It was only ten miles from the British shores that the _Halcyon_ had

sighted the German ships, but they were able, nevertheless, to elude all

British warships in those regions and proceeded to Yarmouth, firing at

the wireless station, the naval yards, and the town itself. Fearing

mines near the coast, the German commander did not attempt to come in

too close, with the result that many of the German shots fell short,

and, in spite of the fact that the bombardment lasted for nearly half an

hour, the damage done by them was not great.

The inhabitants of the towns of Lowestoft and Yarmouth were asleep in

the early hours of the morning when they first heard the booming of the

German guns. In the darkness of the British winter they hurriedly went

down to the water front, where, far out at sea, they could make out

faintly the hull of but one vessel, but the red flashes from the booming

guns showed that other ships were present. The crowds on the shore

watched two British destroyers and two submarines, which had been lying

in the harbor, put out after the German force. The latter by that time

had started off, dropping in its wake a number of floating mines. This

strategy resulted in the loss of the submarine _D-5_, which hit one of

the mines and sank immediately. The German cruiser _Yorck_ was claimed

by the British to have hit a mine also, with the result that she sank

and carried down with her some 300 of her crew. This was denied later by

the German admiralty, and like all such controversies must remain a

secret with the officials of both Governments.

Judged by material effects, this raid was a failure. But in view of the

fact that the Germans had shown that a squadron could actually elude the

large number of British warships patrolling the North Sea, and was

actually able to strike at the British coast, it was a moral victory for

Germany.

"We must see clearly that in order to fight with success we must fight

ruthlessly, in the proper meaning of the word." These were the words of

Count Reventlow, when he heard the news of the defeat of the German

squadron commanded by Von Spee off the Falkland Islands. As a result,

and in revenge for this defeat, the German admiralty planned a second

raid on the coast towns of England. The towns chosen for attack this

time were Hartlepool, Scarborough, and Whitby. The first of these was a

city of 100,000 persons, and its principal business was shipbuilding.

Scarborough was nothing more than a seaside resort, to which each summer

and at Christmas were attracted thousands of Englishmen who sought to

spend their vacations near the water. Whitby, though it had some

attractions for holiday crowds, such as a quaint cathedral, was at most

nothing more than a home port for a number of fishing boats.

It was brazenly claimed later by the Germans that these three towns,

according to definitions in international law, were fortified ports, and

consequently open to attack by hostile forces. In reply the British

claimed that there was nothing in any of the three which could bring

them into that category. This controversy is still another which the war

developed. There is, however, the fact that the information which the

German Government had obtained about them, and which it made public,

must necessarily have been less comprehensive than that supplied to the

world at large by the British authorities. Guidebooks, as well as

tourists who have visited the place, reported that an old castle stood

in Scarborough which in past centuries had been a fort, but which at the

outbreak of the war was nothing more than a show place. The only gun in

place at the castle was an obsolete piece that had seen service in the

Crimean War. Whitby, in times of peace, at least, had not even such

"armament."

It was on the 16th of December, 1914, that this second raid took place.

Over the North Sea there hung a light mist. The German admiralty did not

afterward make public the names of the cruisers which participated in

this expedition, but they are believed to have been the _Derfflinger_,

_Bluecher_, _Von der Tann_, _Seydlitz_, and _Graudenz_. It was at eight

o'clock in the morning that the residents of the three English towns

first heard the booming of the German guns, and coast guards near by

were able, with the aid of very strong glasses, to make out the hulls of

the attacking cruisers some miles out to sea. It was not thought

possible that the Germans could again elude the British ships on patrol

in these waters, and the guards therefore thought that the firing came

from ships flying the Union Jack and tried to signal to them. But they

came to realize the truth when they received no answering signals.

As it was not known but that the Germans would make an attempt to land,

the guards in the obsolete fort at Hartlepool took their positions and

two small patrol boats in the harbor made ready to give what resistance

they could. These, the _Doon_ and the _Hardy_, drew the fire of the

German guns, and, seeing it was impossible to withstand the German fire,

they made off and escaped. This time the Germans were better informed

about the conditions they dealt with, and evidently had no fear of

mines, for they came to within two miles of the shore. The forts on

shore were bombarded and private houses near by were hit by German

shells, killing two women who lived in one of them. The forts tried to

reply to the German guns, but those of the English battery were by no

means modern, and firing them only served to further convince the

Germans that the place was fortified; they inflicted no damage on the

German ships.

The lighthouse was the next target chosen by the Germans, one of their

shells going right through it, but leaving it standing. Within fifty

minutes 1,500 German shells were fired into the town and harbor. While

two of the three cruisers which were engaged in bombarding drew off

further to sea and fired at Hartlepool, the third remained to finish the

battery on shore, but in spite of the fact that it was subjected to long

and heavy firing, it was not so terribly damaged. Many of the shells

from the other two ships went over the towns entirely and buried

themselves in the countryside that heretofore had been turned up only by

the peaceful plow. Other shells did havoc in the business and

residential sections of Hartlepool and West Hartlepool, bringing down

buildings and killing civilians in them as well as on the streets.

At about the same hour the coast guards near Scarborough reported the

approach of foreign ships off the coast, and then telephoned that the

strangers were German cruisers and that they had begun to bombard the

town. A German shell destroyed the shed from which the telephone message

had come and the warnings from it ceased. It was seen by those on shore

that the attack here was being made by four ships, two of them cruisers

and two of them mine layers, only 800 yards out in the water. This time

they were not handicapped by the fact that they had to stand out so far

from shore, and it was a surprise to the natives to see ships of such

draft come so close to land--a fact which convinced the British

authorities that spies had been at work since the first raid, sending to

the German admiralty either charts or detailed descriptions of the

region.

The castle was badly damaged by their fire; the town itself came next,

the Grand Hotel coming in for its share of destruction. They did little

injury to a wireless station in the suburbs, but hit quite a number of

residences, the gas and water works.

Half an hour afterward the two cruisers which had fired upon Scarborough

appeared off Whitby and began to fire at the signal station there. In

the ten minutes that the bombardment of Whitby lasted some 200 shells

fell into the place. This time the fact that the German ships came close

to the shore worked against them, for there are high cliffs close to the

water at the spot and it was necessary for the German gunners to use a

high angle, which did not give them much chance to be accurate. The

German ships next turned seaward and made for their home ports.

The scenes enacted in the three towns during the bombardment and

afterwards were tragic. Considering the fact, however, that the persons

under fire were civilians, many of them women and children, their

coolness was remarkable. They did not know what should be done, for the

thought of bombardment was the last thing that had come into the minds

of the authorities when England went to war, and as a result no

instructions for such an emergency had been issued by the authorities.

Some thought it best to stay within doors, some thought it best to go

into the streets. In Hartlepool a large crowd gathered in the railway

station, some fully dressed, some only in night clothes.

Many of the women carried babies in their arms and were followed by

older children who clung to their skirts. Policemen led this crowd out

of the station and started them along a street which would bring them

out into the country, but while they were passing the library they were

showered by the stone work as it fell when hit by the German shells. One

shell, striking the street itself, killed three of the six children who

were fleeing along it in company with their mother. Many other persons

met deaths as tragic either within their own homes or on the streets.

St. Mary's Catholic Church as well as the Church of St. Hilda were

damaged, as were the shipyards and the office of the local newspaper.

The destruction of the gas works left the town in almost complete

darkness for many nights afterward. The authorities issued a

proclamation ordering all citizens to remain indoors for a time, and

then began to count the number of dead and injured. The first estimate

gave the former as 22 and the latter as 50, but subsequent reckoning

showed that both figures were too low.

In Scarborough most of the inhabitants were still in bed when the

bombardment started and for a few minutes did not become excited,

thinking the booming of the guns was the sound of thunder. But when the

shells began to drop on their houses they knew better. Many were killed

or wounded while they hastily got into their clothes. One shell hit St.

Martin's Church while communion was being held. Here, too, the railway

station was made the objective of many refugees, and the police did what

they could to send the women and children out of range of fire by

putting them on trains of extra length. As in all such scenes there were

humorous sides to it. One old workman, while hurrying along a street was

heard to say: "This is what comes of having a Liberal Government." In

all, about 6,000 people left the town immediately and did not return for

some days.

Similar were the scenes enacted in Whitby when the turn of that town

came. Only two persons were killed in that town, while thirteen

casualties were reported from Scarborough.

The raid immediately became the subject for discussion in the newspapers

of every country on the globe. In England it was bitterly denounced, and

the term "baby killers" was applied to the men of the German navy. In

Germany it was justified on the ground that the German admiralty had

information and proof that the bombarded cities were fortified, and

therefore, under international law, subject to bombardment. Nor did the

German journalists lose the opportunity to declare that Great Britain no

longer ruled the waves nor to show pride over the fact that their fleet

had successfully left the German coast and had successfully returned to

its home port. The war, they said, had been brought to England's door.

The year 1914 ended gloomily for the British public; nothing could have

disappointed them more than the failure to catch the Germans. Nor did

the new year open brightly for Britain, for on the first day of January,

1915, there came the news of disaster to the _Formidable_, sister ship

to the _Bulwark_. The lesson of the _Hogue_, _Cressy_, and _Aboukir_ had

not been learned, for this ship went down under the same circumstances.

While patrolling near Torbay during a night on which there was a bright

moon and a calm sea, this ship, in company with seven other large ships

unaccompanied by a "screen" of destroyers, was hit by a torpedo fired

from a German submarine. Most of her crew were asleep when the torpedo

struck and damaged the engine room so much that no lights could be

turned on. In the darkness they hurried to the deck, which was slanting

from her list. In obedience to orders issued by the admiralty after the

sinking of the _Cressy_ and the ships with her, the rest of the fleet

immediately sailed away from the scene, so that no more of them would be

hit. Only a light cruiser stood by the sinking _Formidable_. A second

torpedo struck her and this had the effect of letting water into her

hold on the side which was slowly coming out of the water. She took a

position with even keel after that, and this fact enabled most of her

crew to get off safely before she sank.

Once more the Germans were to attempt a raid on the coast cities of

England. The date of this third attempt was January 24, 1915. This time

the British were a bit better prepared, for a squadron of battle

cruisers, consisting of the _Lion_, _Tiger_, _Princess Royal_, _New

Zealand_, and _Indomitable_, put out from a port in the north of England

at about the same time that the Germans left their base. All of these

ships, with the exception of the last named, were quite fast, having

speeds of from 25 to 28.5 knots; they were at the same time carrying

heavy armament--13.5-inch guns in the main batteries. In company with

them went four cruisers of what is known in England as the "town class";

these were the _Nottingham_, _Birmingham_, _Lowestoft_, and

_Southampton_, together with the three light cruisers _Arethusa_,

_Aurora_, and _Undaunted_, and a squadron of destroyers. The German

fleet which was engaged in this raid consisted of the _Seydlitz_,

_Moltke_, _Derfflinger_, and _Bluecher_, in company with a fleet of

destroyers. The German ships were not quite as fast as the English

ships, nor did they carry guns of such range or destructive power as

their British opponents.

