, when I visited him before the Cabinet, I found a different man.
His mind was made up. He saw quite clearly the course to take. He knew
what to do and how and when to do it. The tenor of his statement to me
was that we were drifting into war. He dwelt on the oppressive silence
of Germany so far as we were concerned. He pointed out that Germany was
acting as if England did not count in the matter in any way; that she
had completely ignored our strong representation; that she was
proceeding to put the most severe pressure on France; that a catastrophe
might ensue; and that if it was to be averted we must speak with great
decision, and we must speak at once. He told me that he was to address
the Bankers at their Annual Dinner that evening, and that he intended to
make it clear that if Germany meant war, she would find Britain against
her. He showed me what he had prepared, and told me that he would show
it to the Prime Minister and Sir Edward Grey after the Cabinet. What
would they say? I said that of course they would be very much relieved;
and so they were, and so was I.
The accession of Mr. Lloyd George in foreign policy to the opposite wing
of the Government was decisive. We were able immediately to pursue a
firm and coherent policy. That night at the Bankers’ Association the
Chancellor of the Exchequer used the following words:—
I believe it is essential in the highest interests not merely of this
country, but of the world, that Britain should at all hazards maintain
her place and her prestige amongst the Great Powers of the world. Her
potent influence has many a time been in the past, and may yet be in
the future, invaluable to the cause of human liberty. It has more than
once in the past redeemed continental nations, who are sometimes too
apt to forget that service, from overwhelming disaster and even from
national extinction. I would make great sacrifices to preserve peace.
I conceive that nothing would justify a disturbance of international
goodwill except questions of the gravest national moment. But if a
situation were to be forced upon us in which peace could only be
preserved by the surrender of the great and beneficent position
Britain has won by centuries of heroism and achievement, by allowing
Britain to be treated where her interests were vitally affected as if
she were of no account in the Cabinet of nations, then I say
emphatically that peace at that price would be a humiliation
intolerable for a great country like ours to endure.
His City audience, whose minds were obsessed with the iniquities of the
Lloyd George Budget and the fearful hardships it had inflicted upon
property and wealth—little did they dream of the future—did not
comprehend in any way the significance or the importance of what they
heard. They took it as if it had been one of the ordinary platitudes of
ministerial pronouncements upon foreign affairs. But the Chancelleries
of Europe bounded together.
Four days later, at about 5.30 in the afternoon, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer and I were walking by the fountains of Buckingham Palace.
Hot-foot on our track came a messenger. Will the Chancellor of the
Exchequer go at once to Sir Edward Grey? Mr. Lloyd George stopped
abruptly and turning to me said, “That’s my speech. The Germans may
demand my resignation as they did Delcassé’s.” I said, “That will make
you the most popular man in England” (he was not actually the most
popular at that time). We returned as fast as we could and found Sir
Edward Grey in his room at the House of Commons. His first words were:
“I have just received a communication from the German Ambassador so
stiff that the Fleet might be attacked at any moment. I have sent for
McKenna to warn him!” He then told us briefly of the conversation he had
just had with Count Metternich. The Ambassador had said that after the
speech of the Chancellor of the Exchequer no explanation could be made
by Germany. In acrid terms he had stated that if France should repel the
hand offered her by the Emperor’s Government, the dignity of Germany
would compel her to secure by all means full respect by France for
German treaty rights. He had then read a long complaint about Mr. Lloyd
George’s speech “which to say the least could have been interpreted as a
warning to Germany’s address and which as a matter of fact had been
interpreted by the presses of Great Britain and France as a warning
bordering on menace.” Sir Edward Grey had thought it right to reply that
the tone of the communication which had just been read to him, rendered
it inconsistent with the dignity of His Majesty’s Government to give
explanations with regard to the speech of the Chancellor of the
Exchequer. The First Lord arrived while we were talking, and a few
minutes later hurried off to send the warning orders.
They sound so very cautious and correct, these deadly words. Soft, quiet
voices purring, courteous, grave, exactly-measured phrases in large
peaceful rooms. But with less warning cannons had opened fire and
nations had been struck down by this same Germany. So now the Admiralty
wireless whispers through the ether to the tall masts of ships, and
captains pace their decks absorbed in thought. It is nothing. It is less
than nothing. It is too foolish, too fantastic to be thought of in the
twentieth century. Or is it fire and murder leaping out of the darkness
at our throats, torpedoes ripping the bellies of half-awakened ships, a
sunrise on a vanished naval supremacy, and an island well guarded
hitherto, at last defenceless? No, it is nothing. No one would do such
things. Civilisation has climbed above such perils. The interdependence
of nations in trade and traffic, the sense of public law, the Hague
Convention, Liberal principles, the Labour Party, high finance,
Christian charity, common sense have rendered such nightmares
impossible. Are you quite sure? It would be a pity to be wrong. Such a
mistake could only be made once—once for all.
