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[Illustration: cover--THE CHILDREN'S STORY OF THE WAR
By Sir Edward Parrott, M.A., LL.D.]
THE CHILDREN'S STORY OF THE WAR
BY
SIR EDWARD PARROTT, M.A., LL.D.
Author of "Britain Overseas", "The Pageant of English Literature", etc.
VOLUME IV.
The Story of the Year 1915
TORONTO
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, Ltd.
London, Edinburgh, and New York
1916
"_How sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod._
"_By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung:
There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell, a weeping hermit, there!_"
WILLIAM COLLINS
[Illustration: The Sinking of the Bluecher--January 24, 1915.]
CONTENTS.
I. Setting the House in Order 1
II. The Loss of the "Formidable" 17
III. The Battle of the Dogger Bank 23
IV. The Turkish Descent upon Egypt 33
V. Winter Warfare on the Western Front.--I. 44
VI. Winter Warfare on the Western Front.--II. 49
VII. Stories from the Battlefield 58
VIII. The German Success at Soissons 62
IX. Winter Fighting in Champagne, the Argonne,
and the Vosges 65
X. The Submarine Blockade begins 77
XI. The Sinking of the "Lusitania" 81
XII. Stories of Submarines 90
XIII. More Stories of Submarine Warfare 97
XIV. Winter Fighting in Poland and East Prussia 105
XV. A Battle of the Middle Ages 113
XVI. The Fall of Przemysl 117
XVII. Stories from Eastern Battlefields 126
XVIII. The Battle of Neuve Chapelle 129
XIX. Soldiers' Stories of Neuve Chapelle 145
XX. The Dardanelles 157
XXI. Ships _versus_ Forts 161
XXII. How we failed at the Narrows 170
XXIII. The Story of Hill 60 177
XXIV. The Poisonous Cloud 188
XXV. The Battle Glory of Canada 193
XXVI. Days of Struggle and Anxiety.--I. 205
XXVII. Days of Struggle and Anxiety.--II. 209
XXVIII. Heroes of the Ypres Salient 217
XXIX. The Battle of the Artois.--I. 222
XXX. The Battle of the Artois.--II. 225
XXXI. The Battle of Festubert 229
XXXII. The Heroisms of Festubert 237
XXXIII. The Gallipoli Peninsula 241
XXXIV. The Battle of the Landing 245
XXXV. Heroes of the Landing 257
XXXVI. Battering at the Barriers 266
XXXVII. A Splendid Failure 273
XXXVIII. The Storm bursts 289
XXXIX. Stories of the Great Retreat 305
XL. From Storm to Calm 310
XLI. Midsummer on the Western Front 321
XLII. In Champagne 337
XLIII. The Battle of Loos.--I. 347
XLIV. The Battle of Loos.--II. 353
XLV. Bravest of the Brave.--I. 364
XLVI. Bravest of the Brave.--II. 369
XLVII. The War in the Air 377
XLVIII. Heroes of the Air 382
XLIX. The Coming of the Zeppelins 385
L. The Overrunning of Serbia 391
[Illustration:
THE
CHILDREN'S
STORY OF
THE WAR
VOLUME IV]
CHAPTER I.
SETTING THE HOUSE IN ORDER.
In this volume I am going to tell you the story of the war as it
unfolded itself during the year 1915. It was a year of life-and-death
struggle, during which two other nations were swept by the seething
whirlpool into the waters of strife, and eight out of ten persons in the
continent of Europe were living under war conditions. It was a year
during which the three greatest empires of the world, and seven other
Powers, fought fierce and bitter combats on five different battle fronts
in Europe alone. It was a year in which some millions of men fell on the
stricken field, and yet the issue of the vast and terrible struggle
remained undecided.
It was a year in which the Allies, who were quite unready when war was
forced upon them, strained every nerve to set their military houses in
order; to enlist and train for the field their reserves of manhood; and
to furnish themselves with those weapons and munitions in which they
were deficient. It was a year in which millions of hard-earned money
were spent every day, and the combatants piled up mountains of debt for
future generations to pay off.
It was a year during which the Allies had good cause to thank God for
the long years of peaceful industry which had given Britain great
riches, and for the splendid navy which maintained for her the freedom
of the seas. Britain's vast reserves of wealth enabled her to raise
plentiful money for carrying on the war, and thanks to her navy her
merchant ships were able to carry the products of her mines, mills, and
factories to other lands. Great Britain alone of all the combatants was
thus able to produce wealth in time of war, and to assist her
sorely-hampered friends with timely loans.
[Illustration: The Modern Pied Piper.
(_From the picture by A. C. Michael. By permission of The Illustrated
London News._)
You remember Browning's poem about the Pied Piper who drew the children
after him by the magic of his music. This picture shows the pipers of a
Highland regiment drawing men after them to the recruiting offices. "I
rejoice in my Empire's effort," said the King, "and I feel pride in the
voluntary response of my subjects all over the world. . . . The end is
not in sight. More men and yet more are wanted to keep my armies in the
field, and through them to secure Victory and enduring Peace."]
During 1915 the British nation for the first time began to organize
itself for warfare on a vast scale. It found itself forced to raise an
army thirty times as great as it had ever marshalled before, and to
equip millions of men with every weapon known to the science of war.
Moreover, it had to do this while the small forces which it had already
placed in the field were struggling to maintain themselves against
terrible odds. It was a work that called for every ounce of energy and
determination that the Empire possessed, and it could never have been
done at all had not the British people, as a whole, given willing
support to their leaders.
The year was not many months old when it became evident that we could
not hope to hold the enemy in check and drive him from his strongly
fortified trenches unless we had an almost unlimited supply of big guns
and high explosive shells. Early in the struggle the French had set
their gun and ammunition factories working at high pressure, and they
had taken good care that they should be fully manned with skilled
workmen. Britain, on the other hand, had far too small a number of
factories for manufacturing the vast supplies of war material which she
needed, and many of her skilled workmen had been allowed to enlist and
proceed to the front.
Committees were formed to organize all the workshops in the country
capable of making weapons and ammunition, and vast supplies of machine
tools, guns, and shells were ordered from the United States and Canada.
While this was being done, a strong feeling gained ground that the
government of the country should no longer be in the hands of a
particular political party, but should be composed of the best men of
all parties in the State. In May a National Government was set up, and a
minister was appointed to devote himself wholly and entirely to the
business of speeding up the production of munitions by every possible
means in his power. Mr. Lloyd-George filled this post, and forthwith
flung himself with great zeal and energy into the work. His first duty
was to convince the nation of the great and crying need for more
munitions. He pleaded with workmen to realize the danger, and to ally
themselves with brothers in the trenches by working early and late and
at the very top of their energy. Great posters appeared all over the
country, showing a soldier and a workman clasping hands. Behind the one
was a battery of big guns, and behind the other the smoking chimneys of
a munition factory. Above was the legend, "We're both needed to serve
the guns," and beneath the cry, "Fill up the ranks! Pile up the
munitions!"
Unhappily, even in this time of great national danger, there were labour
troubles. Masters and men quarrelled about rates of wages and hours of
work, while their sons and brothers were dying at the front for lack of
shells with which to keep down the fierce bombardment of the enemy. Not
until laws were passed preventing masters from making undue profits out
of the nation's needs, and punishing workmen who kept bad time, was the
strife allayed. The Trade Unions were persuaded to relax their rules,
and gradually most of the difficulties were removed. Slowly but steadily
the supply of arms and ammunition increased, until in the latter part of
the year the shortage was overtaken, and it was possible to meet the
enemy on more than equal terms. A well-known public man who visited the
trenches in November was able to say, "For every shell which the Germans
throw to-day, we are throwing five." "Mr. Lloyd-George's compliments,"
said a British gunner to the shell, as he closed the breech of his gun,
"and there's plenty more where that came from."
Britain had not only to supply the needs of her own army and navy, but
to help her Allies as well. Before the year was half over, the Russian
supply of rifles and shells almost gave out. Russia, as you know, is far
more an agricultural than an industrial country. She has no great number
of machine shops that can be turned into munition factories, nor has she
anything like the number of skilled workmen required to furnish her with
the enormous supplies of war material which she needs. In May, when the
Germans brought against her a tremendous force of artillery and machine
guns, her shortage was so great that she could not resist, and was
obliged to make a long retreat from Poland and Galicia. Many of her
recruits had no rifles at all, and at one time the artillery of her
Second Army could only reply to the incessant fire of the enemy with two
shells a day!
The Russians strove manfully to increase their supply of munitions, and
Great Britain and Japan gave them much help. By November they had
increased their supplies to such an extent that they were able not only
to resist the enemy, but to attack him. Some idea of the spirit shown by
the Russian munition workers may be obtained from the following message
which was found written on an ammunition box: "Do not spare the shells;
there are plenty more coming, comrades. We are working hard to keep you
supplied. Cheer up!"
Poor little Serbia had all along to struggle against a great lack of war
supplies. Her factories were never able to give her more than a tithe of
her needs. You will remember that, but for the ammunition which the
Allies sent to her in December 1914, she could not have driven the
Austrians from her country. In December 1915, when the Serbian army was
driven into Albania,[1] it became entirely dependent for food and
supplies upon Britain, France, and Italy.
Great Britain had not only to produce weapons and other munitions for
herself and her friends, but she had to enlist and train more and more
men to fill up her ranks and to repair the wastage of war. While every
other nation engaged in the struggle could force men to serve in the
army, she alone used no compulsion, but left each man to decide for
himself whether he would take up arms or remain in civil life. Great
efforts were made to persuade sound men of military age to join the
army. Every blank wall was covered with posters calling upon men to
serve their king and country, and recruiting meetings were as the sands
of the sea for number. But though the response was wonderful, it was
felt that some better method of securing men was needed. Many people
thought that all suitable men should be compelled to serve, but the
Government was reluctant to change the system which had served the
country's needs so well in former times.
[Illustration: The Minister of Munitions introducing the Munitions Bill
in the House of Commons, June 23, 1915.
_From the drawing by S. Begg._
"Three millions of young men have offered their services for their
country; it depends upon us at home to support them with skill,
strength, and every resource of machinery and organization at our
disposal, so as to drive the conviction into the heart of nations for
all time to come that those governments who deceive their neighbours to
their ruin do so at their peril."]
At the end of June a law was passed which enabled the Government to
discover exactly what resources of men and women the country contained.
All persons, male and female, between the ages of fifteen and sixty-five
were required to fill up a form stating their names and ages, the number
of those who were dependent on them, whether or no they were married,
and what was the nature of their occupation. Early in October Lord
Derby, who had shown great energy in raising recruits in Lancashire, was
appointed Director of Recruiting for the whole country, and speedily he
put forward a new plan for bringing in men. The registration forms were
sorted out; those men who were engaged in Government work were
"starred"--that is, they were not to be considered as available for the
army--and the names of all other men between the ages of nineteen and
forty-one were placed on cards, which were handed over to joint
committees of the political parties, in order that a great national
canvass might be conducted.
The canvassers used all their powers of persuasion to get men of
military age and sound health to enlist in one or other of forty-six
"groups," which were arranged according to the ages of the men, and
whether they were married or unmarried. Men were permitted to enlist in
their respective groups, and remain in civil life until their own
particular group was called up. Courts were set up, before which
enlisted men could appear and ask to be "starred" or transferred to some
later class. Only those persons without whose services the business of
the country could not be properly carried on could claim to be
"starred." While the canvass was in progress the Government gave notice
that unmarried men would be called up before married men, and that if
the unmarried men did not come forward in sufficient numbers, they would
be compelled to do so. The canvass was successful--it resulted in the
enrolment of very many recruits; but whether compulsion could be staved
off by this system remained to be seen. Late in November it was said
that Britain would have four million men in arms by the following March.
Money, as you know, is "the sinews of war." Without money, and a great
deal of it, armies and navies cannot be arrayed, or kept in the field.
The British Empire, according to the statement of the Prime Minister,
has a yearly income of £4,000,000,000. This sum is vast, but so was the
cost of the war. In March we were spending five millions of money a day.
If you work out a little sum, you will see that one year of war at this
rate uses up not far short of half the total money earned in a year by
the whole British Empire. Of course, in war time the Empire cannot
produce as much wealth as it can in times of peace. Large numbers of men
are taken away from their work, and, instead of being producers, they
have to be kept and fed by the nation. Thousands of factories are
engaged in making war material for the Government, and they do not,
therefore, add to the national wealth at all. Our overseas trade falls
off greatly, because we need many of our merchant ships for transport
and supply, because we cannot produce such large quantities of goods for
export, and because we cannot trade with enemy countries at all.
In time of peace the goods which we get from other countries are paid
for by the goods which we send to them, by the money which we receive
from foreigners for carrying goods to all parts of the world, and by the
interest which comes to us from money which we have invested abroad.
Usually these three items not only pay for our imports, but give us a
large profit as well. In time of war, however, we are in quite a
different position.
At all times we must import much material from abroad. We are always
obliged to import the greater part of our food and the raw materials for
our factories. During the present war we have also been obliged to
import large quantities of machinery and munitions from the United
States. Our imports of goods always exceed our exports of goods in
value, but in time of war the imports soar up to a great height, while
the exports sink. For example, the excess of imports over exports during
the first nine months of 1914 was 99 millions, while for the same period
of 1915 it was 256 millions.
Thus you see that, while the war lasts, our exports, the profits on our
shipping trade, and the interest which we receive from foreign
investments are not sufficient to pay for our imports. In order to make
up the balance, we must either draw on our national savings or run into
debt. If we draw on our savings, we shall have so much the less money
left for the expenses of the war. If we run largely into debt, we shall
find ourselves heavily burdened when the day of peace arrives.
By the end of May the Government was seriously considering the
all-important question of money, and before long was urging on the
people the necessity of being as thrifty as possible, and of saving
every penny that they possibly could. Speakers went to and fro pointing
out that householders must avoid waste and stint themselves of foreign
goods if the nation was to have sufficient money with which to carry on
a long war. Those who saved money, and gave up the use of such things as
had to be imported from abroad, were doing a patriotic service, and were
casting the "silver bullets" with which the war was to be won. In many
thousands of homes these wise words were taken to heart; but, on the
other hand, many people who were earning high wages showed but little
desire to save. Something was also done to lessen the enormous sums
wasted on strong drink in this country every year, by restricting the
hours during which public-houses might be kept open, and by confining
the sale of spirits to certain fixed times. The King set a splendid
example, which was largely followed, by banishing strong drink from his
table altogether.
Probably you think that all this talk about exports and imports, and the
necessity for saving, is very dull, and you are eager to hear of
stirring deeds by land and sea. We shall come to them in good time; but
I must claim a little more of your patience before I begin the story of
the year's fighting. Always remember that when the money which a nation
possesses, or can borrow, gives out, it must cease to fight, and must
make peace with its foes. That nation wins which has money to continue
the struggle when the resources of its opponents are exhausted.
How do we obtain money with which to carry on the war? There is only one
place where it can come from, and that is from the pockets of the
British people. In time of peace the money for carrying on the
government is raised by various kinds of taxes. People with incomes
above a certain sum per year have to pay to the Government so much money
for every pound which they earn or receive from investments. Those who
have a lesser income do not pay what is called income tax, but you must
not suppose that they go scot free. Spirits, beer, tea, coffee, tobacco,
sugar, cocoa, dried fruits, and other things have to pay a duty--that
is, a certain sum is added to their price, and this sum goes to the
Government.
