Government tried to dispel the fears of the populace by encouraging
proclamations, the thunder of the cannons, which could be heard
incessantly, and the very evident lack of strong Russian forces, spoke
more loudly. Whoever could afford to flee and was fortunate enough to
get official sanction to leave, did so. The panic was still more
intensified when German aeroplanes and dirigibles began to appear in the
sky. For fully ten days the fighting lasted around the immediate
neighborhood of the city. Day and night, bombs thrown by the German air
fleet exploded in all parts of the city, doing great damage to property
and killing and wounding hundreds of innocent noncombatants. Day and
night could be heard the roar of the artillery fire, and nightfall
brought the additional terror of the fiery reflection from bursting
shrapnel. The peasants from the villages to the west and south streamed
into the city in vast numbers. Thousands of wounded coming from all
directions added still more to the horror and excitement.
The hardest fighting around Blonie occurred from October 13 to 17, 1914.
On the 13th the Germans were forced to evacuate Blonie, and on October
14 Pruszkow, a little farther south and still nearer to Warsaw. On
October 15 the Russians made a wonderful and successful bayonet attack
on another near-by village, Nadarzyn. The next day, the 16th, saw almost
all of this territory again in the hands of the Germans, and on the 17th
they succeeded even in crossing the Vistula over a pontoon bridge
slightly south of Warsaw. However, even then the arrival of Russian
reenforcements made itself felt, for after a short stay on the right
bank of the Vistula the Germans were thrown back by superior Russian
forces. All that day the fighting went on most furiously and lasted deep
into the night. The next day at last the Russian armies had all been
assembled.
CHAPTER LXXVIII
GERMAN RETREAT FROM RUSSIAN POLAND
On October 19, 1914, the Germans, who apparently had accurate
information concerning the immense numbers which they now faced, gave up
the attack and began their retreat. The retreat was carried out with as
much speed and success as the advance. By October 20 the Germans had
gone back so far that the Russian advance formations could not keep up
with them and lost track of them. Without losing a gun, the First German
Army managed to escape the pursuing Russians as well as to evade two
attempts--one from the south and one from the north--to outflank them
and cut off their retreat.
During the fighting before Warsaw the total front on which the Russian
armies were battling against the German and Austrian invaders of Poland
was about 160 miles long, stretching from Novo Georgievsk in the north,
along the Vistula, through Warsaw and Ivangorod to Sandomir at the
Galician border in the south. All along this line continuous fighting
went on, and the heaviest of it, besides that directly before Warsaw,
took place around the fortress of Ivangorod. Two attempts of the
Russians to get back to the left side of the Vistula on October 12 and
14, 1914, were frustrated under heavy losses on both sides. A German
soldier states in a letter written home during the actual fighting
before Ivangorod that at the end of one day, out of his company of 250,
only 85 were left--the other 66 per cent having been killed or wounded.
Just as the Russians had succeeded in assembling sufficient
reenforcements at Warsaw, to make it inevitable for the German forces to
retreat, they had brought equally large numbers to the rescue of
Ivangorod. However, these did not make themselves really felt there
until October 27, 1914. Previous to that date the Germans and Austrians
captured over 50,000 Russians and thirty-five guns. When, on October 23
and 24, 1904, aeroplane scouts discovered the approaching vast
reenforcements, and similar reports were received from the First Army
fighting around Warsaw, the German and Austrian forces were all
withdrawn. The retreat of these groups of armies was accomplished much
in the same way as of that in the north, except that it began later and
brought with it more frequent and more desperate rear-guard actions. The
Russians, who were trying desperately to inflict as much damage as
possible to the retreating enemy, showed wonderful courage and heroic
disregard of death. In some places, however, the Germans had prepared
strong, even if temporary, intrenchments, sometimes three or more lines
deep, and the storming of these cost their opponents dearly.
By October 24, 1914, the invaders had been forced back in the south as
far as Radom and in the north to Skierniewice; by October 28 Radom as
well as Lodz had been evacuated and were again in Russian hands. The
lines of retreat were the same as those of advance had been, namely, the
railroads from Warsaw to Thorn, Kalish, and Cracow. Much damage was done
to these roads by the Germans in order to delay as much as possible the
pursuit of the Russians. Considerable fighting occurred, however,
whenever one of the rivers along the line of retreat was reached; so
along the Pilitza, the Rawka, the Bzura, and finally the Warta. By the
end of the first week of November the German-Austrian armies had been
thrown back across their frontiers, and all of Russian Poland was once
more in the undisputed possession of Russia.
In a measure Von Hindenburg followed the example of his Russian
adversaries when he withdrew his forces from Poland into Upper Silesia
in November, 1914, after the unsuccessful first drive against Warsaw, of
which we have just read the details. His reasons for taking this step
were evident enough. When it had been established definitely that the
reenforcements which Russia had been able to gather made futile any
further hope of taking Warsaw with the forces at his command, only two
possibilities remained to the German general: To make a stand to the
west of the Vistula until reenforcements could be brought up, or to fall
back to his bases and there concentrate enough additional forces to
make a new drive for Poland. He chose the latter, undoubtedly because it
was the safer and less costly in lives.
How quickly the German retreat was accomplished we have already seen. In
spite of their rapidity, however, the Germans found time to hold up the
Russians, not only by severe rear-guard actions, but also by destroying
in the most thorough manner the few railroad lines that led out of
Poland. In this connection they proved themselves to be as much past
masters in the art of disorganization as they had hitherto shown
themselves to be capable of the highest forms of organization.
About November 10, 1914, Von Hindenburg had completed his regrouping.
The line along which the Russians were massed against him stretched
from the point where the Niemen enters East Prussia, slightly east of
Tilsit, along the eastern and southern border of East Prussia to the
Vistula at Wloclawek, from there to the Warta at Kola, where it turns
to the west, along and slightly to the east of this river through
Uniejow-Zdouska-Wola to Novo Radowsk. From there it passed to the
north of Cracow in a curve toward Galicia, where strong Russian armies
were forcing back the Austrians on and beyond the Carpathians. Along
this vast front--considerably over 500 miles long--the Russians had
drawn up forces which must have amounted very nearly to forty-five
army corps, or over 2,000,000 men. These were distributed as follows:
The Tenth Army faced the eastern border of East Prussia west of the
Niemen; the First Army the southern border of this province, north of
the Narew and both north and south of the Vistula; the Second, Fourth,
Fifth, and Ninth Armies, forming the main forces of the Russians,
fronted along the Warta against lower Posen and Upper Silesia, while
the balance of the Russian armies had been thrown against the
Austro-Hungarian forces in Galicia.
Against these Von Hindenburg had three distinct armies which were
available for offensive purposes. The central army under General von
Mackensen was concentrated between Thorn and the Warta River; a southern
army had been formed north of Cracow and along the Upper Silesian
border, and was made up chiefly of Austro-Hungarian forces with a
comparatively slight mingling of German troops. North of the Vistula,
between Thorn and Soldau, a third and weaker army had been collected for
the protection of West Prussia. In Galicia, of course, stood the main
body of the Austro-Hungarian forces, and in East Prussia defenses had
been prepared which made it possible to leave there weaker formations
for defensive purposes only.
The Germans fully appreciated the danger of the Russian numerical
superiority. If these mighty forces were once allowed to get fully under
way and develop a general offensive along the entire front, the German
cause would be as good as lost. The main object of Von Hindenburg,
therefore, was to break this vast offensive power, and he decided to do
so by an offensive of his own which, if possible, was to set in ahead of
that of the Russians. Though the latter most likely had at least
one-third more men at their disposal than he, he had one advantage over
them, a wonderfully developed network of railroads, running practically
parallel to this entire line. The Russians, on the other hand, had
nothing but roads running from east to west or from north to south,
which could be used as feeders only from a central point to a number of
points along their semicircular line. Troops having once been
concentrated could be thrown to another point if it was at any distance
at all only by sending them back to the central point and then sending
them out again on another feeder, or else by long and difficult marches
which practically almost took too much time to be of any value. Von
Hindenburg could, if need be, concentrate any number of his forces at a
given point, deliver there an attack in force and then concentrate again
at another point for a similar purpose, almost before his adversary
could suspect his purpose. His plan was to attack with his strongest
forces under Von Mackensen the weakest point of the Russian line between
the Vistula and the Warta, beat them there and then march from the north
against the right wing of the main forces of the Russians, which latter
was to be kept from advancing too far by the mixed Austrian and German
army. On his two outmost flanks, in East Prussia and East Galicia,
nothing but defensive actions were contemplated.
The Russian plan was somewhat similar, except that their main attack
apparently was to be directed in the south against Cracow, and from
there against the immensely important industrial center of Silesia. At
the same time, they intended to press as hard as possible their attacks
in East Prussia and Galicia in order to force a weakening of the German
center.
CHAPTER LXXIX
WINTER BATTLES OF THE POLISH CAMPAIGN
During November and December, 1914, and January, 1915, much of the
fighting which took place on this immense front consisted of engagements
between comparatively small formations, and is very difficult to follow
in detail. For convenience we shall consider first the fighting in
Poland, and then separately that in East Prussia, although, of course,
they were carried on concurrently.
On November 10, 1914, the Germans had reached Komn on the Warta, where
it met a small Russian force, of which it captured 500 men and machine
guns. Two days later, November 12, the Russians crossed the Warta, and
their advance troops, chiefly cavalry, had almost reached Kalish on the
East Prussian border. On that day, however, they were forced back again
a short distance. Similar engagements took place at various points along
the entire line, chiefly for the purpose of testing their respective
strength.
November 14, 1914, however, saw the first more extensive fighting. Von
Mackensen's group had reached by that time Wloclawek on the western bank
of the Vistula and slightly east of the Thorn-Lowitz railroad, about
thirty miles from Thorn. One of the Russian army corps of General
Russky's group made a determined stand. However, it was forced to fall
back and lost 1,500 prisoners and some ten machine guns. The Germans
followed up this gain by pressing with all their power against the
right wing of the Russian center army. For two or three days the battle
raged along a front running from Wloclawek south to Kutno, a distance of
about thirty miles. Both of these country towns are situated on the
strategically very important railroad from Thorn to Warsaw by way of
Lowitz. The Russians had two or three army corps in this sector,
including the one that had been forced back from Wloclawek. The Germans
undoubtedly were in superior force at this particular point, and were
therefore able to press their attack to great advantage. The final
result was a falling back of the entire Russian right to the Bzura River
after both sides had lost thousands in killed and wounded, and the
Russians were obliged to leave over 20,000 men, 70 machine guns, and
some larger guns in the hands of the Germans. Von Mackensen was rewarded
for this victory by being raised to the rank of "general oberst," which
in the German army is only one remove from field marshal.
In a measure separate battles in this Polish campaign sink, at this
time, into insignificance. For the total number of men involved, the
extent of the battle ground, the frequency of engagements which under
any other circumstances would, without any doubt, have been considered
battles of the first magnitude, stamped them at this time as "minor
actions." The fighting, however, was as furious as at any time, the
hardships as severe as anywhere, and the valor on both sides as great as
ever. Again the wonderful mobility of the German army organization was
one of the strongest features. A French critic says of the fighting in
Poland at this time that "it was the most stirring since Napoleonic
times. It forced generals to make movements and to change and improvise
plans to an extent which war history never before had registered." Dr.
Boehm, the war correspondent of the "Berliner Tageblatt," says that the
advance was so fast that the infantry frequently had no time to lay down
before firing, but had to do so standing or kneeling. Artillery most of
the time moved on to a new position after having fired only a few shots.
