VIENNA IN WAR TIME
I Set Out for the Enemy Country--The German Official Mind--Turned
Back at the Frontier--Arrival at Vienna--The Kindly Hofrat--Hatred
of the English--A Subdued City--Hardships--The Hidden Scourge--The
Toll of War--Austria’s Terrible Casualties--The Tragic 28th
Regiment--“Mr. Wu” in Vienna--Interned Englishmen.
It was during the early days of November, 1915, that I conceived the
idea of making another journey to Turkey. From various sources I had
heard that the Germans, in conjunction with the Turks, were preparing
for their great and much-advertised attack upon Egypt. I determined to
find out if they were seriously planning this adventure, or if it were
merely “bluff” for political purposes. My arrangements were carefully
made, because the whole result of an expedition such as this depends
upon the precautions taken at the outset. I first went to a neutral
country where, some years previously, I had worked as a journalist. I
did not find much difficulty in obtaining from the newspaper with which
I had been connected papers and credentials in which it was set forth
that I was acting as the special correspondent of that journal.
After careful consideration, I decided upon the shortest route to
Turkey, which would take me through Germany, Austria, Roumania, and
Bulgaria, and I made my plans accordingly. I failed, however, in my
object. At the town of Emmerich, on the German border, I was informed
by the officials that my papers were unsatisfactory. At first I
was somewhat puzzled, knowing the care that I had taken to procure
everything necessary, but I soon discovered what the trouble really
was. On my passport my name was spelt with an “i,” whereas on my
special correspondent’s card it was spelt with a “y.” I verily believe
that the meticulous mind of the German officials would refuse to admit
the bearer of a passport in which a comma appeared in place of a colon.
I did my utmost to convince the officers that the mistake was
trifling, and that I was a _bona fide_ journalist. After much
discussion and excited expostulation on my part, I was permitted to
travel to Munich; but my papers were taken from me, and I was told that
I must apply for them in that city at the Kommandantur.
Convinced that everything was now satisfactorily arranged, I resumed
my journey. When we reached Düsseldorf I became aware that my name was
being loudly called from the platform. For a moment I was thrilled
with a sudden fear that my association with an English newspaper
had been discovered and that trouble was brewing; but I quickly
recovered myself. When the station-master, a lieutenant, and two
soldiers--nothing less than this imposing display of force would
satisfy the German official mind--presented themselves at the door of
my compartment, I confessed to my identity, and was promptly told that
I must leave the train, and furthermore, that I should not be allowed
to proceed upon my journey until my papers were perfectly in order.
The upshot of this incident was that I was forced to return to the
frontier, all on account of a careless consulate clerk using an “i” for
a “y.”
I considered it far too risky to have the correction made and start
again. I had acquired some knowledge of German official psychology.
Knowing that the Austrian authorities are less difficult than the
German, I decided to return to England and journey through France and
Switzerland into Austria. In Switzerland I obtained a new passport, and
was soon on my way to the Austrian frontier.
On the journey I had some unpleasant meditations. The Austrian
authorities might have been informed of my unsuccessful endeavour to
cross the German border, and as some eight months previously I had
already entered Austria by that same route I now proposed to take,
I found myself hesitating as to the advisability of continuing the
adventure. “Perhaps,” I argued with myself, “it would be advisable to
return to safety.” I soon, however, overcame this trepidation by the
simple process of telling myself that hundreds of thousands of men in
the trenches were facing what I should soon be facing--death. I was a
soldier, I told myself, as indeed I am holding a commission in my own
country as a Reserve officer. Finally, by the time I reached Feldkirch,
I was prepared to face the Austrian officials with a stout heart and a
grim determination to get through at all costs.
With my fellow travellers I was conducted to a large hall where
soldiers, with fixed bayonets, were on guard. To understand my feelings
as I stood there awaiting my turn to be taken before the officers for
interrogation, one must have been in a similar position oneself.
One by one my companions were admitted to the adjoining room, and when
at last my own turn came, I found myself confronting five Austrian
officers, all of whom seemed to have developed that inquisitive state
of mind which seems to exist only in war-time. In Switzerland I had
obtained from the Austrian Ambassador, Baron Gayer, a _laissez
passer_, which was of the greatest possible value to me. After an
unpleasant ten minutes I found that I had passed with honours, having
not only satisfied the officers’ demands for information, but earned
their goodwill to the extent of being wished good luck and a pleasant
journey. An hour later the train left for Vienna, twenty-four hours
distant, through the beautiful Austrian Tyrol. I was, however, too
tired and travel-weary to be much concerned with the beauties of
nature. There was no sleeping accommodation upon the train, and what
rest I had was snatched sitting in an upright position.