In time of war, when the expenses of the Government are much greater
than they are in time of peace, the old taxes are raised and new taxes
are imposed. In September 1915, for example, the taxes were raised some
40 per cent. Money is also raised from the savings of the people. They
are asked to lend money to the State at a certain rate of interest, with
the promise that the sum which they lend shall be paid back again in
full at the end of a certain period. Of course, this interest has also
to be provided by the taxpayers. Three hundred and fifty million pounds
were borrowed in November 1914, but by June 1915 it was found necessary
to borrow more money, and a loan of nearly six hundred millions--"far
and away beyond any amount ever subscribed in the world's history"--was
placed at the disposal of the Government. One feature of this loan was
the attempt to get persons of small means to participate in it. Vouchers
for 5s., 10s., and £1 were issued, and working men, and even school
children, were encouraged to buy them. Unfortunately only about five
millions were raised in this way, and later in the year other
arrangements were made, in the hope of bringing in more money from the
savings of the working classes. In September the people of the United
States lent the British and French Governments one hundred millions, and
this money was used to pay for some of the munitions and other things
which we were buying from America.
* * * * *
War brought about many changes in our national life. We became a soberer
people, and we refrained largely from those sports which are so dear to
us in time of peace. Expensive entertainments were frowned upon,
holidays were shortened or given up altogether, and many men beyond the
military age spent their annual weeks of leisure in munition or farm
work. Special constables were enrolled to take the place of the police
who had joined the colours, and volunteer corps sprang up everywhere.
[Illustration: Women's Volunteer Reserve on a Route March in London.
_Photo, Alfieri._]
From the moment the war began, British women played a noble part. Not
only did thousands of them qualify as nurses, and offer their services
in the hospitals at home and abroad, but many of them became munition
workers, ticket collectors, tram conductors, motor-car drivers, farm
servants, and letter carriers. In every town and village there were work
parties busily engaged in making socks, mufflers, mittens, etc., for the
men in the trenches or for the wounded in the hospitals. The neglected
art of knitting wonderfully revived, and women were seen plying the
needles everywhere, in trams and trains, or at lectures and concerts.
When the Germans first used poison gas against our troops, and the War
Office asked for half a million respirators, wagon-loads of them arrived
the next day. Girls' schools, women's societies, groups of friends and
families buckled to, and in a remarkably short time the War Office was
able to announce that no more respirators were needed.
Thousands of charitable societies made appeals for almost every war
purpose imaginable. There were flag days in every town, and singers,
actors, and lecturers gave their services in every good cause. The
British Red Cross Society received the most generous support, while the
many Belgian refugees in Britain were carefully tended, and, wherever
possible, provided with work. Money was freely given by the public in
every part of the Empire to set up hospitals and send nurses, doctors,
and ambulances to France, Belgium, Russia, and Serbia; and even wounded
horses were not neglected. One notable gift announced towards the end of
November was the sum of £10,000 sent by the Canadian Government to
assist in the upkeep of the Anglo-Russian hospital. In Great Britain
many country houses were offered as hospitals and convalescent homes,
and on the great sporting estates game was shot for the sick and
wounded. Children gathered apples for the men of the Fleet, worked in
the fields for short-handed farmers, and collected eggs and sphagnum
moss[2] for the hospitals. There was no lack of ready and willing
helpers for every good cause.
At this time of stress and anxiety the British nation learned the noble
art of giving. There was scarcely a British household in the world which
did not practise some self-denial in order to be able to send small
luxuries and comforts to the men at the front, or much-needed help to
the prisoners in Germany. Remote cottages in the Highlands of Scotland,
lonely farms in the North-West of Canada, outlying homesteads in
Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa were thus linked together by
the same generous impulse.
[Illustration: Queen Elizabeth of Belgium visiting a Hospital.
(_Photo, Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd._)
Queen Elizabeth is patron of the Belgian Field Hospital, to which the
readers and friends of _The Children's Story of the War_ have presented
a motor ambulance.]
While I am speaking of the noble way in which our people, far from the
din of strife, ministered to the gallant men who were fighting their
battles, I must not neglect the small but very useful effort made by the
readers of these pages and their friends. While our third volume was in
the course of serial issue, it was suggested that our readers should
combine in some practical work of war charity. Then came the questions,
Whom shall we help? and, How shall we help?
It was well known that the story of how poor little Belgium had been set
upon by the great bully, Germany, and how her gallant sons had fought
and suffered and died for us, had strongly moved the hearts of children.
For this reason it was decided that the Belgian soldiers who were still
struggling bravely, in the last bit of their native land that was left
to them, should be assisted. They were terribly poor, and they had no
money with which to set up hospitals and buy ambulances for their
wounded. A number of devoted British doctors and nurses had established
a hospital for the Belgian soldiers who had been stricken down in
battle. Their hospital--the Belgian Field Hospital--was the only one on
a proper footing which was caring for the wounded soldiers of our noble
little ally. What better and finer work could we do than set about
collecting money to provide this hospital with a motor ambulance?
As soon as the object of our effort was decided upon, a letter was
written to her Majesty the Queen, asking her to permit the motor
ambulance to be named after Prince George, to whom these pages are
dedicated. The Queen, who nobly devotes herself to every good work, was
graciously pleased to express her warm interest in our effort, and to
permit us to inscribe Prince George's name on the ambulance. Then an
appeal was printed and inserted in successive parts of _The Children's
Story of the War_.
[Illustration: The "Prince George" Motor Ambulance.
Our readers will be gratified to see this photograph of the ambulance
which they and their friends have presented to the Belgian Field
Hospital. It is a 15.9 Whitlock Motor Ambulance Express, specially
constructed for field service, and can be adapted either to carry four
stretcher cases, or two stretcher cases and four sitting cases, or may
be used as an omnibus for eight persons. Its cost complete with four
stretchers is £418.]
The appeal was issued on 4th September, and on 6th September money began
to flow in. Our first contribution came from Prince George. Collecting
papers were returned from every part of the United Kingdom and Canada,
and even from Ferrol in Spain, and from the West Indies. Most of the
money consisted of the pence and halfpence of the children themselves.
An infant school in a very poor part of London sent 298 farthings as its
contribution, while a school of poor little blind children sent a sum
which represented much self-denial. Day-school and Sunday-school
collections were taken up; one generous vicar gave a church offertory in
aid of the fund; lectures were delivered to help it, and on no single
day for many weeks did the tide of money cease to flow. Many of our
collectors wrote letters expressing their pleasure at being able to
help, and sending us best wishes for the success of the scheme. When it
is stated that £450 were raised by more than 11,000 subscribers, it will
be seen how small the individual contributions must have been.
Towards the end of November sufficient money was in hand to warrant us
in offering an ambulance to the Committee of the Belgian Field
Hospital. The following reply was received:--
"_I am directed by Lord Sydenham and the Committee of the
Belgian Field Hospital to thank you most cordially for your
splendid efforts, which have met with so much success, in
raising funds to provide this hospital with a motor ambulance.
We most gratefully accept the gift._"
[Illustration: The "Prince George" Motor Ambulance. Interior arranged
for four Stretcher Cases.]
Lord Sydenham, the president of the hospital, also wrote a special
letter of thanks, in which he said, "_It is splendid of the readers of
'The Children's Story of the War' to have subscribed so large a sum._"
Our warmest thanks are due to all who have in any way helped to make the
scheme a success. We know that we shall have the unspoken gratitude of
many wounded Belgians; but we did not set about this work in order to
win gratitude. We wanted to be a real help to those who have helped us.
We know in our hearts that we have done a little act of mercy and
kindness, and that is a reward which we are all entitled to enjoy.
[Footnote 1: Wild and mountainous country of the Balkans to the west of
Serbia, with its coast on the Adriatic Sea.]
[Footnote 2: Sphagnum or bog moss occurs in large patches of a pale
green or reddish colour on moors, and sometimes fills up small lakes or
pools. The growth of bog moss has played a large part in the formation
of peat. There are many varieties of bog moss, and some of them have now
been put to practical use in our field hospitals.
The story of the discovery of the properties of the moss is interesting.
One day in a peat moss litter works some distance from Kiel a worker met
with a serious injury. There were no appliances to deal with the case at
the works, but the men did the best they could. They took a quantity of
the article which they manufactured, peat moss litter, and laying it on
the wounds tied bandages over it. The injured man was then conveyed to
Kiel, and taken to a hospital. When the doctors undid the bandages, and
found the dirty-looking moss litter in the wound, they were horrified,
and declared that the injured limb would have to be cut off. Very soon,
however, their horror gave way to surprise, and they said, "Ah, here is
something which we do not know about!" They found that, far from the
poisoning which they had expected, the injury had been beautifully
cleaned by the rude dressing, and had actually begun to heal. With
German thoroughness, they made further experiments, and so "discovered"
sphagnum moss from the surgeon's point of view.]
CHAPTER II.
THE LOSS OF THE "FORMIDABLE."
The new year opened with a naval disaster. On 31st December eight
vessels of the Channel Fleet left Sheerness for a cruise in the English
Channel, and by three o'clock on the morning of 1st January were
crossing the fishing-ground not far from the Start Lighthouse. The ships
were steaming at a moderate speed and in a single line, the rearmost
ship being the _Formidable_, a pre-Dreadnought of 15,000 tons, and a
sister ship to the _Bulwark_, which had been mysteriously blown up at
Sheerness in the preceding November. The sea was rough, the moon was
shining brightly, and a cold, piercing wind was blowing.
Soon after three o'clock the dull roar of an explosion was heard on the
starboard side of the _Formidable_, and was followed shortly afterwards
by another. The ship shook from stem to stern, and a cloud of black
smoke and coal dust arose. She had been struck fore and aft by two
torpedoes discharged by a German submarine. At once she began to list
heavily to starboard; there were gaping holes in her side, and it was
evident that she could not remain afloat very long.
There was not the slightest sign of panic on board the doomed ship.
Captain Loxley, one of the ablest of our younger sailors, was on the
bridge, setting an example to his crew of cool courage and utter
forgetfulness of self. The water-tight doors were closed, the men were
piped to quarters, and telephone bells were set ringing all over the
ship to give warning of danger. Captain Loxley might easily have called
upon his consorts to come to his rescue, but he knew that the submarine
which had discharged the fatal torpedoes was still lurking hard by; so
he signalled to his sister ships, "Stand off; submarines about."
A bugle rang out, and the men below sprang from their hammocks and
rushed upon deck, some of them only half clad. They fell into rank on
the sloping deck, and Captain Loxley gave his orders as calmly as though
his ship were riding at anchor in harbour. He was smoking a cigarette,
and his favourite old terrier Bruce was standing by his side. He was
heard to say: "Steady, men; it's all right. No panic; keep cool; _be
British_." Everything of wood that might help the men in the water was
flung overboard, and finally the captain gave the order, "Every man for
himself!" A survivor saw him standing with folded arms as the ship went
down.
[Illustration: Captain Loxley giving his Last Order as the "Formidable"
went down.
(_From the picture by C. M. Padday. By permission of The Illustrated
London News._)]
As the _Formidable_ was listing badly to starboard, it was not possible
to launch boats on the port side. Owing to the rough sea a cutter was
stove in; but the men stuffed their jumpers into the hole, and bailed
out the water with their boots. A barge fell perpendicularly from the
davits, and threw the crew into the sea. Meanwhile, the stokers had
drawn all the fires and had shut off steam, so that when the ship went
down there was no boiler explosion. By this time it was clear that all
could not be saved. Many of the crew knew that their last hour had come.
One of the survivors thus described the scene on the decks as the
_Formidable_ sank into the waves:--
"On one part of the ship where the men could see there was no
hope, all eyes were turned upward to the flagstaff, and then the
Old Jack was saluted for the last time. The last impression of
the scene left on my mind was a long line of saluting figures
disappearing below the sky-line. At least half of the men got
clear of the ship, but many must have been lost while waiting
for rescue. It was almost dark at the time, and the water was
icy cold."
* * * * *
Let me tell you how a bluejacket nobly gave his life for another as the
ship was sinking. You shall hear the story in the words of the man who
owed his life to his comrade's splendid generosity. "When everything had
been done to save the _Formidable_, the boats came alongside and took
off as many as possible. There were five boats, and two were swamped.
All the boats had left the ship when the crew of one cried, 'Room for
one more.' Two of us tossed for it, and the other chap won; but he said,
'You have got parents; I haven't. Go on--jump for it.' I did so. I had
to swim for it, but I was saved."
The men in the leaking cutter, after being tossed and buffeted by the
sea, drenched to the skin by the waves, and numbed by the bitter wind,
were picked up by the Brixham fishing smack _Providence_ about fifteen
miles from Berry Head. The _Providence_, which was owned and skippered
by William Pillar, was running before the gale to Brixham for shelter,
but off the Start found herself obliged to heave to owing to the force
of the wind. Just then one of the crew noticed a cutter tossing under
the lee. An oar had been hoisted, and from it a sailor's scarf was
flying as a signal of distress.
The cutter was drifting towards the smack, and every now and then was
lost to sight amidst the heaving waves. Four times did the gallant
smacksmen try to get a rope to the boat, while the skipper at the helm
manoeuvred his little vessel with great skill. At last a small warp was
thrown from the smack, and was caught by the men on board the cutter. By
means of the capstan the rope was hauled in, and the cutter was brought
up on the lee. The rescued sailors jumped on board; but even in the act
of doing so they were in great peril, for the seas at times were rising
thirty feet above the deck of the smack. The work of rescue occupied
half an hour. Seventy-one men, including two officers, were thus saved.
All were on board the smack by one o'clock, and a course was shaped for
Brixham. Before long the _Providence_ fell in with a tug, which took her
in tow and brought her safely to harbour. The residents of Brixham gave
blankets, coats, and boots to the survivors, and provided them with
comfortable quarters. Many of the men were utterly exhausted. For hours
they had been battling with the heavy winter seas, which had almost
continuously washed over them, and they had hoped against hope until the
brown sails of the _Providence_ had providentially come in sight.
One of the _Formidable's_ boats came unaided to the shore. After tossing
about for twenty-two hours in a raging sea, it drifted with the tide
into Lyme Regis, with forty men on board. Nine of her crew had died of
exposure, and had been buried at sea. A light cruiser also picked up
some of the _Formidable's_ men; but when the final reckoning was made,
only 201 had been saved out of a ship's company of well-nigh 800 souls.
* * * * *
The splendid seamanship of Skipper Pillar, and the great courage and
devotion of his crew, greatly impressed the country. On 8th February he
and his men attended at Buckingham Palace, where the King pinned the
silver medal for gallantry on their breasts, and handed them the money
rewards which had been bestowed upon them by the Admiralty. The King
addressed them in the following words:--
"I congratulate you most heartily on your gallant and heroic
conduct. It is indeed a great feat to have saved seventy-one
lives. I realize how difficult your task must have been, because
I know myself how arduous it is to gybe[3] a vessel in a heavy
gale."
Amongst the crew of the _Providence_ was Daniel Taylor, an apprentice.
In reply to the King, he said that he had been at sea for just over
twelve months, and that he was seventeen years of age. The King
observed, "You are small for your age, but you have taken part in a very
gallant deed, and I congratulate you." Some time later, Skipper Pillar
was given a commission in the Royal Navy.
* * * * *
I must not close this account of the disaster without dwelling for a
moment upon the manner in which Captain Loxley went down with his ship.
The history of the British navy is full of stories of cool, calm courage
and selfless devotion in the face of death; and it is good to know that
the sailors of our Navy are as true as ever to the spirit of those who
built up its glorious fame in years gone by. On the very verge of doom,
when men's courage is apt to fail them, Captain Loxley showed no sign of
flinching. In his last moments he thought only of others. He strove
manfully to save as many of his crew as possible, and he refused to
endanger the lives of his comrades in the sister ships by calling them
to his aid. He went to his death like the gallant gentleman that he was;
and his last appeal, not only to his crew, but to you and me, was, "_Be
British!_"
How kind and thoughtful he was to others is seen from the following
letter, which he wrote to his old nurse just before leaving
Sheerness:--
"H.M.S. _Formidable_.