He also mentions the many cadavers of horses that could be seen
everywhere. Some of these, of course, were the victims of rifle or gun
fire. But more had a small round hole in their forehead where the shot
of mercy out of their own master's revolver had put them out of their
misery. For the condition of the roads was such that, chiefly on account
of the rapidity of the advance, large numbers of horses would fall down,
weakened and often with broken legs.
Among one of the minor results of the battle of Kutno, necessitating the
hurried withdrawal of the Russians, was the capture of the governor of
Warsaw, General von Korff. He was surprised in his automobile by a troop
of German cavalry toward which he was driving apparently in the belief
that they were Russians.
During this period the Russians made an attack against the Germans
between Soldau and Thorn. The left wing of this group was advancing
along the right bank of the Vistula against Thorn, but was successfully
stopped by the Germans at Lipno and thrown back in the direction of
Plock. By November 16, 1914, the Russians had lost in that sector a
total of about 5,000 prisoners with a proportionate number of machine
guns. In general throughout the entire fighting in this territory the
Russian losses by capture were astonishingly high. Of course, the
Germans, too, lost men in this manner; but being in the offensive they
suffered less, while the Russians, continually forced to fall back,
often found it impossible to withdraw advanced formations in time.
Further to the north the Russians had reached the border along the
Warsaw-Danzig railroad. An attempt to cross and take Soldau, however,
miscarried, and on November 18 they fell back for the time being on
Mlawa.
By this time the Russian defense had stiffened. Von Mackensen was now
well fifty miles within Russian territory. But for the next few weeks
the Bzura was used with great success as a natural line of defense by
the Russians.
From the 18th to the 30th of November, 1914, the fighting continued
without pause along the entire line. In the north of the central group
it centered around Plock, in the center of the same group around the
important railroad junction Lowitz, and in the south once more around
Lodz. One day would bring some advantages to the Russians, the next day
to the Germans. Much of this fighting assumed the character of trench
warfare, though, naturally, not to the extent that this had taken place
on the western front. By December 1, 1914, the troops under Von
Mackensen fighting around Lodz and Lowitz claimed to have captured a
total of 80,000 men, 70 guns, 160 munition wagons, and 150 machine guns.
Still further down south the Austro-German group had much the same kind
of work to do. The fighting there centered first around Czestechowa, and
later around Novo Radowsk.
About the end of November, 1914, it looked for a time as if the Russians
were gaining the upper hand. After they had fallen back to the Bzura,
Von Hindenburg directed, with part of his left wing, an attack against
Lodz from the north. Success of this move would mean grave danger to the
entire central group of the Russians, the Warta Army. It threatened not
only its right wing, but would also bring German forces in the back of
its center and cut off its retreat to Warsaw. The Russian commander
recognized the danger, and immediately began to throw strong
reenforcements toward Lodz from Warsaw. To meet these Von Hindenburg
formed a line from Lowitz through Strykow to Brzeziny. A Russian success
would mean immediate withdrawal of these forces from their attack
against Lodz, and possibly have even more important results. At the last
moment the Russians brought up reenforcements from the south, and with
them almost surrounded one of the German army corps which had advanced
about ten miles to the southeast of Brzeziny to Karpin. For three days
it looked as if this corps would either be annihilated or captured, but
at last it succeeded in breaking through by way of Galkow to Brzeziny
not only with comparatively small losses of its own, but with a few
thousand of captured Russians.
For eighteen days the fighting lasted before Lodz. The Russians resisted
this time most stubbornly. They had thrown up strong fortifications
around the entire town, which they used as a base for continuous
counterattacks.
As late as December 5, 1914, fighting was still going on, but finally
that night the Russians made good their withdrawal, and on the 6th the
Germans were once more in Lodz. This was partly the result of an
unsuccessful attempt on the part of the Russians to relieve Lodz from
the south. Between the battle ground around Lodz and that on which the
most southern Austro-German group under the Austrian General,
Boehm-Ermolli, was fighting there was a slight gap. Through this--just
west of Piotrkow--an attack could be made against the right wing of Von
Mackensen's army. To meet this stroke a small separate army was formed
under the command of the Austrian cavalry general, Von Tersztyansky,
consisting of one German brigade, one Austro-Hungarian brigade, and a
cavalry division. This shows the close cooperation which existed at that
time between the forces of the Central Powers. This new army group took
in the first days of December 19, 1914, some of the smaller places west
and south of Piotrkow.
From then on until December 15, 1914, fighting went on day and night.
One small village--Augustijnow--changed hands three times within one
day--December 8, 1914--remaining finally in the possession of the
Austro-Germans. In the evening of the 15th Piotrkow was finally taken by
storm. This not only prevented any further attack against Von
Mackensen's right, but also gave the Austro-Germans possession of the
railroad from Cracow to Warsaw as far as Piotrkow, and secured to them
the most important crossings over the Pilitza.
This long-continued fighting, lasting almost the entire twenty-four
hours of every day and being accompanied by very severe artillery duels,
spelled ruin to very many of the towns and villages involved; especially
a large number of the latter in the immediate vicinity of Lodz suffered
terribly. In many of them not a single house or hut was left standing,
and thousands of Polish peasants, who even at the best had no
superfluity of riches, were deprived of everything they possessed. Fire
added to the terror; for most of the houses were covered with straw, and
the destruction of one was usually quickly followed by the burning of
all others within reach.
The losses of the Russians were not only very heavy in prisoners, but
also in wounded and killed, although in the latter respect the invading
armies suffered almost as severely. Generals Scheidemann and Welitschko,
both corps commanders, lost their lives, while it was reported that
General Rennenkampf, who failed to come to the rescue of Lodz in time,
was placed before a court-martial.
After Lodz had been occupied on December 6, 1914, Von Mackensen's army
followed the retreating Russians. The latter offered the most stubborn
resistance and a great deal of very close fighting took place. In many
instances the Russian rear guard dug itself in wherever the ground
offered possibilities to do so quickly and then frequently protected its
positions with barbed wire. The storming of these of course caused the
Germans heavy losses and delayed them sufficiently to allow the Russians
to withdraw in good order.
For the possession of Lowitz, one of the most important railroad
junctions west of Warsaw, the battle raged more than two weeks. It began
as early as November 25, 1914, but it was not until about December 15,
1914, that the Russians gave up this point. They had thrown up very
strong fortifications on all sides of the town and the Germans under
General von Morgen had to bring up a strong force of artillery before
they could reduce the place. The result was that this little town which
had been in the thick of the fighting so many times was finally almost
entirely destroyed and the outlying countryside became a scene of the
most complete and terrible devastation.
Some of the most violent fighting before Warsaw occurred at this time
along the upper Bzura and its southern tributary, the Rawka. The Russian
line ran now almost straight from the influx of the Bzura into the
Vistula, along the east bank of the former through Sochaczev, then along
the east bank of Rawka through Skierniewice and Rawa, from there along
some hills to the river Pilitza, crossing it at Inovolodz, through
Opoczno and along the River Nida to the Vistula and beyond it through
Tarnow into Galicia. In spite of their strong intrenchments and their
heroic fighting the Russians were gradually, though very slowly, forced
back. A great deal of this fighting was trench warfare of the most
stubborn type. This necessarily meant that for weeks the line wavered.
One day the Germans would force a passage across one, or perhaps all, of
the rivers at one or more points, only to be thrown back the next day
and to have the Russians follow their example with an offensive
excursion on the west bank. These continually changing "victories" and
"defeats" make it next to impossible to follow in full all the
developments along this line. By December 25, 1914, the Germans held
Skierniewice; by December 27, 1914, Inovolodz; by January 3, 1915, Rawa;
by January 5, 1915, Bolimow.
Throughout the entire month of January, 1915, the most ferocious
fighting continued around all these places, and many of them changed
hands two or three times. Both sides very freely used the protecting
darkness of night to make attacks, and this naturally added a great deal
to the hardships which the troops had to suffer. It must also not be
forgotten that by this time winter had set in in earnest. Snow covered
the ground and a very low temperature called for the most heroic
endurance on the part of everybody.
One of the American war correspondents, who at this time was with the
Russian forces before Warsaw, gives a very vivid description of a night
cannonade in the neighborhood of Blouie: "The fire of the German cannons
is unbearable. Night grows darker and darker. Everywhere, in a great
circle, the country is lighted up by camp fires which send their flames
toward heaven in a cloud of smoke. These little red spots throw
everywhere a fiery glow over the snow, and down upon this wonderful
color symphony the moon pours its weak, ghostlike light through a
curtain of clouds so that people seem to float away as in a dream. In
the foggy twilight three battalions march to the front.... The noise of
the gunfire penetrates to us in separate, spasmodic outbreaks. Flashes
of fire flare up on the horizon.... Gradually we come closer and closer
to the firing line. Now we are only two or three miles away from the
firing batteries. We turn toward the west and there a magnificent battle
panorama lies before our eyes. The moon sheds just enough light through
the clouds to make it possible to recognize the shadows on the snow. The
flat, white field is lined with a seam of black trees. Behind these thin
woods stand the cannons. They stretch out in a long line, as far as the
eye reaches, and their irregular positions are shown by the red tongues
of fire which flare up again and again. The noise of the battle, which
had sounded all around us, has now swollen into the roaring thunder of
cannons. At a short distance, where the sky seems to touch the field,
other flashes flare up, these are the German cannons. Sometimes as many
as four of these flashes break forth at one time and tear the dull
twilight with their glaring brightness. For a moment all the surrounding
country with its phantastic shadows and its darting lights is submerged
in blinding brilliancy; then another glittering light captures the eye.
It is a bursting rocket which breaks up into thousands of little stars
and illuminates the vast field of snow everywhere so that it glitters
and glares.
"But again another light appears in the dusky sky. A spray of gold! That
is an exploding shrapnel, and almost at the same point three more of
these missiles burst into their reddish golden glow. Then the giant arm
of a searchlight is thrust out into the midst of the foggy, swelling
atmosphere and shows houses, fences and paths with an unsparing
clearness. Irresolutely the mighty finger of light wanders across the
plain as if it were searching for something and could not find it. At
last it throws its coldling, shining ray on a defile and rests there.
And suddenly out of the darkness there flares up a multitude of little
flashes which look from the distance as if innumerable matches were
struck and gave off sparks. The sparks run in a straight line, and these
bounding lights show the position of the trenches. Another line of
sparks puts in appearance, seemingly only a short distance away. That is
formed by the battalions of the advancing, attacking enemy. Then
suddenly a ribbon of flame cuts through the shadows, and the sharp echo
of machine guns bites into the night air. But so immensely far spreads
the battle panorama that the eye is able to fix only small sections at a
time...."
Among the many small villages and towns in this small sector between
Warsaw and Lowitz, Bolimow saw the most furious fighting. Almost step by
step the Russians fought here the German advance, and when finally they
gave way for a mile or less after days and nights of grueling fighting,
they did so only to throw up immediately new defenses and force the
invaders to repeat their onslaught again and again. At any other time of
the year this part of the country would have yielded little ground for
fighting; for it is covered extensively with swamps. But now the bitter
cold of midwinter had covered these with ice solid enough to bear men
and even guns. On January 28, 1915, the Germans at last threw the
Russians out of their strong intrenchments at Bolimow. But others had
already been prepared a short distance to the east, at a small village,
Humin.