On the evening of December 8th, 1915, I arrived in Vienna, where I
decided to stay at the Park Hotel in preference to one of the more
fashionable hotels in the gayer part of the city. I did this with a
deliberate purpose, as the Park Hotel is situated close to the two
railway stations, Sud Bahnhof and Ost Bahnhof. From my point of vantage
I hoped to be able to watch the movements of troops marching to the
stations.
I planned to stay only a short time in Vienna, my real objective being
Turkey, but I particularly wanted to see Belgrade, which possessed for
me a great interest on account of the recent desperate fighting that
had taken place there. I had secured an introduction to a distinguished
official in the Austrian Foreign Office (Ministerium des Aussern) upon
whom it was my first object to call. This important personage, a Hofrat
(the German equivalent, I believe, of the English Privy Councillor),
received me courteously, and without that suspicion that seems to be
the inevitable attribute of the German, listened to my explanation
as to the object of my journey, and very kindly promising me all the
facilities that he had it in his power to grant.
He gave me an introduction to the War Office (K.U.K. Kriegsministerium)
Press Bureau. His letter stated that I was well known to the Foreign
Office, and that all possible facilities should be granted to me on my
journey to the Near East. This letter eventually produced a document
which was of the utmost assistance to me in my subsequent journeyings,
and which I still have in my possession.
As he handed to me the introduction to the Kriegsministerium
Pressbureau, which was to prove for me my open sesame into Turkey, he
remarked: “I am always very careful of giving introductions to the War
Office; you yourself, for instance, might be the biggest spy (grosze
spion) in the world.” I smiled inwardly as I thanked him for his
kindness, and congratulated myself that I had been so fortunate as to
impress favourably a man who possessed so much authority. When I asked
him to furnish me with a passport, enabling me to travel through to
Belgrade, he replied that it was not in his power to do so, but that he
would do what he could to assist me, and that I should hear from him in
due course.
In the meantime I determined to look about the city to discover what
changes had taken place during the eight months that had elapsed
since my previous visit. The first thing I noticed was the increased
hostility on the part of the Viennese towards the English. For this
there were two very obvious reasons: first, the pinch of hunger,
“stomach pressure” as it has been called, the work of the British Navy;
second, the intervention of Italy, the work of British diplomatists.
The Austrian is not so dramatic in his hatreds as the German; but there
is a bitter and burning feeling in his heart against a nation that has
robbed him of most of the luxuries and many of the necessaries of life,
and, in addition, has precipitated him into another war at a time when
his hands were already over full.
Unlike London, Paris, and Constantinople, Vienna is brightly lit at
night; but the atmosphere of gaiety of this gayest of cities no longer
exists. Now it is dull; cafés, which in peace time remained open
all night, are forced to close at 11 p.m.; some, but very few, have
obtained permission to remain open until midnight. There in Vienna, as
everywhere else in the Teutonic war zone, the all-absorbing topic of
conversation was the question of food-supply.
There is a humorous side to the situation; humorous, that is, to the
Allies. The people of Turkey confidently anticipate obtaining supplies
from the Central Powers; whereas the Central Powers are equally
optimistic about Turkey’s ability to supply them with foodstuffs. The
Berlin Press is responsible for the Teutonic error, on account of its
bombastic articles on the advantage of opening up Turkey and Asia Minor
with their vast resources. For one thing this was to produce butter for
Berlin. In Vienna they do not grumble so much as in Berlin about the
shortage of butter; but they bitterly resent the absence of cream. One
of the chief delights of the city is the famous Vienna coffee, with
its foaming crest of whipped cream extending half way down the glass.
During my previous visit this had been easily obtainable, but eight
months of war had resulted in the prohibition of the sale of milk and
cream save for infants, all the rest being used in the manufacture of
explosives. When I learned that I should be forced to drink black
coffee, I felt a momentary grievance against the Allies.
Of the 1,600 taxis that in peace time whirled gay parties about Vienna,
only forty remained, and these are extremely shabby, their tyres having
a very decrepit appearance. With the exception of these forty taxis
all vehicular traffic stops at 11 p.m., and the Viennese ladies, famed
for embonpoint, will long remember the war if only for the amount of
walking that they have had to do.
There is also a great scarcity of petrol, tyres, and glycerine, all
having been requisitioned by the Government. Lard and other fatty
substances used in the preparation of food are of a very inferior
quality. I have good cause to remember this as, for four days, I was
extremely ill on account of the odious stuff used in the cooking of
some food I had eaten.
