IV.

GERMAN GREAT HEADQUARTERS IN FRANCE, Dec. 9.--I have just eaten my way

along the German front in France, for a second visit to the German Great

Headquarters. This week's lunch and dinner "bag" included Gen. von

Heeringen, "the Victor of Saarburg"; Gen. von Emmich, "the Conqueror of

Liége"; Gen. von Zwehl, "the Hero of Maubeuge"; Gen. von Wild, the new

Quartermaster General, who before his appointment fought a twenty-round

draw with the English at Ypres, though he thinks he won on points, and

hosts of coming champions.

It is literally necessary for an American correspondent on this side of

the fence to eat his way to the firing line and back again, for the

German afield is as hospitable as the tented Arab, and, thanks to their

wonderful field telephone service, they "have you." The A.O.K. (Armee

Ober Kommando) telephones to the Corps Kommando that you are on the way,

the Corps Kommando relays the news to the Division Staff, the Division

Staff rings up the Regimental Commander, who 'phones the Battalion or

Battery Chief. To reach the firing line you have to run the gauntlet of

anywhere from three to six meals, and if you happen to be one of those

"amazing Americans" and insist on being shown to an orchestra seat in

the first trench, you will be sure to find some sort of a table spread

for you in the very shadow of death, for their habit of hospitality is

fireproof.

But while robbing war corresponding of all its old-time romance, the

German, gastronomic way has the great advantage of giving you the

maximum of information in the minimum of time and of letting you meet

the masters of modern warfare, the men who have done big things, under

ideal conditions, for over after-dinner coffee and cigars you can and

will--if you are an American--ask the most imprudent questions with the

certainty of getting a good-natured and courteous answer.

Von Emmich makes the most instant appeal to an American. Short and

stockily built and looking every inch a fighter, he gives you the

impression of possessing tremendous, almost Rooseveltian vitality, with

a saving sense of humor. Von Emmich is the General with a winning smile.

He could have been a successful machine politician if he had emigrated

to America instead of remaining in Germany and becoming the most popular

General in the German Army, among the men, for he has the rare gift of

inspiring his followers with a sense of personal loyalty. His troops

idolize him. They break out into hearty hurrahs at the slightest

provocation when they see him. It is lèse-majesté, but none the less

true, to say that they think as much of their General as of their

Kaiser. They tell you proudly that he rode at their head when the City

of Liége was taken by storm, and after seeing him you could never

picture von Emmich bringing up the rear in a motor car, after the manner

that more prudent Generals use. He has iron-gray hair and a bristly,

close-cropped mustache to match, and a very florid complexion, and looks

absolutely unlike the sleek individual whose photograph was published

with his obituary notice in the London press while the forts of Liége

were still "holding out" on paper.

Asked point blank, Gen. von Emmich stoutly and with great good humor

denied that he had ever committed suicide or even contemplated the step.

"But you know, Excellency, that you were reported to have lost something

like 120,000 men before Liége," it was suggested.

"That's three times as many as I had," he answered with the "winning

smile."

Gen. von Emmich will talk quite freely about anything but himself and

military matters, but a few odds and ends were snapped up. It was

interesting to learn that he was in Liége only a day and a half, then

pushed on ahead in the direction of Namur with the bulk of his corps,

leaving only his heavy artillery behind to finish up the remaining

forts. He did not even know that Zeppelins had taken part in the

bombardment of these forts until he heard about it afterward. Later he

turned up at Mons and had a hand in beating the British or expediting

their strategic retreat, according to the point of view. His subsequent

movements and present whereabouts are interesting, but would never pass

the German censor.

"Did you feel proud at being selected to lead the way into Belgium,

Excellency?" I inquired.

"Yes, of course I did," he replied.

"Would you like to lead your corps into England?" For just an instant

what looked very much like the light of battle was in his eye.

"I will go anywhere I am ordered to go--anywhere," he replied with

smiling emphasis.

I was interested to discover that the staff of the Nth Army Corps had

also been racking its brains about quite other than tactical problems

when Gen. von Emmich led the way into the dining room of the very modest

so-called "château" of the French village, where he and his staff were

quartered, and pointed to the extensive but quite mongrel art collection

on the walls. "The absent owner does not appear to have been much of a

connoisseur," he laughed, "That picture over there worried and puzzled

us for a long time," pointing out a large impressionistic canvas over

the mantelpiece representing a nude male and female figure kneeling on

the seashore and looking out over the impressionistic water at what

looked like an island. "Finally my Chief of Staff hit upon a

satisfactory solution, suggested that it represented 'Adam and Eve

Discovering Heligoland.'"