The attack on this particular position began in the morning of the last
day of January, 1915. For three days the battle raged until, late in the
afternoon of February 2, 1915, the Germans took Humin by storm. At times
it is difficult to decide whether battles involving vast fronts and
equally vast numbers, or those fought in a small space and by
comparatively small numbers are the more heroic and ferocious. In the
latter case, of course, individual valor becomes not only much more
noticeable, but also much more important and details that are swallowed
up by the great objects for which great battles are usually fought stand
out much more clearly. It will, therefore, be interesting to hear from
an eyewitness, the war correspondent of one of the greatest German
dailies, the "Koelnische Zeitung," what happened during the three days'
battle of Humin:
"It was seven o'clock in the morning of January 31, 1915. Punctually, in
accordance the orders given out the previous evening, the first shot
rang out into the snowy air of the gray morning at this hour from a
battery drawn up some distance back. Like a call of awakening it roared
along, and fifteen minutes later when it had called everyone to the
guns--exactly to the minute the time decided on by general orders--the
battle day of January 31, 1915, began with a monstrous tumult. With
truly a hellish din the concert of battle started. A huge number of
batteries had been drawn up and sent their iron "blessing" into the
ranks of the Russians. Field batteries, 15-centimeter howitzers,
10-centimeter guns, 21-centimeter mortars, and, to complete the wealth
of variety, 30-centimeter mortars of the allied Austrians joyfully
shouted the morning song of artillery. A dull noise roared around
Bolimow, for in back of the town, before it, to the right and to the
left, stood the various guns in groups of batteries, and through the air
passed a shrill whistle. But it was not only their hellish din which
made one tremble and start up, but even more so the dismal, powerfully
exciting howl of the gigantic missile of the great mortars, chasing up
and 'way into the air almost perpendicular. It sounded each time as if a
giant risen from out of the very bowels of the earth sent up great sobs.
Like a wild chase of unbridled, unchained elements the powerful missile
shot up high from the gun barrel.
"A shriek of the most horrible kind, a trembling and shaking started in
the wildly torn air, a continual pounding, hissing whirlwind shot up
like a hurricane, lasted for seconds and disappeared in the distance
like some monstrous mystery. Surrounded by a glare of fire, encircled by
blinding light, licked by sheaves of flames, the short barrel of the
mortar drew back at the moment of firing. Clouds of dust rose; they
mixed gray with brown, with the smoke of gunpowder which hid from sight
for a few moments the entire gun, and then it rained down from the air,
for whole minutes, the tiny pieces into which the cover of the charge
had been torn. After every shot of the big mortars, the heavy howitzers
and the 21-centimeter mortars--which usually are the loud talkers in an
artillery battle--could hardly make themselves heard. An entire battery
of them could not drown the noise of _one_ shot from an Austrian mortar.
It sounded like a hoarse but weak bark as compared with this gigantic
instrument of death and destruction.
"During the morning the sky cleared; this enabled the observers to sight
more accurately. Orders were sent over the telephone; the telescope
controlled the effect of the gunfire, and one could see plainly how, in
a distance of a few miles, the hail of shot descended on the enemy's
trenches. 'Way up towered the geysers of earth when the shot struck
home. Above the Russian trenches lay a long white cloud of powder
forming a great wall of waves. The dull thunder of the guns was
tremendous. It whistled and howled, it cried and moaned, it roared like
the surf of the ocean, like the terrifying growl of a thunderstorm, and
then it threw back a hundredfold clear echo. In between came the dull
crack of the Russian shrapnel. They broke in the broad, swampy lowlands
of the Rawka; they pierced the cover of ice which broke with a
tremendous noise while dark fountains of bog water gushed up from the
ground. In front and in back of the German batteries one could see the
craters made by the Russian hits; they were dark holes where the hard
frozen ground had been broken up into thick, slaglike pieces weighing
tons and all over the white cover of snow had been strewn, dark brown
and as fine as dust, the torn-up soil.
"Then the storm of the trenches set in. At a given hour the roar of the
guns stopped suddenly. A few minutes later the masses of infantry, held
in readiness, arose. They came up from their trenches, climbed over
their walls, sought cover wherever it could be found, and were promptly
received by rifle and machine-gun fire from the Russians. That, however,
lasted only a moment; then they advanced in a jump; the attacking line
thinned out, stretched itself out and, continually seeking cover, tried
to advance. A few minutes only and the first Russian trench line was
reached. In storm, with bayonet and rifle butt, they came on and broke
into the trenches. They were fighting now man for man. Then the
artillery fire set in again. Again in the afternoon the infantry
advanced in storm formation against the head of the village and the
trenches flanking it. From them roared rifle and machine-gun fire
against the storming lines. Nothing could avail against these
intrenchments. Again artillery was called upon to support the attack.
"It was now five o'clock in the afternoon on January 31, 1915, and the
artillery fire still roared over the white plain. Here and there were a
few scattered farms, deeply snowed in. In the distance stood forests,
darkly silhouetted against the sky, covered with heavy, low-hanging snow
clouds. In between were yawning depths, and farther up other curtains of
clouds glowing in the full purple light of the setting sun. A wonderful
majesty lay on the heavens at that hour. But down on the earth, across
the white plain, the fighting German troops still crowded against the
enemy. Again infantry fire started and became the livelier the nearer
twilight approached and the deeper evening shadows prepared the coming
night.
"The 1st of February, 1915, the second day of battle, broke damp and
cloudy. Once more artillery fire set in. Later in the morning, just as
on the first day, the infantry again attacked. While the roar of the
battle went on, some of the men prepared the last resting place for
their comrades who had fallen on the previous day. Silently this work
was done. Here there were single graves, and then again places where
larger numbers were to be put to rest together. One such grave was dug
close to the wall of the cemetery and in it were bedded the dead heroes
so that their closed eyes were turned westward--toward home. A chaplain
found wonderful words at the open grave, blessing the rest of those who
had fallen on the field of honor and speaking to their comrades of the
joys of battle and of its sorrows while they said farewell to the dead
with bared heads.
"The guns still roared; then they were silent and then roared on again.
A remarkable tension was in the air. In a discord of feelings the day
drew to its end, and after that the third day of battle, the 2d of
February, dawned with renewed fighting. It was noon. We were sitting at
division headquarters, lunching, when the telephone rang loudly. With a
jump a staff officer was before it. 'General, the Russian lines are
giving way.' Quickly the general issued his orders. Once more the
fighting set in with all the available strength and vigor. The thunder
of the guns was renewed, and so the third day of battle ended with the
storming of the strong Russian positions in Humin and with the
occupation of the entire village by the German troops."
After the storming of Humin the Germans took the heights near Borzimow,
which commanded the road Bolimow-Warsaw. Here, too, the fighting was
very hard. South of Humin, near Wola-Szydlowieca, the Russian lines
again were broken on February 3, 1915, after a combined artillery and
infantry attack, which began early on February 2, 1915, and lasted for
more than twenty-four hours. The next ten days brought continuous
fighting at many points, some of it almost as ferocious as that of which
we have just spoken, but none of it yielding any important results to
either side. With the middle of February a lull set in in this sector of
the front. Of course the fighting did not stop entirely. But the Germans
did not advance farther, and the Russians were unable to break their
lines or to force them back anywhere to any appreciable extent.
Of course all this fighting took place near enough to Warsaw to be heard
there and to fill its inhabitants with terror and fear of a possible
siege or attack on the city proper. Although a great many people had
fled to the interior, thousands of others had flocked to the city,
especially from those outlying districts that had been overrun by the
invaders. Most of these were practically destitute and without means or
opportunity to earn any money. The Russian Government did its best to
help them, and provided nineteen asylums and thirteen people's kitchens
which, it is reported, distributed each day 40,000 portions. Wood, coal,
and oil gradually became more and more scarce and advanced to very high
prices, causing a great deal of suffering, especially among the poorer
classes.
Again reports of various neutral war correspondents, located at that
time in Warsaw, are of great interest. Says one: "The thunder of the
cannons has started up once more. Only the forts of the belt line of
fortresses are still silent. The railroad to Wilanow has been closed. No
one is allowed to go beyond Mokotow. In front of the two railroad
stations silent crowds of people are standing, their features showing
their terror. They stand there like they would at a fire to which the
firemen are rushing with their engines and ladders. One's feet are like
lumps of ice, one's head feels foolish and empty. Doors and windows in
the big new houses in Marshalkowska Street have been boarded up in
expectation of the rifle fire. It reminds one of a boat when, before the
breaking of the storm, hatches are closed up and sails are trimmed.
Omnibuses come in loaded with wounded, likewise butcher wagons with
similar loads. Many of the lighter wounded soldiers limp on foot. With
nightfall the entire city falls into darkness--strange, ghostlike.
People creep along the walls with bowed heads. The silence of the night
only intensifies the roar of the untiring guns, and they seem then to
come closer."
During all this time the German dirigibles and aeroplanes were very
active, too, throwing bombs. Granville Fortescue pictures the terror
spread by them most realistically. "Warsaw's inhabitants know now well
the meaning of an aeroplane, and whenever they see one approach they run
in wild terror into their houses and cellars. Before every open door
pushing, shouting crowds mass themselves, and serious panics are caused
when the sharp crack of the exploding bomb shakes and rattles all the
windows. As soon as the danger is passed the curious collect, first with
hesitation, then bolder and bolder, around the spot where the bomb fell
and gape with terror at the powerful results produced by the explosion.
Here a stretch of the railroad has been destroyed; the walls of the
near-by houses are covered with innumerable holes looking like smallpox
scars; others, of the splinters from the bomb, have dug themselves deep
into the ground and not a single window in the vicinity is unbroken."
A winter of the most bitter misery has closed in on the unfortunate
city; miserable-looking shapes by the thousands, without home or food,
crowd the narrow, crooked streets. As sand flows through an hourglass,
so regiment after regiment, from every part of the vast empire of the
czar, streams through the streets which now are black with people. From
far-distant Siberia and from the borderlands of Turkestan these
gray-clad soldiers pour through Warsaw to the plains of Poland. In their
dull features no trace can be discovered of what they feel or think. One
can study the faces of these Tartars, Mongols, and Caucasians as much as
one pleases, there remains always the same mystery. Tramp, tramp,
tramp--they march from the Kalish station along the railroad until they
disappear together with the horizon in a single gray mass--who knows
whither, who knows whence? It is at such times that one realizes the
magnitude of Russia if one considers that many of them have traveled
all the way from the Ural Mountains.
Quietness and gloominess now reign in Warsaw's hospitals, in which
formerly there was so much life and activity. The patients have been
sent, as far as their condition permitted, into central Russia to
recuperate, and at this time only slightly wounded men are brought in.
This is a bad sign, for the doctors figure correctly that it indicates
that those seriously wounded are left on the battle fields and perish
there. The hotels, on the other hand, are full of life. There officers
have settled down; every rank and every branch of the service is
represented here, from the grizzly general down to the beardless
lieutenant; every province of the immense empire seems to have sent a
representative. You may see there the most fantastic figures: Caucasian
colonels with enormous caps, huge mustaches, and black boots, figures
which look still exactly like the Muscovian warriors from the days of
Napoleon. It strikes one as very strange to hear so many German names
borne by these Russian officers. And while the poor inhabitants of
Warsaw await their fate with fear and trembling, the officers are the
only ones full of joy, for war is their element and a promising
opportunity for thousands of enticing possibilities which peace never
brought them.
