“WESTERNERS” AND “EASTERNERS”
For many years before the “Great World War,” the German Army had been
the most formidable fighting machine in existence. It had filled
professional soldiers in all countries with envy and admiration, as the
supreme expression of a warlike and disciplined race.
When the war began the Allied Armies were unprepared, and were
unable to withstand an offensive which was a triumph of scientific
organization and almost achieved complete success. The partial success
of this first German offensive had two important results: it carried
the war on the Western Front into French and Belgian territory, and
more than confirmed the worst fears of Allied military experts as to
the efficiency of the German Army.
After the Battle of the Marne, a mood of extravagant optimism
prevailed. One British general prophesied in September, 1914, that
by the end of March, 1915, the Russians would be on the Oder and the
French and British on the Rhine. With the advent of trench warfare on
the Western Front and the retreat of the Russians in East Prussia and
Poland, the outlook became less rosy, and the Allies settled down to
a form of war which was to last, with slight variations, until the
armistice.
Generally speaking, this form of war involved the subordination of
Policy to Grand Tactics. Policy had for its object the protection of
vital interests, more especially in the East, and aimed at securing
the co-operation of neutral States with a view to strengthening the
Alliance. Grand Tactics demanded the sacrifice of every consideration
to ensuring victory on the Western Front. The failure of the expedition
to the Dardanelles put statesmen, for a time at least, at the mercy
of professional soldiers, of whom the vast majority, both French and
British, were so-called “Westerners.”
The ideas of these men were simple. If pursued to their logical
conclusion they would have required the concentration of all Allied
forces (including Serbs and Russians) somewhere in France and Flanders.
The more rabid Westerners did desire this, as they honestly believed
that on their front there was no middle course between a decisive
victory and a crushing defeat. Others admitted a Russian, and later an
Italian Front with its appendage at Salonika, but, in their eyes, the
only object of these two fronts was to hold as many enemy troops as
possible and facilitate a victory in the West. That victory was to be
preceded by a war of attrition, which would culminate in a final battle
on classic lines--the infantry and artillery would make a gap through
which massed cavalry would pour.
The French Staff was characteristically optimistic, the British less
so. Many senior British officers had a profound respect for the German
Military System, it was to them the embodiment of excellence from every
point of view, and had to be imitated before it could be beaten.
In the autumn of 1915, the era of Allied counter-offensives began. The
slaughter on both sides was immense, but no appreciable results were
achieved. While these operations were being carried out, Bulgaria
joined the Central Empires, the greater part of Servia and Albania
was over-run, and, according to an official report on the operations
against the Dardanelles, “the flow of munitions and drafts fell away.”
Throughout the whole of 1916, the war of attrition was waged in deadly
earnest and exacted a ghastly toll. By the end of the year no decision
had been reached on the three main fronts, but the richest part of
Rumania had fallen into the hands of the enemy.
Public opinion in both France and Great Britain seemed to approve
the methods of the Westerners. The French naturally desired above
everything to drive the invaders out of France, and the British people
had become resigned to a war of workshops, which was lucrative to those
who stayed at home.
From a purely military point of view, the attitude of the Westerners
was comprehensible. The Western Front was close to the Allied bases of
supply, it had good communications, the climate was healthy, on this
front the Germans were encountered, and they formed the backbone of the
hostile combination. Undoubtedly a victory in the West was the ideal
way to win the war. No one disputed that, but at the end of 1916 that
victory was still remote. Germany’s position on the Western Front was
very strong, her army was homogeneous, her communications were superior
to ours, and her recent conquests in the East had mitigated the effects
of two years of blockade.
Since September, 1914, both sets of belligerents had made offensives,
but these had failed, though in each case an initial success had raised
the highest hopes. Stupendous preparations had been made, artillery
had been employed on an unprecedented scale, lives had been sacrificed
ruthlessly, but, invariably, the forward movement had been arrested,
had ebbed a little and immobility had ensued. Some law appeared to
operate in this most modern form of warfare. Killing without manœuvre
had become an exact science, but battles are not merely battues,
the armies must advance, and this they could not do--their mass
and the enormous assemblage of destructive appliances, necessary
for the preliminary process of annihilation, produced a congestion
which brought the best organized offensive to a standstill. In such
circumstances it seemed that final victory might be postponed for
months and even years.
In 1917. The Central Empires held the land routes of South-Eastern
Europe and Turkey was their vassal State, whereas the Allies disposed
of precarious sea communications, which linked them with no more
than the periphery of the Ottoman Empire and the Balkans at three
widely separated points. In these regions the populations were being
Germanized, inevitably and in spite of themselves. The Germans were
on the spot, they might be arrogant and unsympathetic, but they were
efficient, and suffering, unsophisticated people could justifiably
argue that these intruders were better as friends than enemies, and
that it paid to be on their side. To neglect this situation, until
we had won a victory in the West, exposed the Allies to the risk of
letting German influence become predominant throughout the Middle East.