Early in the first hours of January 24, these two forces, unknown to

each other were steaming head on, the Germans taking a course leading

northwest and the English a course leading southeast. At twenty minutes

past seven in the morning the _Aurora_ first sighted the enemy and

engaged him immediately with her two 6-inch guns, sending at the same

time word of her discovery to Admiral Beatty. Admiral Hipper, the German

commander, as soon as he knew the enemy had sighted him, turned about

and started to steam in a southeasterly direction.

In view of the results of this battle, it is best to go into the matter

of the tactics involved. Tactics may be of two kinds--spontaneous or

premeditated. When two hostile fleets meet on the high sea far from the

base of either, the object of each is the complete destruction of the

other, and the tactics employed are spontaneous. Such an action was that

off Coronel. But on a closed sea such as the North Sea spontaneous

tactics can rarely be used, for the reason that naval bases are too

near, and from these there may slyly come reenforcements to one or the

other or to both of the fighting fleets, making the arrangement of traps

an easy matter. This is particularly true of the North Sea, on which it

is possible for a fleet to leave Cuxhaven early in the evening and to be

at Scarborough early the following morning. In addition, sailing is

restricted because an unusually large portion of its waters is too

shallow to permit of the passage of large ships.

The Germans on this occasion had arranged a trap. They knew that after

making two successful raids on the English coast the British would keep

even a closer watch for them. When they sailed from their base, it was

with the expectation of meeting a hostile force, as was undoubtedly

their expectation on the first two raids. But they did not intend to

fight matters out on high waters. What they wanted to do was to get the

British involved in a good running engagement, steering a southeasterly

course the while and luring the British ships within striking force of a

waiting fleet of superdreadnoughts and perhaps land guns and mines. This

explains why Admiral Hipper turned stern as soon as he got into touch

with the enemy.

There was a distance of fourteen miles between the two fleets when the

_Lion_ got her heavy guns into action. The German line was off her port

(left) bow. At the head of that line was the _Moltke_, and following her

came the _Seydlitz_, _Derfflinger_, _Bluecher_, and the destroyers in the

order given. At the head of the British line was the _Lion_, followed by

the _Tiger_, _Princess Royal_, _New Zealand_, and _Indomitable_ in the

order named. The other cruisers and the destroyers of the British fleet

brought up the rear. In the chase which followed the Germans were

handicapped by the fact that the _Bluecher_ was far too slow to be

brought into action, which meant that either the other ships must leave

her behind to certain destruction or that they must slow down to keep

with her. They chose the latter course, while her stokers did their best

to increase her speed. In the English fleet there was the same trouble

with the _Indomitable_, but inasmuch as the British were the pursuers

and had a preponderance in ships and in the range of their guns, this

did not matter so much to them. But the stokers of the _Indomitable_

worked as hard, if not harder, than those of the _Bluecher_.

By half past nine the two forces were seven miles apart and the battle

was on. It is necessary here to give certain facts about gunnery on a

large modern battleship. Firing at a range of seven miles means a test

of mathematics rather than of the mere matter of pointing guns. At that

distance the target--the ship to be hit--is barely visible on the sky

line on the clearest and calmest sea. If a hole the size of the head of

a pin be made in a piece of cardboard and the latter be held about a

foot and a half from the eye, the distant ship will just about fill the

hole.

The guns on the modern battleships are not "laid"; that is, they are not

aimed as were the cannon of past days or the rifle of to-day. It is set

toward its target by two factors. The first is known as "traverse,"

which means how far to the left or right it must be pointed in a

horizontal plane. The second factor is "elevation"--how far up or down

it must be pointed in a vertical plane. The latter factor determines how

far it will throw its projectile, and up to a certain point the higher

the gun is pointed the further will go the shell. A certain paradox

seems to enter here. It is a fact that a distant ship presents a target

more easily hit if its bow or stern is toward the gunner. If it presents

a broadside there is the danger that the shells will go either beyond

the ship or will fall short of it, for the greatest beam on a warship is

not much more than 90 feet. If the bow or stern is toward the gunner he

has a chance of landing a shell on any part of the 600 or more feet of

the ship's length. The first firing in a battle at a distance is known

as "straddling," by which is meant that a number of shots are sent

simultaneously, some falling short, some falling beyond the target, and

some hitting it.

[Illustration: The german cruiser "Bluecher" turning on her side as she

sank in the North Sea battle of January 24. 1915. The other vessels of

the German squadron escaped.]

The man who really "aims" the gun never sees what he is shooting at. At

some point of vantage on his ship one of the officers observes the enemy

and reports to the chief gunner the distance, the direction, and the

effect of the first shots. The gunnery officer then makes certain

calculations, taking into consideration the speed of his own ship and

the speed of the enemy ship. He knows that at a given moment his target

will be at a given point. He knows also just how fast his shells will

travel and makes calculations that enable him to place a shell at that

point at just the right second. In this battle the shells of the British

ship took about twenty seconds to go from the mouths of the guns to the

German hulls. And they made a curve at the highest point of which they

reached a distance of more than two miles; and most wonderful of all was

the fact that at the beginning of the firing a man standing on the deck

of one of the German ships could not even see the ship which was

firing the shells at her, though the weather was very clear.

By a quarter to ten o'clock the _Lion_ had come up with and had passed

the slow _Bluecher_, firing broadsides into her as she went by. The

_Tiger_ then passed the unfortunate German ship, also letting her have a

heavy fire, and then the _Princess Royal_ did likewise. Finally the _New

Zealand_ was able to engage her and later even the slow _Indomitable_

got near enough to do so. By that time the _Bluecher_ was afire and one

of her gun turrets, with its crew and gun, had been swept off bodily by

a British shell.

Meanwhile the _Lion_, _Tiger_, and _Princess Royal_ kept straight ahead

till they were able to "straddle" even the leading ship of the enemy's

line. The _Tiger_ and _Lion_ poured shells into the _Seydlitz_, but were

unable to do much damage to the _Moltke_. While they were thus engaged

the _Princess Royal_ singled out the _Derfflinger_ for her target. The

light British cruiser _Aurora_, _Arethusa_, and _Undaunted_ were far

ahead of the rest of the British fleet and were firing at the _Moltke_,

but thick black smoke which poured from their funnels as their engines

were speeded up got between the gunners of the _Lion_ and their target,

the _Moltke_, completely obscuring the latter. As a result the three

light British cruisers were ordered to slow down and to take positions

to the rear.

By eleven o'clock there were fires raging on both the _Seydlitz_ and the

_Derfflinger_, and Admiral Hipper decided to try to save his larger

ships by sacrificing the destroyers that accompanied them. Consequently

the German destroyers put their bows right toward the large British

ships and charged, but the fire which they drew was too much for them

and they gave up this maneuver.

The British destroyer _Meteor_, which had been maintaining a perilous

position between the battleships, then attempted to torpedo the

_Bluecher_, which had fallen far to the rearward to be abandoned by the

rest of the German fleet. Badly damaged as the _Bluecher_ was, the crew

of one of her guns managed to get in some final shots, one of them

nearly ending the career of the British destroyer. The _Arethusa_ had

also come up and prepared to launch a torpedo. Cruiser and destroyer

torpedoed her at about the same moment, and later, while within 200

yards of the sinking German ship the _Arethusa_ sent another torpedo at

her. She now began to list, although not greatly damaged, on her port

side till her keel showed. Her crew showed remarkable bravery.

The men lined up as though at a review and began to sing the German

national airs, intending to go to their deaths in that formation. But an

officer on the _Arethusa_ shouted to them through a megaphone to jump

while they could to save their lives. This had a psychological effect,

and as the starboard side of her hull slowly came up her men were seen

scrambling on it from behind her taffrail and creeping down toward her

keel. Some of them almost walked into the water while she was in that

position. Her guns were pointing toward the sky, one of them slowly

revolving. Finally, when she was completely upside down she went under.

Many of her crew were picked up by British small boats, and her captain,

who was one of them, was taken to England, where he died later from the

results of this experience and was buried with full naval honors.

The German destroyers had meanwhile come between their own cruisers and

those of the enemy and emitted volumes of heavy smoke, which they hoped

would form an effective screen between the former and the gunners on the

latter. Admiral Hipper then ordered all of his ships to turn northward,

in the hope of getting away behind this screen, but the British admiral

anticipated this maneuver and changed the course of his ships so that he

again had the German ships in view after both fleets had driven through

the smoke.

The _Lion_ of the British fleet was chosen as the target for the German

ships, and by keeping a concentrated fire upon her were able to do

considerable damage. One shell penetrated the bow of the _Lion_ as it

was partly lifted out of the water on account of the great speed she was

making; this shot hit her water tank and made it impossible for her to

use her port engine from that time on. She slowed down. When she fell

out of the line it was necessary for Admiral Beatty to leave her, and he

transferred his flag to the destroyer _Attack_. But all of this took

time and it was quite long before he was able to rejoin his leading

ships. By twenty minutes past twelve he had got aboard the _Princess

Royal_.

Rear Admiral Moore automatically took up command of the British fleet

while his senior officer was making these changes. It is not known what

Admiral Moore's orders had been, but it is known that he suddenly

ordered all ships to cease firing and allowed the German warships to

proceed without further engaging them. By the time that Admiral Beatty

was again on a battle cruiser the action was virtually over. The

_Indomitable_ passed a cable to the crippled _Lion_ and towed the latter

home, the rest of the British fleet keeping to the rearward to be ready

for possible resumption of fighting.

Much criticism was made by the British press and by laymen on account

of the sudden termination of the fight, and there was great complaint in

England because the career of all the raiding German ships had not been

brought to an end. But when the engagement ended the opposing fleets

were within seventy miles of Helgoland, and the German admiralty had

ready a fleet of dreadnoughts and another of battle cruisers to engage

the British ships when they got within striking distance. By ending the

fight when he did the British commander chose not to be led into this

trap. Nor was there dissatisfaction in England alone. In Germany the

complaint was that the ruse had not worked, and not long afterward

Admiral von Ingenohl was replaced as commander of the High Sea Fleet by

Admiral von Pohl. None of the blame for the failure was laid at the door

of the officer who had actually been engaged in the fighting--Admiral

Hipper--which showed that his senior officers had considered the

engagement as part of a larger action.

CHAPTER XL

RESULTS OF SIX MONTHS' NAVAL OPERATIONS

The first six months of naval operations in the Great War came to a

close without battle between the main fleets of the navies of the

warring nations. The British navy had kept open communication with the

Continent, allowing the Expeditionary Force, as well as later military

contingents, to get to the trenches in Flanders and France. It had, in

addition, made possible the transportation of troops from Canada and

Australia. The ports of France were open for commerce with America,

which permitted the importation of arms and munitions, and the same

privilege had been won for the ports in the British Isles.

The northern ports of the Central Powers were closed to commerce with

all but the Scandinavian countries, and the oversea German possessions,

where they were accessible to naval attack, had been taken from her. The

German and Austrian flags had been swept from the seven seas, with the

exception of those on three or four German cruisers that now and then

showed themselves capable of sinking a merchantman.