During November and December, 1914, both in north and south Poland,
continuous fighting went on along the lines. In south Poland the field
of action was at first north of Cracow, between the Rivers Warta and
Pilitza, and later between the latter and the River Nida. But although
the result of this fighting--which mainly was in favor of the
German-Austrian forces--to a certain extent influenced the result in the
central sector to the west of Warsaw, the details of it do not properly
call for consideration at this time and place. For it was directed much
more by the Austrian General Staff than by that of the German armies,
the forces involved were preponderantly Austro-Hungarian, and it was
more closely connected with the Russian attack on Galicia and the
Carpathians than with Von Hindenburg's attack on the Russian center. It
will find its proper consideration in another place in connection with
the Galician campaign. Suffice it to say here that the Austro-Hungarian
forces under Boehm-Ermolli, supported by the German division under
General van Woyrsch, carried successfully that part of Von Hindenburg's
general plan which had been assigned to it--the protection of the right
wing of his central group of troops and the shielding of Cracow from a
direct Russian attack.
To the north of the central group--north of the Vistula and between it
and the Narew--the Germans had assembled, as we have already stated,
another group which had as its bases Soldau and Thorn. Their chief task
was to protect the German provinces of West and East Prussia from a
Russian attack from Novo Georgievsk and Warsaw.
During November, 1914, these forces restricted themselves entirely to
defensive fighting along the border. With the beginning of December,
however, when the Russians had temporarily weakened their forces
fighting north of the Vistula in order to send additional support to the
defenders of Warsaw, the Germans attempted an advance which for a short
time was successful.
On December 10, 1914, Przasnysz, about twenty-five miles southeast of
Mlawa, was stormed after the latter place had been occupied some time
before. By December 15, 1914, however, the Russians had again stronger
forces at their command for this part of the front, and with them they
not only threw the Germans again out of Przasnysz, but forced them to
evacuate Mlawa and retire behind their border. A week later, about
December 22, 1914, the Germans again advanced from Soldau and
Neidenburg, and by December 24, 1914, Mlawa once more was in their
hands. Although the fighting in this sector practically went on without
intermission from the beginning of November, 1914, to the end of
February, 1915, comparatively small forces were involved on both sides.
This, of course, excluded any possibility of a decisive result on either
side, and we can therefore dismiss this end of the campaign with the
statement that, although the Germans north of the Vistula were more
successful in keeping the Russians off German soil than the Russians
were in keeping the Germans out of Poland, the latter did not make here
any appreciable headway in the direction of Warsaw, and accomplished no
more than to keep a goodly number of Russian regiments tied up in the
protection of Novo Georgievsk and the northern approach to Warsaw
instead of permitting them to participate in the repulse of the main
attack against the Polish capital, where they would have been very
useful indeed.
CHAPTER LXXX
WINTER BATTLES IN EAST PRUSSIA
The most northern part of the eastern front is now the only one left for
our consideration. We have already learned that when the German General
Staff planned its second drive against Warsaw, it had been decided to
restrict the German forces collected in East Prussia south of the Niemen
and east and south of the Mazurian Lakes to defensive measures. At that
time--the beginning of November, 1914--and until about the beginning of
February, 1915, they consisted of two army corps under the command of
General von Buelow, who at the outbreak of the war and for a few years
previous to it had been in command of a division with headquarters at
Insterburg, and who was therefore well qualified for his task through
his intimate knowledge of the territory. About 50 per cent of his forces
belonged to the Landwehr, about 25 per cent to the Landsturm and only
about 25 per cent were of the first line. These faced a numerically very
superior force variously estimated at five to seven army corps. The
Germans therefore found it necessary to equalize this overpowering
difference by withdrawing behind a strong natural line of defense. This
they found once more behind the greater Mazurian Lakes to the south and
behind the River Angerapp which flows out of the lakes at Angerburg to
the north until it joins the river Pissa slightly to the east of
Insterburg.
[Illustration: The town of Gerdauen, East Prussia was burned during the
Russian invasion, when for a time East Prussia suffered like Belgium and
Poland.]
These positions apparently were prepared during the early part of
November, 1914. For as late as November 15, 1914, fighting took place
at Stallupoehnen on the Kovno-Koenigsberg railroad and some ten miles
east of the Angerapp. A few days earlier, on November 9, 1914, a Russian
attack, still farther east, north of the Wysztiter Lake, had resulted in
considerable losses to the Russians. North of the Pissa River the
Germans managed to stick closer to their border, along which there flows
a small tributary of the Niemen offering natural protection.
Considerable fighting took place in this territory around the town of
Pillkallen, but the German line held.
On November 30, 1914, the Russians had again occupied that part of East
Prussia located between the border and the Mazurian Lake-Angerapp line.
On that day the first of a long series of attacks against this very
strong line was made east of Darkehmen, but was as unsuccessful as all
its successors. The German Emperor saw some of this fighting during a
short visit to the East Prussian defenders. All through December, 1914,
the Russians made repeated attacks against the German lines, always
without accomplishing their object of breaking through it and advancing
again against Koenigsberg. Of course, they inflicted severe losses on
their adversaries, though their own, both in disabled and captured, were
much more severe, due to the disadvantages which the difficult territory
heaped upon the attacking side. By the beginning of January winter had
set in in full earnest and the weather became so severe that no fighting
of any importance took place throughout the entire month. The only
exceptions were Russian attacks about January 15, 1915, against Loetzen,
the German fortress on the eastern shore of the northernmost group of
the lakes, which, however, brought no results. At the same time
Gumbinnen was once more the center of considerable fighting.
Later in the month, January 26, 28, and 29, 1915, this town again and
again had to pay dearly in additional destruction of what little of it
that was still left of its former prosperity for the advantage of being
located on the Koenigsberg road. On January 30, 1915, the Russians
attempted to break through a little further south at Darkehmen--but
still the German lines held.
In the meanwhile new troops had been prepared and collected and were
being rushed to that part of the east front for the purpose of clearing
all of East Prussia of its invaders. These reenforcements were sent to
the right and left wings of the Mazurian Lakes-Angerapp line, and the
former began its attack in February. A few days before an exceptionally
heavy snowfall, accompanied by very high winds and very low
temperatures, had set in. This not only added to the hardships of the
troops, but increased immensely the difficulties with which the leaders
on both sides had to contend. On account of the weather the roads became
impassable for motor cars and the railroads were hardly in better
condition. At no time could a general count with any amount of certainty
on the prompt execution of movements. Trains were delayed for hours and
regiments appeared in their allotted positions hours late.
The right wing of the German front was sent around the southern end of
the lake chain by way of Johannisburg. There the Russians had thrown up
very strong fortifications in connection with the dense forests
surrounding this town. To the southeast the river Pisseck forms the
outlet for one of the lakes and flows toward the Narew. This line, too,
was held by the Russians, who had considerable forces, both in
Johannisburg and to the east in Bialla. In the late afternoon and during
the night of February 8, 1915 a crossing over the Pisseck was forced and
Johannisburg was stormed. Russian reenforcements from the
south--Kolno--arrived too late and were thrown back with considerable
losses in men and guns. In spite of the bitter cold the Germans pressed
on immediately. They took Bialla on February 9, 1915, and then
immediately pushed on to Lyck with part of their forces. This town, like
so many other East Prussian towns, had suffered cruelly, having been in
the thick of the fighting almost from the beginning of the war. Now the
Russians again made a most determined stand in its vicinity, induced, no
doubt, chiefly by the defensive advantages which the territory offered
here. To the west of Lyck, beyond the Lyck Lake, they had built up very
strong intrenchments which resisted all German attacks for days, and it
was not until the middle of February, 1915, that they gave up these
positions. But even then they continued to hold Lyck itself, and it was
not taken until after the middle of the month. The other part of the
right wing in the meantime had forced the Russians out of the southeast
corner of East Prussia and was advancing against Grajeko and Augustovo.
In the north the German left wing had pushed its advance
simultaneously, starting from around Tilsit and the Niemen line. The
Russians fell back on strongly prepared intrenchments along the line
Pillkallen-Stallupoehnen, but by February 10, 1915, they had to give
up this line and withdraw still farther south and east toward
Eydtkuhnen, Kibarty, and Wirballen, all places of which we heard
considerable during the previous battling in East Prussia. It was
snowing furiously and the Russians apparently counted with too much
certainty on this as a means of keeping the Germans from following
closely. They procured quarters in these three towns and were going to
enjoy a much needed rest for one night. But during that night the
Germans, overcoming all difficulties of snowdrifts and impassible
roads, attacked and stormed Eydtkuhnen as well as Wirballen and
killed, wounded, or made prisoners almost all the Russian forces
located there, amounting to about 10,000 men with considerable
artillery and even greater quantities of supplies. Gumbinnen also was
retaken by the Germans and by February 12, 1915, they were on Russian
territory and advancing once more against Suwalki.
By the middle of February the last Russian had been driven out of
Germany. This series of battles, known commonly as the "Winter Battle of
the Mazurian Lakes" not only freed East Prussia, but yielded
comparatively large results in the numbers of prisoners taken. In nine
days' fighting about 50,000 men, 40 guns, and 60 machine guns were
captured. Both sides, of course, suffered also heavy losses in killed
and wounded. These great battles here briefly summarized to round out
the account of the operations of the first six months are described in
greater detail in Volume III.
CHAPTER LXXXI
RESULTS OF FIRST SIX MONTHS OF RUSSO-GERMAN CAMPAIGN
This brings us approximately to the end of the first six months'
fighting at the eastern front. It will be well now to pause for a short
space of time and to sum up the results of the tremendous conflict which
has been narrated. However, before we consider these results from a
military point of view and strike the balance of successes achieved and
failures suffered, let us see how they affected those who were the
actors in this terrible tragedy of mankind--the men who fought these
battles and their leaders, and the poor, unfortunate men, women, and
children whose habitations had been thrown by an unkind fate into the
path of this vortex of death and destruction.
In determining the total losses which the Russian and German forces
suffered during the first six months of the war, it is next to
impossible to arrive at this time at absolutely correct figures. This is
especially true in regard to the German troops. In a way this sounds
strange, for the German war organization made itself felt in this
respect, just as much as along other lines, and in none of the countries
involved were the official lists of losses published as rapidly,
frequently, and accurately as in Germany, especially in the early stages
of the conflict. However, these lists included the German losses on all
fronts as well as on the seas, and therefore are available for our
purposes only as a basis for a computation of average losses. But by
taking these totals and comparing them with other figures from various
sources--newspapers, official Russian reports, English and French
computations (non-official), statistics of the International Red Cross,
etc.--it is possible to determine a total per month of German losses of
all kinds--killed, wounded, missing, and captured--for all fronts on
which German forces were fighting during the first six and a half months
of the war. This total is 145,000 men per month. Assuming that all in
all the losses were about evenly divided on the western and eastern
fronts, and disregarding the comparatively small losses of the navy, we
get a monthly average of German losses at the eastern front of 72,500
men, or a total for the entire period of 471,250 men. This does not
include those wounded who after a varying period of time were again able
to return to the fighting, and whose number of course was very large,
but represents the number of those whose services had been lost to the
German forces for all time.
In the case of the Russian losses it is somewhat easier to arrive at
fairly accurate figures, at least as far as their losses through capture
are concerned. For the official German figures in this respect go into
great detail and undoubtedly may be accepted as generally correct.