"My dear old Nan Nan,--I'm afraid that my Christmas present will
be a bit late. I meant to have sent it off yesterday, but
forgot. Anyhow, I hope it will arrive safely. My very best love
and best wishes to you and William for Christmas and the New
Year, and may we soon beat the Germans.
"We are having really quite a quiet time, but you never know
when anything may happen. I was out at Malta when war began, but
soon came home. Had three days' leave, and then came to this
ship, where I am likely to remain for the present.
"Peter [his son] has gone to school, and is just home for his
first holiday, which I expect he is enjoying just as much as I
did; but he was much braver going to school than I was. Every
one seems well at Gloucester, but I have only seen mother once,
for about ten minutes, during the last two years. With much
love, yours lovingly, Noel Loxley."
One word more before I pass from this tragic story. The loss of the
_Formidable_ clearly showed that the lessons taught by the sinking of
the _Cressy_, _Hogue_, and _Aboukir_ had not been learned. Our Navy had
not yet fully appreciated the fact that the only way to avoid the peril
of the enemy submarines is for battleships to steam at high speed,
frequently changing their course, and always accompanied by a flotilla
of guardian destroyers. The eight ships that sailed down the Channel on
the first day of the year 1915 steamed slowly in the bright light of the
moon. They were thus a good target for the enemy's submarines, and were,
indeed, courting disaster. As the year went by the Navy learned its
lesson, and learned it well. Before many months had passed our sailors
were more than a match for the under-water boats of the enemy, and the
time was soon to arrive when the German submarines were fearlessly
hunted and constantly trapped.
[Footnote 3: To change from one tack to the other without going about;
to shift a fore-and-aft sail from one side to the other when the wind is
aft or on the quarter.]
CHAPTER III.
THE BATTLE OF THE DOGGER BANK.
Up to the 24th of January 1915 squadrons of the German High Sea Fleet
had adventured four times into the North Sea. The first occasion was on
28th August, 1914, when the Battle of Heligoland Bight was fought, and
the enemy lost three cruisers and two destroyers. On 17th October a
squadron of German destroyers was encountered off the Dutch coast by a
similar British squadron, and before long four of the enemy ships were
sent to the bottom of the sea. Twice afterwards the enemy, greatly
daring, left his fortified harbours and mine-fields; but on such
occasions his object was not to fight, but to dodge the British fleet,
and inflict "frightfulness" on more or less undefended coast towns. On
3rd November he shelled Yarmouth beach; but was very uneasy during his
ineffective attack, and scuttled homewards immediately he was warned
that a British fleet was after him. Even on this occasion he did not
escape without loss: the cruiser _Yorck_ ran on a German mine, and was
sunk. This raid was followed by the attack on Scarborough, Whitby, and
the Hartlepools, which I described at length in Chapter XXXV. of our
third volume.
Elated by their success in killing the defenceless townsfolk of
unprotected towns, the Germans now prepared for another dash across the
North Sea. We do not know exactly what their object was. Some tell us
that an attack was to be made on the Tyne or the Forth; others say that
the enemy hoped to get one or more of his battle cruisers round the
north of Scotland, so that they might prey on British commerce. Whatever
the object may have been, Rear-Admiral Hipper, who was in command of the
Battle Cruiser Squadron detailed for the work, knew that he would
probably have to meet a British fleet. If so, he intended to run for
home without delay, and to lure the British ships into a trap. He
enlarged the minefield north of Heligoland, and gathered there a large
force of submarines. He fondly believed that he could entice our
vessels into this dangerous area, where his submarines, together with
the seaplanes and Zeppelins which were in readiness on the island, would
make short work of them. Such was his plan. We are now to see how it
failed.
The night of Saturday, the 23rd, was foggy, and our destroyers scouting
east of the Dogger Bank tossed all night on the waves, scarcely able to
pierce the gloom for a hundred yards around them. Sunday morning,
however, dawned sharp and clear; the wind had changed to the north-east,
and had swept the mists from the seas. About seven in the morning the
light cruiser _Aurora_ sighted the German squadron off the Dogger. At
once she signalled the news to Admiral Beatty, and opened fire.
* * * * *
The German squadron which the _Aurora_ had sighted consisted of the
_Seydlitz_ (which flew the flag of Rear-Admiral Hipper), the _Moltke_,
the _Derfflinger_, the _Bluecher_, together with six light cruisers and
a flotilla of destroyers. The first three of the vessels named had a
speed of nearly 27 knots, and were armed with either 12-inch or 11-inch
guns. The _Bluecher_ was an older and much slower vessel; she could
steam 24 knots, and her main armament consisted of 8.2-inch guns. It was
clear that in a chase she would have to be left behind, and thus would
fall a prey to the enemy.
To meet this force, Admiral Beatty had under his command the great
battle cruisers _Lion_, _Tiger_, _Princess Royal_, and _New Zealand_;
together with the _Indomitable_, four cruisers of the "town" class--the
_Southampton_, the _Nottingham_, the _Birmingham_, and the _Lowestoft_;
three light cruisers--the _Arethusa_, the _Aurora_, and the _Undaunted_;
as well as two destroyer flotillas. His squadron was superior to that of
the Germans in numbers, speed, and weight of fire.
* * * * *
The Dogger Bank, off which the Germans were sighted, is a great shoal
almost midway between England and Denmark, and extending to within forty
miles of the Yorkshire coast. Its length from north to south is about
160 miles, its breadth is 70 miles, and the average depth of water over
it varies from ten to twenty fathoms.[4] South of the Dogger is a second
and smaller shoal, known as the Well Bank. Still further south are
deeps, such as the "Silver Pit," where the depth is as much as
forty-five fathoms.
The Dogger is the chief fishing ground of the North Sea. During the
winter the waters above it are alive with trawlers, all engaged in
reaping the rich harvest of the waters. Immense quantities of halibut,
soles, turbot, brill, plaice, cod, haddock, and whiting are taken,
packed in boxes--to be carried off by fish-cutters to the ports, or
stored in ice until the trawler is ready to return home. Somewhere near
the Dogger, probably on its north-eastern edge, the Germans were
encountered. The naval battle which followed was not the first to be
fought near the great shoal. In 1781 an English and a Dutch fleet met in
these waters, and struggled fiercely; but the action was undecided, and
the Dutch claimed a victory.
* * * * *
When the _Aurora_ opened fire, Admiral Beatty's squadron, which was not
far away, steered in the direction of the gun flashes. Immediately the
German scouting cruisers perceived that a British squadron was after
them they turned tail and fled to the south-east. Hipper did not wait to
discover the strength of his opponents, but took to his heels at once.
This seems to show that his real object was to lure the British ships
into the position which he had prepared for them, and there engage them
on his own terms. There were 120 miles of open sea to be crossed before
the mine-fields were reached.
When the signal was made, "Seven enemy ships--four battle cruisers and
three cruisers with destroyers--to the south-west," there was fierce
glee on board the British ships. Every man was agog for the fight; all
were eager to avenge the women and children who had been murdered so
brutally at Scarborough and the Hartlepools. Every gun was manned with
men who had vengeance in their hearts, and down below the "black squad"
were striving with all their might to get every knot possible out of
their engines. A commander was heard to remark, "One would think this
was a game of football, the boys are enjoying it so much." The _Lion_
and _Tiger_ were soon racing ahead at thirty knots an hour, and were
leaving the less speedy _Princess Royal_ and _New Zealand_ behind. At
eight o'clock the situation was as follows: the Germans were moving
south-east in line, with the _Moltke_ leading; followed by the
_Seydlitz_ and the _Derfflinger_, the _Bluecher_ bringing up the rear.
Their destroyers were on the starboard beam, and their light cruisers
ahead. Close upon them were the British destroyers and the light
cruisers, which now crossed to the port side in order that their smoke
might not hide the big German ships from the British gunners. The
_Lion_, _Tiger_, _Princess Royal_, _New Zealand_, and _Indomitable_ did
not follow directly behind the German ships, lest the enemy should throw
out mines, but held on a parallel course to the westward.
By nine o'clock the _Lion_ was within 11½ miles of the _Bluecher_. She
fired a shot which fell short, but when the squadrons were ten miles
apart she got her first blow home. Do you realize what this means? At
ten miles the _Bluecher_ appeared no bigger than a pin point, and she
was moving at the rate of thirty miles an hour across the sea. You will
agree that the British gunnery must have been superb for hits to be made
under these conditions.
Soon the _Lion_ overhauled the slow _Bluecher_, and in passing gave her
a broadside which caused frightful damage. The _Lion's_ quarry, however,
was further ahead; and as she began to engage the _Derfflinger_, the
_Tiger_ began to hit out at the _Bluecher_. She also passed by, and the
_Princess Royal_, the _New Zealand_, and the _Indomitable_ in turn
turned their guns on the rearmost ship of the German line, while the
leading British ships were engaging the foremost ships of the enemy. At
half-past nine the situation was as shown in the diagram on the next
page.
As early as a quarter to ten the _Bluecher_ began to show signs of the
heavy punishment inflicted on her. It was now evident that she was
doomed. She had been abandoned by her speedier consorts, and her end was
only a matter of time. By eleven o'clock the _Seydlitz_ and the
_Derfflinger_ were on fire; the _Bluecher_ had fallen behind, and was
being mercilessly pounded by the _Indomitable_.
Meanwhile, the German destroyers had attempted an attack, but had been
driven off by the British destroyers. Shortly afterwards the German
destroyers got between the _Lion_ and the _Tiger_ and the leading enemy
ships, and began to raise huge volumes of smoke, so as to screen the
targets from the British gunners. Under cover of this smoke the Germans
changed course, and made a half-turn to the north. Again the enemy
destroyers attacked at close quarters, hoping to torpedo the _Lion_ and
the _Tiger_. They were, however, driven off by the 4-inch guns of our
battle cruisers.
[Illustration: The Sinking of the German Dreadnought "Bluecher," during
the Battle of the Dogger Bank, fought on January 24, 1915.]
And now while the chase continues, we must return to the _Bluecher_,
which had made a gallant fight, but was nearing her end. Ship after ship
had turned its guns upon her with terrible effect: her upper works had
been smashed to atoms, and practically every gun which she possessed had
been put out of action. Shot and shell had rained upon her, and she was
burning furiously.
[Illustration: Battle of January 24, 1915--9.30 a.m.]
"We were under fire first in the action and last," said a German
survivor. "Almost every British ship flung shot and shell at us.
It was awful. I have never seen such gunnery, and hope that as
long as I live I never shall. We could not fight such guns as
the British ships had, and soon we had no guns with which to
fight anything. Our decks were swept by shot, and the guns were
smashed and lying in all directions, their crews wiped out. One
terrible shell from a big gun I shall never forget. It burst
right in the heart of the ship, and killed scores of men. It
fell where many men had collected, and killed practically every
one of them. We all had our floating equipment, and we soon
needed it. One shell killed five men quite close to me, and it
was only a matter of time when nothing living would be left upon
the ship, if she continued to float. When we knew that we were
beaten, and that our flag was not to come down, many of us were
praying that the ship would sink, in order that no more men
would be killed. We would rather trust to the British picking us
up after our ship had sunk than to their missing us with those
terrible guns so long as she kept afloat."
About noon a British destroyer, the _Meteor_, torpedoed the _Bluecher_,
and she began to sink. Here is an officer's description of the final
scene:--
"She heeled completely over, and sank in eight and a half
minutes, hundreds of men clambering over her side, and standing
there, just as if it were the upper deck, waiting for the final
plunge. But there was no plunge. Slowly and slowly she sank, and
as she went down some were sliding into the sea, others taking
running leaps. A few seconds more, and there was no sign of her
left, except her dead and living clustered in the water
together. We were about three hundred yards away, and watched
her go down, and I was particularly struck with the ease and
slowness with which she sank. Not till the waves had almost
entirely closed over her did the bow heave slightly out of the
water, and she disappeared stern first."
The _Bluecher_ went to her doom with her flag flying. Some of the crew,
while waiting the order to leap into the water, sang "_Die Wacht am
Rhein_." Officers were seen to shake hands and link arms together, and
thus sink into their watery grave. Though the Germans had made no
attempt to save the crews of the _Monmouth_ and the _Good Hope_ during
the fight off Coronel, and though our men were furious at the fiendish
work done by the German cruisers at Scarborough and the Hartlepools,
they began the work of rescue at once. Torpedo boats and pinnaces rushed
to the scene to pick up survivors, and light cruisers stood by to help.
"A cry of 'Jump!' went up from the deck of the _Arethusa_, and
in a few seconds the sea was dotted thickly with men swimming
for their lives. Most of them were equipped with a life-belt of
inflated rubber, and this supported them in the water until the
British boats were able to pick them up. Among them were men who
had been wounded. The faces of all were blackened with smoke,
and in some cases the nerve of the men had almost completely
broken down in face of the severe ordeal through which they had
passed. Their joy at escaping destruction found expression in
many ways. The officers, of whom eight were taken aboard the
_Arethusa_, offered their rings, watches, and money to the
British sailors. Our men wished for no reward for performing a
humane duty; but the officers pressed the gifts upon them,
saying, 'You have saved our lives; take these as little
mementos.' One of them, speaking quite good English, said, with
a sigh of relief, 'It's been a terrible time, and I am jolly
glad it's all over.'"
About one hundred and twenty men were saved from the _Bluecher_, and more
would have been picked up but for the German aircraft, which by this
time had arrived from Heligoland. To the intense anger of our sailors, a
seaplane and a Zeppelin now began dropping bombs upon the rescue
parties. They were careful to give a wide berth to those vessels which
were armed with the latest anti-aircraft guns, and confined their
attacks to the destroyers, which promptly scattered and then proceeded
to drive them off. The airmen, no doubt, thought that the _Bluecher_ was
a sinking British ship, and this may have given rise to the absurd tale,
which was readily believed in Germany, that one, at least, of our battle
cruisers had been sunk.
* * * * *
We must now return to the leading ships of the British squadron. Shortly
after the Germans had changed course, Admiral Beatty himself sighted the
periscope of a submarine on the starboard bow of the _Lion_, and
promptly turned to port to avoid it. At this time the flagship, though
she had been under much fire, had suffered but little. At three minutes
past eleven, however, she was struck in the bow by a chance shot, which
damaged her feed tank. According to German accounts, the _Lion_ was then
about seventy miles from Heligoland. The accident, for it was no more,
disabled the _Lion_. She had to reduce speed and fall out of the line.
Admiral Beatty at once called up the destroyer _Attack_, and in it
proceeded full speed in pursuit of the German squadron.
The _Lion_ moved away to the north-west, and in the afternoon her
engines began to give serious trouble. The _Indomitable_, which had by
this time settled with the _Bluecher_, took the _Lion_ in tow, and after
some hours of great anxiety brought her safely to port. The towing home
of the _Lion_ by the _Indomitable_ was a very fine feat of seamanship.
She could only proceed at five knots an hour, and at this snail's pace
was a fair target for submarines. None, however, dared attack her; for
she bristled with torpedo defence guns, and was surrounded by
destroyers.
By twenty minutes past twelve the _Attack_ overtook the _Princess
Royal_, on which Admiral Beatty hoisted his flag. He now discovered that
his squadron had broken off the fight, and was retiring northwards. We
do not know exactly why the enemy was not followed up; but as the
British ships were then only forty miles from the minefield, it is
probable that the admiral in temporary command thought that his vessels
would be endangered if he proceeded any further. After orders had been
given to clear away and make for port, the grimy stokers of the
_Princess Royal_ swarmed on deck and greeted Admiral Beatty with a shout
of "Well done, David!"