The Mansion House speech was a surprise to all countries: it was a
thunder-clap to the German Government. All their information had led
them to believe that Mr. Lloyd George would head the peace party and
that British action would be neutralised. Jumping from one extreme to
another, they now assumed that the British Cabinet was absolutely
united, and that the Chancellor of the Exchequer of all others had been
deliberately selected as the most Radical Minister by the British
Government to make this pronouncement.[2] They could not understand how
their representatives and agents in Great Britain could have been so
profoundly misled. Their vexation proved fatal to Count Metternich, and
at the first convenient opportunity he was recalled. Here was an
Ambassador who, after ten years’ residence in London, could not even
forecast the action of one of the most powerful Ministers on a question
of this character. It will be seen from what has been written that this
view was hard on Count Metternich. How could he know what Mr. Lloyd
George was going to do? Until a few hours before, his colleagues did not
know. Working with him in close association, I did not know. No one
knew. Until his mind was definitely made up, he did not know himself.
It seems probable now that the Germans did not mean war on this
occasion. But they meant to test the ground; and in so doing they were
prepared to go to the very edge of the precipice. It is so easy to lose
one’s balance there: a touch, a gust of wind, a momentary dizziness, and
all is precipitated into the abyss. But whether in the heart of the
German State there was or was not a war purpose before England’s part
had been publicly declared, there was no such intention afterwards.
After the speech of the Chancellor of the Exchequer and its sequel the
German Government could not doubt that Great Britain would be against
them if a war was forced upon France at this juncture. They did not
immediately recede from their position, but they were most careful to
avoid any fresh act of provocation; and all their further conduct of the
negotiations with France tended to open in one direction or another
paths of accommodation and of retreat. It remained extremely difficult
for us to gauge the exact significance of the various points at issue,
and throughout the months of July, August and September the situation
continued obscure and oppressive. The slight yet decisive change which
came over the character of German diplomacy, was scarcely perceptible,
and at the same time certain precautionary military measures which were
taken behind the German frontiers, so far as they were known to us, had
the effect of greatly increasing our anxiety. In consequence the
atmosphere in England became constantly more heavily charged with
electricity as one hot summer’s day succeeded another.
Hitherto as Home Secretary I had not had any special part to play in
this affair, though I had followed it with the utmost attention as a
Member of the Cabinet. I was now to receive a rude shock. On the
afternoon of July 27th, I attended a garden party at 10 Downing Street.
There I met the Chief Commissioner of Police, Sir Edward Henry. We
talked about the European situation, and I told him that it was serious.
He then remarked that by an odd arrangement the Home Office was
responsible, through the Metropolitan Police, for guarding the magazines
at Chattenden and Lodge Hill in which all the reserves of naval cordite
were stored. For many years these magazines had been protected without
misadventure by a few constables. I asked what would happen if twenty
determined Germans in two or three motor cars arrived well armed upon
the scene one night. He said they would be able to do what they liked. I
quitted the garden party.
A few minutes later I was telephoning from my room in the Home Office to
the Admiralty. Who was in charge? The First Lord was with the Fleet at
Cromarty; the First Sea Lord was inspecting. Both were, of course,
quickly accessible by wireless or wire. In the meantime an Admiral (he
shall be nameless) was in control. I demanded Marines at once to guard
these magazines, vital to the Royal Navy. I knew there were plenty of
marines in the depôts at Chatham and Portsmouth. The admiral replied
over the telephone that the Admiralty had no responsibility and had no
intention of assuming any; and it was clear from his manner that he
resented the intrusion of an alarmist civilian Minister. “You refuse
then to send the Marines?” After some hesitation he replied, “I refuse.”
I replaced the receiver and rang up the War Office. Mr. Haldane was
there. I told him that I was reinforcing and arming the police that
night, and asked for a company of infantry for each magazine in
addition. In a few minutes the orders were given: in a few hours the
troops had moved. By the next day the cordite reserves of the navy were
safe.
The incident was a small one, and perhaps my fears were unfounded. But
once one had begun to view the situation in this light, it became
impossible to think of anything else. All around flowed the busy life of
peaceful, unsuspecting, easygoing Britain. The streets were thronged
with men and women utterly devoid of any sense of danger from abroad.
For nearly a thousand years no foreign army had landed on British soil.
For a hundred years the safety of the homeland had never been
threatened. They went about their business, their sport, their class and
party fights year after year, generation after generation, in perfect
confidence and considerable ignorance. All their ideas were derived from
conditions of peace. All their arrangements were the result of long
peace. Most of them would have been incredulous, many would have been
very angry if they had been told that we might be near a tremendous war,
and that perhaps within this City of London, which harboured confidingly
visitors from every land, resolute foreigners might be aiming a deadly
blow at the strength of the one great weapon and shield in which we
trusted.