During the early part of the war when the Russians were fighting along
the border and on East Prussian territory they lost 15,000 officers and
men by capture, at Tannenberg 90,000, and immediately afterward in the
Lake district 30,000 more. In October, 1914, fighting in the province of
Suwalki, during Hindenburg's advance to the Niemen and his retreat, he
captured 10,000, and by November 1, 1914, there were according to the
official German count 3,121 officers and 186,797 men in German prison
camps. By January 1, 1915, this number had increased to 3,575 and
306,294 respectively, and by the middle of February the total in round
numbers must have been at least 400,000. That this is approximately
correct is proven by the statement of the Geneva Red Cross published in
the "Journal de Geneve," which gives the total of Russian prisoners in
the hands of the Central Powers by the end of February as 769,500.
According to the same source the Russians had lost by that time in
killed 743,000 and in totally disabled 421,500, while their slightly
wounded--those who finally returned again to the active forces--reached
the huge total of 1,490,000. These figures again are for the entire
Russian forces, those fighting against German as well as
Austro-Hungarian forces. Just what proportion should be assigned to the
Russian forces fighting against the Germans is rather problematical. For
while these were fighting on a much larger front than those who had been
thrown against Galicia and the Bukowina, the latter were comparatively
much more numerous and, therefore, probably suffered proportionately
larger losses. Some of the losses also occurred in the fighting against
Turkey. However, we will be fairly safe--most likely shooting below
rather than above the mark--in estimating one-half of all these losses
as having been incurred on the Russo-German front. This, then, would
give us for the period of August 1, 1914, to February 15, 1915, the
following total Russian losses in their fighting against the German
forces: Killed, 371,500; totally disabled, 210,750; captured, 384,750, a
grand total of 967,000, or about twice as much as the German losses.
Even these figures, without any further comment, are sufficient to
indicate the terrible carnage and suffering that was inflicted on the
manhood of the countries involved. But if we consider that every man
killed, wounded or captured, after all, was only a small part of a very
large circle made up of his family--in most cases dependent on him for
support--and of his friends, even the most vivid imagination fails to
give proper expression in words of the sum total of unfathomable misery,
broken hearts, spoiled lives, and destroyed hopes that are represented
in these cold figures.
At various points in this history we have had occasion to speak of the
various generals, both Russian and German, who were directing these vast
armies, the greatest numerically and the most advanced technically which
mankind has ever seen assembled in its entire history. To go into
details concerning the hundreds of military geniuses which found
occasion to display the fruits of their training and talent would be
impossible. But on each side there was among all these leaders one
supreme leader on whose ability and decision depended not only the
results of certain battles, but the lives of their millions of
soldiers--yes, even the fate of millions upon millions of men, women and
children. The Russians had intrusted their destiny to a member of their
reigning family, an uncle of the czar, Grand Duke Nicholas, while the
Germans had found their savior in the person of a retired general,
practically unknown previous to the outbreak of the war, Paul von
Hindenburg. Each had been put in supreme command, although the former's
burden was even greater than that of the latter, including not only the
Russian forces fighting against the Germans, but also those fighting
against the Austro-Hungarians. On both, however, depended so much that
it will be well worth while to devote a short space of time to gain a
more intimate knowledge of their appearance, character and surroundings.
We will spend, therefore, a day each at the headquarters of these two
men by following the observations which some well-known war
correspondents made during their visits at these places.
The war correspondent of the London "Times" had occasion during his
travels with the Russian armies to make the following observations:
"Modern war has lost all romance. The picturesque sights, formerly so
dear to the heart of the journalist, have disappeared. War now has
become an immense business enterprise, and the guiding genius is not to
be found on the firing line, any more than the president of a great
railroad would put on overalls and take his place in an engine cab. Here
in Russia the greatest army which ever met on a battle field has been
assembled under the command of one individual, and the entire
complicated mechanism of this huge organization has its center in a
hidden spot on the plains of West Russia. It is a lovely region which
shows few signs of war. In a small forest of poplars and pines a number
of tracks has been laid which connect with the main line, and here live
quietly and peacefully some hundreds of men who form the Russian General
Staff. A few throbbing autos rushing hither and thither and a troop of
about 100 Cossacks are apparently the only features which do not belong
to the everyday life of the small village which is the nearest regular
railroad station. Many hundreds of miles away from this picture of
tranquillity is stretched out the tremendous chain of the Russian front,
each point of which is connected with this string of railroad cars by
telegraph. Here, separated from the chaos of battle, uninfluenced by the
confusion of armed masses, the brain of the army is able to gain a clear
and free view of the entire theatre of war which would only be obscured
by closer proximity."
Another, a French correspondent, says: "Whatever happens anywhere, from
the Baltic Sea to the Carpathian Mountains, is known immediately in the
big blue railroad cars whose walls are covered with maps. Telegraph and
telephone report the most minute occurrence. Should the commander in
chief desire to inspect a position or to consult personally with one of
the commanding generals there is always an engine ready with steam up.
Headquarters suddenly rolls off; and, after two or three days, it
returns noiselessly, with its archives, its general staff, its
restaurant, and its electric plant. The Grand Duke rules with an iron
fist. Champagne and liquor is taboo throughout the war zone, and even
the officers of the general staff get nothing except a little red wine.
Woe to anyone who sins against this order, here or anywhere else at the
front. The iron fist of the Grand Duke hits, if necessary, even the
greatest, the most famous. At a near-by table I recognize an officer in
plain khaki, Grand Duke Cyril. The proud face and the powerful figure of
the commander in chief, Grand Duke Nicholas, is sometimes to be seen in
this severe room. Shyly one approaches the chief commander upon whose
shoulders rests all the responsibility; and the attitude of the man who
has been chosen to lead the Russian armies to victory does not encourage
familiarity. Next to him I notice Janushkewitch, the Chief of the Great
General Staff, with the gentle, almost youthful face of a thinker. But
everything is ruled by the personality of the Grand Duke, which, with
its mixture of will power and of gracious majesty, is most captivating."
Let us now rush across space and follow still another war correspondent,
this time a representative of the German press, to the headquarters of
the German armies: "Field Marshal von Hindenburg has an impressive
appearance. With his erect, truly military carriage he makes a picture
of strength and health. With him appears a very young-looking general
who cannot be older than fifty years. A high forehead, clear blue eyes,
a powerful aquiline nose, an energetic mouth, a face--in one word--which
would be striking even if the man, to whom it belongs, would not be
wearing a general's uniform and the insignia of the order 'Pour le
merite'--one knows that one is face to face with the chief of the
General Staff, Ludendorff. The Field Marshal greets his guest with
charming friendliness, leads the way to the table and offers him the
seat to his right. During the simple evening meal he rises and offers
the toast: 'The German Fatherland!' Around the table are about ten
officers, among them Captain Fleischmann von Theissruck of the Austrian
army, who represents the Austrian General Staff. The Field Marshal
mentions a letter which he received from some one entirely unknown to
him in which the writer reproaches him most severely because some
Cossacks had entered some small town on the border. 'That will happen
again and again,' he says, 'and cannot be avoided. I cannot draw up my
troops along the entire border, man by man, like a quarantine guard. To
gather forces quickly again and again and to beat the Russians again and
again, that is the best way to make them disgusted with their stay at
the German border.' Then he relates some details about the battle of
Tannenberg. He does not tire of entertaining his guest with interesting
details about the fighting. He mentions the vast number of presents
which have been sent to him by his numerous admirers. 'It is touching
how good people are to me. A great many of their gifts are very
welcome--but what shall I do with framed pictures while I am in the
field? What shall I do after the war is over? Nothing. I'll go back to
Hanover. There are lots of younger men [pointing to Ludendorff and the
others] who want their chance, too. With my years, there is nothing more
beautiful than to retire after one's work has been done and to make room
for the younger generation.'"
Apparently the men at the "helm of the ship" lead a life of comparative
ease and security. But if we consider the fearful responsibilities that
they have to carry and the tremendous mental strain under which they are
continuously, we can readily see that their lot is not to be envied. Of
course, their rewards are equally great if they are successful. But what
if they fail? At any rate they, as well as the troops who fight under
them, have the glamour of fighting, the promise of glory, the sense of
duty well done, to sustain them. But what of those others, equally or
even more numerous, on whose fields and forests, in whose streets and
market places, around whose houses and churches the battles rage and the
guns roar? What of the women and children, the sick and the old, whose
fathers, husbands and sons are doing the fighting or, perhaps, have
already laid down their lives upon the altar of patriotism? What is
there left for them to do when they see their houses go up in flames,
their few belongings reduced to ashes, their crops destroyed and even
their very lives threatened with death and sometimes--worse yet--with
dishonor?
All this and more, millions upon millions of Russians and Germans, rich
and poor alike, had to suffer most cruelly. And on the eastern front
this suffering in a way, perhaps, was even more severe than in the west.
For there the actual fighting, while extending over an equally long
front, was much more concentrated, and after the first few months did
not move forward and backward; and existence, except in the immediate
vicinity of the firing line, was at least possible, even if dangerous
and precarious. But in the east thousands upon thousands of square miles
in East Prussia, in West Russia, and especially in Poland, the fighting
passed in ever advancing and retreating waves as the surf rolls along
the beach, and soon gunfire and marching millions of armed men had
leveled the country almost as smoothly as the waves of the ocean grind
the sand.
In East Prussia the devastation wrought by the Russians, some through
wanton lust for destruction and in unreasoning hate for the enemy, but
mostly through the pressure of military necessity, was terrible,
especially east of the Mazurian Lakes and south of the Niemen. But
there, at least, the poor inhabitants had the consolation of being able
to return to their destroyed homes after the Russians had been finally
driven out and to begin to build up again what war had destroyed, and in
this they had the help and support of their highly organized government
and their more fortunate compatriots from the interior.
In Poland, however, especially in the rural districts, even that
consolation was lacking. For after German and Russian armies alike had
passed over the country again and again, not only destroying values that
it had taken centuries to build up, but on account of the huge masses
concerned frequently denuding the entire countryside of absolutely every
means of sustenance, the final result was occupation by the enemy. And
even if that enemy, true to his inherent love of order and to his talent
for organization, immediately proceeded to establish a well-regulated
temporary government, at the best his efforts would have to be
restricted; for he had not much to spare, neither in men to do the work
needed, nor in means to finance it, nor even in food to give sustenance
to those who had lost everything.
And the worst of it was that for years previous to the outbreak of the
war the two principal races inhabiting Poland--the Poles and the
Jews--had been fighting each other, with the Russian sympathies strongly
on the side of the Poles. Now when war overtook this unfortunate
country, both the Poles and the Russians threw themselves like hungry
wolves upon the unfortunate Jews. They were driven out from their
villages, often the entire population irrespective of age, sex, or
condition. They were made to wander from one place to another, like so
many herds of cattle, except that no herd of cattle had ever been
treated as cruelly as these poor helpless droves of women, children, and
old and sick people whose men folk were fighting for their country while
this very country did its best to kill their families. This is not the
place or time to go into this horrible catastrophe, beyond stating this
fact: In July, 1914, Poland had been inhabited by millions of
hard-toiling people who, though neither overly blessed with wealth or
opportunities, nor enjoying conditions of life that were particularly
conducive to happiness, were at least able to found and raise families
and to sustain an existence which was bearable chiefly because of the
hope for something better to come. Six months later--January,
1915--these millions had stopped toil, for their fields were devastated,
their cattle had been killed or driven away, their houses had been
burned down. Hundreds of thousands of them had been forced to flee to
the interior, other hundreds of thousands had died, some through want
and illness, some during the fighting around their homes, some through
murder and worse. Families had been broken up and others wiped out
entirely, and thousands of mothers had been separated from their
children, perhaps never to see them again. Even if, in isolated cases,
destruction, and even death, was merited or made inevitably necessary,
in the greatest number of cases the suffering was as undeserved as it
was severe.