Curiously enough, I found the bread of a much better quality than
during my previous visit; but there was very little of it, for the
reign of the bread-ticket was not yet over. Meat was scarce and very
expensive. As a rule, I dined at the Restaurant Hartmann, in peace time
a well-known place for good dinners. I found, however, that it had
greatly deteriorated, that the food was far from good and ridiculously
expensive. For a meal consisting of soup, meat and vegetables, with
some fruit, I had to pay eight kronen (a kronen being 10d.), double the
peace price. Some idea of the scarcity of meat may be obtained from the
fact that a single portion of roast beef costs about four kronen (3s.
4d.). I should explain that Hartmann’s is not a place like the Ritz
Hotel, but a middle-class restaurant where in time of peace the prices
are extremely moderate.
That terrible scourge, which seems to follow in the footsteps of
civilisation, has increased alarmingly in Vienna since the outbreak of
war. Soldiers go to the vilest part of the city deliberately inviting
contagion so that they may not be sent to the front. The eyes of
the military authorities have been opened to the seriousness of the
situation, and the men are very seriously punished.
[Illustration:
Niederösterreich.
Tages-Ausweis
über den Verbrauch von
210g Brot
Gültig nur am
---- 1915.
Verkauf nur nach Gewicht gegen
Vorlegung der Ausweiskarte
und Abtrennung eines entsprechenden
Abschnittes zulässig.
Nicht übertragbar!
Sorgfältig aufbewahren!
Nachdruck verboten!
Strafbestimmungen.
Zuwiderhandlurigen werden an dem
Verkäufer wie an dem Käufer mit
Geldstrafen bis zu 5000 K oder mit
Arrest bis zu 6 Monaten geahndet.
Bei einer Verurteilung kann auf den
Verlust einer Gewerbeberechtigung
erkannt werden. Fälschung der Ausweiskarte
wird nach dem Strafgesetze
bestraft.
70g Brot
70g Brot
70g Brot
A VIENNA BREAD-TICKET]
Vienna is full of wounded; in fact, I have never seen a city in which
there were so many. I tried to find out as much as I could about the
number of Austrian wounded throughout the country, but it was extremely
difficult to glean information. In order that the public shall not
be unduly depressed, the wounded are carefully scattered about in
different towns and villages, particularly in Bohemia. Germans have
told me that they have heard the same thing in regard to England, where
hundreds of little Red Cross hospitals were to be found in provincial
towns and villages all over the country!
The German method is also to keep the wounded away from the big
towns as much as possible. The smaller villages are used for Red
Cross stations. When in Frankfurt on one of my former trips I one
day remarked to an old woman, a farmer’s wife with whom I got into
conversation, that I could not understand why there were so few
wounded in a large town such as Frankfurt. “Come and have a look at our
village,” she answered, “we have them in our houses.” I accordingly
went to Andernach, which was the name of the village. She gave me
coffee and war bread, and treated me very kindly. There were six
wounded soldiers in her house, and I learned that there was hardly a
village on the slopes of the Rhine where wounded soldiers were not
billeted to benefit by the invigorating air of the Rhineland hills,
having first been treated in the hospitals. I was told by one of the
wounded soldiers that in a hospital about half-an-hour’s run from
Cologne 180 soldiers were lying disabled.
The Austrian authorities have their own particular methods; they
arrange, for instance, that only a third of the convalescent soldiers
shall be allowed out at the same time. Thus, if there are three hundred
wounded in a hospital who are able to walk, only one hundred are
permitted out at the same time for fresh air and exercise.
The number of blind soldiers is amazing. It was one of the most
terrible sights I saw. Before Italy participated in the war the total
number of Austrian soldiers who had lost their sight was 10,000, now it
is 80,000. I was informed of this by Dr. Robert Otto Steiner, the head
of the largest hospital in Vienna, probably the largest in the world,
the Wiener Allgemeines Krankenhaus, which has 8,000 beds, and 3,000
being occupied by men who have lost their sight.
The reason for this terrible number of blind soldiers is that in the
mountains the troops cannot dig adequate trenches, and the Italian
shells burst against the mountains and send showers of rock-fragments
in all directions. It was with a mournful expression that Dr. Steiner
told me of the 70,000 Austrians blinded within six months. I asked
him what was to happen to these poor fellows after the war, and he
confessed that they presented a problem which seemed beyond the power
of any Government to solve. Whether or not a monument be erected to the
Kaiser in the Sieges-Allée, there will be throughout Europe thousands
of living monuments to his “greatness” in the shape of the blind, the
mad, and the paralysed, who will breathe curses upon the name German
Militarism that has robbed them of nearly all save life itself.