I began to make inquiries about vulnerable points. I found the
far-seeing Captain Hankey, then Assistant Secretary to the Committee of
Imperial Defence, already on the move classifying them for the War Book,
which project had actually been launched.[3] I inquired further about
sabotage and espionage and counter-espionage. I came in touch with other
officers working very quietly and very earnestly but in a small way and
with small means. I was told about German spies and agents in the
various British ports. Hitherto the Home Secretary had to sign a warrant
when it was necessary to examine any particular letter passing through
the Royal Mails. I now signed general warrants authorising the
examination of all the correspondence of particular people upon a list,
to which additions were continually made. This soon disclosed a regular
and extensive system of German paid British agents. It was only in a
very small part of the field of preparation that the Home Secretary had
any official duty of interference, but once I got drawn in, it dominated
all other interests in my mind. For seven years I was to think of little
else. Liberal politics, the People’s Budget, Free Trade, Peace,
Retrenchment and Reform—all the war cries of our election struggles
began to seem unreal in the presence of this new preoccupation. Only
Ireland held her place among the grim realities which came one after
another into view. No doubt other Ministers had similar mental
experiences. I am telling my own tale.
I now began to make an intensive study of the military position in
Europe. I read everything with which I was supplied. I spent many hours
in argument and discussion. The Secretary of State for War told his
officers to tell me everything I wanted to know. The Chief of the
General Staff, Sir William Nicholson, was an old friend of mine. I had
served with him as a young officer on Sir William Lockhart’s staff at
the end of the Tirah Expedition in 1898. He wrote fine broad
appreciations and preached a clear and steady doctrine. But the man from
whom I learned most was the Director of Military Operations, General
Wilson (afterwards Field-Marshal Sir Henry Wilson). This officer had
extraordinary vision and faith. He had acquired an immense and, I
expect, an unequalled volume of knowledge about the Continent. He knew
the French Army thoroughly. He was deeply in the secrets of the French
General Staff. He had been Head of the British Staff College. For years
he had been labouring with one object, that if war came we should act
immediately on the side of France. He was sure that war would come
sooner or later. All the threads of military information were in his
hands. The whole wall of his small room was covered by a gigantic map of
Belgium, across which every practicable road by which the German armies
could march for the invasion of France, was painted clearly. All his
holidays he spent examining these roads and the surrounding country. He
could not do much in Germany: the Germans knew him too well.
One night the German ambassador, still Count Metternich, whom I had
known for ten years, asked me to dine with him. We were alone, and a
famous hock from the Emperor’s cellars was produced. We had a long talk
about Germany and how she had grown great; about Napoleon and the part
he had played in uniting her; about the Franco-German War and how it
began and how it ended. I said what a pity it was that Bismarck had
allowed himself to be forced by the soldiers into taking Lorraine, and
how Alsace-Lorraine lay at the root of all the European armaments and
rival combinations. He said these had been German provinces from remote
antiquity until one day in profound peace Louis XIV had pranced over the
frontier and seized them. I said their sympathies were French: he said
they were mixed. I said that anyhow it kept the whole thing alive.
France could never forget her lost provinces, and they never ceased to
call to her. The conversation passed to a kindred but more critical
subject. Was he anxious about the present situation? He said people were
trying to ring Germany round and put her in a net, and that she was a
strong animal to put in a net. I said, how could she be netted when she
had an alliance with two other first-class Powers, Austria-Hungary and
Italy? _We_ had often stood quite alone for years at a time without
getting flustered. He said it was a very different business for an
island. But when you had been marched through and pillaged and oppressed
so often and had only the breasts of your soldiers to stand between you
and invasion, it ate into your soul. I said that Germany was frightened
of nobody, and that everybody was frightened of her.
Then we came to the Navy. Surely, I said, it was a great mistake for
Germany to try to rival Britain on the seas. She would never catch us
up. We should build two to one or more if necessary, and at every stage
antagonism would grow between the countries. Radicals and Tories,
whatever they might say about each other, were all agreed on that. No
British Government which jeopardised our naval supremacy could live. He
said Mr. Lloyd George had told him very much the same thing; but the
Germans had no thought of naval supremacy. All they wanted was a Fleet
to protect their commerce and their colonies. I asked what was the use
of having a weaker Fleet? It was only another hostage to fortune. He
said that the Emperor was profoundly attached to his Fleet, and that it
was his own creation. I could not resist saying that Moltke had
pronounced a very different opinion of Germany’s true interest.
I have recorded these notes of a pleasant though careful conversation,
not because they are of any importance, but because they help to show
the different points of view. I learned afterwards that the Chancellor
of the Exchequer in similar circumstances had spoken more explicitly,
saying that he would raise a hundred millions in a single year for the
British Navy if its supremacy were really challenged.
Count Metternich was a very honourable man, serving his master
faithfully but labouring to preserve peace, especially peace between
England and Germany. I have heard that on one occasion at Berlin in a
throng of generals and princes, some one had said that the British Fleet
would one day make a surprise and unprovoked attack upon Germany.
Whereupon the Ambassador had replied that he had lived in England for
nearly ten years, and he knew that such a thing was absolutely
impossible. On this remark being received with obvious incredulity, he
had drawn himself up and observed that he made it on the honour of a
German officer and that he would answer for its truth with his honour.