For the British Empire such a state of affairs would have spelled
disaster; after untold sacrifices in the Allied cause, Great Britain
would have lost the war.
These weighty considerations had influenced certain British statesmen
ever since the intervention of Turkey on the side of the Central
Empires, but their plans had been frustrated by official inertia and
mismanagement. At last, a serious effort was made to restore our
prestige in the East by operations in the direction of Palestine and
in Mesopotamia. These operations were against the same enemy and were
carried out almost exclusively by British forces, but were independent
of each other and not part of a concerted plan. The British War Office
had undertaken the supply and maintenance of three “side-shows”
(including Salonika), but had neither the time nor the inclination to
prepare a scheme for the co-ordination of operations in the Eastern
theatres. Perhaps it was feared that such a scheme would involve the
dispatch of reinforcements.
The Eastern situation demanded, in the first place, statesmanship. A
military policy was needed which, while recognizing the preponderating
importance of securing the Western Front, would aim at bringing
pressure to bear on every part of the enemy combination; which would
not be content with local successes, but would attack Pan-Germanism,
the real menace to the British Empire, where its activities were
centred; which would strike at Germany through her Near Eastern allies,
complete the circle of blockade on land and retrieve the sources of
supply which had been taken from Rumania.
Military operations alone would not suffice; the co-operation of
the navy was essential to reduce the risks from submarines which
infested the Eastern Mediterranean. The shipping problem presented
many difficulties. These could be overcome only by Governmental
action based on policy. If dealt with by subordinate officials, the
distribution of available tonnage would follow the line of least
resistance in the form of short trips to France.
If the broad lines of an Eastern policy had been laid down and insisted
on by the Allied Governments, a plan could have been put into execution
which, while offensive operations were in progress in Mesopotamia,
Palestine and Macedonia, would have directed against the heart of the
Ottoman Empire a strategic reserve, concentrated with that objective
in view at one or more of the Eastern Mediterranean ports. The force
required would not have been considerable. The Turkish and Bulgarian
armies were held on three widely separated fronts, leaving weak and
scattered garrisons in Thrace for the protection of the Dardanelles.
The difficulties were many, but the stakes were big. The fall of
Constantinople would have revolutionized the Near Eastern situation. It
would have forced Turkey to make a separate peace, and would, thereby,
have freed a large proportion of our forces in Palestine and Macedonia
for employment in other theatres. It would have had an immediate effect
in Bulgaria, where the resentment against Germany, on account of the
partitioning of the Dobrudja, was bitter and widespread. It would have
opened up communications by sea with the Rumanian and Russian armies
in Moldavia, and made it possible to maintain and quicken the Southern
Russian front. An opportunity would have presented itself for settling
the Macedonian question on its merits, the Western Powers would have
been the arbiters, and their decisions would have been respected
as those of all-powerful allies or potential conquerors. A just
settlement of this question could not have failed to secure a separate
peace with Bulgaria.
Any Balkan settlement, which fulfilled our treaty and moral obligations
to Rumania and Servia respectively, involved the partial dismemberment
of Austria-Hungary. An invasion of the Eastern and South-Western
provinces of the Dual Monarchy was the natural corollary of an Eastern
military policy. This invasion could have been effected by national
armies advancing towards their ethnological frontiers. The Rumanians,
after the reconquest of Wallachia, could have operated in Transylvania
and along the Danube Valley towards the Banat. The Serbs in Bosnia and
Herzegovina towards the Dalmatian Coast. In all these provinces the
populations were awaiting with impatience the arrival of the Allies to
throw off the hated yoke of Austria-Hungary.
Operations of this nature would have had a repercussion in Croatia
and Bohemia, where the inhabitants were disaffected and ready to
revolt. Their attitude would have facilitated an extension of the
invasion in the direction of Trieste. The occupation of Trieste would
have completed the encirclement of German Austria and Germany. The
German Western front would have been turned strategically, policy
and strategy, working in harmony, could have undertaken the task of
isolating Prussia, the centre of militarism and the birthplace of
Pan-Germanism. Munich and Dresden are closer to Trieste than to any
point in France or Flanders.