In the course of my wanderings about the city I heard an amusing story
about recruiting in England. It was told me by some Austrian officers,
who were convinced that recruiting in this country had been a success.
Their explanation was that the aristocracy had obtained from the
Government an assurance that they would be retained for home service,
whereas the poor would be sent to the front. Nothing that I heard
showed a greater ignorance of the sporting instinct of the English
gentleman than this grotesque statement, and that in spite of the
ubiquitous Wolff and his wireless war news. Speaking of Wolff reminds
me of a saying among the supporters of the Allies in Constantinople
which runs: “There are lies, there are damned lies, and there are
Wolff’s wireless messages.”
One night I had an interesting conversation with a captain in the
Austrian Polish Legion, whose name is in my possession, but which
in his own interest I refrain from printing. He told me several
things which showed clearly the difficulties which the Germans are
experiencing in combining their vastly varied forces. “I am with
the Austrians now,” he said, “fighting the Russians because of the
comparatively good treatment we Poles received from Austria. After the
war we are promised a Polish Republic. If, however,” he added, “it
comes to fighting for Prussia against the Russians, I for one shall
desert and join Russia.”
It has been known in this country for some months that something had
gone wrong with regard to the Austrian 28th Regiment of the line, the
Prague Regiment, which consists entirely of Bohemians principally drawn
from Prague, who being Slavs hate the Germans. From this officer I
heard the story of the tragic 28th. In the National Museum in Vienna
there are several flags draped in black--they are those of this
ill-fated regiment of Bohemians.
It was the intention of the whole of the regiment to desert to the
Russians, the plot including officers as well as rank and file. One
day, seeing before them what they took to be Russian regiments, the
soldiers threw down their arms and held up their hands in token of
surrender. But the “Russians” were Prussians! The Bohemians were
unaware that the round cap of Russia is practically the same as
that worn in the Prussian armies. The Prussian officers immediately
grasped the situation, and turned machine-guns on the defenceless men,
massacring hundreds of them. The remainder were taken prisoners, and
eventually one out of every five was shot, and of the officers one in
every three was executed. The men who remained were sent to the most
dangerous part of the front, and there are now very few left to tell
the terrible story. The flags in the National Museum are a record of
the disgrace of a regiment whose name no longer appears in the Austrian
Army List.
One thing that struck me in particular was that the most popular
play in Vienna should be the English success, “Mr. Wu.” It was
advertised all over the city, beneath the title in smaller letters
appearing the words “Der Mandarin.” The original title being in heavy
letters, whilst the German title is added in smaller type, it being
evidently considered that the words “Mr. Wu” required some explanation
for Austrian eyes. I was at a loss to account for this anomaly. I
remembered having seen the play several times in London, but this did
not supply any information as to its popularity in an enemy city.
One evening I went to the Neues Wiener Stadtheater, a handsome building
erected since the outbreak of war. The audience was mostly composed of
women, less than a fourth being men. The play was admirably staged,
but I missed Matheson Lang. I soon discovered the reason for its
popularity. An English business man is shown to great disadvantage
beside a Chinaman, and this seemed greatly to please the audience. At
the end of every act the curtain was raised time after time and the
performers loudly applauded.
To me the real tragedy of Vienna is that of the Englishmen of military
age who cannot leave the city. They are well-treated and allowed their
liberty so long as they do not leave the city, which shows how much
milder is the Austrian as compared with the German rule. They are,
however, expected to be within doors by 8 o’clock at night. Notices
have appeared in the papers to the effect that subjects of belligerent
countries are to be freely allowed to use their own language in public
places as long as they do so in a way that is not offensive. The poor
fellows are hungry for news. The last English paper they had seen was
_The Times_ of September 3rd. They speak feelingly of the hated war
bread, but they admit the great improvement in its quality during the
last two months. They spoke well of the Austrian treatment, but for all
this their position is far from enviable. They are in the midst of a
hostile population, knowing nothing of what is actually happening to
their country, and eager to be in the trenches beside their fellow
countrymen.
There was much talk about the Baghdad and Egyptian campaigns, and
also about the depreciation in the value of the kroner, the Austrian
standard coin, which is now worth only half its original value.
Far-seeing men among the Viennese regard this as significant.
Great precautions are taken with regard to people arriving in Vienna
from Hungary. For some time past cholera and the Plague have been
raging in some parts of that country, although very little information
leaks out on account of the severity of the censorship. Occasionally,
however, news comes through that proves the situation to be far from
favourable. For months previously Hungary was the scene of the great
concentration of the German and Austrian armies for the fighting in
the Balkans. The massing of these troops in a comparatively small area
inevitably results in the spread of disease.