Gen. von Emmich's headquarters produced another interesting story. At 3

P.M. a general alarm was sent out to the reserve troops to prepare for

immediate retreat, as the French were coming. Every bit of baggage was

picked up and loaded on wagons, the infantry in full marching kit lined

up--everything ready in record-breaking time without rush or confusion

to withdraw on the word of command. But no command to march

came--instead a "well done" from the General as he rode down the long

column. It was just a little "fire-alarm drill" to keep the reserve

troops up to the high-water mark of efficiency.

Gen. von Zwehl, nicknamed Zwehl-Maubeuge, is probably almost unknown in

America, though the dark blue enamel maltese cross of the Pour le Merite

order at his throat tags him at once as worth while. Von Zwehl is the

outward antithesis of von Emmich. He looks like anything but a

fighter--a quiet, gentle-looking soul with kind and a bit tired eyes,

soft silverly hair, and a whimsical sense of humor, a gentleman of the

old school. "But you should just see him in the field during a

fight--he's a regular whirlwind," one of his staff said.

He confirmed the fact that Maubeuge had fallen on schedule time in ten

days and that he had taken over 40,000 French prisoners, that he had

given the French commandant till 7 P.M. (German time) to surrender, and

that the appointment was kept with great promptness, also that the

French were a bit chagrined when they learned they had been "taken in"

by a single corps. I also learned that he and his corps had arrived in

time to stop the first English corps which had crossed the Aisne and was

marching on X.

Gen. von Zwehl praised the English troops against whom he had

successfully fought, and who are now in the North, saying, "The English

soldier is a splendid fighter, especially on the defensive." Asked if

the remark of one of his staff that "the English can't attack" was a

fact, von Zwehl said: "I can only speak as far as my own experience

goes, and that is that the English never were able to carry through a

bayonet charge with success against my troops. They came on bravely

enough, but when our troops would open fire on them at 50 yards and

follow it up with a counter attack, the English would invariably go over

into the defensive, at which they are at their best. They are

particularly experienced in 'bush warfare,' and display the utmost skill

in making the most of every bit of cover."

The commanding General confirmed the following gruesome story which one

of his staff officers had told me:

"The English apparently do not bother to bury their dead, but let them

lie. We are still burying English who fell on Sept. 14 and later. We

found and buried two only yesterday. That the abandonment of their dead

is deliberate is indicated by the fact that we have found the bodies of

dead English soldiers in corners and nooks of the approaches to the

English trenches, where the wounded had evidently crawled to die, and

where their comrades must constantly have passed them and seem them."

More Generals were met during a visit to the "office building" of the

Great General Staff in the Great Headquarters. Here, too, I was allowed

to examine the historic room where around a large mahogany table the

chiefs of the staff hold their daily conferences, at which the Kaiser

himself is often present. A huge map of France and a slice of Belgium

covered the table and hung down to the floor on either side. I noted

with interest that it was a French General Staff map. On one wall hung

another map showing the exact location of all the armies in the West.

In the unavoidable absence of the combination Chief of Staff and War

Minister von Falkenhayn, the new Quartermaster General von Wild did the

honors in the long Louis XIV. Room where the Great General Staff eats

together--an interesting sight, for it represents the round-up of the

brains of the German Army. Gen. von Wild, until his promotion, commanded

a division against the English at Ypres and spoke in generous terms of

his opponents.

"The English are excellent fighters," he said. "I have walked over many

of the battlefields in the North--gruesome sights, beyond words to

describe. From what I saw, I am convinced that the English losses have

been much heavier than ours."

Gen. von Wild said that a puzzling and unexplainable feature of these

battlefields was that so many of the dead were found lying on their

backs with rigid arms stretched straight up toward heaven--a ghastly

spectacle.

Here, too, was a German General who knew more about the American Army

than most Americans, the Bavarian General, Zoellner, the great General

Staff's specialist on Americana, and it was interesting to note that, in

spite of its own pressing problems, the General Staff is still taking a

keen interest in those of America and deriving valuable lessons.

"I have been particularly interested in the Mexican troubles," Gen.

Zoellner said. "To my mind, the lesson for America is the need of a

larger standing army. I was particularly impressed by the speed of your

mobilization and your dispatch in landing your expeditionary force at

Vera Cruz. I was also especially interested in your splendid Texas

cavalry division. We have nothing like it in the German Army, because

such a body of men could not be developed in a closely settled country.