* * * * *
Only by sheer good luck did any of the German ships escape. Had the
_Lion_ not been disabled, or had the squadron included another battle
cruiser, it is probable that none of the German ships would have reached
home to tell the tale. There was much disappointment in Britain when it
was known that only the slowest and weakest of the German Dreadnoughts
had been accounted for. Our losses were few: only fourteen men had been
killed and six wounded; no British vessel had been lost; the _Lion_ had
been hit fifteen times, and the _Tiger_ eight times, but the damage was
soon repaired, and when a party of journalists visited the ships in the
following October they could not see the scars of battle until they were
pointed out. The Germans lost the _Bluecher_; the _Seydlitz_ and
_Derfflinger_ were very hard hit, and many of their crews must have
perished.
During the remainder of the year 1915 the German Fleet wisely remained
in harbour. The German High Sea Fleet had become the Kiel Canal fleet,
and nothing more.
* * * * *
There was great excitement in the Forth ports when the good news was
received, and thousands of eyes were turned seawards to watch for the
homecoming of the battle cruisers. Shortly after four o'clock the sound
of cheering was heard. A moment later ringing "Hip, hip, hurrahs!"
echoed from vessels farther up the river, and from the misty dimness of
the upper reaches. "Got 'em this time!" said a smiling old salt on board
a mine-sweeper. "Hark to the boys!"
A batch of about 280 prisoners, including the captain of the _Bluecher_,
was taken to Edinburgh Castle. As they were marched through the streets
of the city one of the men asked the officer in charge, "What place is
this?" When he was told that it was the capital of Scotland, he smiled
superior. "Oh no," he said; "Edinburgh is in ruins, and the Forth Bridge
is destroyed."
[Footnote 4: A nautical measure = 6 ft.]
[Illustration: The Suez Canal at El Kantara.
(_Photo, Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd._)]
CHAPTER IV.
THE TURKISH DESCENT UPON EGYPT.
Two days after the Battle of the Dogger Bank we learned that a Turkish
force was advancing upon Egypt. Why were the Turks about to invade the
"Land of the Nile"? First of all, because they believed that the
fellahin[5] of Egypt were ready to revolt and join hands with them
against the British. The Egyptians are Mohammedans, and are therefore
linked with the Turks by the bond of a common religion. For three
hundred years Egypt was part of the Turkish Empire.
As far back as the year 1517 Egypt became a Turkish province, and fell
under the sway of the Sultan of Turkey. In 1798 Napoleon tried to found
a great empire of the East, and invaded Egypt as the first step. He
stormed Alexandria, and won the Battle of the Pyramids; but Nelson
destroyed his fleet in Aboukir Bay, and he was forced to leave the
country.
[Illustration: Bedouin Arabs--Advance Guards of the Turkish Army which
invaded Egypt in January 1915.
_Photo, Central News._]
The Turkish pasha who ruled Egypt soon afterwards made himself
independent of the Sultan, and his successor, Ismail Pasha, became
Khedive or Viceroy. The overlordship of the Sultan was, however, still
supposed to continue, though it grew more and more shadowy as the years
passed by. Ismail governed his country badly; and when it became
bankrupt, Britain and France had to step in to protect the interests of
those of their subjects who had lent money to the Egyptian Government.
What was called the Dual Control was set up in 1879, and Britain and
France became the real rulers of Egypt.
The Dual Control lasted until 1882, when an Egyptian officer named Arabi
Pasha raised a rebellion, with the watchword, "Egypt for the Egyptians."
The French were unwilling to take part in quelling this revolt, so the
British had to act alone. Alexandria was bombarded, and Arabi was
defeated by Lord Wolseley at Tel-el-Kebir. Thus, the Dual Control came
to an end, and Britain stood alone in Egypt.
Right well has Britain borne the "white man's burden" in the land of the
Nile. When she began her work in Egypt, the only notion of law in the
minds of the fellahin was the unchecked will of the "strong man armed"--
"The good old rule, the simple plan,
That they should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can."
It has been said that Egypt requires two things for her
prosperity--water and justice. Britain has given Egypt both water and
justice. The laws have been reformed, and fair dealing between man and
man is assured to the people. The taxes are heavy, but they are not
unfair, and Egypt now pays her way. Schools and colleges have been
opened, and Britain has striven with all her might to make the lot of
the people happier and better.
Britain has been equally careful to give the country as good a
water-supply as possible. She has strengthened and altered the great dam
or barrage which was built across the Nile at the point where it divides
into the Rosetta and Damietta branches, for the purpose of storing up
water to irrigate the Delta regularly throughout the year. The whole
canal system of the country has been overhauled and greatly improved. At
Assiut, and higher up the river at Aswan, huge bars of solid masonry
have been thrown across the Nile, and stretches of the river have been
turned into vast lakes. These dams store up sufficient water to fill the
"summer canals" of Upper and Middle Egypt. Never before has the
cultivated area of the Nile Valley had a supply of water for the fields
during both summer and winter. Further, by conquering the Sudan, Britain
has gained control of the upper waters of the Nile.
Though Britain has done so much for Egypt, we must not suppose that all
the Egyptians are content with her rule. The great bulk of the people
are quite satisfied to live and flourish under British control, but
there are some pashas who long for the "good old days" when the people
were at their mercy. Amongst these discontented persons German and
Turkish agents have long been busy, trying to bribe them to rise against
the British Government. By the beginning of the war they had won over
the Khedive to their side, and in January 1915 they believed that the
Egyptians were ready to take up arms against their rulers. As a matter
of fact, the Egyptians as a whole had no intention of doing anything of
the kind. They remained quite calm, even when the Turk was knocking at
their gates. Very few of them wished to bring back the old days of
Turkish tyranny and misgovernment.
Another reason why the Turks prepared to descend upon the land of the
Nile was that, on 17th December 1914, we announced to all the world that
thenceforth Egypt was a British possession. The traitor Khedive had been
deposed, and a new ruler who was friendly to the British Government had
been set up in his place. Up to this time the British had recognized the
overlordship of the Sultan of Turkey. Now they did away with it
altogether, and the Turks saw that the last vestige of their hold on
Egypt had vanished.
In January our forces in Egypt consisted of Australians and New
Zealanders, Territorials from Great Britain, Indian troops, and, of
course, the regular Egyptian army. The Germans thought that, if the
Turks made an attack on the country, Britain would be forced to keep
large forces in Egypt, and that she would therefore be unable to
strengthen her armies on the Western front. For these reasons, political
and military, a Turkish expedition was prepared in Syria for the
invasion of Egypt. It was 65,000 strong, and was led by Djemel Pasha,
who cherished a deep hatred for Britain.
To reach Egypt from Syria this force had to cross an almost waterless
desert, which varied in breadth from 120 to 150 miles. Across this
dreary tract of rock and sand there were three routes, all of them
difficult. The first ran from El Arish, on the Mediterranean coast, to
El Kantara, on the Suez Canal. It was 120 miles long, and except for a
few muddy wells, there was no water on the road. If you look at the map
below, you will see a road crossing the base of the Sinai Peninsula
from Akaba, at the head of the Gulf of Akaba, to Suez, at the southern
end of the Suez Canal. This road was the old pilgrim route from Egypt to
the holy city of Mecca. It is 150 miles long, and there are but few
wells by the way. From El Arish you will observe another road which
strikes south, and meets the pilgrim's road about midway between Suez
and Akaba. This road runs through a dry valley, in which it was possible
to lay down a light railway. Only by these routes could the Turks reach
Egypt from Syria.
[Illustration: The Suez Canal and the Sinai District.]
You will notice that before the Turks could set foot in Egypt they would
have to cross the Suez Canal, which could not be turned, because it runs
from sea to sea. If the Turks could seize the Suez Canal they would
command our short route to India, and would be able to impede greatly
the bringing of troops to Europe from the East. No doubt this was
another of the reasons which led the Turks to make a descent upon Egypt.
So important is the Suez Canal to the defence of the country that I must
briefly describe it.
The canal is nearly 100 miles long--76 miles of it actual canal, and 24
miles of dredged and buoyed waterway through lakes. In all this length
there is not a single lock! The canal varies in width from 80 to 120
yards, and it is deep enough to float the heaviest of Dreadnoughts.
Begun in 1859, it was completed ten years later, at a cost of
£16,000,000. It is not the property of any one nation, but the United
Kingdom is by far the largest shareholder: it holds 35 per cent. of the
shares.
Let us follow the course of the canal. For the first few hours the canal
crosses the shallow arm of the Mediterranean known as Lake Menzala. Two
long parallel embankments cross this so-called lake, which is very
shallow, and is studded with rocks. When this section is passed, we have
the red sands of the desert to right and left of us. Side by side with
the canal runs a sweet-water canal. It is a simple ditch, and its course
can everywhere be traced by the grass and trees which flourish along its
margin. Except for this fringe of verdure, no vegetation but desert
scrub can be seen.
At the station of El Kantara there is a ferry, and here one may
sometimes see caravans of Arabs with laden camels setting out on a
journey across the desert to El Arish. Later in the day we cross Lake
Balâh, pursuing our way between rows of buoys. Another stretch of canal
follows, and we cross Lake Timseh, and see away on our right the town of
Ismailia, from which a railway strikes off westwards. Then comes another
long, straight channel, with high sand dunes on the left bank. We pass
the signal station of Toussûm, set in a pleasing frame of trees, and two
and a half miles further on is Serapeum. We now steam across the Bitter
Lakes, which are said to represent an old arm of the Red Sea. After
these lakes are passed we enter the last stretch of the canal, and
finally reach Suez, beyond which lies the Red Sea.
During our voyage we notice that the ground to the east of the canal is
very flat, and that from the deck of our ship, or from the higher ground
on the western bank, we can see far and wide over the desert across
which the Turks would have to advance. Just south of El Kantara, and
again between Lake Balâh and the Bitter Lakes, there are sand dunes; but
elsewhere there is no cover for an attacker. The defenders of Egypt
thought it probable that the Turks would make their descent upon the
canal along the line of the sand dunes.
By 28th January small advanced parties of Turks had crossed the desert.
One party, marching by the direct route from El Arish to El Kantara, was
met and driven back by Gurkhas; another party, advancing by the road
from Akaba, suffered the same fate. On 2nd February the main attack was
delivered by about 12,000 troops, who had marched along the valley from
El Arish towards the Sinai Peninsula. When they were about four hours
distant from the canal they divided into two columns, and proceeded
westwards. One column moved towards the sand dunes opposite to Ismailia,
while the second and much stronger column pushed on towards Toussûm.
Small flanking attacks were also made against El Kantara and Suez.
[Illustration: Fighting at the Suez Canal, February 2-4, 1915.]
The advance of the enemy had been known for some days, and our troops
were in position ready to meet it. They were full of confidence, and
were quite sure that the Turks would never enter Egypt save as
prisoners. As the sun sank in a flaming sky on 2nd February our patrols
saw the enemy moving towards the hummocks of sand that fringe the canal.
When night fell, the Turks pushed their main force through the scrub and
dunes towards a gap which gave them an easy road to the canal opposite
Toussûm. The Turks had dragged across the deserts in carts some
twenty-five or thirty galvanized iron pontoons, each weighing about 850
lbs. When they approached the canal, the pontoons were shouldered by men
and carried towards the water. By means of these pontoons, and a few
rafts made out of kerosene tins with a wooden frame, the Turks proposed
to cross the canal.
The first warning of the enemy's approach was given by a sentry of a
mountain battery, who heard voices across the water. Soon the noise
increased. The Turks were loudly encouraging each other by crying out in
Arabic, "Brothers, die for the faith; we can die but once," and so
forth. The defenders were on the alert, but they were in no hurry to
fire. They did not even pull their triggers when the invaders were
carrying the pontoons down to the canal. Not until numbers of the enemy
were crowded together under the steep bank, and were pushing their
pontoons into the water, did the machine guns and rifles of the British
begin to rattle. Then the fire was deadly; the Turks were speedily mown
down, and the pontoons, riddled with bullets, were soon at the bottom of
the canal.
[Illustration: The Turkish Attack on the Suez Canal.
_By permission of The Sphere._
On the night of February 2nd, 1915, two Turkish columns, numbering about
12,000 in all, moved towards the canal--the front and smaller column
against Ismalia; the second against Toussûm. Our illustration shows the
latter attack in progress. To the right, the Turks are seen advancing
under heavy shell and rifle fire, and vainly trying to launch boats. To
the left are the Punjabis resisting the attack. The Turks were driven
back at this point, and an attempt to cross at Ismalia suffered a
similar fate. The Turks retired in good order, and unfortunately were
able to march back to Syria without much molestation.]
The Turks now lined the banks, and redoubled their efforts to get
across.
"They first tried to get men across by boats and by swimming, in
order to hold a place as a bridgehead. Five boats filled with
riflemen were rowed over; three sank with most of their
occupants, and two touched the western bank. One boatload
charged up the bank, but not a man reached the top. The crew of
the other boat jumped into the water, and getting ashore,
scraped holes in the bank with their hands to make a temporary
shelter trench. Most of them were shot, and a few survivors gave
themselves up as soon as it was daylight."
A little torpedo boat, with a crew of thirteen, dashed to and fro,
firing point-blank at the enemy, and smashing into fragments the
pontoons which lay unlaunched on the bank. The duel continued through
the dark, cloudy night.
When morning dawned, the battle became general all along the canal. The
enemy brought up field guns, and the British and French warships in the
canal joined in the fray. A few Turks who had swum across the canal
began to snipe our men from the rear, but they were soon disposed of.
Those who swam across later were deserters eager to surrender.
At about eleven in the morning two 6-inch shells from the Turkish
batteries hit H.M.S. _Hardinge_, an old Indian marine transport. One of
the shells fell with a terrific crash on the bridge, almost severing the
leg of Pilot Carew. He calmly looked down at his mangled leg, and,
gripping the rail, shouted, "Bring me a chair. I am going to take this
ship into port!" During the battle Pilot Carew received no fewer than
eighteen wounds. The guns of the warships began to fire salvos, and soon
the Turkish batteries were silenced.
Now that the pontoons of the enemy had been destroyed, the German
commander had been killed, and the troops lying in cover had been
shelled out of their hiding-places, the Turks realized that their
attempt at invasion had hopelessly failed. Half-hearted flank attacks at
El Kantara and Suez had been held up by our wire entanglements, and the
time had arrived for our Indian troops to take the offensive. Excellent
artillery and rifle fire cleared the greater part of the eastern bank,
and by three o'clock in the afternoon of 3rd February the Turks were in
full retreat. They had done nothing more than engage our outpost line.
Early next morning the British troops crossed the canal in force, and
began the work of rounding up the enemy. Many Turks were found in a
hollow, and some of them held up their hands when our men approached. As
a British officer advanced to take the surrender he was shot down. A
sharp fight with the cold steel followed, during which one of our
officers engaged a Turkish officer in single combat and ran him through.
Some 400 dead were counted, more than 600 prisoners were taken, and the
total Turkish casualties were probably well over 2,000. For days
following deserters drifted in, and by 8th February there was not a
single Turk within twenty miles of the canal.
Unfortunately the bulk of the enemy, with baggage and guns, got away
safely. A heavy sandstorm came on, and our Camel Corps were unable to
follow up the beaten and dispirited enemy. Had this not happened, it is
probable that the whole force would have been captured or destroyed. The
Turks declared that their advance on the canal was merely for the
purpose of discovering the strength of the enemy and the character of
his defences. Whatever the object was, it was not repeated during 1915;
Egypt remained unmolested for the rest of the year.
* * * * *
One incident which occurred during the fighting is worthy of special
mention. An officer on board the torpedo boat which did such good work
in harassing the enemy thus tells the story:--
"It was now 3 p.m., so we went back down the canal to finish off
some boats which the Turks had abandoned inshore on the east
bank. As the 3-pounder could not get on to these, we landed and
blew up two. To get at the third boat it was necessary to go up
a gully some fifty yards inland, where we could see the bow
sticking up. The enemy held this bank, so, of course, we were
under fire the whole time. I called for volunteers, and a
sub-lieutenant and a petty officer landed with me in a dinghy.