From a military point of view the net result of the fighting during the
first six months of the war most decidedly was in favor of the Germans.
February, 1915, found them conquerors along the entire extent of the
Russo-German front, and the Russians those who had been conquered. In
spite of the successful campaigns which German arms had won, however,
they had fallen far short of what they had apparently set out to do, and
in that wider sense their successes came dangerously near to being
failures. But even at that they were still ahead of their adversaries;
for though they had not gained the two objects for which they had
striven most furiously--the possession of Warsaw and the final
destruction of the offensive power of the Russian armies--they held
large and important sections of the Russian Empire, they had driven the
Russians completely out of Germany and forced them to do their further
fighting on their own ground, and they had reduced the effectiveness of
their armies by vast numbers, killing, disabling, or capturing, at a
most conservative estimate, at least twice as many men as they
themselves had lost.
During the first three weeks of August, 1914, the Russian armies had
invaded East Prussia and laid waste a large section of it. Then came the
debacle at Tannenberg, and by the middle of September, Germany was freed
of the invader, who had lost tens of thousands in his attempt to force
his way into the heart of the German Empire. Not satisfied with these
results, the Germans on their part now attempted an invasion of large
sections of West Russia, pursuing their defeated foes until they reached
the Niemen and its chain of fortresses which they found insurmountable
obstacles. It was once more the turn of the Russians, who now not only
drove back the invading Germans to the border, but who by the beginning
of October, 1914, faced again an invasion of their East Prussian
province. However, less than two weeks sufficed this time to clear
German soil once more, and by October 15, 1914, the Russians had again
been forced back across the border. By this time the German Commander in
Chief, Von Hindenburg, had learned the lesson of the Niemen. Instead of
battering in vain against this iron line of natural defenses, he threw
the majority of his forces against Poland, and especially against its
choicest prize--historic Warsaw. October 11, 1914, may be considered the
approximate beginning of the first drive against the Polish capital.
During about two weeks of fighting the German armies advanced to the
very gates of Warsaw, which then seemed to be theirs for the mere
taking. But suddenly the Russian bear recovered his self-control, and
with renewed vigor and replenished strength he turned once again against
the threatening foe. By October 28, 1914, the Germans in North and
Central Poland and the Austro-Hungarians in South Poland had to retreat.
November 7, 1914, became the starting date for the third Russian
invasion of East Prussia. The Germans now changed their tactics. Instead
of meeting the enemy's challenge and attempting to repeat their previous
performances of throwing him back and then invading his territory, they
restricted themselves, for the time being, to defensive measures in East
Prussia, and launched a powerful drive of their own against Russian
territory. For the second time Warsaw was made their goal. By this time,
to a certain extent at least, the offensive momentum of both sides had
been reduced in speed. Where it had taken days in the earlier campaigns
to accomplish a given object, it now took weeks. Of course the rigors of
the eastern winter which had set in by then played an important part in
this slowing-up process, which, however, affected the speed only of the
armies, but not the furor of their battling. December 6, 1914, brought
the possession of Lodz to the Germans, and on the next day the Russians
were taught the same lesson before the Mazurian Lakes that they had
taught to the Germans a few months before when they faced the Niemen.
East Prussia up to the Lakes was in the hands of Russia, but beyond that
impregnable line of lakes and swamps and rivers they could not go.
In the meanwhile the drive against Warsaw was making small progress in
spite of the most furious onslaughts. There, too, a series of rivers and
swamps--less formidable, it is true, than in East Prussia, but hardly
less effective--stemmed the tide of the invaders. For more than two
weeks, beginning about December 20 and lasting well into January, the
Russians made a most stubborn stand along the Bzura and Rawka line, and
successfully, though with terrible losses, kept the Germans from taking
Warsaw. However, in order to accomplish this they had to weaken their
line at other points and thus bring about the collapse of their drive
against Cracow, by means of which they expected to gain from the south
the road into Germany which had been denied to them again and again in
the north.
The end of January, 1915, found the Germans practically as far in Poland
as the beginning of the month. It is true that they had made little
progress in four weeks, but it is also true that they had given up none
of the ground they had gained. And with the coming of February, 1915,
they reduced their offensive activities at that part of the front and
turned their attention once more to East Prussia. The second week of
February, 1915, brought to the Russians their second great defeat on the
shores of the Mazurian Lakes. By February 15 East Prussia again had been
cleared of the enemy, and parts of the Russian provinces between the
border and the Niemen were in the hands of the Germans who apparently
had made up their minds that they were not going to permit any further
Russian invasions of East Prussia if they could help it. They now held a
quarter of Poland and a small part of West Russia, while the Russians
held nothing except a long battle front, stretching almost from the
Baltic to the Carpathian Mountains and threatened everywhere by an enemy
who daily seemed to grow stronger rather than weaker.
PART VIII--TURKEY AND THE DARDANELLES
CHAPTER LXXXII
FIRST MOVES OF TURKEY
The entrance of Turkey, the seat of the ancient Ottoman Empire, into the
Great War in 1914, with its vast dominions in Europe, Asia, and Africa,
created a situation which it was appalling to contemplate. The flames of
world war were now creeping not only into the Holy Land, the birthplace
of Christian civilization, but to the very gates of Mecca, the "holiest
city of Islam." Would the terrible economic struggle in Europe, the war
for world trade, now develop into a holy war that would bring the
religious faiths of the earth on to a great decisive battle ground?
The seething flames of economic supremacy that were consuming Europe had
threatened from the beginning of the war to creep into the Occident, as
we shall see in the chapter on "Japan and the Far East." Moreover, as
described in "Naval Operations," it was in the waters of the Near East
that the first big incident of the war on the sea took place.
Despite the fact that the public had been looking forward to an
immediate clash of the dreadnought squadrons of the two countries
somewhere between the east coast of Scotland and the Dutch shore,
nothing of the kind happened. Instead, both grand fleets ran to safety
in the landlocked harbors of their respective countries.
In was to the Mediterranean in the first week of August, 1914, that the
attention of the world was first drawn by events. Two German warships,
the _Goeben_ and the _Breslau_, were off the coast of Algeria. The first
was one of the finest ships of the German navy, a superdreadnought
battleship cruiser of 23,000 tons, capable of making more than 28 knots
an hour. Her main battery consisted of ten 11-inch guns, and in addition
she mounted twelve 5.9-inch guns and twelve 21 pounders. She was capable
therefore of meeting on equal terms any enemy vessel in the
Mediterranean, and more than capable of outrunning any of the heavier
vessels of the French or British navy stationed in those waters. The
_Breslau_ was capable of a similar speed, but was a much weaker vessel,
being a light cruiser of only 4,478 tons. Both of these vessels had
enormous coal capacities, the _Breslau_, in particular, being able to
travel more than 6,000 miles without refilling her bunkers.
The speed and the coal capacity of these vessels were to prove of vital
importance in the events of the next few days. For their role was to be
one of flight, not to battle. England alone and, in an overwhelming
degree, England and France combined hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned
the two German warships in the Mediterranean. Realizing this, the German
commander, after firing a few shots into the Algerian coast towns of
Bone and Philippville, steamed northwest with the intention either of
outwitting the English and French squadron commanders, or of running
through Gibraltar and so on to the broad Atlantic to wage war upon the
British mercantile marine. The British, however, were alive to this
danger and headed off the two German warships. Whereupon they turned
northeast.
Early on the morning of Wednesday, August 5, 1914, these ships were
discovered steaming into the harbor of Messina, Italy. The English and
French fleets, close upon the heels of the enemy, immediately took up
positions at either end of the Straits of Messina, confident that they
had successfully bottled up the Germans.
Then quickly there developed one of the most dramatic incidents in the
history of naval warfare. It is described in this chapter as well as in
the narrative on "Naval Operations" because of its direct bearing on
Turkish politics and policies. The captain and officers of the _Goeben_
and the _Breslau_ went ashore at Messina, made their wills and deposited
their valuables with the German consul. The decks of the apparently
doomed vessels were cleared for action, flags run up to the resounding
cheers of the sailors and with the brass bands of the boats playing
"Heil dir im Siegerkranz" they steamed swiftly out of Messina harbor to
what seemed like certain destruction.
A blood-red sun was quickly setting in the perfect Italian sky. The
bands were hushed aboard the German warships, every light was dimmed,
and the sailors were ordered to their posts. In tense whispers they
discussed the coming fight. The ships were already at top speed plowing
through the waters of the Mediterranean as fast as the throbbing engines
could urge them. A sharp lookout was kept for the enemy, but as one
hour, two hours, three hours passed and none was seen it became apparent
that for the time at least they had evaded detection. Rounding the
southern coast of Italy, they turned due east and the course laid for
Constantinople.
Morning came and still, at 28 knots an hour, the German warships were
speeding toward the Turkish capital--and safety. To the rear, too far to
reveal their funnels, the pursuing French and English squadron followed,
thin lazy strips of smoke attested their presence to the men aboard the
_Breslau_ and the _Goeben_.
Suddenly far to the southeast the masts of a single vessel were seen on
the horizon. Then the smokestacks of the British light cruiser
_Gloucester_ poked their tops above the skyline and daringly she opened
fire on the mighty _Goeben_. Tempting, however, as the opportunity was
for the German commander with an overwhelming force at his heels he
dared waste no time nor run the risk of a chance shot disabling his
vessel. He sheered off sharply to the northeast and in a few hours lost
the plucky _Gloucester_ to view.
At the end of this week in August the _Goeben_ and the _Breslau_, their
engines hot from constant steaming at forced speed, but with flags
flying and bands playing, steamed through the narrow channel of the
Dardanelles, through the sea of Marmora, and cast anchor off the
gloriously beautiful city of Constantinople. As quickly as the
formalities would permit the two German warships were transferred to
Turkish sovereignty, and to all intents and purposes, as future events
proved, the Ottoman Empire entered the war as an ally of Germany and
Austria.
Turkey's attitude in these early days of the crisis of August, 1914, was
conditioned by several major causes easily discernible. For almost a
generation, Germany has been sedulously cultivating Turkish friendship.
With that single-minded purposefulness so conspicuous in her diplomacy,
Germany found it easy, especially under the regime of the former Sultan
Abdul Hamid II to outmaneuver the easy-going diplomacy of France,
Russia, and England. Indeed, she found a real rival only in England,
who, starting with the initial advantage of long political friendship
with the Turkish people and the good will that grew out of the Crimean
War, successfully opposed many of the chess moves of her German rival.
However, with the coming to Constantinople as German Ambassador of the
late Marshal von Bieberstein, German prestige became supreme. Easily the
best German diplomatist of the present generation, Von Bieberstein
dominated the diplomatic corps at Constantinople and practically
dictated the foreign policy of Turkey. Through him, the Deutsche Bank
secured the great Bagdad railway concession and completed the commercial
subjugation of the country by Berlin.
These disquieting developments had been watched with anxiety in London.
But it was not until Von Bieberstein sprang the Bagdad railway surprise
that England fully awoke to the situation. Then she stepped in and
prevented any extension of the line to the Persian Gulf, an area which
British political and commercial circles regarded as peculiarly their
own.