You may not know that only a short time before being sent to Mexico the

Texas cavalry had received brand-new drill and exercise instructions,

but in spite of this they acquitted themselves splendidly, showing the

remarkable adaptability of your soldiers.

"In sending your coast artillery as infantry regiments to Mexico you

anticipated us in a rather similar use of our marine divisions on the

coast. The most valuable lesson we have learned from you is typhus

vaccination. This we owe to the American Army. I believe it goes back to

the fact that your Gen. Wood was a medical man before becoming Chief of

Staff."

Gen. Zoellner intimated that the whole German Army either had been or

was being vaccinated against typhoid on the American plan. "And there is

also a very American flavor about our volunteer automobile corps--their

dash and speed they have learned that from you Americans," he concluded.

My previously formed suspicion that the Germans were making war on the

American plan, managing their armies like so many subsidiary companies

of a big trust, was fully confirmed by my second visit to the office of

the Great General Staff. Instead of a picturesque bunch of Generals

spending anxious days and sleepless nights over their maps with faithful

attendants trying to coax them to leave off dispatch writing long enough

to eat a sandwich, I found a live lot of army officials, keeping regular

office hours and taking ample time out for meals. The staff was

quartered in a handsome old municipal building; the ground floor,

devoted to living purposes, quite like an exclusive club; the business

offices upstairs.

Gen. von Haenisch took me aloft and explained to me how business was

done. A good telephone operator, it developed, was almost as important

as a competent General--the telephone "central" the most vital spot of

an army. Here were three large switchboards with soldiers playing

telephone girl, while other soldiers, with receivers fastened over their

heads, sat at desks busy taking down messages on printed "business"

forms. In the next room sat the staff officers on duty, waiting for the

telephone bell to jingle with latest reports from the front. There was

no waiting because numbers were "engaged" or operators gossiping; you

could get Berlin or Vienna without once having to swear at "long

distance." Gen. von Haenisch had his chief of field telephone and

telegraph trot out what looked like a huge family tree, but turned out

to be a most minute chart of the entire telephone system of the --nth

Army. It showed the position of every corps and division headquarters'

regiment, battalion, and company, and all the telephone lines connecting

them, even to the single trenches and batteries.

Gen. von Haenisch suggested having some fun with Gen. von X., commanding

the army next door on the right, and I was made Acting Chief of Staff

for two minutes, getting von X.'s Chief of Staff on the phone and

inquiring if there was "anything doing."

"No; everything quiet here," came the reassuring answer.

An art exhibition within sound of the guns at the front by the

well-known Munich artist, Ernst Vollbehr, the Kaiser's own war painter

with the --nth army, was another real novelty. The long-haired painter,

wearing the regulation field gray uniform, brought his portfolio of

sketches into the billiard hall of the headquarters and showed them with

sprightly running comment:

"Here is the library of Brimont. You can see most of the books lying on

the ground. It wasn't a comfortable place to paint because there were

too many shells flying around loose. Here is the Cathedral of Dinant.

Very much improved aesthetically by the shells knocking the ugly points

of the towers off. Here is a picture of Rheims Cathedral looming through

the fog, as seen from the German lines. I painted this picture of the

battle of the Aisne from a captive balloon. Here is a picture of the

surrender of Maubeuge, showing two of the 40,000 French prisoners. I can

usually paint better during a battle because there's nobody looking on

over my shoulder to distract my attention. I have about 140 sketches

done in all. His Majesty has most of them now, to pick out those he

wants painted. This sketch of a pretty young Frenchwoman is 'Mlle. Nix

zu Macken,' so nicknamed by some sixty-odd hungry but good-natured

Landsturm men quartered in a tavern of a French village, where she was

the only woman left. Every time they made signs indicative of a desire

for food she would laugh and say in near-German, 'Nix zu macken,' and

that's how she got her name."

Painter Vollbehr was authority for the following Kaiser anecdote:

"One day as the Kaiser was motoring along a chaussée he met a herd of

swine under the guardianship of a bearded Landsturm man, who drove them

rapidly to one side to keep them from being prematurely slaughtered by

the imperial auto. As the motor slowed up the Kaiser asked him if he was

a farmer by profession. 'No; professor of the University of Tubingen,'

came the answer, to the great amusement of the Over War Lord."