This for a moment had quelled the company.
It is customary for thoughtless people to jeer at the old diplomacy and
to pretend that wars arise out of its secret machinations. When one
looks at the petty subjects which have led to wars between great
countries and to so many disputes, it is easy to be misled in this way.
Of course such small matters are only the symptoms of the dangerous
disease, and are only important for that reason. Behind them lie the
interests, the passions and the destiny of mighty races of men; and long
antagonisms express themselves in trifles. “Great commotions,” it was
said of old, “arise out of small things, but not concerning small
things.” The old diplomacy did its best to render harmless the small
things: it could not do more. Nevertheless, a war postponed may be a war
averted. Circumstances change, combinations change, new groupings arise,
old interests are superseded by new. Many quarrels that might have led
to war have been adjusted by the old diplomacy of Europe and have, in
Lord Melbourne’s phrase, “blown over.” If the nations of the world,
while the sense of their awful experiences is still fresh upon them, are
able to devise broader and deeper guarantees of peace and build their
houses on a surer foundation of brotherhood and interdependence, they
will still require the courtly manners, the polite and measured phrases,
the imperturbable demeanour, the secrecy and discretion of the old
diplomatists of Europe. This is, however, a digression.
On August 23rd, after Parliament had risen and Ministers had dispersed,
the Prime Minister convened very secretly a special meeting of the
Committee of Imperial Defence. He summoned the Ministers specially
concerned with the foreign situation and with the fighting services,
including of course the Chancellor of the Exchequer. There were also the
principal officers of the Army and the Navy. I was invited to attend,
though the Home Office was not directly concerned. We sat all day. In
the morning the Army told its tale: in the afternoon, the Navy.
General Wilson, as Director of Military Operations, stated the views of
the General Staff. Standing by his enormous map, specially transported
for the purpose, he unfolded, with what proved afterwards to be extreme
accuracy, the German plan for attacking France in the event of a war
between Germany and Austria on the one hand and France and Russia on the
other. It was briefly as follows:—
In the first place the Germans would turn nearly four-fifths of their
strength against France and leave only one-fifth to contain Russia. The
German armies would draw up on a line from the Swiss frontier to
Aix-la-Chapelle. They would then swing their right wing through Belgium,
thus turning the line of fortresses by which the eastern frontiers of
France were protected. This enormous swinging movement of the German
right arm would require every road which led through Belgium from
Luxembourg to the Belgian Meuse. There were fifteen of these roads, and
three divisions would probably march along each. The Belgian Meuse
flowed parallel to the march of these divisions and protected their
right flank. Along this river were three important fortified passages or
bridgeheads. First, nearest Germany, Liège; the last, nearest France,
Namur; and midway between the two, the fort of Huy. Now arose the
question, Would the Germans after seizing these bridgeheads confine
themselves to the eastern side of the Belgian Meuse and use the river
for their protection, or would they be able to spare and bring a large
body of troops to prolong their turning movement west of the Belgian
Meuse and thus advance beyond it instead of inside it? This was the only
part of their plan which could not be foreseen. Would they avoid the
west side of the Belgian Meuse altogether? Would they skim along it with
a cavalry force only, or would they march infantry divisions or even
army corps west of that river? When the time came, as we now know, they
marched two whole armies. At that date, however, the most sombre
apprehension did not exceed one, or at the outside two, army corps.
Overwhelming detailed evidence was adduced to show that the Germans had
made every preparation for marching through Belgium. The great military
camps in close proximity to the frontier, the enormous depôts, the
reticulation of railways, the endless sidings, revealed with the utmost
clearness and beyond all doubt their design. Liège would be taken within
a few hours of the declaration of war, possibly even before it, by a
rush of motor cars and cyclists from the camp at Elsenborn. That camp
was now (August, 1911) crowded with troops, and inquisitive persons and
ordinary country-folk were already being roughly turned back and
prevented from approaching it.
What would Belgium do in the face of such an onslaught? Nothing could
save Liège, but French troops might reach Namur in time to aid in its
defence. For the rest the Belgian army, assuming that Belgium resisted
the invader, would withdraw into the great entrenched camp and fortress
of Antwerp. This extensive area, intersected by a tangle of rivers and
canals and defended by three circles of forts, would become the last
refuge of the Belgian monarchy and people.
The position of Holland was also examined. It was not thought that the
Germans would overrun Holland as they would Belgium, but they might find
it very convenient to march across the curiously shaped projection of
Holland which lay between Germany and Belgium, and which in the British
General Staff parlance of that time was called “the Maestricht
Appendix.” They would certainly do this if any considerable body of
their troops was thrown west of the Belgian Meuse.
The French plans for meeting this formidable situation were not told in
detail to us; but it was clear that they hoped to forestall and rupture
the German enveloping movement by a counter-offensive of their own on
the greatest scale.