In the four engagements of importance which had been fought by the end

of January, 1915, the British had been the victors in three--the battles

of the Bight of Helgoland, the Falkland Islands, and the third German

raid of January 24, 1915--the Germans had been victors in one--the fight

off Coronel.

British and other allied ships were unable to inflict damage on the

coast defenses of Germany, but the latter in two successful raids had

been able to bombard British coast towns, offsetting in a way the loss

of oversea dominions.

Great Britain, after six months of naval warfare had lost three

battleships, the _Bulwark_, _Formidable_, and _Audacious_;[1] the five

armored cruisers _Aboukir_, _Cressy_, _Hogue_, _Monmouth_, and _Good

Hope_; the second-class cruisers _Hawke_ and _Hermes_; the two

third-class cruisers _Amphion_ and _Pegasus_; the protected scout

_Pathfinder_ and the converted liner _Oceanic_; losses in destroyers and

other small vessels were negligible.

[Footnote 1: The British admiralty did not clear up the

mystery of her disaster.]

Germany had lost no first-class battleships, but in third-class cruisers

her loss was great, those that went down being the eleven ships

_Ariadne_, _Augsburg_, _Emden_, _Graudenz_, _Hela_, _Koeln_,

_Koenigsberg_, _Leipzig_, _Nuernberg_, _Magdeburg_, _Mainz_, and the

_Dresden_; she lost, also, the four armored cruisers _Bluecher_,

_Scharnhorst_, _Gneisenau_, and _Yorck_; the old cruiser _Geier_

(interned); the three converted liners _Spreewald_, _Cap Trafalgar_, and

_Kaiser Wilhelm_; and the mine layer _Koenigin Luise_.

The German policy of attrition had not taken off as many ships as had

been lost by Germany herself, and, as England's ships so far outnumbered

her own, it may well be said that the "whittling" policy was not

successful. She made up for this by having still at large the cruiser

_Karlsruhe_ which damaged a great amount of commerce, and by the

exploits of her submarines, far outshining those of the Allies.

Russia had lost the armored cruiser _Pallada_, and the _Jemchug_, a

third-class cruiser, and the losses of the French and Austrian navies

were not worth accounting. With regard to interned vessels both sides

had losses. While the Germans were unable to use the great modern

merchantmen which lay in American and other ports, and had to do without

them either as converted cruisers or transports, the Allies were forced

to detail warships to keep guard at the entrance of the various ports

where these interned German liners might at any moment take to the high

seas.

In naval warfare the number of ships lost is no determining factor in

figuring the actual victory--the important thing being the existence or

nonexistence of the grand fleets of the combatants after the fighting is

finished. Viewed from such an angle, the fact that the Allies had left

no German ships at large other than those in the North Sea, cannot

entitle them to victory at the end of the first six months of war. So

long as a German fleet remained intact and interned in neutral ports,

naval victory for the Allies had not come, though naval supremacy was

indicated.

The fact was apparent, moreover, that while the Central Powers were

being deprived of all their trade on the seas, the world's commerce

endangered only by submarines was remaining wide open to the Allies.

PART III--THE WAR ON THE EASTERN FRONT

CHAPTER XLI

GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE THEATRE OF WARFARE

World war--the prophecy of the ages--now threatened the foundations of

civilization. Whether or not the modern era was to fall under the sword,

as did the democracy of Greece and the mighty Roman Empire, was again to

be decided on battle grounds that for seventy centuries have devoured

the generations. The mountain passes were once more to reverberate with

the battle cry--the roar of guns, the clank of artillery, the tramp of

soldiery. The rivers were to run crimson with the blood of men; cities

were to fall before the invaders; ruin and death were to consume

nations. It was as though Xerxes, and Darius, and Alexander the Great,

and Hannibal, and all the warriors of old were to return to earth to

lead again gigantic armies over the ancient battle fields.

While the war was gaining momentum on the western battle grounds of

Europe, gigantic armies were gathering in the East--there to wage mighty

campaigns that were to hold in the balance the destiny of the great

Russian Empire, the empire of Austria, the Balkan kingdoms--Serbia,

Montenegro, Rumania, Bulgaria. The Turks were again to enter upon a war

of invasion. Greece once more was to tremble under the sword. Even Egypt

and Persia and Jerusalem itself, the battle grounds of the Assyrians,

the Babylonians, and the Trojans, the bloody fields of paganism and

early Christianity, were all to be awakened by the modern trumpets of

war.

Before we enter upon these campaigns in the East it is well to survey

the countries to be invaded, to review the battle lines and travel in

these pages over the fighting ground.

The eastern theatre in the first six months of the war, from August 4,

1914, to February 1, 1915, includes the scenes of the fighting in the

historic Balkans and in the Caucasus. But the eastern front proper is

really that region where the Teutonic allies and the Russians opposed

each other, forming a fighting line almost a thousand miles long. It

stretches from rugged old Riga on the shores of the Baltic Sea in the

far north, down through Poland to the Carpathian Mountains, touching the

warm, sunlit hills on the Rumanian frontier. When the total losses of

the Great War are finally counted it will probably be found that here

the heaviest fighting has occurred.

This is the longest battle line in the world's history. Partly on

account of its great length, and partly because of the nature of the

country, we see the two gigantic forces in this region locked together

in their deadly struggle, swaying back and forth, first one giving way,

then the other. This was especially the case in the northern section,

along the German-Russian frontier.

[Illustration: The War in the East--The Relation of the Eastern

Countries to Germany.]

As we view the armies marshaling along this upper section, along the

Baltic shore, southward, including part of East Prussia as well as

Baltic Russia, we look upon the ancient abode of the Lithuanians,

supposed to be the first of the Slavic tribes to appear in Europe.

Hardly any part of Europe has a more forbidding aspect than this region.

There the armies must pass over a flat, undulating country, almost as

low in level as the Baltic, and therefore occupied in large part by

marshes and lagoons through which they must struggle. In all parts the

soil is unproductive. At one time it was a universal forest: thick,

dark, and dank. A century ago, however, Catherine the Great distributed

large areas of this comparatively worthless land among her favorites and

courtiers. In this way a certain percentage was reclaimed, and with the

incoming of the sunlight more favorable conditions for human life were

established. Yet even now it is very thinly settled.

Through this region the armies must cross big rivers: the Oder, Dvina,

Warthe, Vistula, Pregel, and Niemen, northward and northeastward. Just

above or eastward of that point, where the German-Russian frontier

touches the shore, the Baltic curls into a dent, 100 miles deep, forming

the Gulf of Riga. Near the southern extremity of this gulf, eight miles

from the mouth of the Dvina, is the city of Riga, ranking second only to

Petrograd in commercial importance as a seaport, and with a population

of about 300,000.

As the armies move across the frontier they come to a vast domain

projecting into this marsh country, like a great, broad tongue licking

the shore of the Baltic; this wide strip of German territory is East

Prussia--a country to be beleaguered. Not far below the tip of this

tongue, about five miles from the mouth of the Pregel River in the

Frische Haff, and about twenty-five miles from the seacoast, is situated

another embattled stronghold--the city of Koenigsberg which, since 1843,

has been a fortress of the first rank. These two cities in the following

pages will be the immediate objectives of the enemy forces operating on

this section of the eastern front.

It will be obvious why the lines of battle were less permanently fixed

here than in the more solid and mountainous sections of northern France.

Railroads and fairly well-laid highways do indeed traverse these swamps

in various parts, especially in German territory, but trenches could not

be dug in yielding mire. In yet another feature were the military

operations hampered by the nature of the terrain here; the use of heavy

artillery.

We have seen that one of the chief causes of success attending German

attacks in the other theatres of the war has been their use of heavy

guns. But in the fighting before Riga, we shall see when the Germans

seemed on the point of taking that city their heavy artillery was so

handicapped that it was rendered practically useless. Being restricted

by the marshes to an attack over a comparatively narrow front, they were

compelled to leave their heavy guns behind on firmer soil. The guns

which they could take with them were matched by the Russians; the

fighting was, therefore, almost entirely limited to infantry

engagements, in which the Russians were not inferior to the Germans.

Thus, we shall find the German advance on Riga was stopped before it

could attain its object.

In studying the fighting in this part of the eastern front, it will be

seen why the Germans were more successful below Riga, and why the

Russians were compelled to evacuate Vilna. Here is a broad rise,

something like the back of a half-submerged submarine, which seems to

cross the country, where the land becomes more solid. The armies must

move, instead of through marshes, along innumerable small lakes, most of

the lakes being long and narrow and running north and south, with a

fairly thick growth of timber among them, mostly pine and spruce and

fir. In character this section is rather similar to parts of Minnesota.

There are two cities to be conquered in this drier region, Dvinsk, and,

further south, Vilna, once the chief city or capital of the Lithuanians.

We shall see the Russians thrust back from Koenigsberg, and the heavy

fighting shifted over to this section; yet even here, where the huge

guns of the Germans could find footing, the terrain was not suited to

trench warfare, and every arrival of reenforcements on either side would

swing the lines back or forth.

In studying the military movements in a country of this character,

special attention must be paid to the railway lines. Railways, and more

especially those running parallel to the fronts, are absolutely

necessary to success. In looking, therefore, for a key to the object of

any particular movement, the first step must be a close study of this

railroad situation.

We find from Riga to the fortress of Rovno there is a continuous line of

railroad, running generally north and south and passing through Dvinsk,

Vilna, Lida, Rovno, and thence down through Poland to Lemberg. Every

effort of the Russian armies in the succeeding chapters will be made to

keep to the westward of and parallel to this line, and for a very good

reason.

Feeding into this great north and south artery are the branch lines from

Petrograd to Dvinsk; from Moscow to the junction at Baranovitschi; from

Kiev to Sarny. Aside from these three important branch lines, there are

a few other single-track off-shoots, but from a military point of view

they are of no importance.

This line was the main objective (short of capturing Riga itself) of the

German operations. This line proves especially vital to the Russians,

for nowhere east of it is there another such line which could be used

for the same purpose.

If, in the campaigns to be described, this railroad falls into Russian

hands, it gives every facility for strengthening or reenforcing any part

of the Russian front where German pressure becomes excessive. It is, in

addition, a solution to the difficult problem of transportation of

supplies. To use a military term, it gives the Russian army a mobility

not possessed by the enemy because of a lack of similar facilities.

But should this railroad be taken by the Germans, the advantage would

immediately be reversed. And if once the Russian lines were driven back

beyond the railroad, a division of their forces would be forced upon

them; their armies would be obliged to group themselves beside the three

east and west branches already mentioned, for only by these three

systems could their forces be supplied, lateral communications being

absolutely lacking. And this is the key to the fighting, not only in the

northern section of the front, but all along the line, down to Galicia.

Naturally, only the Russian railroads need be considered, for in the

first months of the war the Germans are the invaders in the northern

half of the eastern front, except for a few short periods in the

beginning. Compared to the German railway lines near the frontier, the

Russian lines are very few.