Such, in brief outline, was an Eastern military policy which had
been submitted repeatedly since the early stages of the war. It was
first proposed as a complement to the operations on the Western and
Eastern fronts. With the intervention of Italy, the possibility of its
extension towards Croatia and Istria was perceived. At the beginning
of 1917 it did not involve the detachment of many additional divisions
from other theatres. The aggregate casualties in one of the big
offensives would have more than met requirements. This detachment could
have been justified on strategical grounds, since it would have forced
the enemy to conform to at least an equal extent. It was an attempt
to harmonize strategy with policy, and on the principle of _solvitur
ambulando_ to deal, during the progress of the war, with a mass of
vexed racial problems which, during an armistice or in time of peace,
are surrounded by intrigue.
The advocates of an Eastern policy were described as “Easterners,” a
term which was susceptible of various interpretations. It meant, at
best, a visionary, at worst, a traitor, according to the degree of
indignation aroused in “Westerners.”
Notwithstanding the failure of their previous efforts, the “Westerners”
still claimed in 1917 that a decisive victory could and would be won
on the Western front, if the Russo-Rumanian offensive came up to
expectations. They had organized the British nation for a special form
of war. Thanks to a highly developed Intelligence Department, they knew
exactly what they had to deal with. Hundreds of able-bodied officers
had worked with all the ardour of stamp collectors at identifying enemy
units, and had produced catalogues which in the judgment of archivists
were impeccable, though at the time of issue they may have been out of
date. The French Armies were commanded by the hero of Verdun,[40] and
were full of the offensive spirit. The Italians were holding their
own on the Carso and the Isonzo. The framework of the war was set, the
far-flung buckler of the Central Empires would be pierced, where they
were strongest, the Germans would be beaten by their own methods, and
at any cost.
Once more the “Westerners” had their way. Once more their hopes were
disappointed. At the end of 1917, in spite of local tactical successes,
the Western front remained unbroken, the Italians had retreated to
the line of the Piave, and the Eastern front had dissolved in the
throes of revolution. In Palestine and Mesopotamia, the Allies had
struck two heavy blows at Turkey, and the Ottoman Empire was drifting
into chaos. A direct blow at Constantinople would have encountered
slight opposition, it would have been welcomed by the masses of the
people as a deliverance. In Macedonia the Bulgars were showing signs
of disaffection, but here inaction, both military and diplomatic,
continued the stalemate. The alliance of America had saved the
financial situation, but no effective military support could be
expected from this quarter for many months to come.
Fortunately for the British Empire and for civilization, German policy
was also controlled by “Westerners.” These men were essentially
experts, past masters of technique, but indifferent exponents of the
military art when applied to a world-wide war. They had failed to
seize their opportunity in 1914, when Paris and the Channel Ports were
at their mercy. During 1915 and 1916, they had squandered lives and
ammunition in costly offensives on the Western front, when they might
have taken Petrograd. In 1917, they lacked the insight to perceive
that their conquests on the Eastern front more than compensated the
check to overweening aspirations in the West, which, owing to their
past mistakes, could not be gratified. If at the end of 1917 the German
Government had offered terms of peace, based on the evacuation of
France and Belgium and including the cession of Alsace and Lorraine,
and had during the winter months withdrawn their troops to the right
bank of the Meuse, the Allied Governments could hardly have refused.
In France the drain on man-power had been appalling. A continuance of
hostilities involving further losses would have aroused opposition in
influential circles, and would have been denounced as illogical and
quixotic, as a sacrifice of French interests on the altar of Great
Britain, when peace could be had on advantageous terms. The position
of the other Allies would have been difficult in the extreme. To
continue the war in the West, without France as a base, would have been
impossible. The only alternative would have been an intensification
of the blockade and the operations in the Eastern theatres. These
operations would no longer have been confined to Turks and Bulgars,
and new bases would have been required to mount them on a proper
scale; further, the non-existence of a comprehensive Eastern policy
would have been a cause of much delay. America had not declared war
against either Turkey or Bulgaria. The Italians had interests in the
East; but, under these altered circumstances, their position on the
Piave front would have been critical, and might have forced them to
make peace. The Allied peoples were war weary, peace talk would have
aroused their hopes, and have been more convincing than the arguments
of Imperialists.
By proposing peace, the German Government might have lost prestige,
but would have gained something more substantial--a secure position in
the East. Instead, at the beginning of 1918, everything was sacrificed
to a renewal of offensives on the Western front. The reinforcements
asked for by Bulgaria were not sent, and Turkey was abandoned to her
fate. Ominous mutterings from the working classes in Germany were
disregarded. By a rigorous application of the military system and by
promises of victory, a clique of ambitious generals kept the German
people well in hand.