We left an A.B. in her, and darted up with our gun-cotton
charge. I went ahead and got up to the boat, when I saw five
Turkish soldiers on the other side about ten yards away. I
stepped round the boat to have a shot at them, and fell into a
trench full of Turks. You never saw any one so surprised in your
life as they were, and I myself confess to a certain
astonishment.
"I was too close to them to allow them to get their rifles on
me, and, realizing that every second was of value, I gave one
whoop and dived out of the trench. The sub-lieutenant shot a
fellow who stuck his head over to pot me, and all three of us
trekked back to the dinghy under a heavy fire at about thirty
yards range. The Australian and Indian troops holding the west
bank opened fire to cover our retreat, as did also the torpedo
boat. It really seemed as if the air was full of lead--one long,
continuous whistle overhead, and the sand all round flying up in
spurts. I was still laughing from the comic expressions I had
seen on the faces of the Turks in the trench; nevertheless, I
got over the ground like a two-year-old. We had thirty yards to
row to the torpedo boat, and, would you believe it? we all got
aboard untouched. I did not blow up that boat, as I saw it had
already been riddled with bullets from the other bank."
[Footnote 5: Plural of _fellah_, an Egyptian or Syrian peasant.]
[Illustration: Men of "Princess Pat's" Canadian Light Infantry on the
March.
_Photo, Central Press._]
CHAPTER V.
WINTER WARFARE ON THE WESTERN FRONT.--I.
Now we must return to the battle front in the West, and see how the
Allies fared during the months of January and February. You will
remember that when the year 1914 closed the rival armies were facing
each other in trenches which extended over well-nigh 500 miles--from the
North Sea across the flats of Flanders, through the coalfield of North
France, along the ups and downs of the Oise Valley and the heights of
the Aisne, through the Forest of Argonne into Lorraine, along every high
valley of the Vosges, right through Alsace to within sight of Alpine
snows. The cold and storms of winter had put an end to operations on a
large scale, but scarcely a day passed without artillery duels and local
attacks.
When General Joffre was asked to describe his operations during the
winter months he replied, "We are nibbling away at them." He was not yet
strong enough to pierce the German lines on a large scale, even if the
weather had permitted him to do so. His policy was to wear down the
Germans by provoking attacks in which they were likely to lose more men
than the Allies. You know that the Germans believe in attacking, and
that they consider it the best form of defence. In modern warfare the
attackers always lose more men than the defenders.
Let us look for a moment at the position of the Germans in the month of
January. They had overrun Belgium, and they held a very valuable part of
North France; but otherwise they had made many mistakes, and had failed
to accomplish what they had set out to do. They had aimed at Paris, but
had never got there; they had flung away life like water to reach the
Channel ports, but had failed to capture them; they had intended a short
war, in which victory would be achieved before the Allies could meet
them on equal terms, but they were now faced by a long struggle. Every
day the Allies were bringing fresh troops into the field, and were
making good their many deficiencies. Meanwhile the Germans, by their
brutal treatment of the poor people who had fallen into their hands, had
lost the sympathy of every civilized country.
Germany was now at the very top of her field strength. It was calculated
that she was losing some 260,000 men every month, and that as time went
on she would be less and less able to bring up reserves with which to
repair the wastage of war. Experts declared that by the end of the year,
or by the end of the following January, the supply of German reserves
would fail, and the armies in the field would then begin to decline in
numbers and in quality. On the other hand, the Allies had not yet come
anywhere near their possible strength. The new British armies, which had
been under training since September, would be ready in the spring.
France was forming at least three new armies, and the Russians hoped to
be able to equip their third and fourth millions and put them in the
field some time in April. Great efforts were being made by the Allies to
increase their artillery, and it was expected that in the early summer
they would be able to strike a decisive blow. In these circumstances it
was to Germany's interest to strain every nerve to win during the early
months of the year.
It was thought by the Allies that the great German effort would be made
in the West; but, as we shall see in later chapters, they were mistaken.
The Germans launched their chief attacks against the Russians, who by
the middle of the year were so woefully lacking in munitions that they
were forced to retire eastwards from the Vistula for about two hundred
miles; and owing to this misfortune the "big push" of the Allies in the
West had to be postponed.
Now let us see what actually happened in the West during January and
February. You already know that, until the new armies of the Allies were
ready to take the field and the British supply of big guns and shells
was greatly increased, they could do nothing but worry portions of the
German front.
Such being the policy of the Allies, you will not expect to hear of big
battles. The story of the fighting during January and February is the
record of small things--"a sandhill won east of Nieuport, a trench or
two near Ypres, a corner of a brickfield near La Bassée, a few hundred
yards near Arras, a farm on the Oise, a mile in northern Champagne, a
coppice in the Argonne, a hillock on the Meuse, part of a wood on the
Moselle, some of the high glens in the Vosges, and a village or two in
Alsace." A cartoon published in a German comic paper in January showed
two French Staff officers measuring the day's advance with a footrule.
No doubt the gains were small; but we must remember that our object was
not so much to win ground as to take toll of the two million Germans
holding the trenches, and by reducing their numbers bring the day of
their exhaustion nearer.
We will begin our story with the Belgian-French forces on the Yser. They
then held the bridgehead at Nieuport and the whole western bank of the
river. During January the Germans fiercely shelled the chief centres in
the little bit of Belgium over which King Albert still held sway.
The German right rested on the dunes fronting the sea, and their big
guns amongst the sandhills had Nieuport at their mercy. On 28th January
the Allies attacked the Great Dune, which lies just east of Nieuport,
and managed to win a good position from which they could sweep the east
bank of the Yser and protect their own left wing. Nothing else of
importance happened in this section for the next two months.
On the Ypres salient, trenches were taken and retaken during January and
the first fortnight of February. On the last day of February, Princess
Patricia's Regiment of Canadian Light Infantry distinguished itself in a
brilliant little affair. This regiment, which consisted almost entirely
of old soldiers, many of whom possessed medals for previous war service,
had been equipped by Mr. Hamilton Gault of Montreal. Lieutenant-Colonel
F. D. Farquhar was appointed colonel, and the founder of the regiment
became second in command, with the rank of major. The regiment was named
after Princess Patricia, the younger daughter of the Duke of Connaught,
then Governor-General of Canada.
[Illustration: Canadians on Salisbury Plain.
_Photo, Sport and General._
A portion of Stonehenge, the oldest monument in the British Isles, is
seen in the background. It was ancient in the days when Boadicea called
her kinsmen to arms against the Romans.]
Princess Patricia embroidered colours and presented them to the regiment
on August 23, 1914, when she wished the men good luck, and said that
she should follow their fortunes with deep interest. In due course the
regiment, which was generally known as "Princess Pat's," arrived with
the Canadian contingent at Plymouth, and after training on Salisbury
Plain, where most of the men had their first experience of the rain,
sleet, and slush of an English winter, was dispatched to France, where
the Christmas dinners were eaten within sound of the guns. By 26th
January they had become inured to the hardships of the trenches, and had
already suffered casualties. On the 28th of February, when they were
holding a position not far from St. Eloi, about two miles south of
Ypres, the regiment was ordered to capture a German trench. The
following brief account of the affair is from the pen of a corporal who
took part in it:--
"On the last day of February, just before dawn, our company was
ordered to attempt to force one of the German trenches. As we
climbed over the parapet the enemy, by means of their magnesium
flares, spotted us, and immediately opened up on us a withering
machine-gun fire. We lost men--some of my best friends and
comrades--but on we kept, plodding through a quagmire of mud,
and when we jumped over the enemy's parapet into their trench,
we had to tramp over dead men. The rest of the Huns, afraid of
cold steel, fled screaming like children or went down on their
knees and begged for mercy. This, in true British fashion, was
granted them."
The attack was led with great dash and spirit by Lieutenants Crabbe and
Papineau, the latter of whom received the distinguished Service Order
for conspicuous gallantry on the occasion. He was in charge of
bomb-throwers during the attack. He shot two of the enemy himself, and
then ran along the German sap, throwing bombs into it. As soon as the
news of the success became known, congratulations were poured upon the
gallant fellows. They were the first of all Canadian regiments to come
into prominence, and they had given ample evidence of that gallantry
which was soon to be exhibited on a larger scale, and to thrill the
Empire with pride.
* * * * *
There were other similar successes on the Ypres salient, but the almost
continual rain, snow, and fogs of the latter part of February made
important attacks almost impossible.
[Illustration: The La Bassée Canal in Time of Peace.]
CHAPTER VI.
WINTER WARFARE ON THE WESTERN FRONT.--II.
The heaviest winter fighting in the British section of the front took
place in the neighbourhood of La Bassée. The German Emperor's birthday
occurs on 27th January, and his soldiers were eager to present him with
a success in order to commemorate the event. If you look at the map on
page 52, you will see to the east of the hamlet of Cuinchy, south of the
canal, a district marked "Brickfields." Still further east you observe a
triangle of ground bounded by three railway lines. The British 3rd
Brigade was holding a sharp salient in this district. Its left rested on
the canal, its centre was pushed forward towards the "railway triangle,"
and its right was on the road running from Bethune to La Bassée. All the
ground was covered with old kilns and smoke stacks, and a few hundred
yards behind our first line we had constructed a "keep" of bricks.
On 24th January the Germans shelled our position, hoping to smash the
canal lock, and so flood our trenches. About six o'clock next morning a
German deserter came in to our lines and warned us that an attack would
be made in about half an hour. Deserters had so frequently told similar
tales that we took no notice of him. The man, however, had told the
truth, and the half-hour had scarcely ended when a tremendous
bombardment began. Our first-line trenches, which were held by half a
battalion each of the Scots Guards and Coldstream Guards, were blown in,
and before the damage could be repaired the Germans flung forward great
numbers of men for an attack. After a severe tussle, in which our men
used the bayonet with great effect, they were forced to fall back across
the brickfields. The London Scottish and the 1st Camerons, with the
remainder of the Coldstream and Scots Guards, were ordered up to hold
the second line. These troops fought hard, and punished the Germans
severely with rifle and machine-gun fire; but so numerous were the
attackers that they managed to get in amongst the brick stacks and into
the communication trenches on both sides of the "keep," and even to the
west of it.
Much-needed reinforcements were pushed forward, and at one o'clock a
counter-attack was begun. Together with the French on their right, our
troops moved forward in short, swift rushes, taking cover behind piles
of bricks or lying close on the soggy ground. Good progress was made on
the flanks, but the centre could not advance. Late in the afternoon
another battalion was sent up in support, and the struggle continued
throughout the night. By the morning of the 26th we had cleared out the
enemy between the "keep" and our trenches, and had partially recovered
the ground lost in the morning. The Germans had paid heavily for their
trifling gain. Fifty-three prisoners were captured, and over a thousand
German dead strewed the brickfields.
[Illustration: The Fighting in Givenchy Village.
(_From the drawing by Alfred Bastien. By permission of The Illustrated
London News._)
The mining village of Givenchy stands on high ground, and commands the
highroad from Bethune to La Bassée. Our illustration shows the fierce
fighting in the village on January 25, 1915, when our men in many cases
fought with bayonets in their hands and even knocked out many Germans
with their fists. In the above drawing, British troops, including
Highlanders, are seen advancing from the left.]
Meanwhile an equally severe fight was going on north of the canal. The
Germans heavily bombarded the coveted village of Givenchy, which we had
held ever since the second week of the preceding October. At 8.15 they
swarmed out of their trenches, passed over our front trenches, and broke
into the village, where a furious struggle raged in the streets and in
the houses for more than an hour. "Our men," says Eye-witness, "in many
cases fought with bayonets in their hands, and even knocked out many
Germans with their fists. A story is told of one man who broke into a
house held by eight Germans. He bayoneted four, and captured the rest,
while he continued to suck at a clay pipe."
Five separate times the Germans attacked the north-east corner of
Givenchy, but each time they were driven back with great loss. "On the
whole," continues Eye-witness, "the 25th January was a bad day for the
enemy in this portion of their line." The German birthday gift to the
Kaiser was a heap of his own dead.
[Illustration: Sketch Map to illustrate the Fighting near La Bassée of
the 1st Corps, January 25-26, 1915.]
For the next ten days the struggle continued. On the 29th the Germans
again attacked south of the canal, and tried to get into the "keep" by
means of scaling ladders, but were beaten off with severe losses. On 1st
February, very early in the morning, the Coldstreams were driven from
their trenches south of the canal, and two counter-attacks failed to
recover them. As the light grew better, our artillery came into action,
and so accurate a fire was kept up on the lost trenches that the Germans
could not hold them. At ten o'clock fifty men of the 2nd Coldstreams and
thirty men of the Irish Guards, along with sappers carrying sand-bags and
barbed wire, rushed forward, and not only recovered the lost trenches,
but seized one of the enemy's posts on the embankment of the canal. It
was during this attack that Lance-Corporal Michael O'Leary won the
Victoria Cross by a remarkable feat of gallantry which will be described
in the next chapter.
"Our men," says Eye-witness, "were enabled to take in flank one
of the enemy's trenches to the south, and they fought their way
along it, throwing hand grenades, until they dislodged the
Germans from a considerable length. We thus established
ourselves firmly in a good position on the canal bank and in the
adjoining trenches. During the action we captured fourteen
prisoners and two machine guns, also many wounded. Our losses
were not severe, but the enemy suffered heavily, especially from
our artillery fire. . . . Our men were in excellent spirits
after the encounter, and on being relieved somewhat later,
marched back to their billets singing to the accompaniment of
mouth organs and the roar of guns."
About 2 p.m. on the night of the 5th-6th February the British and French
artillery turned their heavy howitzers on the "railway triangle," and
began a fierce bombardment. The boom of the guns and the roar of the
exploding shells were clearly heard twenty miles away, and to those near
at hand the noise was terrific. One lyddite shell blew a house bodily
into the air; while others, exploding amongst the brick stacks, wrought
awful havoc amongst the enemy. At 2.15 a.m. an attack was launched at a
strong position held by the Germans amidst stacks of bricks. Our
storming columns rushed the position from three sides at once, and
captured it with very little loss. Prisoners afterwards said that the
noise of the bursting shells, and the thick clouds of dust which arose,
prevented them from hearing or seeing our men until they were almost
upon them. Other trenches were captured, and the next day the Germans
tried hard to recover the lost ground. Our gunners, however, were too
much for them, and succeeded in destroying one of their heavy batteries.
* * * * *
I have told you the story of these small fights to give you an idea of
how the "nibbling" process was carried on. Dozens of similar encounters
took place in various parts of our line, and in all of them the Germans
lost more heavily than we did. You will notice that early in February
our artillery was able to compete with that of the Germans. Every day
more and more big guns and more and more shells were sent to the front.
The time was soon to arrive when a big combined effort could be made to
pierce the German line.
CHAPTER VII.
STORIES FROM THE BATTLEFIELD.
You are now to read some soldiers' stories of the fighting during the
winter months. The first story tells how Algerian horsemen, by a skilful
ruse, managed to get a footing in the Great Dune[6] between the Ostend
road and the sea.
One morning six fine Arab horses strayed, as though by accident, between
the French and German lines. The Germans did not fire on the horses,
because they hoped to capture them when they came sufficiently near to
their trenches. The animals, however, wandered off again. Towards
nightfall on the following day twenty-four Arab horses appeared on the
same ground. In the half light the Germans could only just distinguish
the forms of the animals, and perceive that they were unmounted. They
were preparing to seize them when suddenly a sharp cry was heard, and
the horses, kicking up their heels, galloped back to the French lines.