There are two distinct railway lines running from Germany into East

Prussia, with innumerable branches leading to all points of the Russian

frontier, laid especially for military purposes. It was along these that

we shall witness the German forces rushed from Belgium to drive back the

first Russian advance. But, of course, the moment the Germans enter

Russian territory they have no advantage over the Russians, since even

their wonderful efficiency does not enable them to build railroads as

fast as an army can advance. Hence, we observe their efforts to gain

possession of the Russian railroads.

We come now to the central part of the eastern front. Here, just below

East Prussia, Russian Poland projects into German territory in a great

salient, about 200 miles wide and 250 long, resembling a huge bite in

shape.

This land is a monotonous, wind-swept plain, slightly undulating, its

higher parts not even 500 feet above sea level. To the northward and

eastward it descends gradually into the still lower lands of East

Prussia and White Russia, but in the south it lifts into the foothills

of the Carpathian Mountains.

Gigantic armies are to move over this plateau, timbered in parts with

oak, beech, and lime, and in some sections deeply cut by small rivers

and streams forming fissures, some narrow and craggy, others broad and

sloping with marshy bottoms. Toward the south the soldiers must cross

narrow ravines in all directions, often covered with wild, thick

undergrowth. The chief river is the Vistula, which enters by the

southern boundary and flows first north, then northwest, skirting the

plateau region at a height of 700 feet, finally making its exit near

Thorn, thence on to the Baltic through East Prussia. Its valley divides

the hilly tracts into two parts: Lublin heights in the east and the

Sedomierz heights to the westward. Picture in your mind the great armies

approaching these ridges, the most notable of which is the Holy Cross

Mountains, rising peaks almost 2,000 feet above sea level.

The fighting forces in the northeast, where the plain slopes gradually

into the Suwalki Province, must pass over a country dotted with lakes

and lagoons, which farther on take on the character of marshes, stagnant

ponds, peat bogs, with small streams flowing lazily from one to the

other. Here and there are patches of stunted pine forests, with

occasional stretches of fertile, cultivated soil. Throughout this

section many rivers flow along broad, level valleys, separating into

various branches which form many islands and, during the rainy seasons,

flood the surrounding country.

Farther west the armies pass through broad valleys or basins, once the

beds of great lakes, whose rich, alluvial soil give forth abundant crops

of cereals. Here, too, flows the Niemen, 500 miles in length, watering a

basin 40,000 square miles in area and separating Poland from Lithuania.

It advances northward in a great, winding pathway, between limestone

hills covered with loam or amid forests, its banks rising to high

eminences in places, past ruined castles built in the Middle Ages. In

the yellowish soil along its banks grow rich crops of oats, buckwheat,

corn, and some rye. Naturally such a section would be thickly populated,

not only on account of the fertile soil, but because the Niemen, like

the Vistula, is one of the country's means of communication and

transportation. As many as 90,000 men earn their livelihoods in

navigating the steamers and freight barges passing up and down this

great waterway. At Yurburg the Niemen enters East Prussia on its way to

the Baltic.

CHAPTER XLII

THE STRATEGIC VALUE OF RUSSIAN POLAND

It is in the southern part of Russian Poland, among the foothills of the

Carpathians, that the armies come into possession of its mineral

resources, a fact which will have some influence on the German military

movements in this region. Up in the Kielce hills copper has been mined

for 400 years, though the value of these mines has decreased on account

of the much greater quantity found in America. A hundred years ago the

Kielce mines produced nearly 4,000 tons of copper a year. Brown iron ore

is also found here in deposits 40 per cent pure, while there are also

veins of zinc sometimes 50 feet thick, yielding ore of 25 per cent

purity. Sulphur, one of the ingredients for the manufacture of

explosives, is found at Czarkowa in the district of Pinczow. In the

southwest, in Bedzin and Olkuz, there are coal deposits about 200

square miles in area. In the southern districts wheat is also grown in

some abundance.

The military value of this country is further enhanced by political

conditions. Like the greater part of Galicia to the southward, it is

peopled by the Poles, who form one of the important branches of the

great Slavic family. At one time Poland was a kingdom whose territory

and possessions spread from the Carpathians up to the Baltic and far

into the center of Russia, ruling its subject peoples with quite as much

rigor as the Poles have themselves been ruled by Russia and Germany.

Poland is a seat of conquest in the Great War. For not much over a

hundred years ago what remained of this old kingdom was divided among

the three great powers: Prussia, Austria, and Russia. Austria, on the

whole, has been much the best master. Germany tried in various ways to

Germanize her subjects in German Poland, thereby rousing their bitter

hatred. Russia was no less autocratic in attempting to extinguish the

spirit of nationality among the Poles under her rule. But, naturally,

the fact remains that between the Poles and the Russians there are still

ties of blood. In moving westward, by this route Russia would be moving

among a race who, in spite of all they had suffered at the hands of the

Czar, still would naturally prefer Slav to Teuton.

We shall soon stand with the invading armies in the center of Russian

Poland, and enter the great city of Warsaw. This conquered citadel with

more than 400,000 inhabitants, is situated on the Vistula. It was, next

to Paris, the most brilliant city of Europe in the early part of last

century. But under Russian influence it became a provincial town in

spirit, if not in size. It once had the character of prodigal splendor;

within late years it became a forlorn, neglected city, not the least

effort being made by the Russian authorities to modernize its appearance

and improvement. From a sanitary point of view it became one of the

least progressive cities of Europe. And yet, as the armies march into

the capital, there are still signs of the city's past glory: over thirty

palaces rear their lofty turrets above the tile roofs of the houses,

among them the palace of the long-dead Polish kings.

However, from a military point of view, Warsaw maintained great

importance in the Great War. It is at this time one of the strongest

citadels of Europe, and around it lies the group of fortresses called

the Polish Triangle. The southern apex is Ivangorod on the Vistula; the

eastern, Brest-Litovsk; the northern being Warsaw itself. To the

northwest lies the advanced fort of Novo Georgievsk. This triangle is a

fortified region with three fronts: two toward Germany and one toward

Austria, and the various forts are fully connected by means of

railroads.

It would appear, therefore, that Russian Poland would offer excellent

conditions for an army on the defensive. And this is quite true, the

Vistula, especially, serving as a screen against the attacking armies

from the west. As a matter of fact, it would have been extremely

difficult to take Warsaw by a frontal attack. Warsaw's weakness lay in

the north in the swamp regions.

One of the greatest dangers in all wars, against which a military

commander has to guard his army, is that of being flanked. The road or

roads leading from the rear to the base of supplies, along which not

only food supplies for the soldiers, but, quite as important,

ammunition, is brought up, either in wagons, automobiles, or in railroad

trains, are the most sensitive part of an army's situation. Unless they

are very short--that is, unless an army is very close to its base of

supplies--it is impossible to guard these lines of communication

adequately. Therefore, if the enemy is able to break through on either

side of the front, there is great danger that he may swing his forces

around and cut these lines of communication. The army that is thus

deprived of its sources of supply has nothing left then but to

surrender, sometimes even to inferior forces. Sometimes, of course, if

the army is within the walls of a fortified city and is well supplied

with food and ammunition, it may hold out and allow itself to be

besieged. This may even be worth while, for the sake of diminishing the

enemy's strength to the extent of the forces required for besieging,

usually many times larger than the besieged force. But in the case of

Warsaw we shall see that that would not have been a wise plan; hardly

any food supply that could have been laid by would have maintained the

large civil population, and the big guns of the Germans would soon have

battered down the city's defenses.

This the Russians realized from the very beginning. As is well known

now, Russia had never intended to hold Poland against the Teutons. Her

real line of defense was laid much farther back. It was only on account

of the protest of France, when the two Governments entered into their

alliance, that any fortifications at all were thrown up in Poland. A

real line of defense must be more or less a straight line, with no

break. And the marshes in the north, as well as the tongue of East

Prussia projecting in along the shores of the Baltic toward Riga made

that impossible. Russia's real line of defense was farther east, along

the borders of Russia proper and along the line of railroad already

referred to. By studying this territory east of Poland it will become

obvious why Russia should prefer this as her main line of defense

against a German invasion.

As we witness the armies moving along what was once the frontier between

Poland and Russia proper we shall find the plain of Poland dips into a

region which apparently was once a vast lake which drained into the

Dnieper, but the outlet becoming choked, this stagnant water formed into

those immense morasses known as the Pripet Marshes, forming over

two-fifths of the whole province of Minsk and covering an area of over

600 square miles. Even when more than 6,000,000 acres have been

reclaimed by drainage, the armies found some of these marshes extending

continuously for over 200 miles. In the upper Pripet basin the woods

were everywhere full of countless little channels which creep through a

wilderness of sedge. Along the right bank of the Pripet River the land

rises above the level of the water and is fairly thickly populated.

Elsewhere extends a great intricate network of streams with endless

fields of bulrushes and stunted woods. Over these bogs hang unhealthy

vapors, and among the rank reeds there is no fly, nor mosquito, nor

living soul or sound in the autumn.

Not even infantry could pass over this region--not to consider cavalry

or artillery, save in the depth of a cold winter when the water and mire

is frozen. Even then it would be impossible to venture over the ice

with heavy guns. An invading army must, therefore, split in two parts

and pass around the sides, and nothing is more dangerous than splitting

an army in the face of the enemy. It is behind these vast marshes that

we shall find the Russians planned to make their first determined stand.

Here, too, the Russians expected to have the advantage of being

surrounded by their own people, for this is the country of the White

Russians, so called on account of their costumes. Here the purest Slavic

type is preserved; they have not blended with other stocks, as the Great

Russians with the Finns and the Little Russians, farther south, with the

Mongols. For a while this territory was subject to the kings of Poland,

who oppressed its inhabitants most barbarously, from the effects of

which they have not even fully recovered. To-day White Russia is one of

the poorest and most backward parts of the empire. And even yet the

great bulk of the landlords are Poles.

CHAPTER XLIII

AUSTRIAN POLAND, GALICIA AND BUKOWINA

Let us now pass ahead of the armies into the southern section of the

eastern front. Here we have to consider only Austrian Poland, Galicia

and Bukowina, for here there is much less swaying back and forth, the

Russians maintaining their lines much more steadily than farther north.

This section is an undulating terrace which slopes down to the Vistula

and the Dniester; behind rise the Carpathian ranges, forming the natural

frontier between the broad, fertile plains of Hungary and Russia. Here

the population is quite dense, there being 240 inhabitants to the square

mile. Nearly half of the total area is in farm lands, about one-fourth

woodland, and the rest mostly meadow and pasture, less than a quarter of

one per cent being lake or swamp. Rich crops of barley, oats, rye,

wheat, and corn are grown here, while the mineral resources include

coal, salt, and petroleum, the latter especially being important in

modern warfare on account of the great quantities of fuel necessary for

motor carriages.