If a frontal attack against a sector of an immense entrenched position
could lead to decisive results, the German offensive of March, 1918,
should have had the desired effect. It penetrated to within ten miles
of Amiens, a vital point on the Allied communications, and there, in
spite of the most prodigious efforts, it petered out. The ratio between
the front of attack and the depth of advance had exceeded all previous
records, but just as success seemed certain, human endurance reached
its limits, and proved once more its subjugation to an inhuman and
automatic law. The British front had not been broken, though it had
been badly bent.
Undeterred by this dreadful and unavailing slaughter, the German
leaders persisted in their efforts, and staked the destiny of their
country on one last gambler’s throw. Four offensives had been repulsed,
a fifth was now attempted with Paris as its goal. It was dictated by
political, and possibly dynastic, considerations, and was not executed
with customary German skill.
To close observers, it had for some time been apparent that German
strategy was weakening. There had been less coherence in the
operations, and symptoms of indecision on the part of the High
Command. Field-Marshal Foch was undoubtedly a better strategist than
any of his adversaries, and the war of movement, resulting from the
German offensives, gave him an opportunity which he was not slow to
seize. A series of hammer blows along the whole Western front deprived
Ludendorff of the initiative which he had hitherto possessed, and
forced the German armies to evacuate the salients in the direction of
Paris and Amiens.
Other and more fundamental factors, however, had already undermined
Germany’s powers of resistance. The discontent among the masses of
the German population had assumed menacing proportions; it affected
the troops on the lines of communication directly, and through them
the soldiers on the front. During the last offensives the number of
men who surrendered voluntarily had been above the average, and when
the retirement began, when all hopes of taking Paris in 1918 had
disappeared, when American soldiers had been encountered, proving the
failure of the submarine campaign, the spirit of the German Armies
changed. Certain units still fought well, but the majority of the
German soldiers became untrustworthy, though not yet mutinous. An
eye-witness relates that on their arrival at Château-Thierry, the
German officers were in the highest spirits, and the words “Nach
Paris”[41] were continually on their lips. The men, on the other
hand, seemed depressed and moody, but when the order was issued for
withdrawal, their demeanour brightened, they found a slogan full of
portents, the words were “Nach Berlin”[42] and were uttered with a
smile. This incident is authentic, it took place in July.
History was repeating itself, misgovernment by a selfish upper class
had produced in Germany the same conditions which had driven the
Russian people into revolution. In both countries a state of war had
accentuated pre-existent evils, by giving a freer rein to those who
exploit patriotism, courage and devotion for their personal ends.
Germany had outlasted Russia because, in her military system, she had
an almost perfect organization from an administrative point of view.
This system, by concentrating all the resources of the nation on a
single purpose and putting them at the disposal of a few resolute,
all-powerful men, had enabled the German people to make incredible
efforts. Had it been controlled by statesmen, total disruption might
have been averted; directed by infatuated and homicidal militarists,
its very excellence enabled it to hold the Empire in its grip until
disaster was complete.
From June, 1918, onwards, all hope of a German victory on the Western
Front had disappeared. Germany was seething with discontent, her
industrial life was paralised, the supply of munitions had seriously
decreased; yet Ludendorff persevered, he drove the armies with
remorseless energy, a kind of madness possessed him and his acolytes,
imposing desperate courses and blinding them to facts. Their whole
political existence was at stake, failure meant loss of place and
power, of all that made life sweet, so they conceived a sinister
design--if they failed “all else should go to ruin and become a prey.”
When the crash came, it came from within. For months, the German
armies on the front had been a facade screening a welter of misery and
starvation. The machine had functioned soullessly, causing the useless
massacre of thousands of soldiers, while women and children died by
tens of thousands in the midst of fictitious opulence. During these
last days, the rank and file fought without hope, for an Emperor who
was to save himself by flight, for leaders who treated them like pawns,
for the defence of hearths and homes where famine and disease were
rife. Long years of discipline had made these men automatons, they were
parts of a great projectile whose momentum was not yet exhausted, and
they had long ceased to reason why.
Unreasoning docility is held by some to be a civic virtue: that was
the German doctrine and the basis of their Military System, which,
though at its inception a defensive system, became an instrument of
conquest, pride and insolence, a menace to the world. The form of war
which Germany initiated and perfected has degraded war itself, it
has organized slaughter with mechanical devices, has made tanks of
more account than brains, and has crowned the triumph of matter over
mind. There was a redeeming glamour about war as made by Alexander and
Napoleon, today it is a hideous butchery, which can be directed by
comparatively mediocre men. It has ceased to be an art and has become
an occupation inextricably interwoven with a nation’s industrial life.
The downfall of the German Military System is a stern reminder of the
vicissitude of things, and has removed a brooding shadow which darkened
civilization. If calamitous experience serves as a guide to statesmen
in the future, its rehabilitation will be prevented--in any form,
however specious, in any land.