The number of divisions available on both sides and on all fronts when
mobilisation was completed were estimated as follows:—
French 85
German 110
It was asserted that if the six British divisions were sent to take
position on the extreme French left, immediately war was declared, the
chances of repulsing the Germans in the first great shock of battle were
favourable. Every French soldier would fight with double confidence if
he knew he was not fighting alone. Upon the strength of Russia General
Wilson spoke with great foresight, and the account which he gave of the
slow mobilisation of the Russian Army swept away many illusions. It
seemed incredible that Germany should be content to leave scarcely a
score of divisions to make head against the might of Russia. But the
British General Staff considered that such a decision would be
well-founded. We shall see presently how the loyalty of Russia and of
the Tsar, found the means by prodigious sacrifices to call back to the
East vital portions of the German Army at the supreme moment. Such
action could not be foreseen then, and most people have forgotten it
now.
There was of course a considerable discussion and much questioning
before we adjourned at 2 o’clock. When we began again at three, it was
the turn of the Admiralty, and the First Sea Lord, Sir Arthur Wilson,
with another map expounded his views of the policy we should pursue in
the event of our being involved in such a war. He did not reveal the
Admiralty war plans. Those he kept locked away in his own brain, but he
indicated that they embodied the principle of a close blockade of the
enemy’s ports. It was very soon apparent that a profound difference
existed between the War Office and the Admiralty view. In the main the
Admiralty thought that we should confine our efforts to the sea; that if
our small Army were sent to the Continent it would be swallowed up among
the immense hosts conflicting there, whereas if kept in ships or ready
to embark for counterstrokes upon the German coast, it would draw off
more than its own weight of numbers from the German fighting line. This
view, which was violently combated by the Generals, did not commend
itself to the bulk of those present, and on many points of detail
connected with the landings of these troops the military and naval
authorities were found in complete discord. The serious disagreement
between the military and naval staffs in such critical times upon
fundamental issues was the immediate cause of my going to the Admiralty.
After the Council had separated, Mr. Haldane intimated to the Prime
Minister that he would not continue to be responsible for the War Office
unless a Board of Admiralty was called into being which would work in
full harmony with the War Office plans, and would begin the organisation
of a proper Naval War Staff. Of course I knew nothing of this, but it
was destined soon to affect my fortunes in a definite manner.
I thought that the General Staff took too sanguine a view of the French
Army. Knowing their partisanship for France, I feared the wish was
father to the thought. It was inevitable that British military men,
ardently desirous of seeing their country intervene on the side of
France, and convinced that the destruction of France by Germany would
imperil the whole future of Great Britain, should be inclined to
overrate the relative power of the French Army and accord it brighter
prospects than were actually justified. The bulk of their information
was derived from French sources. The French General Staff were resolute
and hopeful. The principle of the offensive was the foundation of their
military art and the mainspring of the French soldier. Although
according to the best information, the French pre-war Army when fully
mobilised was only three-fourths as strong as the German pre-war Army,
the French mobilisation from the ninth to the thirteenth day yielded a
superior strength on the fighting front. High hopes were entertained by
the French Generals that a daring seizure of the initiative and a
vigorous offensive into Alsace-Lorraine would have the effect of
rupturing the carefully thought out German plans of marching through
Belgium on to Paris. These hopes were reflected in the British General
Staff appreciations.
I could not share them. I had therefore prepared a memorandum for the
Committee of Imperial Defence which embodied my own conclusions upon all
I had learned from the General Staff. It was Dated August 13, 1911. It
was, of course, only an attempt to pierce the veil of the future; to
conjure up in the mind a vast imaginary situation; to balance the
incalculable; to weigh the imponderable. It will be seen that I named
the _twentieth_ day of mobilisation as the date by which “the French
armies will have been driven from the line of the Meuse and will be
falling back on Paris and the South,” and the _fortieth_ day as that by
which “Germany should be extended at full strain both internally and on
her war fronts,” and that “opportunities for the decisive trial of
strength may then occur.” I am quite free to admit that these were not
intended to be precise dates, but as guides to show what would probably
happen. In fact, however, both these forecasts were almost literally
verified three years later by the event.
I reprinted this memorandum on the 2nd of September, 1914, in order to
encourage my colleagues with the hope that if the unfavourable
prediction about the twentieth day had been borne out, so also would be
the favourable prediction about the fortieth day. And so indeed it was.
MILITARY ASPECTS OF THE CONTINENTAL PROBLEM
MEMORANDUM BY MR. CHURCHILL
_August 13, 1911._
The following notes have been written on the assumption ... that a
decision has been arrived at to employ a British military force on the
Continent of Europe. It does not prejudge that decision in any way.
It is assumed that an alliance exists between Great Britain, France,
and Russia, and that these Powers are attacked by Germany and Austria.
1. The decisive military operations will be those between France and
Germany. The German army is at least equal in quality to the French,
and mobilises 2,200,000 against 1,700,000. The French must therefore
seek for a situation of more equality. This can be found either before
the full strength of the Germans has been brought to bear or after the
German army has become extended. The first might be reached between
the ninth and thirteenth days; the latter about the fortieth.