Here, in Galicia, we shall witness the conquests of the important city

of Lemberg--with its 160,000 population--fourth in size of all Austrian

cities, only Vienna, Prague, and Triest being larger. Further in toward

the mountains we shall see the storming of the strongly fortified city

of Przemysl (pronounced Prshemisel), also important as the junction of

the network of railroads that the Austrians had built throughout the

country, including several lines passing over the Carpathians into

Hungary. And farther west still we shall look upon the invasion of the

old Polish city of Cracow, also strongly fortified. This section is

especially rich in industries, mines, and agriculture.

Here, too, are staged many of the battles of the rivers--parallel with

the mountain ranges flows the Dniester in a southeasterly direction,

into which, flowing down from the north and running parallel with each

other, empty the Gnila Lipa, the Zlota Lipa, and the Stripa, all of

which figure prominently in the war movements, for each of these is

crossed several times by both armies engaged at bloody costs.

As will be noted by reading the chapters on the fighting on the eastern

front, here, as in East Prussia, the Russians make a determined advance

and actually succeed in conquering this territory from the Austrians. At

one time we find them even in possession of all except one of the chief

passes in the Carpathians and threatening to overrun the plains of

Hungary. To hold Russian Poland it was necessary that they should have a

firm grip of East Prussia and Austrian Poland, thus protecting the

flanks of their center. Had they been able to hold their grip, then they

could have straightened out their entire line from north to south, and

Warsaw would have been safe. But we shall see both their extremities

driven back; therefore Warsaw was in danger, in spite of its

fortifications.

That the Austrians should have allowed themselves to be thrust back over

the Carpathians is one of the surprises of the early stages of the war.

For these mountains are only second in size in all Europe to the Alps

themselves, forming the eastern wing of the great European mountain

system. They are about 800 miles long and nearly 250 miles wide in

parts. Some of the higher peaks reach 8,000 feet above sea level.

Imagine the vision of an army marching along the roads from the

foothills to the mountains leading through mysterious, shadowy spruce

forests, where the soil is covered with rich carpets of moss. Foaming

streams ripple in among the moss-covered bowlders. Then the paths emerge

on the cheerful, emerald-green pastures of the slopes, alive with the

flocks of goats, sheep and cattle, attended by their shepherds. A little

farther and the whole scenery changes, and the armies approach

tremendous mountains of solid granite, ominously dark, shining like

hammered iron, rising abruptly from the stone debris and black patches

of mountain fir, and towering bluffs and crags seem to pierce the sky

with their sharp peaks, bastions and jagged ridges, like gigantic

fortresses. Clouds of white mist, driven and torn by gusts of wind,

cling to the precipitous walls, and masses of eternal snow lie in the

many fissures and depressions, forming large, sharply outlined streaks

and patches.

The Magyars inhabit the great central plains of Hungary which

constitutes ethnologically a vast island of Magyars in a sea of Slavs.

The Carpathian slopes on the Hungarian side of the ranges, including the

mounts of the Tatra--with the exception of the Zips district, which is

peopled with German-Saxon colonists--are inhabited, in their western

parts, by two million Slovaks, in the eastern parts by half a million

Ruthenians or Little Russians, and on the Transylvanian side by nearly

three million Rumanians. The border lines between these Rumanians and

the Magyars and between the Hungaro-Slav groups (Slovaks and Ruthenians)

and the Magyars lie far down within the borders of the great central

Hungarian plains. This line at one point extends to within a few miles

of the Hungarian capital of Budapest.

CHAPTER XLIV

THE BALKANS--COUNTRIES AND PEOPLES

This survey of the fighting ground in eastern Europe brings us now to

the "cockpit of the war." From a military point of view, as well as from

the political, the Balkan theatre is of equal importance with other big

fronts in Europe. It is the gateway to the Orient for central Europe.

Here the armies engaged are numbered only by the hundred thousands, none

reach a million. But from the point of view of human interest and

political intrigue it is by far the most picturesque. Here the hatred

between the combatants is most bitter; indeed so bitter that when it

burst into flame a mad whirlwind of passion swept over half the world.

For here the great conflagration began.

A map of the Balkan Peninsula is almost, on the face of it, a full

explanation of the causes of the war. The military campaigns, studied in

connection with their physical environment, explain all the diplomatic

intrigues of the past fifty years, for they are the intrigues themselves

translated into action.

Geographically speaking, the Balkan nations are those situated in the

big peninsula of southern Europe which lies below the Danube River and

the northern border of Montenegro. Some authorities, however, include

Rumania, and others even bring in Austria's Slavic provinces, Bosnia and

Herzegovina.

The most noticeable feature of this vast war-ridden region is its

mountains. Those same Carpathian Mountains, which form the natural

boundary between the land of the Magyars and the Russian plains, take a

sudden turn westward at the Rumanian frontier, then sweep around in a

great semicircle, forming a shape resembling a scythe, the handle of

which reaches up into Poland, the blade curling around within the Balkan

Peninsula. Behind the handle, and above the upper part of the blade,

stretch the broad plains of Hungary, through which flows the great

Danube, the largest river in Europe next to the Russian Volga--a river

which flowed with blood during the Great War. Just in the middle of the

back of the blade this great river bursts through the mountain chain,

swirling through the famous Iron Gate into the great basin within the

curved blade. On the south of its farther course to the Black Sea lie

the plains of northern Bulgaria.

The curving chain of mountains below the Iron Gate is the Balkan Range.

But excepting for the plains of Thrace, lying south of the Balkans, over

toward the Black Sea and above Constantinople, the rest of the peninsula

is almost entirely one confused tangle of craggy mountains, interspersed

throughout with small, fertile valleys and plateaus. This roughness of

surface becomes especially aggravated as one passes westward, and over

toward the Adriatic coast, from Greece up into the Austrian province of

Dalmatia, the country is almost inaccessible to ordinary travelers.

What is the political value of this beleaguered domain? The broad,

significant fact is that any road from western Europe to the Orient must

pass through the Balkan Peninsula, and that these mountains almost block

that road. From north to south there is just one highway, so narrow that

it is really a defile.

This road stretches from the seat of the war at Belgrade on the Danube

down a narrow valley, the Morava, thence through the highlands of

Macedonia into the Vardar Valley to Saloniki, on the AEgean Sea. At Nish,

above Macedonia, another road branches off into Bulgaria across the

plains of Thrace and into Constantinople. This was the road by which the

Crusaders swarmed down to conquer the Holy Land. This was the road by

which, hundreds of years later, the Moslems swarmed up into the plains

of Hungary and overran the south of Europe, until they were finally

checked outside the gates of Vienna. Nothing is more significant of the

terror that these marching hosts inspired than the fact that, with the

exception of a few larger towns, the villages hid themselves away from

this highway in the hills.

Bear clearly in mind that in the existence of this narrow way to the

Orient lies the key not only to the causes of the war, but to the

military campaigns that we shall follow in this region. For it is the

Teutons who would in the Great War, like the Crusaders of old, pass down

this highway and again conquer the East, though in this case their

object is trade, and not the Holy Sepulcher.

To secure the pathway through this strategic country it also is

necessary to have control of the territory on all sides, and this is

quite as true in a political as in a military sense. To secure their

pathway up into Europe the Turks once conquered all the peoples in the

Balkans, except those inhabiting the mountains over on the Adriatic: the

Montenegrins and a small city called Ragusa, just above Montenegro in

Dalmatia. It is not at all peculiar that just here, in almost the same

locality, the Teutons should meet with the first and strongest

resistance.

A study of the territory in which the first fighting of the war occurred

will explain the foregoing calculations. It will be observed that

Austrian territory runs down past the eastward turn in the Danube, along

the frontier of Montenegro, until it narrows gradually into a tip at

Cattaro, just below Cettinje, the Montenegrin capital. This land is

composed of the three provinces of Bosnia, Herzegovina and Dalmatia. All

this territory is inhabited by the same race that peoples Serbia and

Montenegro--the Serbs. In fact, the Slavic population reaches up all

along the coast to Trieste, and even a little beyond. For this reason it

is in this direction that we shall see the Serbians and the Montenegrins

invade Austrian territory, after their initial success in repulsing the

Austrian invasion.

The objectives of the brief campaign soon to be considered were

Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia, and Ragusa, the famous little seaport

on the Adriatic. Ragusa is of especial interest on account of its

remarkable history. In the Middle Ages it was the most important seaport

in that part of the world. Its ships sailed over all the Mediterranean

and from them is derived the word "argosy," signifying a ship laden with

wealth. Again and again the Turks attempted to conquer this little

state, which was at that time a republic, but always the Ragusans beat

off the enemy. For the country about is so rocky, so rough, that the

city was easily defended, especially in that time when nearly all

fighting was hand to hand.

The first and foremost word in the Great War--the key word--is Sarajevo.

Here is the scene of the assassination of the Crown Prince of Austria,

which was at least the final cause of the war. As we enter it we find a

population of about forty thousand, half of which are Mohammedans. It is

a large, straggling town, situated in a narrowing valley overtopped by

steep hills on either side, which close in a narrow gorge in the east

and broaden into a plain on the west. It was to the eastward, however,

that we shall find the heavy fighting along the Austro-Serbian frontier.

The armies along the Danube will soon command our attention. As they

follow the river toward Belgrade, the capital of Serbia, it is no longer

the "Blue Danube" of the famous German song. Here, in fact, it is a

broad, mud-colored river, dotted with a number of low islands along its

center. Belgrade, where the first shots of the war were fired, is

located on rather high ground, backed by a semicircle of low hills in

its rear. But opposite all is flat and, in places, marshy. Modern guns

could, of course, keep up an effective fire across the river at this

point, as in fact they did before the actual invasion of Serbia began,

but the conditions for a crossing are not favorable. It was from the

west, from the Bosnian side, that the actual attack was made.

Just below Belgrade the river Save, shallower and narrower, empties into

the Danube, forming the frontier westward, past Shabatz, to Ratcha,

where the Drina, flowing down from the Macedonian highlands northward,

joins it, forming the western frontier between Bosnia and Serbia.

The Drina, where much fighting occurs, is no ordinary waterway, no mere

mountain stream, though it lies in a mountainous country. Before

reaching its junction with the Save it is fed by many important

tributaries. Ever swift, often torrential, it has washed out a bed of

imposing width, and by a constant cutting out of new courses has created

a series of deltas. It was one of the largest of these islands, that of

Kuriachista, between Losnitza and Leschnitza, that the Austrians chose

as a base for their first invasion. From this point up and around to

Shabatz lies the bloody field of the Austro-Serbian battles.

A description of this section, in brief at least, is necessary to an

understanding of the three Austrian invasions made here, and all three

of which failed disastrously. North and west of Shabatz lies the great

plain of Matchva, bounded on its east and north by the Save and by the

Drina on the west. It is a rich, fertile land, but much broken up by

woodland. To the southeast a rolling valley is divided by the River

Dobrava, while due south the Tzer Mountains rise like a camel's back out

of the plain and stretch right across from the Drina to the Dobrava. The

southern slopes of Tzer are less abrupt than those on the north and

descend gradually into the Leschnitza Valley, out of which rise the

lesser heights of the Iverak Mountains. Both these ranges are largely

covered by prune orchards, intersected with some sparse timber.