At the same time an effort was made to reclaim the position Great
Britain had lost in Turkey. With the fall of Abdul Hamid and the coming
of the Young Turks there seemed a chance to do this, especially as
Germany was looked upon by the members of the Committee of Union and
Progress as the chief support of the deposed sultan. Kaiser William,
however, played his cards with consummate skill. The German policy was
quickly adapted to the new situation. Von Bieberstein was eventually
shifted to London and the leaders of the Young Turks, such as the
youthful and popular Enver Bey, were invited to Berlin to come under
the influence of the German army chiefs. The British Government, then in
the midst of negotiations with Russia and unwilling or unable to enter
into any outside arrangement that seemed to oppose the satisfaction of
the Russian dream of Constantinople refused to accept the Young Turks'
invitation to guarantee the integrity of the Turkish Empire for a
limited period in return for commercial and political concessions. On
the other hand, Emperor William reaffirmed to the new sultan his
guardianship of Islam and his interest in the welfare of the Mohammedans
wherever found.
But perhaps the deciding factor in the inclination of the Turks toward
Germany and her ally was to be found in the situation of the Mohammedan
world. Turkey had never reconciled herself to the English control of
Egypt and India and saw in the present war a possibility such as had
never occurred before and possibly would never occur again of wresting
from the British the far-flung lands peopled by the followers of
Mohammed. With powerful allies, and on more even terms than they had
ever dreamed of, they could now do battle with the enemy that held their
race in subjugation and with Russia, whose avowed object through
generations had been the capture of Constantinople, the possession and
perhaps desecration of the holy places of their religion and the
dismembering of the last self-governing state of Mohammedanism.
These, then, were the major considerations that weighed with the Turkish
people, no less than with the Turkish Government, in coming to a
decision. So tremendous were the stakes at issue, so widespread, almost
world-wide, were the interests involved, that Turkey, situated as it was
guarding practically the sole gateway leading from Europe to Russia,
could not hope to remain neutral. For better or for worse a decision
between the two warring factions must be made.
England, France, and Russia protested vigorously against the action of
the Turkish Government in taking over the _Goeben_ and the _Breslau_.
Turkey replied by drawing attention to an incident that had seriously
inflamed public opinion in the Ottoman Empire. When the war started two
first-class battleships, the _Sultan Osman_ and the _Reshadie_, were
nearing completion for Turkey in English yards. Without any diplomatic
preliminaries the British admiralty confiscated the two ships on the
grounds of naval necessity. Whatever may have been the English motive,
the Turkish people regarded this as an attempt on the part of England to
weaken the Ottoman Empire and to make it impossible for it to safeguard
its national interests in the troublesome days that were surely to come
to neutrals as well as to belligerents.
But the Entente Powers hesitated to force a break on the _Goeben_ and
_Breslau_ question and the diplomatic correspondence of the period shows
that they had strong hope, not only at that moment, but up to the moment
of the final severance of relations of keeping the Turkish nation in a
state of neutrality at least. Signs were multiplying, however, that such
was not the intention of those in control at Constantinople.
In August and September, 1914, great activity prevailed throughout the
country. Arms and ammunition, especially heavy artillery in which the
Turkish army was notoriously weak, constantly arrived from Germany and
Austria. Every train from the central countries brought German army
officers and a sprinkling of German noncommissioned officers with which
to stiffen the Ottoman troops. The army was mobilized and General Liman
von Sanders, a distinguished German officer, was appointed inspector
general of the Turkish army. Immense stores of food and munitions were
concentrated at Damascus, Constantinople, Bagdad, and on the
Trans-Caucasus frontier, while a holy war against the infidel was openly
preached.
German vessels lying off Constantinople seem to have been given more or
less of a free hand and frequently searched Russian and British vessels
for contraband. The Turkish authorities appear to have gone as far as
they dared in preventing Russian supplies getting through to the Black
Sea. Russia protested and at times, along the shores of the Black Sea,
used methods closely bordering upon open warfare. Both sides, however,
seemed reluctant to take definite steps toward an open break.
In so far as Turkey was concerned this was probably due to a
disagreement among the members of the Government and others of powerful
influence outside official life. It was said that the sultan, the grand
vizier, and Djavid Bey, Minister of Finance, as well as a majority of
the cabinet, were opposed to war. However that may be, the issue was
soon decided by a small but immensely powerful clique headed by Enver
Bey and Talaat Bey, two of the more prominent and forceful of the Young
Turk leaders of the Committee of Union and Progress.
Of all the figures in Turkish life during the first months of the Great
War, the most picturesque and probably the most influential in the
events that led up to the outbreak of hostilities in Turkey was that of
the youthful Enver Pasha. He was one of the heroes of the remarkable
rebellion that resulted in the downfall of Abdul Hamid, and since then
he had ever played a leading part in the constantly shifting drama in
Constantinople. Dapper, alert intelligent, and approachable, modest
almost to the point of shyness, Enver was almost a venerated figure
among the Turkish people. As he passed on horseback, his slim figure
erect and stiff in its military pose, he attracted more attention and
interest than did the sultan himself.
He formed the chief and perhaps the strongest link between
Constantinople and Berlin. Honored in an unprecedented manner by the
sultan, Enver's influence in Constantinople was almost supreme. It is
through him that the various negotiations with Berlin were conducted.
Soon after the triumph of the Young Turk movement Enver went to Berlin
as military attache to the Turkish Embassy, and thoroughly imbibed the
Prussian military spirit. He returned to the Turkish capital an
enthusiastic admirer of the German army system and became a willing ally
of General Liman von Sanders in the latter's attempt to repair the
weaknesses of the Turkish army revealed by the Balkan War.
Second only to Enver Pasha in those critical days was Talaat Bey, an old
and more experienced member of the inner council of the Committee of
Union and Progress and also a prominent figure in the revolution against
Abdul Hamid. He was described by Sir Louis Mallet, British Ambassador to
Constantinople, as the most powerful civilian in the cabinet and also
as the most conspicuous of the leaders of the Committee of Union and
Progress. He was troubled by no such personal modesty and shyness as was
Enver. He was, however, a much harder man to judge. Enver was openly
pro-German in the weeks that preceded the actual break with the Entente
Powers, but for a long time the real intentions of Talaat Bey were in
doubt--at least they were to the British, French, and Russian
Ambassadors.
Djemel Pasha, Minister of Marine, while pro-German in his sentiments, is
believed to have hesitated in advising an open break, largely because of
the condition of the Turkish navy and the state of Turkish finance. The
arrival of the _Goeben_ and the _Breslau_, the importation of hundreds
of German sailors to stiffen the Turkish marine, and, during October,
the receipt of about $20,000,000 in gold from Berlin, won him over. In
the end Djemel Pasha stood with Enver and Talaat.
Other members of the Turkish Cabinet made a demonstration of attempting
to hold their country to an uneasy neutrality. Whether their efforts
were sincere or designed to prevent an open rupture until the
psychological moment had arrived it is impossible to say. Sir Louis
Mallet, in his private dispatches to his Government, expresses his firm
conviction that the sultan, the heir apparent, the grand vizier, Prince
Said Halim, Djavid Bey, the Minister of Finance and a clear majority of
the cabinet were determined not to allow Turkey to be drawn into the
war. Up to the very last minute the British Ambassador did not despair
of the success of this peace party. Events were too strong for these
advocates of neutrality--events and the control of the all-important
army and navy by Enver and his associates. By the sword the Ottoman
Empire was reared and by the sword it has been ruled ever since.
During the months of September, 1914, and October, 1914, there were many
plain signs that Enver Pasha and Talaat Bey were heading straight for a
break. On September 9, 1914, the Porte gave notice of the proposed
abolition of the capitulations by which the various powers enjoyed
extraterritorial rights. At the same time what amounted to a final
demand was made upon the British Government to return the two Turkish
battleships seized at the outbreak of the war.
Extraordinary efforts were made by all the Entente Powers to keep Turkey
neutral. They proposed to agree to the abolition of the capitulations as
soon as a modern judicial system could be set up in Turkey; they agreed
to guarantee the independence and integrity of the country for a limited
but extended term of years; they declared that Turkey would not suffer
by any changes of national frontiers growing out of the war; and England
even promised to return the two superdreadnoughts upon the conclusion of
the war, claiming that their retention meanwhile was absolutely
necessary for her protection.
The main stipulations made by the Entente Powers in return for these
concessions were that the German crews of the _Goeben_ and the _Breslau_
be sent out of Turkey and that General Liman von Sanders and the other
members of the German military mission be dismissed. With these demands
Turkey refused to comply, after hesitating over the first. Indeed, the
strength of the German stiffening in Turkey was constantly becoming
greater: by the middle of September there were no less than 4,000 German
officers and noncommissioned officers in Constantinople alone and every
train from the north brought others. This situation of tension between
Turkey and the Entente Powers continued all through September and
October. The outside world momentarily expected an open rupture.
CHAPTER LXXXIII
THE FIRST BLOW AGAINST THE ALLIES
On October 29, 1914, came news of a Bedouin invasion of the Sinai
peninsula and an occupation of the important Wells of Magdala on the
road to the Suez Canal. England became alarmed, and her composure was
not restored by the news that came a few hours later. Claiming that
Russia had taken aggressive action in the Black Sea, three Turkish
torpedo boats sailed into Odessa Harbor, shelled the town, sank a
Russian guardship, and did other considerable damage.
On the following day, October 30, 1914, the Russian Ambassador at
Constantinople asked for his passports and the British and French
representatives with evident reluctance soon followed suit. On November
1 Turkey was definitely and irretrievably at war with the Entente Powers
and an ally of Germany and Austria.
The war from the point of view of the Turkish people was a matter of
four frontiers. There was the Dardanelles to guard; there was Egypt and
the Suez Canal to be threatened and perhaps captured; there was the
Caucasus, where across towering mountains and deep gorges the Ottoman
faced the Russian, his hereditary and most feared enemy; and finally
there was Mesopotamia. All of these theatres of possible warfare
presented military problems, and one of them naval problems among the
most intricate and interesting of those facing the nations involved in
this unprecedented war. In the Caucasus the mountains and the scarcity
of broad passes and good roads, the almost entire lack of railway
facilities and the whole nature of the country rendered offensive
operations as difficult as on the northeast frontier of Italy or in the
Carpathians. In Syria and on the road to the Suez Canal, the waterless
desert, the entire absence of railways, the paucity and inadequacy of
roads and the nature of the obstacles to be crossed before an invasion
of Egypt was possible made the task one of terrible difficulty. In the
Dardanelles the peninsula of Gallipoli, strong as it was in natural
advantages, was open to naval attack from two and perhaps three sides
and its defense must prove not only a costly affair but one the issue of
which must be constantly open to doubt. Lastly in Mesopotamia the task
for the Turks was a comparatively easy one, for an invading army must
meet with constant difficulties through lack of water, excessive heat,
absence of roads and railways and distance from real base of supplies.
At the time of Turkey's entry into the war, military opinion all over
the world was divided on the question of the relative efficiency of her
army. All agreed, however, that as an individual fighting animal the
Turk had few if any equals. Centuries of warfare had established his
reputation, and the wonderful defense of Plevna had set the seal upon
it. On the defensive, it was believed by many, he was unbeatable,
conditions of supply and equipment being equal.
The Balkan War, however, had been a severe blow to his prestige. It was
widely felt that his defeat by the Bulgars, the Serbians, and the Greeks
had revealed serious, even vital, weaknesses in the Ottoman army.