2. The fact that during a few days in the mobilisation period the
French are equal or temporarily superior on the frontiers is of no
significance, except on the assumption that France contemplates
adopting a strategic offensive. The Germans will not choose the days
when they themselves have least superiority for a general advance; and
if the French advance, they lose at once all the advantages of their
own internal communications, and by moving towards the advancing
German reinforcements annul any numerical advantage they may for the
moment possess. The French have therefore, at the beginning of the
war, no option but to remain on the defensive, both upon their own
fortress line and behind the Belgian frontier; and the choice of the
day when the first main collision will commence rests with the
Germans, who must be credited with the wisdom of choosing the best
possible day, and cannot be forced into decisive action against their
will, except by some reckless and unjustifiable movement on the part
of the French.
3. A prudent survey of chances from the British point of view ought to
contemplate that, when the German advance decisively begins, it will
be backed by sufficient preponderance of force, and developed on a
sufficiently wide front to compel the French armies to retreat from
their positions behind the Belgian frontier, even though they may hold
the gaps between the fortresses on the Verdun-Belfort front. No doubt
a series of great battles will have been fought with varying local
fortunes, and there is always a possibility of a heavy German check.
But, even if the Germans were brought to a standstill, the French
would not be strong enough to advance in their turn; and in any case
we ought not to count on this. The balance of probability is that by
the twentieth day the French armies will have been driven from the
line of the Meuse and will be falling back on Paris and the south. All
plans based upon the opposite assumption ask too much of fortune.
4. This is not to exclude the plan of using four or six British
divisions in these great initial operations. Such a force is a
material factor of significance. Its value to the French would be out
of all proportion to its numerical strength. It would encourage every
French soldier and make the task of the Germans in forcing the
frontier much more costly. But the question which is of most practical
consequence to us is what is to happen after the frontier has been
forced and the invasion of France has begun. France will not be able
to end the war successfully by any action on the frontiers. She will
not be strong enough to invade Germany. Her only chance is to conquer
Germany in France. It is this problem which should be studied before
any final decision is taken.
5. The German armies in advancing through Belgium and onwards into
France will be relatively weakened by all or any of the following
causes:—
By the greater losses incidental to the offensive (especially if they
have tested unsuccessfully the French fortress lines);
By the greater employment of soldiers necessitated by acting on
exterior lines;
By having to guard their communications through Belgium and France
(especially from the sea flank);
By having to invest Paris (requiring at least 500,000 men against
100,000) and to besiege or mask other places, especially along the
seaboard;
By the arrival of the British army;
By the growing pressure of Russia from the thirtieth day;
And generally by the bad strategic situation to which their
right-handed advance will commit them as it becomes pronounced.
All these factors will operate increasingly in proportion as the
German advance continues and every day that passes.
6. Time is also required for the naval blockade to make itself felt on
German commerce, industry, and food prices, as described in the
Admiralty Memorandum, and for these again to react on German credit
and finances already burdened with the prodigious daily cost of the
war. All these pressures will develop simultaneously and
progressively. [The Chancellor of the Exchequer has drawn special
attention to this and to the very light structure of German industry
and economic organisations.]
7. By the fortieth day Germany should be extended at full strain both
internally and on her war fronts, and this strain will become daily
more severe and ultimately overwhelming, unless it is relieved by
decisive victories in France. If the French army has not been
squandered by precipitate or desperate action, the balance of forces
should be favourable after the fortieth day, and will improve steadily
as time passes. For the German armies will be confronted with a
situation which combines an ever-growing need for a successful
offensive, with a battle-front which tends continually towards
numerical equality. Opportunities for the decisive trial of strength
may then occur.
8. Such a policy demands heavy and hard sacrifices from France, who
must, with great constancy, expose herself to invasion, to having her
provinces occupied by the enemy, and to the investment of Paris, and
whose armies may be committed to retrograde or defensive operations.
Whether her rulers could contemplate or her soldiers endure this trial
may depend upon the military support which Great Britain can give; and
this must be known beforehand, so that the French war-plans can be
adjusted accordingly, and so that we may know, before we decide, what
they would be prepared to do.
9. The following measures would appear to be required to enable Great
Britain to take an effective part in the decisive theatre of the war:—
Men
(Approximate).