This is a region of natural fortifications. Descending southward again,

the foothills of Iverak are lost in a chain of summits, which flank the

right bank of the Jadar River, that tributary of the Drina River from

which the first big battle takes its name.

From the left bank of the Jadar, from its junction with the Drina to

Jarebitze, a great rolling level stretches south until the high Guchevo

Mountains, stretching in southeasterly direction, rise abruptly and hide

the Bosnian hills from view. From there, southward, the country is

extremely mountainous, even the highways being blasted out of the sides

of the precipitous mountains along the innumerable ravines through which

run watercourses which, though almost dry in summer, burst into

torrential streams after the snows begin to melt in the higher

altitudes.

Naturally in such a country roads are of prime importance in military

operations. A few built and maintained by the state are in excellent

condition and practicable in all sorts of weather. But for the rest

communications consist of bridle paths and trails over the mountains.

As has been stated, the great highway from Belgrade to Saloniki is the

key to all military operations in the Balkans; nor is this case any

exception. A study of the map will show how this big, underlying fact

entered into the plans of the first three attempts at invading Serbia.

Naturally, had facilities been convenient at Belgrade, that would have

been the point from which to advance. The next possible point was over

the Drina, because it was not so wide or so deep.

Bosnia and Herzegovina at the beginning of the war were sparsely served

by railroads. But for the purpose of an invasion of Serbia the lines

running to Tuzla in the north and to Vishegrade and Uvatz in the south

were of much strategic importance. Moreover, unlike the Hungarian plain

opposite Belgrade, the country is so mountainous and well wooded that

great bodies of troops could be moved about without being observed. We

now come to the main reason why this point was chosen, next to Belgrade.

Though we shall see that they did not reach it at their first attempt,

there is no doubt that the main objective of the Austrians was the

little town of Valievo, lying some distance back from the Jadar and the

field of battle. For at Valievo is the terminus of a light railway which

joins with the main line running from Belgrade down to Saloniki. The

Teutons were in a hurry to open this highway, for it meant opening a

means of communication with the Turks, who were to become, and later did

become, their active allies. These are political matters of significance

here insomuch as they explain the special importance of the railway from

Belgrade south along the ancient highway of the Crusaders.

Before following this route farther south, a few words should be devoted

to Montenegro. Between Serbia and Montenegro lies the Sanjak of

Novibazar. This small territory nominally belonged to Turkey before the

Balkan War, but it was in fact garrisoned by Austrian troops, the civil

administration being left to the Turks. Austria had gone to special

trouble to establish this arrangement, so that it might have a wedge

between the territories of the two little Serb nations. Anticipating

this war long ago, Austria had counted on having a large enough force in

Novibazar to prevent a union of the two armies. But, when it actually

came, she was in no position to prevent it, so much of her strength

being required to meet the Russians.

Montenegro is the natural refuge of the Serbs. Whenever in the past they

were especially hard pressed by the Turks, they would flee to the

mountain fastnesses of Tzherna Gora, the Black Mountain, for here

military operations, even in this day of modern artillery, are

absolutely impossible, and when it came to mountain guerrilla fighting,

the Turks were no match for the Serbs. Thus it was that the Serbs were

able to preserve their old traditions, their language and the best blood

of their race. And it may be said that to a slightly lesser extent

Ragusa served the same purpose.

The Montenegrins are born fighters and die fighters. From one end to the

other Montenegro is one wilderness of mountain crags and towering

precipices, traversed only by foot trails. Here and there a shelf of

level soil may be found, just enough to enable people to grow their own

necessities. The capital of this rocky domain, high up among the crags

and overlooking the Adriatic, is Cettinje, which was to be stormed and

conquered by the Teutons. The main street, about 150 yards long,

comprising two-thirds of the town, is so broad that three or four

carriages may be driven abreast down the length of it. It is composed

entirely of one and two story cottages. A few short streets branch off

at right angles, and in these is all of Cettinje that is not comprised

in the main street. The king inhabited a modest-looking, brown edifice

with a small garden attached. Overlooking the capital is Mt. Lovcen, on

top of which the Montenegrins planted guns to defend any attack that

might be made against them.

South of Montenegro and north of Greece lies another country of

instinctive fighters. It is similar in physical aspect, but very

different in its population. This is the land of the Albanians, whom the

Turks conquered by force of arms, like all the rest of the Balkan

peninsula. They are a distinct race by themselves; it is supposed that

they are the descendants of the ancient Illyrians, those wild tribes of

whom the ancient Greeks wrote. Nor is this unlikely, for in such a

country as theirs the inhabitants are most likely to remain pure from

generation to generation.

Returning for a few moments to Belgrade, we now may resume our course

down the ancient highway toward Saloniki. Down the Morava Valley passes

the railroad, after which it passes within a few miles of the Bulgarian

frontier, near Kustendil; dangerously near the frontier of a possible

enemy, but especially perilous in this war in which the Serbians would

naturally endeavor to retreat toward her ally, Greece.

Just below Vranya the railroad enters what was, before the two Balkan

Wars, the Turkish territory of Macedonia. This region down to within

sixty miles of Saloniki was reconquered from the Turks by the Serbs,

having been Serb inhabited since early in the Christian era as shown by

historical record. As early as 950 Constantin Porphyrogenitus writes of

its inhabitants as Serbs, from whom, he says, the town of Serbia on the

Bistritza River near Saloniki took its name. Throughout this region

there are so many mountain ranges that it would be impossible to name

them all. Nowhere has blood been more continuously shed than here, and

nowhere in Europe is the scenery more beautiful.

Especially impressive is that section around Monastir, toward the

frontier of Albania and away from the main line of the railroad. Here,

not more than a day's walk from the city of Monastir, or Bitolia, as its

Slavic inhabitants call it, is Lake Prespa, a small sheet of

crystal-clear water in which are reflected the peaks and the rugged

crags of the surrounding mountains. Through a subterranean passage the

waters of this mountain lake pass under the range that separates it from

the much larger lake, Ochrida, the source of the bloody Drina.

The people of these mountains are Serbs, almost to Saloniki. Uskub,

whose ancient Serb name is Skoplya, was the old Serb capital, and there

the Serb ruler Doushan was crowned emperor in 1346.

For the past five hundred years these Macedonians have been used to all

the ways of guerrilla fighting. Roaming through their mountains in small

bands they have harassed the Turkish soldiers continuously.

The Bulgarian ruler Ferdinand had through many years by means of

committees and church jugglery striven to Bulgarize this population,

preparatory to the contemplated seizure of the territory which he has

now been able with the help of the Germanic powers to accomplish. But in

reality the Bulgar population in what was European Turkey was found only

eastward of the Struma in Thracia including Adrianople. Those regions

formed the ample and legitimate field of ambition for the unification of

the Bulgars.

When hostilities broke out in 1914, when Serbia was defending herself

against the Austrians, King Ferdinand of Bulgaria, the secret ally by

treaty of Austria, did everything possible to forward his designs

against the Serbs and sent armed Bulgar bands into Serb Macedonia.

Shortly below the city of Monastir in the west begins the Greek

frontier, running over eastward to Doiran, where it touches the

Bulgarian frontier. Here the railroad, coming down along the Vardar

River, emerges into the swamp lands and over them passes into the city

of Saloniki.

Here is the old territory of Philip of Macedon, the father of the

conqueror. For some forty or fifty miles these swamps stretch out from

Saloniki, overshadowed by Mt. Olympus on their southern edge. While not

quite so extensive as the Pinsk Swamps, they are quite as impassable,

from a military point of view. In the center of this region of bulrushes

and stunted forests is an open sheet of shallow water, Lake Enedjee.

Nearly all this swamp land is submerged, but here and there are small

islands. For some years the Turkish soldiers garrisoned these islands

during the mild winter months, living on them in rush huts. In the

summer they would withdraw into the near-by foothills. But one summer

several hundred Comitajis descended into the swamps and took possession.

The stunted forests and the bulrushes here are traversed by a maze of

narrow waterways, just wide enough for a punt to pass along. When the

soldiers returned in the fall, they started out for their islands in

strings of punts. Presently they were met by volleys of bullets that

seemed to come from all directions out of the bulrushes. Some, in their

panic, leaped out into the shallow water and sunk in the mire. The rest

retired.

For years the Turkish soldiers attempted to drive the Comitajis out of

the swamp. First they surrounded it, watching all possible landing

places, but the outlaws had supplies smuggled in to them by the

peasants. Then the Turks began bombarding with heavy cannon, which, of

course, was futile, since they could not distinguish the points at which

they were firing. And finally they gave up molesting the Comitajis, who

continued making the swamps their headquarters until the Young Turks

came into power. Then, believing that a constitutional Macedonia was

finally to be granted them, all the Comitajis laid down their arms.

It is a peculiar fact that Saloniki, one of the largest cities on the

peninsula, with a population considerably over a hundred thousand,

should represent none of the national elements of the country. For

though Bulgars, Turks, Greeks, and Serbs may be found there, an

overwhelming majority, nearly 90,000 of the people, are Spanish Jews.

Walking along the streets, it would be easy to imagine oneself in Spain

or in Mexico; on all sides the shouts of peddlers, the cries of cabmen,

the conversation of pedestrians, are in Spanish. With a knowledge of

that language the stranger may make his way about as easily as in his

own native country. These are the descendants of the Jews who were

driven out of Spain by Torquemada and his Spanish Inquisition and were

so hospitably received by the Sultan of Turkey.

Saloniki, where we shall witness severe battles, is situated at the head

of the gulf by the same name, an inlet of the AEgean Sea. It is a

well-fortified city, built on the water's edge, but surrounding it is

high land commanding the surrounding country. Added to that, the swamp

region is another protection from an enemy coming from inland. Its

seaward forts, however, are, or were, obsolete and would probably

crumble before the fire of modern naval guns.

Stretching down the eastern shore of the Gulf is a peninsula on which is

the famous Mt. Athos, that very peculiar community of celibate monks.

Here, in the Holy Mountain, as the Slavs call it, there are monasteries

representing all the various denominations of the Greek Orthodox Church:

Greek, Bulgarian, Serbian, and Russian, each swarming with hundreds of

monks, who pass their time in idleness. Not only are women forbidden to

enter this domain, but even female dogs or cats are kept out.

Across this upper end of the AEgean, from Mt. Athos, is the Bulgarian

port, Dedeagatch, to which runs a branch of the main railway from Sofia

to Constantinople. The country here is low and swampy, the port itself

being little more than a boat landing.

Just below this point, across the Gulf of Saros, is the peninsula of

Gallipoli, where a critical phase of the war was fought. It is somewhat

like the blade of a scimitar, covering the entrance to the Sea of

Marmora. Between this strip of land and the coast of Asia Minor is a

narrow strait, the outer mouth of which is called the Dardanelles, the

inner gateway being the famous Hellespont. Here it was that Xerxes

crossed over on a bridge of boats at the head of his Persian army to

invade Greece, only to meet disaster at Thermopylae, and here Alexander

of Macedonia crossed over to begin his march of conquest which was to

extend his power as far as India. And about this narrow strait is

centered the ancient Greek myth about Hero and Leander, which inspired

Byron to swim across from Asia to Europe.