Almost immediately twenty-four gray forms rose from the ground and
dashed towards the German trench. They were Algerians, who had concealed
themselves under the bodies of their horses, and had thus got close to
the German line. They rushed upon the enemy, and a furious struggle took
place. The Germans in the second line dared not fire for fear of
shooting their own comrades. The Algerians managed to get a footing in
the German trench, and shortly afterwards French infantrymen rushed up
to their support. By ten in the evening a portion of the Great Dune had
been won.
* * * * *
"Sniping" went on almost continuously during the winter. A Canadian
officer thus describes his adventures while scouting in front of the
German trenches:--
"Off I went, crawling through the sodden clay and branches, going about
a yard a minute, listening and looking. I went out to the right of our
lines, where the Germans were nearest. At last I saw the Hun trench. It
was about ten yards from me. I waited for a long time, and then I heard
some Germans talking, and saw one of them put his head up over some
bushes behind the trench. I could not get a shot at him, as I was too
low down. Of course, I could not get up; so I crawled on again, very
slowly, to the parapet of their trench.
"It was exciting. I peered through their loophole, but saw nobody in the
trench. Then the German behind put up his head again. He was laughing
and talking. I saw his teeth glisten against my foresight, and I pulled
the trigger. He just gave a grunt and crumpled up. His comrades behind
the bushes got up, and whispered to each other. There were five of them.
They could not place the shot. I was flat behind their parapet, and
hidden. I just had the nerve not to move a muscle and stay there; my
heart was fairly hammering. They did not advance, so I crept back, inch
by inch.
"The next day, just before dawn, I crawled out there again, and found
the trench still empty. Then a single German came through the woods
towards the trench. I saw him fifty yards off. He was coming along
upright, quite carelessly, making a great noise. I heard him before I
saw him. I let him get within twenty-five yards, and then shot him.
"Nothing happened for ten minutes. Then there were noise and talking,
and a lot of Germans came along through the wood behind the trench,
about forty yards from me. I counted about twenty, and there were more
coming. They halted in front. I picked out the one I thought was the
officer. I had a steady shot at him. He went down, and that was all I
saw.
"I went back at a sort of galloping crawl to our lines, and sent a
message that the Germans were moving in a certain direction in some
numbers. Half an hour afterwards they attacked the right in massed
formation, advancing slowly to within ten yards of our trenches. We
simply mowed them down. It was rather horrible. There were 200 of them
dead in a little bit of our line, and we only lost ten.
"Our boys were rather pleased at my stalking and getting the message
through. All our men have started stalking now. It is quite a popular
amusement."
[Illustration: "The Three Musketeers" of Princess Patricia's Own.
(_Painted by S. Begg from material supplied by an officer of Princess
Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry present at the action. By permission
of The Illustrated London News._)]
"Princess Pat's Own" first went into the firing line on 5th January.
The trenches in which they received their baptism of fire were only
about a hundred yards away from those of the Germans, who subjected them
to a very heavy bombardment. About the second or third night three of
the men established themselves during the darkness on a mound a little
to the rear of the Canadian position. They cut a couple of dug-outs in
the base of the mound, and fortified the top with a few bricks, behind
which they took cover. At daybreak they discovered that they commanded a
very fine view of the German first-line trench, and of its supporting or
reserve dug-outs, which were occupied by the Prussian Guard. There was
no shell fire from the British at the time, and the Germans, thinking
themselves quite safe, were strolling about between the dug-outs and the
trench. The "three musketeers" on the mound opened a brisk fire on the
Germans; whereupon they scuttled off to their holes like rabbits, but
not before nine or ten of them lay on the ground, wounded or killed. All
day long the men on the mound were under every kind of fire, but they
"stuck it" without flinching, and in their turn kept the enemy from as
much as showing a finger. When darkness fell they retired to their
trenches. Only one of the men was hurt, and he had only a slight bullet
wound in the hand.
* * * * *
Here is a strange story of how some British soldiers foolishly and
recklessly risked their lives in order to settle a bet.
"Fighting had been very severe in front of one section, and during a
lull an officer was surprised to see a number of khaki-clad figures
fully exposed to the German bullets, should the enemy resume firing.
They were peering into the trench, and were so deeply interested in what
was 'down below' that they did not notice the officer's approach.
"'What have you got there?' he asked.
"'A dead German, sir,' came the reply.
"'A dead German! What on earth are you doing with a dead German?'
"Then he was told the whole story. It appeared that in the course of the
attack the British soldiers had noticed a particularly tall and bulky
Hun. When the fighting was over they began to discuss his proportions.
He was now lying dead in front of the trench, and two of the men made a
bet about his height and weight. To settle the bet, they crawled out
and risked death in order to drag the dead German in. He was found to be
six feet nine inches in height, and to have a waist measurement of
fifty-three inches.
"The officer gave the men a severe warning, and then asked how much the
bet was. To his amazement he received the following reply: 'A bob,
sir!'"
* * * * *
In a dispatch published by Sir John French during February he regretted
that it was impossible for him to bring before the notice of the public
many acts of gallantry performed by his men. Here is an account of a
very brave deed done by a sergeant-major in the North Somerset Yeomanry;
the story is told by a corporal of the same regiment:--
"I had a marvellous escape. A German bomb fell in the trench barely a
foot from me. I did not see it coming, and nothing could have saved me,
or Dick Moody, or the other fellows with us, had not Sergeant-Major
Reeves made a dash for it. He picked up the bomb, pulled out the fuse,
and threw it out of the trench. It was the bravest thing I have ever
seen."
Later on, when our men became more used to grenade fighting, such
incidents were of almost everyday occurrence. Over and over again men
pounced upon live bombs, and hurled them back towards the enemy's
trenches before they had time to explode.
* * * * *
On one part of our line the trenches of friend and foe were so close to
each other, and they changed hands so often, that it was difficult to
know at any particular moment whether they were held by British or by
Germans. One night, after a fight, two British officers set out to
discover whether certain trenches were occupied by their own men or by
those of the enemy. They soon chanced upon a communication trench which
seemed to lead in the desired direction. They walked down it, and came
to a dug-out with a candle burning in it and German equipment scattered
about. Thinking that the communication trench had been captured, they
blew out the candle and pushed on. At length they reached a trench
running at right angles to the communication trench. No sooner had they
entered it than they were challenged sharply in German. Then came a
shower of bullets, and in a moment the officers were rushing back by
the way which they had come, with Germans close upon their heels. They
floundered through the mud and dodged round the traverses, and, thanks
to the darkness, managed to get back to their own lines unhurt, where
they told their comrades how they had spent several breathless minutes
in the enemy's fire trenches.
* * * * *
Now I must give you an account of one of the most striking deeds of
gallantry ever performed by a British soldier. The _Gazette_ of 18th
February contained an announcement that the Victoria Cross had been
awarded to
Lance-Corporal Michael O'Leary, 1st Battalion Irish Guards, for an
achievement of such a character that, according to Sir Arthur Conan
Doyle, "no writer of fiction would dare to fasten it on any of his
characters."
At sixteen years of age O'Leary joined the Navy, but was discharged
because he suffered with rheumatism. He soon recovered, however, and
enlisted in the Irish Guards. After serving his time with the colours
and passing into the reserve, he was accepted as a member of the famous
North-West Mounted Police of Canada. The hard open-air life was much to
his liking. All the patrol work was done on horseback, and he rode on an
average thirty miles a day. As a North-West mounted policeman, O'Leary
gave a taste of his cool courage in capturing two robbers, armed with
revolvers, after a running fight which lasted two hours. For this feat
he was presented with a gold ring, which he still proudly wears. The
donor of it must have been a prophet, for he said to O'Leary when
handing it over, "If you do as well on active service, you will win the
Victoria Cross." At the outbreak of war O'Leary rejoined his old
regiment in France. He was not then twenty-five years of age.
I am sure you remember the occasion when the Coldstreams were driven
from their trenches near Cuinchy, and two counter-attacks failed to
recover them. At ten in the morning of 1st February a desperate effort
to win them back was made by fifty men of the 2nd Coldstream Guards and
thirty men of the Irish Guards, accompanied by sappers with wire and
sand-bags. The Coldstreams went first. With fixed bayonets they rushed
across the 200 yards that separated them from the German trenches. They
were met by a heavy fire, which checked them a little; and then the
Irish Guards went forward in support. O'Leary, fleet of foot,
outdistanced his comrades. He had not gone far before he felt the ground
give beneath his feet, and springing back, he saw a German bomb-thrower
in a pit. He shot the man, and hurrying on to the angle of a barricade
which he had marked all day, fired five shots and killed the five
Germans who were holding it. Leaving his comrades to take possession of
the barricade, he dashed towards a second position, sixty yards ahead,
where a machine-gun section was frantically trying to turn its weapon
upon the stormers. O'Leary, however, was too quick for them. A German
officer had his finger on the button of the gun, and was about to
release the hail of lead, when "crack" went our hero's rifle, and the
officer dropped dead. Again and again O'Leary fired, and two other men
fell, while their comrades, with white, scared faces, threw up their
hands and begged for mercy. A few moments later and the Guards, with a
wild rush through the flying mud, secured the position. "Lance-Corporal
O'Leary thus practically captured the enemy's position himself, and
prevented the rest of the attacking party from being fired on." He was
promoted sergeant on the field.
[Illustration: The Great Exploit of Lance-Corporal Michael O'Leary.
(_From the picture by A. C. Mitchell. By permission of The Illustrated
London News._)]
Sergeant O'Leary, V.C., had a great reception when he returned to London
in July on leave. A demonstration was held in Hyde Park by the United
Irish League, and the hero, who was presented with a purse of gold, made
a recruiting speech, in the course of which he said, "There are many
others who have fought and are fighting, who have attempted and have
done more than I for King and country. I have had the luck." In his own
country the sergeant was enthusiastically received, and was so lionized
that he said he must get back to the trenches to rest. At a banquet to
his honour in his native county he asked for lemonade, and when some one
thoughtlessly pressed him to take wine, he refused, and said that he
must "keep fit." Not only did he receive the Victoria Cross at the hands
of the King, but the highest awards for valour from the French and the
Russian Government.
[Footnote 6: See page 46.]
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GERMAN SUCCESS AT SOISSONS.
In this British book, written for British boys and girls, I naturally
give the foremost place to the doings of British soldiers. We must,
however, always remember that up to the middle of the year the British
only held about one-twentieth of the Western battle-front. From La
Bassée, through Arras, to Noyon, thence eastwards along the valley of
the Aisne, in a wide curve round the fortress of Verdun, to the west
bank of the Meuse, onwards to the Moselle, through Lorraine to the
crests of the Vosges, and southwards to the borders of Switzerland--all
this long and varied line was held by our French Allies. All through
January and February they did not cease to nibble at the German
trenches. In Champagne, in the section between the Meuse and the
Moselle, and in Alsace, they were able to do more than nibble--they were
able to seize many vantage points, and advance their front slowly but
surely.
In January the chief centre of interest was in that part of the Aisne
valley which lies to the north of the old city of Soissons.[7] You will
remember that the Allies had captured the city, and the flat lands to
the north of it, during the great advance in September 1914. Turn to the
map on the next page and find the village of Cuffies.[8] On 18th January
this village was in French hands, and so was the village of Crouy,[9] to
the east of it. On the road from Soissons to Laon, and between Cuffies
and Crouy, you will notice a spur of the plateau marked Hill 132.[10] To
the south-east of Crouy there is another spur, marked 151. On 8th
January the French made attacks on both these hills. They specially
wished to capture Hill 132, because it would give them a gun position
from which they could command the road to Laon.
In the drenching rain the French pushed forward, dragging their guns
with great difficulty up the slippery slope. They carried three lines of
German trenches, and were soon in possession of the hill. Meanwhile
other troops had seized Hill 151. Though the Germans tried hard to
recover the positions next day, they could not do so. Nothing happened
on Sunday, 9th January; but on Monday, about noon, no less than two
German corps, under von Kluck, were launched against the French, who
were holding the hills. On the 12th the struggle grew very violent. The
French were pushed off the eastern side of Hill 132, but with great
difficulty they managed to cling to the western slopes.
[Illustration]
During the four preceding days the weather had been very bad. Torrents
of rain had descended without ceasing, and by the 12th the river was in
high flood. It had been rising for days, and now it was swirling along
like an angry torrent, threatening to carry away the only bridges by
which the French could bring up reinforcements and ammunition. By the
13th all the bridges but two had been swept away, and the French decided
to retreat across the river while they had the means of doing so.
They retired slowly and skilfully. Their batteries were withdrawn from
the hills one by one, without letting the Germans know that they were
being moved to the rear. The commander of one battery did not give the
order to retire until the Germans were within five hundred yards of him.
It was perilous and difficult work getting the guns down the steep
slope. The gunners man-handled them until they reached the foot, and
then they were limbered up and taken across a shaky pontoon bridge
which had been thrown across the river at Missy. Guns on the right and
centre had to be abandoned, but not before they were rendered useless.
By the evening of the 14th the Germans had advanced their line until
they held the whole of the north bank of the Aisne from a mile east of
Soissons to Missy. By this time the French, who only numbered 12,000,
had been reduced to half their strength, and they had lost about twenty
guns. Von Kluck had begun well, and, under the eye of the Kaiser, he now
made a great effort to capture Soissons. Had he done so, he would have
been in possession of a railway junction and the best bridge over the
Aisne. He would also have been able to force the French to retire from
the whole line of the river.
The floods had not reached Soissons, so the French were able to pour
reinforcements into the city. A great struggle took place at the village
of St. Paul, on the right bank of the river, about a mile to the east of
Soissons. The Germans advanced in dense masses, and won the village; but
the French artillery speedily drove them out, and von Kluck found that
he could advance no further.
The Germans trumpeted abroad this little success as a smashing victory;
but it was of no particular consequence, for they had only slightly
improved their position, and in doing so had suffered a loss of at least
10,000 men. It was not so much German guns and rifles that drove the
French from the spurs which they had won as the flooding of the river.
Nature had fought for the Germans, but still they could not "make good."
Some writers thought that it was very clever of von Kluck to postpone
his big counter-attack until his enemies had a swollen river and flooded
fields behind them; but the fact was that he could not attack earlier,
because his reinforcements were late in arriving. The Germans owed their
success not to good generalship, but to good luck.
[Footnote 7: See Vol. II., p. 237.]
[Footnote 8: Ku´fee.]
[Footnote 9: Croo´ee.]
[Footnote 10: Unnamed hills are numbered on the map by their height
above sea-level. Thus Hill 132 means a hill which is 132 metres, or 440
ft., in elevation.]
CHAPTER IX.
WINTER FIGHTING IN CHAMPAGNE, THE ARGONNE, AND THE VOSGES.
We now come to that part of the French front on which the most
successful attempts of the Allies were made during January and February.
You have already heard of the little river Suippe, a tributary of the
Aisne. Between the upper waters of this river and the Forest of the
Argonne there is a chalk plain, dotted with plantations of firs and
crossed by rolling downs. In many respects it resembles Salisbury Plain,
and for many years has been put to the same use. Before the war it was
the great training ground of French troops and the scene of their yearly
manoeuvres. The plain is sparsely populated; scattered farms and
straggling homesteads are few and far between, and lack of villages
means lack of roads. After heavy rain the whole district is a sea of
shallow mud; but the ground does not become water-logged, and as soon as
the rain ceases the ground dries very quickly. Operations during the
winter were therefore possible. General Joffre decided to nibble more
vigorously on this plain than elsewhere.