The four divisions of the expeditionary army, with
their auxiliary troops, should be sent on the
outbreak of war to France 107,000
To these should be added the two remaining
divisions as soon as the naval blockade is
effectively established 53,000
And the 7th Division from South Africa and the
Mediterranean (as soon as the colonial forces in
South Africa can be embodied) 15,000
And 5,000 additional Yeomanry cavalry or light
horse, with 10,000 volunteer cyclist Territorials 15,000
As we should be allies of Russia, the Anglo-Indian
Army could be drawn upon so long as two native
regiments were moved out of India for every
British regiment. Lord Kitchener has stated that
it would be possible in so grave a need, to
withdraw six out of the nine field divisions from
India, and this should be done immediately. This
force could be brought into France by Marseilles
by the fortieth day 100,000
———————
Thus making a total force of 290,000
———————
This fine army, almost entirely composed of professional soldiers,
could be assembled around (say) Tours by the fortieth day, in rear of
the French left (instead of being frittered into action piecemeal),
and would then become a very important factor in events. The Russian
army would also by then be engaged in full force on the eastern
frontiers of Germany and Austria, and the power of the three allies
should then be sufficient either to hold the Germans in a position of
growing difficulty or, if desirable, to assume the offensive in
concert.
10. To provide meanwhile for the security of Great Britain, for
unforeseeable contingencies, and for sustaining the expeditionary army
with a continuous supply of volunteer drafts, it would be necessary on
the outbreak—
(_a_) To embody the whole Territorial force.
(_b_) To call for volunteers for Home defence from all persons
possessing military experience.
(_c_) To raise a compulsory levy of 500,000 men for Home defence.
This levy should be formed upon the cadres of the Territorial
divisions, so as to enable a proportion of the Territorial army to be
released at the end of the sixth month. The question of sending any
part of the compulsory levy _by compulsion_ to the Continent would not
arise until after this force had been trained. The steady augmentation
of British military strength during the progress of the war would,
however, put us in a position by the end of the twelfth month to
secure or re-establish British interests outside Europe, even if,
through the defeat or desertion of allies, we were forced to continue
the war alone.
No lesser steps would seem adequate to the scale of events.
W. S. C.
* * * * *
The Conference separated. Apprehension lay heavy on the minds of all who
had participated in it.
The War Office hummed with secrets in those days. Not the slightest
overt action could be taken. But every preparation by forethought was
made and every detail was worked out on paper. The railway time-tables,
or graphics as they were called, of the movement of every battalion—even
where they were to drink their coffee—were prepared and settled.
Thousands of maps of Northern France and Belgium were printed. The
cavalry manœuvres were postponed “on account of the scarcity of water in
Wiltshire and the neighbouring counties.” The press, fiercely divided on
party lines, overwhelmingly pacific in tendency, without censorship,
without compulsion, observed a steady universal reticence. Not a word
broke the long drawn oppressive silence. The great railway strike came
to an end with mysterious suddenness. Mutual concessions were made by
masters and men after hearing a confidential statement from the
Chancellor of the Exchequer.
In the middle of August I went to the country for a few days. I could
not think of anything else but the peril of war. I did my other work as
it came along, but there was only one field of interest fiercely
illuminated in my mind. Sitting on a hilltop in the smiling country
which stretches round Mells, the lines I have copied at the top of this
chapter kept running through my mind. Whenever I recall them, they bring
back to me the anxieties of those Agadir days.
From Mells I wrote the following letter to Sir Edward Grey. It speaks
for itself.
_Mr. Churchill to Sir Edward Grey._
_30 August, 1911._
Perhaps the time is coming when decisive action will be necessary.
Please consider the following policy for use if and when the Morocco
negotiations fail.
Propose to France and Russia a triple alliance to safeguard (_inter
alia_) the independence of Belgium, Holland, and Denmark.
Tell Belgium that, if her neutrality is violated, we are prepared to
come to her aid and to make an alliance with France and Russia to
guarantee her independence. Tell her that we will take whatever
military steps will be most effective for that purpose. But the
Belgian Army must take the field in concert with the British and
French Armies, and Belgium must immediately garrison properly Liège
and Namur. Otherwise we cannot be responsible for her fate.
Offer the same guarantee both to Holland and to Denmark contingent
upon their making their utmost exertions.
We should, if necessary, aid Belgium to defend Antwerp and to feed
that fortress and any army based on it. We should be prepared at the
proper moment to put extreme pressure on the Dutch to keep the Scheldt
open for _all_ purposes. If the Dutch close the Scheldt, we should
retaliate by a blockade of the Rhine.
It is very important to us to be able to blockade the Rhine, and it
gets more important as the war goes on. On the other hand, if the
Germans do not use the “Maestricht Appendix” in the first days of the
war, they will not want it at all.
Let me add that I am not at all convinced about the wisdom of a close
blockade, and I did not like the Admiralty statement. If the French
send cruisers to Mogador and Saffi, I am of opinion that we should
(for our part) move our main fleet to the north of Scotland into its
war station. Our interests are European, and not Moroccan. The
significance of the movement would be just as great as if we sent our
two ships with the French.
Please let me know when you will be in London; and will you kindly
send this letter on to the Prime Minister.
My views underwent no change in the three years of peace that followed.
On the contrary they were confirmed and amplified by everything I
learned. In some respects, as in the abolition of the plan of close
blockade and the sending of the Fleet to its war station, I was able to
carry them out. In other cases, such as the defence of Antwerp, I had
not the power to do in time what I believed to be equally necessary. But
I tried my best, not, as has frequently been proclaimed, upon a foolish
impulse, but in pursuance of convictions reached by pondering and study.