How well the Turks have fortified this approach to their capital is well

enough indicated in the story of the operations of the allied fleets in

their attempt to force the passage.

From the Hellespont to Constantinople is a sail of forty miles, along a

coast steep and rugged, destitute of any harbor or even a beach where a

boat might land. Nor is there a more beautiful sight than that which is

presented on approaching the Turkish capital from this direction,

especially of an early morning. Against the dawn in the East are

silhouetted the minarets and domes and the palace roofs of the city;

then, as the light increases, the white buildings are distinguished more

clearly through a purple mist that rises from the waters, until the ship

enters the Bosphorus, gliding past the shipping and the boat traffic

along the shore of the harbor. The beauties of the Bosphorus have been

described in every book of travel that has ever included this section of

the world in its descriptions: it is undoubtedly the most beautiful

waterway that may be found in any country.

Emerging into the Black Sea from the Bosphorus, one strikes the

Bulgarian coast not far above that neck of land on which Constantinople

is built. Along this stretch of coast up to the mouth of the Danube

there are two harbors, Varna and Burgas. Each is terminus of a branch

railroad leading off from the Nish-Sofia-Constantinople line. Behind

Burgas lie the level tracts of Eastern Rumelia, or Thrace, as that part

of the country is still called. But Varna is above the point where the

Balkan Range strikes the coast, all of which is steep and rocky.

Above Varna begins the Delta of the Danube, up which steamers and

heavily laden barges sail continuously, but here also begins the neutral

territory of Rumania, the Dobruja, the richest section of the Danube

basin, which was ceded to Rumania by Bulgaria after the Second Balkan

War.

CHAPTER XLV

THE CAUCASUS--THE BARRED DOOR

We now come to that section of the eastern theatre of the war which

received the least extended notice in printed reports--the barred

doorway between Europe and Asia,--the Caucasus. Not because the fighting

there was less furious, but because the region was less accessible to

war correspondents. The struggle was in fact quite as bloody and even

more savage and barbarous here than elsewhere, for on this front Russ

meets Turk, Christian meets Moslem, and where they grapple the veneer of

chivalry blisters off.

Here again, as in Galicia, we come to a natural frontier, not only

between two races, but between two continents. For here, crossing the

isthmus between the Black Sea and the Caspian, stretches a mountain

range over seven hundred miles in length, rising abruptly out of the

plains on either side. These are the Caucasus Mountains, forming the

boundary between Europe and Asia.

The higher and central part of the range (which averages only from sixty

to seventy miles in width) is formed of parallel ridges, not separated

by deep and wide valleys, but remarkably connected by elevated plateaus,

which are traversed by narrow fissures of extreme depth. The highest

peaks are in the most central chain; Mt. Elburz, attaining an elevation

of 18,000 feet above the sea, while Mt. Kasbeck reaches a height of more

than 16,000 feet, and several other peaks rise above the line of

perpetual snow. The outlying spurs and foothills of this chain of lofty

mountains are of less extent and importance than those of almost any

other mountain range of similar magnitude, subsiding, as they do, until

they are only 200 feet high along the shores of the Black Sea. Some

parts are almost entirely bare, but other parts are densely wooded and

the secondary ranges near the Black Sea are covered by magnificent

forests of oak, beech, ash, maple, and walnut.

This range is an almost impassable wall across the narrow isthmus which

joins Europe and Asia, and the Gorge of Dariel is the gateway in this

wall through which have come almost all the migrating races that have

peopled the continent of Europe. As is well known, the white peoples of

Europe have been classified as the Caucasian race, because they were all

supposed to have passed through this gateway originally. Apparently each

of these oncoming waves of barbaric humanity, bursting through the great

gateway, must have left behind some few remnants of their volume, for

nowhere in the world, in so limited an area, is there such a diversity

and mixture of peoples. In the words of one writer, who speaks with

authority on this region, the Caucasus is "an ethnological museum where

the invaders of Europe, as they traveled westward to be manufactured

into nations, left behind samples of themselves in their raw condition."

Here may be found the Georgians, who so long championed the Cross

against the Crescent, the wild Lesghians from the highlands of

Daghestan; the Circassians, famed for the beauty of their women;

Suanetians, Ossets, Abkhasians, Mingrelians, not to enumerate dozens of

other tribes and races, each speaking its own tongue. It is said that

over a hundred languages are spoken throughout this region; seventy in

the city of Tiflis alone.

The scenery of the mountains themselves is unparalleled in grandeur

except by the Himalayas and offers many a virgin peak to the ambitious

mountain climber. Here may be found the ibex, the stag, the wild boar,

the wild bull and an infinite variety of feathered game. The animal life

of the mountains has, in fact, become more abundant of late years on

account of the high charges for hunting licenses fixed by the Russian

Government. Wolves are so plentiful that in severe winters they descend

to the lowlands in great packs and rob the flocks before the very eyes

of the shepherds.

The most important mineral resources of the region are the oil wells;

here, in fact, around Batum, are situated some of the most important oil

fields in the world. Of manganese ore, an essential of the steel

industry, the Caucasus furnishes half of the world's supply, which is

exported from the two ports of Poti and Batum. Its mineral wealth seems

to be practically unlimited, copper, zinc, iron, tin, and many other

metals being found throughout the region, in most cases in exceedingly

rich deposits. The agricultural resources are not so important,

especially from a military point of view, though vast quantities of

sheep are raised in the highlands in the spring and summer, the flocks

being driven down into the plains to the south in winter.

One of the outstanding features of Russian occupation is the great

Georgian military road which has been built across the mountains of

recent years and maintained by the Government. Its engineering is

masterly; here and there it passes close to or under vast overhanging

lumps of mountainside. Everywhere the greatest care has been taken of

this most important military highway, Russia's avenue into that country

she coveted and fought for so long. Beginning at Vladikavkaz, it runs

through Balta, Lars, thence through the famous Gorge of Dariel, the

"Circassian Gates," the dark and awful defile between Europe and Asia.

The gorge is what the geologists call a "fault," for it is not really a

pass over the mountain chain, but a rent clear across it. Seventy years

ago it was almost impassable for avalanches or the sudden outbursts of

pent-up glacial streams swept it from end to end, but the Russians have

spent over $20,000,000 on it and made it safe. In 1877, during the

Russo-Turkish War, nearly all the troops and stores for carrying the war

into Turkey and Asia came by this road.

Its importance has since been lessened to a certain degree, for there is

now direct railway communication from Moscow to Baku, at one end of the

Trans-Caucasian Railway, and therefore to Kars itself, via Tiflis; and

equally from Batum to Kars at the other end to which military steamers

can bring troops and supplies from Odessa and Novorossik in the Black

Sea.

The most important city in this region is Tiflis, the "city of seventy

languages." It may, indeed, be called the modern Babel. As seen from the

mountains, it lies at the bottom of a brown, treeless valley, between

steep hills, on either side of the River Kura.

It is a point of great importance to modern Russia. It forms, to begin

with, the end of the great military road across the mountains which, in

spite of the railways, is still the quickest way to Europe for an army

as well as for travelers, and all the mails come over it by express

coaches. From Tiflis a railway runs to Kars, a strong frontier on the

Persian frontier.

Tiflis has been much developed under the Russian Government. In the

modern section of the city the streets are wide and paved and lighted by

electricity and the stores are large and handsome while electric

railways run in all directions. In the older parts of the city, however,

the houses remain as they were built centuries ago, divided out into the

many quarters devoted to the residences of the many races and

nationalities that compose the population of Tiflis. Between most of

them is bitter enmity and prejudice, even among those of the two great

religious faiths, Christians and Mohammedans. It is this diversity of

interests, which extends throughout all the section down into Persia,

which has so complicated the situation on this front. For not only are

the two military forces fighting here, but wherever governmental

authority is momentarily relaxed, there these mutual animosities flare

up into active expression and the most barbarous features of warfare

take place, such as the massacres of the Armenians by the Mohammedans.

Neither Turkey nor Russia has been especially eager to suppress these

bitter feuds, even in time of peace. In time of war there is nothing to

restrain them, and the whole region is swept by carnage infinitely more

hideous than legitimate warfare.

We have now passed over the entire theatre of the battles on the Eastern

frontiers of the war in Europe. The battle grounds are familiar to us.

In the succeeding chapters we will follow the armies over this

war-ridden dominion and watch the battle lines as they move through the

war to its decisive conclusion.

PART IV--THE AUSTRO-SERBIAN CAMPAIGN

CHAPTER XLVI

SERBIA'S SITUATION AND RESOURCES

The first great campaign on the southeastern battle grounds of the Great

War began on July 27, 1914, when the Austrian troops undertook their

first invasion of Serbia. They crossed the Serbian border at Mitrovitza,

about fifty miles northwest of Belgrade, driving the Serbians before

them. The first real hostilities of the war opened with the bombardment

of Belgrade by the Austrians on July 29, 1914--six days before the

beginning of the campaigns on the western battle fields.

We are now familiar with the theatre of war as described in the

preceding chapters, and will now follow the first Austrian armies into

Serbia.

A stubborn fight excites the admiration of all observers, regardless of

the moral qualities of the combatants. So, wherever our sympathies may

lie, considering the war as a whole, there can be no doubt that the

defense which the Serbians made against the first efforts of the

Austrians to invade their country will stand out in the early history of

the war as one of the most brilliant episodes of that period of the

general struggle. Like a mighty tidal wave from the ocean the Austrian

hosts swept over the Serbian frontier in three furious successive

onslaughts, only to be beaten back each time. Naturally, there were

material and moral causes, aside from the mere valor of the Serbians,

which combined to create this disaster for the Austrian forces, but

enough of the human element enters into the military activities of

these campaigns to make them easily the most picturesque of the early

period of the war.

Before entering into a description of the actual events in 1914, it is

well to consider the forces engaged. From a material point of view the

Serbians entered into these campaigns greatly handicapped. They had

lately been through two wars. In the First Balkan War they had not, it

is true, been severely tested; the weight of the fighting had been borne

by the Bulgarians in Thrace. The real test, and the great losses, came

only with the second war, when the Serbian army threw every fiber of its

strength against the Bulgarians in the Battle of the Bregalnitza, one of

the most stubborn struggles in military history. The result was a

Serbian victory, but it was very far from being a decisive and

conclusive victory. The Bulgarians were forced back some fifteen miles

into their own territory, but had it not been for the intervention of

Rumania there can be no doubt that the Serbs would have entered Sofia.

Here it was that the Serbians lost 7,000 killed and 30,000 wounded of

their best men, as against 5,000 killed and 18,000 wounded in the whole

war with Turkey; a total loss that was bound to be felt a few months

later when the struggle was to be against so powerful an adversary as

Austria-Hungary. The two previous wars had, without exaggeration,

deprived the Serbian fighting forces of one-tenth their number--a tenth

that was of the very best of first-line troops.

[Illustration: Pictorial Map of the Balkans.]

Added to this was another serious handicap, possibly even more serious.