Look at the little map on page 70. You notice a railway running from
Ste. Menehould,[11] on the Aisne at the edge of the Argonne forest, to
Rheims. By means of this railway the French troops operating on the
plain were supplied with all their needs. The Germans relied on the line
which you see running from Grand Pré in the Argonne to Bazancourt. The
object of the French was to nibble at the German lines in the hope of
pushing back the enemy and seizing this railway. If it could be cut or
commanded, the Germans would be obliged to fall back along their whole
line. At any rate, a French advance towards the railway would compel the
enemy to waste men and shells, and would force him to keep in the region
large forces which otherwise would have been sent to the East, where von
Hindenburg was badly in need of assistance.
I want you to fix your attention on the little towns of Souain[12] and
Perthes,[13] and the farm of Beau Séjour,[14] all of which are marked on
the map. Beau Séjour, you will notice, is about 3½ miles east of
Perthes. At the beginning of January the French line ran through Souain,
south of Perthes and south of Beau Séjour. Almost every day during
January the French attacked the German positions. They won a hill to the
north of Perthes, which gave them the best gun position in the
neighbourhood, and on the 16th of February a general advance began. The
Germans held a strong post north of the farm, on a ridge between two
little glens. On this ridge they had constructed a fort, which was held
by about 500 men.
* * * * *
The French attacked on a plan which was soon to become the regular
method of puncturing the German lines all along the Western front. Let
me give you some account of this plan--the only possible method of
capturing the strongly fortified trenches of the enemy without a
terrible loss of life. As you know, the first obstacle to an attack on a
line of trenches consists of the barbed wire entanglements which are
fixed up in front of them. The attackers are held up by the network of
wire, and can be shot down in droves by rifles and machine guns. Then
the trench itself has a strong parapet, with loopholes through which the
defenders fire on the attackers. For infantry to charge the barbed wire
while the parapets are held by an enemy is to court almost certain
disaster.
Study the diagram on page 67. AB is a line of trenches to be attacked,
and X is a line of big guns. These guns throw a shower of high explosive
shells on to the enemy's trenches. So terrible is the explosion that the
barbed wire is blown into a thousand fragments, the parapets are beaten
down, the whole trench is utterly wrecked, and the defenders are either
killed or wounded, or so stunned by the violence of the bombardment that
they cannot make much resistance. When this is done, the gunners lift
their sights and lengthen their fuses, and behind the trench create at C
a curtain of fire through which no enemy reinforcements can possibly
pass. Then the attacking infantry rush forward and occupy the wrecked
trench. They work away with their entrenching tools, make a new parapet
facing the enemy's second line of trenches, and prepare to beat off
counter-attacks. Trenches are thus captured by gun fire alone. You can
easily understand that advances made in this way will be slow. Telephone
wires have to be laid, ranges calculated, and a thousand details
arranged before an assault can be made.
[Illustration]
If such an attack is to succeed, two things are necessary. In the first
place, the attackers must have many big guns and an almost unlimited
supply of ammunition for them; and secondly, they must bring up their
guns at X unknown to the enemy, and take him by surprise. If he is able
to see the big guns being brought up, he will fire on them before they
can be concealed. He will also mass his own guns, and the affair will
become an artillery duel on a large scale. Happily, in Champagne the
French were able to mass their guns secretly. Their airmen had become so
expert that they were able to beat back all the German aircraft that
attempted to scout over their lines, while at the same time they could
fly over the German lines without much hindrance.
Here is a description of such an attack as seen by a British observer in
Champagne:--
"Looking at the battle at a distance of about 2,000 yards from
the enemy's lines, the stillness of what one sees is in marked
contrast with the turmoil of shells passing overhead. The only
movement is the cloud of smoke and earth that marks the burst of
a shell. Here and there long white lines are visible when a
trench has brought the chalky subsoil up to the top; but the
number of trenches seen is very small compared with the number
that exist, for one cannot see into the valleys, and the top of
the ground is an unhealthy place to choose for sitting in a
trench. The woods are pointed out, with the names given them by
the soldiers; but it needs field-glasses to see the few stumps
that remain when the artillery has done its work. And then a
telephone message arrives, saying that the enemy are threatening
a counter-attack at a certain point; and three minutes later
there is a redoubled whistling of shells. At first one cannot
see the result of this fire--the guns are searching the low
ground where the enemy's reserves are preparing for the
movement; but a little later the ground behind the threatened
trenches becomes alive with shell bursts, for the searching has
given place to the building up of a wall of fire, through which
it is impossible for the foe to pass without enormous loss."
When a successful attack of this kind is to be made on a large scale,
the work of the directing staff must be very perfect. Every trench in
the line of attack must be thoroughly shelled at the same time. If
certain trenches are left unwrecked, the infantry will be badly mauled
when they move forward. Then all the guns of the attacking side must
lift their sights and lengthen their fuses before the infantry reach the
enemy's trenches, or the men will be caught by their own fire.
Everything must work together like a well-oiled machine. A single
mistake will be paid for by heavy loss of life.
[Illustration: French Infantry returning to their Quarters after driving
the Germans from their Trenches near St. Mihiel.
(_From the picture by Paul Thuriot. By permission of The Sphere._)
The French infantry came back into their second line after the action
with their bands playing and their colours flying. Their uniforms were
covered with mud, and they were as dirty as they could possibly be.
Their comrades saluted the colours with love and devotion, and the
German prisoners seemed astonished to see such patriotic fervour.]
Such was the general character of the attacks made by the French in
Champagne during February. The ridge, which I have already described,
was captured by French Colonial troops towards the end of January, after
a month's struggle; but elsewhere progress was slow. About five yards a
day was the average gain. One by one the little woods and ridges were
carried, but as late as 24th March the French were not sufficiently near
the railway from Grand Pré to Bazancourt to threaten it seriously. We
must not, however, reckon the gains by the amount of ground which was
won, but by the number of men which the enemy was obliged to maintain on
this part of the front, and by the losses which he suffered. Some five
and a half German corps, which were badly needed in the East, had to be
massed in Champagne, and their losses were out of all proportion to
those suffered by the French. It is said that the Germans lost 10,000
dead and 2,000 prisoners during these attacks. The famous Prussian Guard
suffered very heavily at a point about three-quarters of a mile east of
Beau Séjour, where two of their regiments were almost wholly destroyed.
The Germans themselves admitted that their losses in Champagne were
greater than those of the Battle of the Mazurian Lakes,[15] where they
had some fourteen army corps engaged.
[Illustration: Scene of the Fighting in Champagne.]
The severe fighting in Champagne drew off some or the Crown Prince's
forces, and he was therefore obliged to slacken his efforts in the
Forest of the Argonne. There, too, in January our Allies won a success
by the capture of more than a mile of German trenches. It is interesting
to note that the regiment of Italian volunteers which captured the
trenches was led by Lieutenant-Colonel Garibaldi, a descendant of the
famous Italian patriot who played such a large part in bringing about a
united Italy. During this woodland fighting the Germans also had
successes; but, generally speaking, there was a deadlock in this region.
The real zones of fighting were to the west and east of the Forest.
* * * * *
The line which the French held from Beau Séjour to Switzerland during
the first four months of the year 1915 made a wide curve round the
fortress of Verdun, and then ran south across a wooded plateau to St.
Mihiel, on the left bank of the Meuse. At St. Mihiel the Germans were
clinging to a bridgehead which they had captured as far back as
September 1914. From St. Mihiel the line crosses the river to the right
bank, and then proceeds eastwards to the river Moselle. It then strikes
south-eastwards to the crest of the Vosges mountains.
If you look at the map on the next page, you cannot fail to notice that
St. Mihiel is the point of a very marked wedge or salient, something
like that at Ypres, only with the point facing westwards instead of
eastwards. A mile to the south of St. Mihiel the Germans had a strong
position on high ground, called the Camp of the Romans, from which they
could command the country for ten miles around. If you look at the map
on the next page, you will see two railways within the salient. The one
runs northwards from a place about five miles east of the Camp of the
Romans, and crosses the French line at a village called Les Eparges;[16]
the other runs northwards from a place about fifteen miles east of the
Camp of the Romans, and runs along the valley of a tributary of the
Moselle, past Thiaucourt,[17] until it reaches the main river, which it
follows to Metz. The Germans had constructed a field railway, which
enabled them to reach St. Mihiel from Thiaucourt.
The French nibbled unceasingly at this salient during the winter. Their
object was to squeeze in its sides so as to capture the railways and
force the enemy to withdraw from St. Mihiel. During February there was
fierce fighting at Les Eparges, which was taken by the French along with
a part of the neighbouring heights. At the same time they pressed
northwards along the left bank of the Moselle, and won the Wood of the
Priest, from which they bombarded the railway running through
Thiaucourt. They also smashed the German bridges at St. Mihiel. Day by
day they were pinching the German wedge more and more, and were
threatening the railways by means of which the Germans were able to
maintain themselves in this region.
The French were eager to capture the heights to the east of Les Eparges,
because guns on these heights would command much of the northern part of
the salient. The Germans, knowing how important these heights were to
the French, had turned them into a very strong fortress. They had lined
the steep slopes with trenches, and had honeycombed them with shelters
and dug-outs. About 4 p.m. on 5th April, when the rain was falling
heavily and the hillsides were sodden, the French made a great attack
on these fortified heights. They gained some ground, but next morning
they were driven back. That evening they made a second attempt, and by
means of bayonet charges captured 1,500 yards of trenches, and gradually
approached the summit.
[Illustration: The Fighting between the Meuse and the Moselle.]
Next morning the Germans brought up reinforcements, and strove with all
their might to hurl the French down the slopes. The French guns,
however, prevented the Germans from massing, while the German guns held
off the French. On the morning of the 8th the French made another bold
bid. They could scarcely keep their footing in the slime, and it is said
that many of them were drowned in the mud. Never was an attack made
under greater difficulties. Slipping in the greasy mud, buffeted by the
wind, and almost blinded by the rain, the French advanced against
endless machine guns posted at carefully-chosen points. So determined
were the Germans to hold the position that they had chained the machine
gunners to their weapons. After an hour's struggle the French won the
summit, and managed to clear the Germans off the heights, except for a
small triangle at the east end.
On the morning of the 9th French reinforcements struggled up the
hillside. So violent was the storm, and so miry was the ground, that
they took fourteen hours to reach their comrades. In the afternoon an
assault was made on the eastern triangle, and the Germans were swept
from it. A fog descended, under cover of which the Germans
counter-attacked, and pushed the French back. But as soon as the fog
lifted the French guns came into action, and another bayonet charge was
made. By 10 p.m. the French held the whole of the spur, and were able to
command the northern part of the salient. They had performed a notable
feat of arms during five days of tempest. The German loss was estimated
at more than 30,000.
Elsewhere the French also won ground. On the south side of the salient,
where the country is covered with thick, scrubby woods, the fighting was
very severe. Small gains were made, and by the month of May the French
were about four miles from Thiaucourt, and were able to hurl shells from
their heavy guns within the outer fortifications of Metz. It seemed that
any further advance would endanger the whole position of the Germans at
St. Mihiel, and force them to retreat towards the highlands west of
Metz. Nevertheless, when the year 1915 came to an end, the Germans were
still holding St. Mihiel, and the salient was theirs, though it had worn
very thin.
* * * * *
Now let us briefly glance at the campaign in the Vosges.
Look closely at the map on the next page, and notice the river Ill, a
tributary of the Rhine. Its most important feeder is the river Thur,
which runs down a long glen. It was in the valley of this river that the
French made their chief advances during the winter. On 3rd January the
Chasseurs Alpins, fighting their way down the valley of the Thur,
captured the village of Steinbach, which stands just where the mountains
fall steeply to the Alsatian plain, about ten miles as the crow flies
from Mulhouse. Steinbach, which had been converted by the enemy into a
series of blockhouses, was only secured after ten days of deadly combat.
The French were trying to take Mulhouse in flank, and they had therefore
to capture the village of Cernay, which blocked the way. Meanwhile
another force attacked Altkirch, to the south of Mulhouse, and quite
close to the Swiss border. During the fighting some of the shells
actually fell on Swiss ground. The force advancing from Steinbach could
not capture Cernay, so it turned to the south, and tried to seize the
village of Burnhaupt in order to attack Mulhouse from another angle. The
village was taken by the French; but was retaken, though with heavy
loss, by the Germans. Strive as they would, the French could get no
nearer to Mulhouse.
[Illustration]
If you look to the north of Cernay, you will see a spur of the Vosges
known as Hartmannsweilerkopf. It stands 2,000 feet above the plain, and
consists of rugged rocks covered with pine trees. He who possesses the
kopf can command a very large part of the plain, for he can shell many
roads and railway lines. The French greatly coveted it, and they had
already established a small advance post on it. Let me tell you how this
post was lost and won again. Soon after the fighting at Altkirch,
violent winter storms began to rage. Snow fell without ceasing for a
fortnight, and the upper glens were choked with drifts. When the sky
cleared the chasseurs donned their skis and made some daring raids on
German posts in the hills. The Germans were active too. On 19th January,
during a blinding snowstorm, they climbed Hartmannsweilerkopf and
attacked the French post at the summit. Four companies of chasseurs
made a most gallant attempt to relieve the defenders, and for two days
fought fiercely amidst the icy rocks and snow-laden bushes. They could,
however, make no headway, and the post was captured by the Germans on
21st January.
Not until the 27th of March was it recaptured. On that day the Chasseurs
Alpins made a fierce onset and carried the last line of the German
defence, which was protected by a blockhouse. Once more they were in
possession. At once the Germans hurried up reinforcements from all parts
of Alsace, and the order went forth that the position was to be
recaptured at all costs. They attacked in dense masses with great
courage, and were able to entrench themselves hurriedly on the edge of
the summit and along the slopes. During the night, however, the French
Alpine troops were reinforced, and by dint of tremendous efforts guns
were dragged up the icy slopes to the top of the spur, and were placed
in position on the right and left flanks of the enemy. Next morning the
chasseurs attacked the Germans and drove them back, while the guns
assailed them with a terrible fire. The enemy made a stubborn resistance
and brought up fresh troops, specially trained for mountain warfare and
supplied with mountain guns. For three days the struggle continued, and
at the end of it the whole of the slopes were clear of the enemy. The
recapture of the spur was a great feather in the French cap. Again and
again during the year the Germans made efforts to seize it, and more
than once it fell into their hands. Late in December the Germans claimed
to have recovered the whole position, but this was denied by the French.
[Illustration: Chasseurs Alpins attacking a Custom House in the High
Vosges.
(_From the picture by Paul Thuriot. By permission of The Sphere._)
This incident took place in the district south of the Schlucht Pass. The
blockhouse was defended by Germans. A French lieutenant rushed forward
and attempted to batter down the door with his rifle, but was
immediately shot. A second officer fell, and then the men rushed the
house and captured it. The French soldiers shown in the picture are
Chasseurs Alpins. Notice that some of them are on skis.]
For the rest of the year the battle-front in Alsace showed but little
change. The French held every gun position on the eastern slopes of the
Vosges, and were in command of all the roads leading down to the plains.
The Germans held the plain and its railways, and were able to oppose any
movement from the mouths of the valleys towards the Rhine. The French
had secured one great advantage. Should they wish to push towards the
Rhine through the Gap of Belfort, their left flank was secure.
[Footnote 11: _Sant meh-nou´._]
[Footnote 12: _Soo-ahn._]
[Footnote 13: _Pert._]
[Footnote 14: _Boh say-joor._]
[Footnote 15: See Vol. II., chap. ix.]
[Footnote 16: _Lays-ay parge._]
[Footnote 17: _Tee-o-koor._]
CHAPTER X.
THE SUBMARINE BLOCKADE BEGINS.