I could not help feeling a strong confidence in the truth of these
convictions, when I saw how several of them were justified one after the
other in that terrible and unparalleled period of convulsion. I had no
doubts whatever what ought to be done in certain matters, and my only
difficulty was to persuade or induce others.
* * * * *
The Agadir crisis came however peacefully to an end. It had terminated
in the diplomatic rebuff of Germany. Once more she had disturbed all
Europe by a sudden and menacing gesture. Once more she had used the
harshest threats towards France. For the first time she had made British
statesmen feel that sense of direct contact with the war peril which was
never absent from Continental minds. The French, however, offered
concessions and compensations. An intricate negotiation about the
frontiers of French and German territory in West Africa, in which the
“Bec de Canard” played an important part, had resulted in an agreement
between the two principals. To us it seemed that France had won a
considerable advantage. She was not, however, particularly pleased. Her
Prime Minister, Monsieur Caillaux, who had presided during those anxious
days, was dismissed from office on grounds which at the time it was very
difficult to appreciate here, but which viewed in the light of
subsequent events can more easily be understood. The tension in German
governing circles must have been very great. The German Colonial
Secretary, von Lindequist, resigned rather than sign the agreement.
There is no doubt that deep and violent passions of humiliation and
resentment were coursing beneath the glittering uniforms which thronged
the palaces through which the Kaiser moved. And of those passions the
Crown Prince made himself the exponent. The world has heaped unbounded
execrations upon this unlucky being. He was probably in fact no better
and no worse than the average young cavalry subaltern who had not been
through the ordinary mill at a public school nor had to think about
earning his living. He had a considerable personal charm, which he
lavished principally upon the fair sex, but which in darker days has
captivated the juvenile population of Wieringen. His flattered head was
turned by the burning eyes and guttural words of great captains and
statesmen and party leaders. He therefore threw himself forward into
this strong favouring current, and became a power, or rather the focus
of a power, with which the Kaiser was forced to reckon. Germany once
more proceeded to increase her armaments by land and sea.
“It was a question,” writes von Tirpitz, “of our keeping our nerve,
_continuing to arm on a grand scale_, avoiding all provocation, and
waiting without anxiety _until our sea power was established_[4] and
forced the English to let us breathe in peace.” Only to breathe in
peace! What fearful apparatus was required to secure this simple act of
respiration!
Early in October Mr. Asquith invited me to stay with him in Scotland.
The day after I had arrived there, on our way home from the links, he
asked me quite abruptly whether I would like to go to the Admiralty. He
had put the same question to me when he first became Prime Minister.
This time I had no doubt what to answer. All my mind was full of the
dangers of war. I accepted with alacrity. I said, “Indeed I would.” He
said that Mr. Haldane was coming to see him the next day and we would
talk it over together. But I saw that his mind was made up. The fading
light of evening disclosed in the far distance the silhouettes of two
battleships steaming slowly out of the Firth of Forth. They seemed
invested with a new significance to me.
That night when I went to bed, I saw a large Bible lying on a table in
my bedroom. My mind was dominated by the news I had received of the
complete change in my station and of the task entrusted to me. I thought
of the peril of Britain, peace-loving, unthinking, little prepared, of
her power and virtue, and of her mission of good sense and fair play. I
thought of mighty Germany, towering up in the splendour of her imperial
state and delving down in her profound, cold, patient, ruthless
calculations. I thought of the army corps I had watched tramp past, wave
after wave of valiant manhood, at the Breslau manœuvres in 1907; of the
thousands of strong horses dragging cannon and great howitzers up the
ridges and along the roads around Wurzburg in 1910. I thought of German
education and thoroughness and all that their triumphs in science and
philosophy implied. I thought of the sudden and successful wars by which
her power had been set up. I opened the Book at random, and in the 9th
Chapter of Deuteronomy I read—
=Hear, O Israel; Thou art to pass over Jordan this day, to go in to
possess nations greater and mightier than thyself, cities great and
fenced up to heaven.=
=2. A people great and tall, the children of the Anakims, whom thou
knowest, and of whom thou hast heard say, Who can stand before the
children of Anak!=
=3. Understand therefore this day, that the Lord thy God is he which
goeth over before thee; as a consuming fire he shall destroy them, and
he shall bring them down before thy face: so shalt thou drive them
out, and destroy them quickly, as the Lord hath said unto thee.=
=4. Speak not thou in thine heart, after that the Lord thy God hath
cast them out from before thee, saying, for my righteousness the Lord
hath brought me in to possess this land: but for the wickedness of
these nations the Lord doth drive them out from before thee.=
=5. Not for thy righteousness or for the uprightness of thine heart,
dost thou go to possess their land; but for the wickedness of these
nations the Lord thy God doth drive them out from before thee, and
that he may perform the word which the Lord sware unto thy fathers,
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.=
It seemed a message full of reassurance.