Serbia had, indeed, emerged victorious from the two wars, with a large

stretch of conquered territory at her backdoor. But this acquired

territory, practically all of Macedonia that had not gone to Greece, was

peopled by Serbs. For twenty-five years these Macedonians had been

organized into revolutionary fighting bands, the "Macedonian Committee"

for the liberation of Macedonia and Albania from the Turks, and had

struggled, not only against the Turks, but against foreign armed bands

of propagandists. Some eight years subsequently to the foundation of the

Macedonian Committee of native origin, the Bulgars founded in 1893 their

committee which was called the Macedo-Adrianople Committee. During the

First Balkan War these experienced guerrilla fighters were valuable

allies to the Serbian forces operating against the Turks.

But even before the First Balkan War the Serbians had very distinctly

given the Macedonians to understand that they were to remain Serbian

subjects. This action on their part had had not a little to do with

rousing the Bulgarians to precipitate the Second Balkan War. And when

finally Serbia conquered all this territory, confirmed to her down to

Doiran by the treaty of Bucharest, King Ferdinand of Bulgaria began at

once a fiery anti-Serb propaganda throughout the world, and took

measures through provocatory agents and Bulgar bands crossing from

Bulgaria into Macedonia to create disturbances.

When the Great War broke out in July, 1914, this Bulgarian activity in

Serb Macedonia grew more intense. Thus it was that when the Austrians

attacked the Serbians on their front the Serbians had still to detach

enough of their forces to guard the Serbo-Bulgar border to prevent the

crossing into Serb Macedonia of Bulgar bands. And added to this was the

danger from Bulgaria herself. The Serbians knew that the opportune

moment had only to come and Bulgaria, too, would hurl herself on the

Serbian eastern flank. Thus another large percentage of the Serbian

fighting forces had also to be stationed along the Bulgarian frontier to

guard against possible attack from that quarter.

Offsetting these handicaps, however, and more than equalizing them, was

the moral strength of the Serbian fighting units. They had just emerged

through two victorious wars; they had triumphed so completely that there

was small wonder if the Serbian farmers had come to believe themselves

invincible and their leaders infallible. Practically every man in the

Serbian army was a seasoned veteran; he had had not only his baptism of

fire, but he had been through some of the bloodiest battles of modern

times. He had got over his first fright; he was in that state of mind

where danger and bloodshed no longer inspired either fear or horror. And

even the warlike savage trembles on entering his first battle. Finally,

he was now defending his country, his home, his very fireside and his

family against foreign invasion. And it is generally admitted that a man

fighting in that situation is equal to two invaders, all other things

being equal.

The Serb army opposing the Austrian invasions was composed of ten

divisions of the First Ban and five divisions of the Second Ban. Five of

the divisions of the First Ban and the five of the Second came from the

kingdom as it was prior to the two Balkan wars, but the second five

divisions of the First Ban were new creations recruited from Serb

Macedonia.

The principles on which the organization of the Serbian army was based

were very simple. The former kingdom was divided into five territorial

divisional districts--Nish, Valievo, Belgrade, Kragujevatz, and

Zaitchar. Each of these territorial divisional districts was subdivided

into four regimental recruiting districts, each of which provided one

infantry regiment of four battalions and one depot battalion. The

battalion numbered about a thousand men, so that the war strength of the

divisional infantry amounted to, about 16,000 men. Attached to each

division was a regiment of artillery, consisting of three groups of

three 6-gun batteries; in all, 54 guns. The divisional cavalry, existing

only in war time, consisted of a regiment of four squadrons, from men

and horses previously registered. To each division was also attached its

own technical and administrative units, engineers, and supply column,

and its total strength amounted to 23,000 officers and men of first-line

troops.

In addition to these five divisions of the First Ban, there was also a

regiment of mountain artillery, made up of six batteries, six howitzer

batteries and two battalions of fortress artillery. Then there was a

separate cavalry division composed of two brigades, each of two

regiments. Its war strength was 80 officers and 3,200 men. Attached to

the cavalry division were two horse artillery batteries, of eight guns

each. All told, this first-line army numbered about 200,000, with about

5,200 sabers and 330 guns.

[Illustration: Serbian and Austrian Invasions.]

The Second Ban, or reserve, much inferior in armament to the first line,

brought the strength up to about 280,000 men. But this figure is

probably an underestimate. Volunteers were enrolled in immense numbers.

Some of them were men who had been exempted in the first conscription;

others were Serbs from Austrian territory. The United States sent back

thousands of Austrian and Macedonian Serbs who had emigrated there. It

is probable, therefore, that the total strength of the Serbian forces

shortly after the war broke out was at least 280,000, if not a trifle

more. To this must be added the Montenegrin army which, though operating

in a separate field, contributed its share in driving the Austrians

back; another 40,000 men of first-class fighting ability and experience.

Finally, there was the third reserve, another 50,000 men, but they could

be used for fighting only in the gravest emergency.

The infantry of the First Ban was armed with excellent Mauser rifles,

caliber 7 mm., model 1899. The Second Ban carried a Mauser, the old

single loader, to which a magazine was fitted in the Serbian arsenals;

while the Third Ban had the old single-loader Berdan rifle. The machine

gun carried was the Maxim, of the same caliber as the new Mauser.

In artillery the Serbians were perhaps not so well off. Their cannons

had seen a great deal of service in the Balkan wars, and the larger a

piece of artillery the more limited is the number of rounds it can fire.

It is extremely doubtful that there had been time to replace many of

these worn-out pieces.

The field gun was of French make; it was a 3-inch quick firer with a

maximum range for shrapnel of 6,000 yards, a little over 3-1/2 miles.

The Second Ban was armed with old De Bange guns of 8 cm. caliber. The

heavy guns, which had done much service outside Adrianople, were of

Creuzot make, and included 24 howitzers of 15 cm. and some mortars of 24

cm. As for the aviation wing, there was none.

The Serbian army was under the superior command of the Chief of the

General Staff, Voivode (Field Marshal) Putnik. Unlike his younger

colleagues, his military education was entirely a home product; he had

never studied abroad. His father was one of those Serbs born on Austrian

soil; he had emigrated from Hungary to Serbia in the early forties where

he had followed the vocation of school-teacher. In 1847 the future

general was born. After passing through the elementary schools, young

Putnik entered the military academy at Belgrade. He had already attained

a commission when the war of 1876 with Turkey broke out, through which

he served as a captain of infantry. His next experience was in the

unfortunate war with Bulgaria, in 1885, in which the Serbians were

beaten after a three days' battle. At the outbreak of the war with

Turkey, in 1912, General Putnik was made head of the army and received

the grade of voivode (field marshal), being the first Serbian to enjoy

that distinction. The grade of field marshal was created in the Serbian

army during the First Balkan War.

With him worked Colonel Pavlovitch, the son of a farmer, who had won a

series of scholarships, enabling him to study in Berlin. He had directed

the military operations in the field against Turkey and Bulgaria, and he

was to do the same thing under his old chief against the Austrians.

CHAPTER XLVII

AUSTRIA'S STRENGTH AND STRATEGY

Let us now review the Austrian forces that participated in the invasions

of Serbia. In number they were practically unlimited, at least they far

outnumbered the Serbian forces that met them in the field. Their

armament was of the best and their equipment as complete as boundless

resources could make it. They were, however, partly made up of the

peoples of the Slavic provinces of Austria--Bohemians, Croatians,

Dalmatians, and Bosnians. Naturally there could be but little enthusiasm

in their attacks on their brother Slavs, and while there are many mutual

animosities between these various branches of the Slavic race, such

feelings are, at any rate, secondary to the general dislike of the

"Schwabs," as the German-Austrians are called, and the Magyars. Possibly

this had much to do with the Austrian defeats. The Hungarian, or

Magyar, regiments were probably in the majority. But the Magyars from

the interior of Hungary have no special reason to hate the Serbians,

and, aside from that, they were attacking on foreign soil.

At the head of the Austrian campaigns against Serbia was General

Potiorek, generally described as a textbook strategist. But just how

much his failures were due to his own inefficiency and how much to the

inefficiency of those under him will probably never be determined; he

had in the end to suffer for both.

These were the two great contending forces that were set in motion by

the departure of Baron Giesl, the Austro-Hungarian Minister, from

Belgrade, on July 25, 1914. On the same day the Prince Regent Alexander

signed a decree ordering the general mobilization of the Serbian army.

Three days later, on July 28, 1914, Austria declared war. By that time

Serbia was in the midst of her mobilization.

That the Austrians, who had the advantage of having taken the

initiative, and who had presumably chosen their own time for the opening

of hostilities, did not immediately take full advantage of their

favorable situation has caused much surprise among impartial military

critics. On the same day that they declared war they had the opportunity

to hurl their troops across the Danube and take Belgrade with

practically no opposition. Apparently they were not ready; from that

moment the difficulties that would have attended such a movement

increased hourly.

A force of 20,000 men was raised almost immediately for the defense of

Belgrade. To meet this opposition the Austrians had, on the evening of

the day war was declared, July 18, 1914, only one division concentrated

between Semlin and Pancsova, opposite Belgrade--a force that was hardly

sufficient to take the Serbian capital. Two days later an army corps

would have been needed for the enterprise, for by this time the Serbian

army had begun concentrating considerable numbers within striking

distance of the capital. Thus the first opportunity was lost by the

tardiness of the Austrians to act.

It is presumed that the reader has already studied the description of

this theatre of the war presented elsewhere in this work. Aside from

that, the movements that follow should only be traced with the aid of a

map. Written words are inadequate to give a concrete picture of the

field of operations.

The Austrian General Staff realized the difficulties of crossing the

Danube. Its general plan, probably prepared long before, contemplated a

main attack that should begin from another quarter.

The Austro-Serbian frontier, almost 340 miles in extent, is formed on

the north by the Save as well as by the Danube, and on the east and

southeast by the Drina River. These two smaller streams abound in

convenient fords, especially in summer. To many of these points on the

northeastern frontier Austria had already constructed strategic

railways. Moreover, the Austrian territory throughout this section is so

mountainous and well timbered that large forces of troops could be well

screened from observation, whereas the country opposite Belgrade is flat

and bare.

It was from this direction that the Serbian General Staff expected the

first advance of the enemy. And yet there were dozens of other points

where an attack in force was possible. Each must be covered with a force

at least strong enough to hold the enemy back long enough to enable the

forces stationed at the other points to come up to support. Here was the

great advantage that the Austrians had to begin with; an advantage which

the attacking army always enjoys. The attacking general alone knows

where the first battle shall be fought.

The Serbians, therefore, could not count on meeting the Austrians in

full force before they could enter Serbian territory. They realized that

they must give way at the first contact; that the Austrians would

undoubtedly advance quite some distance within Serbian territory before

enough Serbian forces could be brought up against them to make the

opposition effective.

Realizing this, it was decided to place fairly strong advance guards at

all probable points of invasion with orders to resist as long as

possible; until, in fact, defensive tactics could be adapted to the

situation and the main Serbian army could be brought up to offer battle.