Consequently the test of Turkey in the Great War was anxiously awaited
by both allies and foes. Tremendous issues were at stake, and the
failure or success of the soldiers of the Crescent in standing before
the troops of Russia, France, and Great Britain was bound to have an
important, perhaps decisive, influence on the outcome of the struggle as
a whole.
It is doubtful if the general staff of any of the warring countries had
any accurate or dependable figures of the Turkish army. Especially was
this so of the army on a war footing. At one time only Mohammedans were
permitted to serve with the colors, the citizens of other religious
beliefs being called upon to pay a yearly tax in lieu of service. Of
recent years, however, that law was altered, and in the Balkan War
Mohammedan and Christian served side by side and fought with equal ardor
for their country. Just how large a proportion of the Christian
population had been incorporated into the army at the time of the
outbreak of hostilities few experts were in any position to estimate.
Germany, because of her painstaking investigations in Turkey as well as
in every other country, probably was in possession of more accurate data
than any other nation, not even excepting the Turks themselves. The best
neutral authorities speak of 1,125,000 as the total war-time strength of
the Ottoman forces, but that estimate was made prior to the war and
before the world had learned that nations under modern conditions are
able to place a much larger proportion of their available manhood in the
field than was ever thought possible. Probably the Turkish war strength
was underestimated. The chief difficulty was not in finding the men,
but in providing quickly equipment, and at the outset that was evidently
a very real obstacle in Turkey.
The Turkish army was essentially a German creation, and largely the
personal accomplishment of that very able military organizer and student
of war, Field Marshal von der Goltz. Von der Goltz spent a decade with
the Turkish army, and returned to Germany only to reorganize the eastern
defenses of his country in preparation for the Great War. When Turkey
entered the struggle he returned to Constantinople at Enver Bey's
personal request.
The Turk does not become subject to military duty until he reaches the
age of twenty. Then, however, for the next two decades he belongs to the
army, either actually or potentially. The first nine years are spent in
the Nizam or first line, first with the colors and then in immediate
reserve. Then come nine years in the Redif or Landwehr, and, finally,
two years in the Mustaph'-phiz or Landsturm.
All branches of the Turkish army were not equally good. Cavalry and
infantry were probably the equal of corresponding troops in the armies
of any other country, but the inefficiency of the artillery was blamed
for the debacle of the Balkan War. Many of the thousands of German
troops poured into Turkey before and after she entered the war were
trained gunners sent with the object of stiffening the weakest arm of
the Turkish army.
The Turkish army has always suffered, as have the armies of many other
countries, from a shortage of properly trained officers. Since the
advent of the Young Turks, and especially since Enver Pasha, with his
German training, succeeded to the position of Minister of War and
Commander in Chief, the personnel of the officers' corps has been vastly
improved. But it takes years--yes, generations--to create an adequate
supply of officers and noncommissioned officers for an army of the
proportions of Turkey's, and the assistance of the German stiffening
must have been of inestimable advantage to the Ottoman command.
At the outbreak of the war the Turkish army was disposed in four
regional groups. The number of men actually with the colors, according
to the best estimates, was 500,000, with another 250,000 trained men in
immediate reserve awaiting equipment. In or near Constantinople were
about 200,000 troops, including the First, Third, and Fifth Corps, a
part of the Sixth, and four cavalry brigades. In Thrace, watching the
uncertain Bulgars and Greeks, were the Second and most of the Sixth
Corps with cavalry regiments and frontier guards. In Palestine, menacing
the Suez Canal, were the 40,000 troops of the Eighth Corps, besides
unnumbered irregular Arab forces, who could not, however, be depended
upon. In the Caucasus the Ninth, Tenth, and Eleventh Corps and three
brigades of cavalry were facing the Russian forces across the winding
frontier. At Bagdad the Thirteenth Corps, and at Mosul the Twelfth,
stood guard over Mesopotamia.
For centuries England had had a very genuine and active interest in the
Persian Gulf, recognizing its strategic and potential commercial
importance with that foresight which has distinguished her statesmen and
traders for generations. Russia had been regarded as the most likely
nation to contest England's predominance in that quarter of the world,
and her every move was watched and checkmated in Downing Street.
At the outbreak of the war, however, and for a decade before, Germany
had given many signs that she had to be reckoned with in any
arrangements in the waters washing the shores of Mesopotamia. And it
soon became apparent that the domination of that part of Turkey was to
be one of the chief spoils of victory. Much has been written about
Germany's territorial ambitions. Much of it is based upon pure
speculation, but publicists in Germany make no disguise of the
Fatherland's desire to win and make a political and economic unit of the
countries now embraced in Germany, Austria-Hungary, Servia, perhaps
Rumania, Bulgaria, and Turkey in Europe and Asia. One has but to take up
the map and outline this aggregation of states and turn to a table of
statistics to realize the enormous advantages and powers of such a unit.
Politically and economically, it would dominate Europe as has no other
power for many generations. Economically and financially, it would be
absolutely independent of the rest of the world, but even if it were
not, no nation or combination of nations could afford to attempt to
isolate it.
CHAPTER LXXXIV
BRITISH CAMPAIGN IN MESOPOTAMIA
It was some such considerations as these working in the minds of the
members of the British Government that impelled them to undertake an
offensive in Mesopotamia almost immediately after the break of relations
with Turkey. But in addition there were two other reasons. Russia feared
a Turkish attack in force in the Caucasus and called to England and
France for a diversion. The Mesopotamia campaign working on the right
flank of the Turkish forces, as a whole, was an ideal operation intended
to draw troops from the Russian frontier. Secondly, the moral effect of
any considerable British success in Mesopotamia, and especially the
capture of Bagdad, was bound to be very great. Bulgaria, Greece, and
Rumania were believed to be waiting for a cue to enter the struggle, and
perhaps turn the scales in the Balkans, while the attitude of the
Mohammedans in the French and British possessions was largely dependent
upon the prestige of those two countries.
Finally, in considering the relative importance of particular campaigns,
observers are likely to lose sight of the tremendous importance of
possession. In law possession is said to constitute nine points. In
warfare, and in diplomacy, which must eventually follow, possession is
even more important. When the plenipotentiaries of the warring nations
gather around the peace table to arrive at a basis of settlement and the
cards are laid on the table, that nation in possession of disputed
territory, whatever may be her military and financial condition, is in a
position to largely influence the terms. Only by the concession of
equivalent advantages or considerations will it be possible to oust her.
How widely this is recognized will be evidenced by the scramble that is
made by each of the warring nations to secure possession of the land
regarded as its particular sphere of influence. This is true of
Mesopotamia, as of many other parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa.
It is evident that the Turkish military authorities were taken somewhat
by surprise by the rapidity with which the British Government in India
perfected their arrangements for an attack upon Mesopotamia. Knowing
that the total British army was extremely limited, it was thought that
France, and possibly Egypt, would absorb British military activity for
some months to come. There was every reason, however, why the British
should not delay the attack upon the shores of Mesopotamia washed by the
Persian Gulf. Running down to the left bank of the Shat-el-Arab to a
point (Abadam) almost directly opposite the Turkish village of Sanijeh
was the enormously important pipe line of the Anglo-Persian Oil Company.
Now this pipe line was one of the main supplies of the British navy
which, with the launching of the newer superdreadnoughts, was becoming
increasingly dependent upon oil instead of coal. So much was this so
that the British admiralty some time before the war bought a controlling
interest in this same Anglo-Persian Oil Company. It was, then, primarily
to protect this fuel supply from a Turkish raid that an early descent
upon the Mesopotamian coast was planned.
On November 7, 1914, the Poona Brigade, composed of white and Indian
troops, under command of Brigadier General W. S. Delamain, appeared off
the Turkish village of Fao, where an antiquated Turkish fort lies amid a
grove of palm trees. Against Persian Gulf pirates it could have put up a
valiant fight, but it was a poor match for the guns of the British
gunboat _Odin_. The defenders fled and the British force sailed up the
Shat-el-Arab. At Sanijeh they effected a landing, intrenched, and
awaited the coming of two additional brigades.
It soon became apparent that the Turks, either because they were not
prepared or because they preferred to make their real stand nearer their
base of supplies, did not intend to offer any serious opposition to the
British advance. They adopted tactics designed to harass and delay the
invaders, however, and on the 11th of November a small force moved out
of Basra and engaged the Indian troops attached to General Delamain's
command. After a sharp action the Turks retired. No further opportunity
was given them to attack in small force, for two days later Lieutenant
General Sir Arthur Barrett arrived at Sanijeh with the Armednagar and
the Belgaum Brigades, both made up of Indian troops with a stiffening of
British regiments.
By November 16, 1914, the whole of the British forces were ashore, and
on the following day at daybreak General Barrett ordered an advance. The
main Turkish forces were located at Sahil, about halfway between Sanijeh
and Basra. The battle was opened by an artillery duel. The British had a
great advantage in the possession of gunboats, upon which had been
mounted guns of considerable caliber. The Turks had selected their
positions with great skill and knowledge, and despite the heavy
artillery preparation, the British troops, when they did advance, were
badly punished. Recent rains had made the ground heavy, almost marshy,
and the entire absence of vegetation gave the Turkish riflemen and
machine-gun crews an excellent chance to work. Slowly the Turks were
forced out of their advance positions, but just as the invaders were
about to take advantage of the retreat of the enemy a curious phenomenon
occurred. Between the advancing British and the retiring Turks a mirage
interposed and effectually screened the movements of the latter. Because
of this and the heavy ground no pursuit was possible.
This action, resulting in the loss of 353 of the British force and an
even larger number of the Turkish troops (estimated by the British at
1,500, but which is almost certainly an exaggeration), decided the fate
of Basra. Some opposition was made to the passage of the British river
expedition, and at one point an unsuccessful attempt was made to block
the passage of the Shat-el-Arab by the sinking of three steamers.
About ten o'clock in the morning of November 22, 1914, the British river
force, after silencing a battery that had been hurriedly erected by the
Turks just below the town, reached Basra, and General Barrett hoisted
the British flag on the German Consulate, the customhouse having been
fired by the retreating Turks. Some time was spent by the invaders at
Basra in preparing a base.
It was not until December 3, 1914, that Lieutenant Colonel Frazer of
General Barrett's force with Indian troops and some of the Second
Norfolks advanced on Kurna, fifty miles above Basra, at a point where
the Tigris empties into the old channel of the Euphrates. Lieutenant
Colonel Frazer's force was accompanied by three gunboats, an armed
yacht, and a couple of armed launches. The troops landed four miles
below the town and intrenched, while the river force moved up and
shelled Kurna. When the troops advanced, it immediately became apparent
that the strength of the Turks had been underestimated and that
Lieutenant Colonel Frazer's force was much too small to dislodge them.
After losing heavily, Frazer ordered a retreat to the intrenchments four
miles down the river, and sent word to Basra for reenforcements.
On December 6, 1914, General Fry appeared with additional troops, and
plans were laid for attacking Kurna on the flank. Just as the scheme was
nearing completion, however, Turkish officers appeared at the English
camp and asked for terms. Conditions were refused, and finally the Turks
laid down their arms.
With the capture of Kurna the British secured control of the delta of
the Euphrates, made impossible any raid upon the Persian Gulf and its
oil supply except in great force, and laid the foundations of an
ambitious campaign against the strategic points of the whole of
Mesopotamia. Elaborate intrenched camps were built at Kurna, and near-by
at Mezera, to await the coming of larger forces and supplies.