So far the Germans had failed hopelessly at sea. The battle off Coronel
had been their only success, and the squadron that had achieved it was
now no more. The bombardment of Scarborough, Whitby, and the Hartlepools
had been hailed in Germany as a great victory, and the enemy loudly
boasted that the British fleet no longer commanded the North Sea. We at
home were filled with anger, but we showed no panic; while in America
the bombardment of innocent townsfolk in unfortified places was held to
be sheer murder, and there were many jeers at the German commanders who
had struck foul blows at those who could not strike back, and had then
run away. The German navy was covered with ridicule. It dared not come
out and risk a battle, while to sit still and do nothing was to proclaim
itself a mere sham.
The British fleet, ever since the beginning of the war, had stopped and
searched all merchant ships bound for ports on the North Sea and the
Baltic Sea, in order to ascertain whether they had on board contraband
of war--that is, arms, ammunition, explosives, or other articles or
materials which might be used against us. It is a rule of international
law that if such goods are sent by a neutral to a State which is at war,
they may be seized by the enemy of that State. We had sent lists to all
neutrals setting forth the kinds of goods which we would not allow the
enemy to receive, and our warships had discovered many vessels which
were laden with such goods. These ships were taken into port, and a
court sat to decide whether or not they were guilty of carrying
contraband. If found guilty, they were seized by the State. You can
easily understand that the trade of neutrals with our enemies almost
came to an end. The exporters of New York, who were chiefly
German-Americans, found their business falling off greatly, and they
tried hard to stir up quarrels between the United States and Great
Britain.
The United States had determined to be strictly neutral in the war. Most
of the people were friendly to the Allies, but there were about four
millions of Germans, Austrians, and Hungarians in the country, and many
of them were strongly in favour of the Central Powers. Germany sent
agents to stir up these people, and to do everything in their power to
bring about quarrels between Great Britain and the States.
The Germans, as you know, were powerless on the seas, while we were
all-powerful. From the States we imported large quantities of munitions
of war. The Americans would gladly have sent munitions to Germany also,
but as no German ship dared cross the Atlantic, the Germans were
altogether cut off from this source of supply; hence their anger with
the United States. We shall see later that the German agents in the
States committed all sorts of crimes in the hope of stopping the
manufacture of munitions and preventing their export to Great Britain.
About a week after the Hartlepools raid, von Tirpitz, who was then at
the head of the German Admiralty, told the Americans that they had
stopped their trade with Germany because Great Britain had ordered them
to do so, and he asked them how they would like to see all trade with
Britain stopped by German submarines. Then came the Battle of the Dogger
Bank, in which the German vessels scuttled for home as soon as they
sighted the British fleet, but in the course of their flight lost the
_Bluecher_. It was after this discreditable affair that von Tirpitz
decided to carry out his threat. He gave notice to the President of the
United States that on and after 18th February the waters surrounding the
British Isles would be considered to be within the seat of war, and that
all enemy merchant ships found in these waters would be sunk by German
submarines. He also said that it might not always be possible to save
the crews and the passengers of these ships, and that neutral vessels
within this zone of war would be exposed to danger, and might even be
sunk. To this the President replied, begging Germany to consider
carefully before taking any such action, and warning her that the
destruction of a United States ship or the death of American citizens
would be considered an unfriendly act which might lead to war. The
President then went on to point out that, until a blockade--that is, a
complete stoppage of sea trade--could be carried into effect, the sole
right which fighting nations possessed with regard to neutrals was to
visit and search their ships in order to discover whether or not they
were carrying contraband, and, if so, to bring them into port, where a
court would adjudge them guilty or not guilty.
[Illustration: A German Submarine awash.
_Photo, Central News._]
Of course, the German submarines could not completely blockade the
coasts of the British Isles, nor could they take into port the ships
which they stopped and searched. In the latter case they might be
justified in sinking the ships, but they would be guilty of crime if
they did not save the crews and passengers. A submarine cannot possibly
take off the crews of merchant vessels, for it has no accommodation for
them. Von Tirpitz's plan was piracy, and nothing else. In order to find
an excuse, the Germans declared that all the wheat and flour coming into
Germany from abroad belonged to the Government. The British now seized
the cargoes of ships thus laden, because they were the property of an
enemy Government. Then the Germans began to call heaven and earth to
witness that Great Britain was trying to starve German women and
children. Horrible pictures were painted of innocent people perishing of
hunger. A German newspaper put the enemy's view in a nutshell when it
said, "England wants to employ every means to shorten the war. The
number of lives that would be lost if she could starve Germany is
nothing to her. . . . Whether we wish it or not, we must seek to destroy
England's life-nerve--namely, her merchant shipping." How she attempted
to do this we shall read in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XI.
THE SINKING OF THE "LUSITANIA."
The Germans were quite right in speaking of our mercantile marine as our
"life-nerve." In 1913 we had nearly 39,600 merchant vessels, with a
tonnage of more than 14,000,000 tons. You will get some idea of the
vastness of our overseas trade when I tell you that the tonnage of ships
owned in Liverpool alone exceeds that of the German Empire. On an
average about 1,400 merchant vessels enter and leave our ports every
week. This means that the submarines which were now going to destroy our
"life-nerve" were presented with about two hundred targets a day.
You must not suppose that the Germans waited until 18th February to
begin their attacks on our merchant vessels. Early in February the
German submarine U21 appeared in the Irish Sea, and proceeded to sink
three small ships. On the same day other enemy submarines sank ships in
the English Channel, one of them, the _Toko Maru_, being laden with
mutton, stores, and clothing for Belgian refugees. Between "Pirate Day,"
18th February, and 11th April, fifty-eight ships were attacked, most of
which were sent to the bottom. Neutral as well as British ships were
sunk by the submarines, several of them without warning. Sometimes the
officers gave ten minutes' grace to allow passengers and crews to take
to the boats; but in other cases the ships were sunk at sight, and more
than once shells were fired at men in the boats who were trying to
rescue their comrades struggling in the water. Frequently fast steamers
escaped, and more than one vessel charged down on the attacking
submarine. The _Thordis_, for example, crashed at full speed into the
submarine which threatened her off Beachy Head, and sent it to the
bottom.
On 1st March Great Britain declared a blockade of Germany. By this time
it was apparent that as a means of reducing our food supply or
weakening our determination to continue the war, Germany's submarine
"blockade" had proved to be a failure. Between 18th February and the
middle of August less than one and a half per cent. of our ships were
sunk, and we went on our way quite unmoved. Neutral countries, however,
saw clearly what Germany's command of the sea would mean to them. The
American nation was soon to be roused to the highest pitch of
indignation by one of the foulest crimes ever committed.
Already four American ships had been destroyed by the Germans, and
several American citizens had been drowned. On 27th March the British
steamer _Falaba_ was sunk off the Pembrokeshire coast with a loss of 112
lives, including that of an American. The Germans did not wait until all
the boats had been lowered before firing a torpedo into the steamer's
side, and then, not content with sending so many helpless people to
their doom, they watched them struggling in the icy waters without
lifting a hand to help them. It is even said that they mocked and jeered
at the drowning men and women. "This is not war; it is murder," said the
_New York Times_. This crime, however, was soon to be outdone.
On May 7, 1915, the Cunard liner _Lusitania_ was steaming a few miles
south-west of the old Head of Kinsale, on her homeward voyage to
Liverpool. She was one of the largest and finest liners afloat. She was
totally unarmed, and she carried passengers and crew to the number of
1,906, many of them being citizens of the United States. Before she left
New York her passengers had been warned that the Germans meant to sink
her. Nobody, however, dreamed that even Germans could descend to such
depths of infamy.
As the _Lusitania_ approached the Irish coast she received a message
from the Admiralty warning her that German submarines were in the
neighbourhood. She had reduced her speed to eighteen knots, so as not to
arrive at the Mersey bar before the tide was high enough to enable her
to cross. An artist who was saved thus described what happened:--
"The voyage from New York to London was made in excellent
weather. The sun shone all the way, and on the afternoon of the
disaster a golden sun lit up a beautifully blue, calm sea. I
think I can say that I was one of the four people who really saw
the torpedo discharged at the _Lusitania_. I was in the
dining-room about 2.15, and had just finished luncheon. I went
out, and leaned against the starboard side of the vessel, just
outside the palm lounge. I saw the periscope of a submarine
about 200 yards away. Then I noticed a long white streak of
foam. It gave me the impression of a frothy fizzing in the
water. A lady and two gentlemen came up to me and exclaimed, 'Is
that a torpedo?' I felt too sick to answer, and turned away.
Almost immediately there was a terrific impact, followed by the
explosion. . . ."
Steam and smoke came up between the two last funnels, and almost
immediately there was a second report, probably due to the bursting of
the main steam pipe. "I at once gave the order," said Captain Turner at
the inquest, "to lower the boats down to the rails, and I directed that
the women and children should be got into them. The moment the vessel
was struck she listed to starboard. I stood on the bridge as she sank,
and the _Lusitania_ went down under me. She floated about eighteen
minutes after the torpedo struck her." An English passenger thus
described the scene as the _Lusitania_ sank:--
"Nearly a score of the boats on the port side were filled with
passengers, but it was found impossible to lower them owing to
that side of the ship standing so high above the water. I
managed to get across to starboard. The ship's deck was then
level with the sea. I made for a boat which was just putting
off, and, in fact, had one foot on the craft and the other on
the ship. Then, owing to something going wrong, the lifeboat
jammed, and all the occupants were thrown into the water. It was
a terrible moment. The passengers in the boat, including women,
screamed with terror, and soon sank. Other boats collapsed or
turned over, and hundreds of people, men, women, and children,
were struggling helplessly in the water, some clinging to boats
which had been upset. I struck out, and managed, after swimming
for about fifteen minutes, to come across a boat, into which I
was dragged. Hundreds of people were on rafts, and the sea was
alive with men and women."
There was no ship of any kind in sight when the _Lusitania_ was
torpedoed, except a Peel trawler which was lying inshore. She started at
once to the rescue; but the wind was light, and she was slow in
arriving. Nevertheless she managed to pick up over a hundred persons
from lifeboats or rafts. So crowded was the trawler with rescued people
that some had to sit with their legs dangling over the side. Other
trawlers and boats from Kinsale came to the rescue, and later on the
_Indian Prince_, a steamer from Queenstown, arrived, and began to pick
up survivors. When the death-roll was finally made up, it was discovered
that 1,134 persons had been killed by the explosion or drowned. Over a
hundred American citizens went down that day.
[Illustration: On the Face of the Waters--after the Sinking of the
"Lusitania."
(_By permission of the Illustrated London News._)
We can never know all the acts of heroism and self-sacrifice which were
performed when the passengers and crew of the _Lusitania_ were
struggling for life in the water, but we know that Mr. Vanderbilt, the
American millionaire, though unable to swim, gave his life-belt to a
woman, and remained steadfastly on the deck awaiting his end. One of the
drowned sailors was found with a little child strapped to his back, and
no doubt its weight cost the swimmer his life.]
No incident of the war provoked more terrible indignation against the
Huns. It is said that two wealthy American citizens who were saved in a
lifeboat stood up amidst the scene of horror, and pledged themselves
that, if the United States did not go to war with Germany within seven
days, they would forswear their country for ever. The news was received
with bitter anger in Great Britain, and in New York there was a hush of
horror, broken only by "the sniggers of German-Americans." A coroner's
jury which sat at Kinsale brought in a verdict of wilful murder against
the Emperor of Germany and his Government. "Remember the _Lusitania_"
became a watchword at recruiting meetings, and thousands of men flocked
to the colours, eager to avenge this foul and cowardly crime.
America had declared that she would hold Germany to strict account for
every American life lost as a result of the submarine "blockade." Seven
days after the sinking of the _Lusitania_, President Wilson sent a very
calm and moderate Note to Germany, declaring that American citizens had
the right to travel wherever their business called them on the high
seas, without their lives being endangered by warships, and that their
Government would do everything to maintain this right. At the same time
the Note suggested that the sinking of American ships and the
_Lusitania_ was due to mistakes on the part of the commanders of
submarines, and it called upon the German Government to disavow these
acts, and prevent them from taking place in the future. Germany replied
in a shuffling fashion; and on 21st July President Wilson sent another
Note which practically threatened war if the Germans did not cease their
blockade.
How did Germany reply to this Note? On 19th August one of her
submarines, without warning, torpedoed the White Star liner _Arabic_ off
Cape Clear. The loss of life was small, for the vessel remained afloat
for ten minutes, and there was time to lower the boats. When it became
known that the _Arabic_ had twenty-six American citizens on board, anger
flamed up anew. The wrath of Americans was raised almost to war pitch,
especially when the Germans put forward a series of falsehoods in
excuse. The German Minister at Washington now saw that his Government
had gone too far. He begged the United States Government to wait for a
report, and a little later he promised that full amends should be made.
On 1st September he gave a written pledge that thenceforward passenger
liners would not be sunk by submarines without warning, and without
ensuring the safety of the lives of those on board, provided that the
liners did not try to escape or show fight. He also declared that
Germany had decided to make this change in her policy before the sinking
of the _Arabic_.
The Americans were delighted with this very doubtful promise, and they
believed that they had forced Germany to give up the worst features of
the blockade. If you read the promise carefully, you will see that the
Germans had so worded it that they could still proceed in the old way. A
submarine might give passengers time to get into small boats in
mid-ocean, but how could it ensure their safety? There was a case during
the "blockade" of men who had escaped in a boat being afloat for four
days without food and water, and some of them dying from exposure. Then,
again, the promise only applied to passenger liners, and not to merchant
ships. It was quite easy for a submarine commander to sink a liner, and
then pretend that it had resisted or tried to escape. Above all, nothing
was said about the right of Americans to sail the seas without their
lives being endangered by warships. Nevertheless, the Americans were
delighted with the promise, and plumed themselves greatly on having done
a great service to mankind.
Three days later came a rude awakening. On the night of 4th September
the Allan liner _Hesperian_ was torpedoed by a German submarine _without
warning_. The liner was then 130 miles west of Queenstown She kept
afloat for some time, and was towed towards port, but went down at seven
o'clock on the morning of 6th September. There was a small loss of life,
and there were two Americans on board. It was now clear to everybody
that the German promise was a mere "scrap of paper." Wrath surged up
again in the United States, but it led to nothing. The Germans
untruthfully declared that the vessel was sunk by a mine and not by a
submarine.
During the last three weeks of August and the first week of September
ships of all sorts were sunk at the rate of about sixteen a week. Then
came a rapid falling off, and during the week ending 10th October only
two ships were sent to the bottom. The submarine blockade was fizzling
out. The Germans had changed their policy, not because of the protests
of the Americans, but because they had discovered that the game was not
worth the candle. Mr. Balfour, in a letter to a correspondent, gave the
true reason why the Germans were bringing the blockade to an end. He
said that while the losses of German submarines had been very great, the
British merchant navy was stronger than when the blockade began. Though
many innocent persons, women and children as well as men, had been
robbed and killed, the criminals had paid a heavy toll. The reason why
the Germans had changed their policy was not because the United States
had protested, not because the Germans had revolted against lawless
cruelty. "No. The reason is to be found elsewhere. It is to be found in
the fact that the authors of the submarine policy have had time to
measure its effects, and that deeds which were merely crimes in May, in
September were seen to be blunders."
By the month of June the British navy had learnt the art of capturing
the submarines of the enemy; and so expert had it become in this work
that a U boat, once discovered, had but little chance of escape.
Submarine-hunting became the great sport of the navy, and every young
officer and bluejacket was eager to engage in it. We do not know how
many German submarines were destroyed, but we were informed, through
America, that seventy-eight of them had been seized or sunk, and that in
December 1915 at least five of the Kaiser's submarines, manned by
British seamen, were doing splendid work against his ships in the
Baltic. The British only rarely announced their successes, and the
German submarine crews were always in doubt as to the fate of their
fellows. Before long their nerve failed them, and even at the beginning
of their voyages they were disheartened and hopeless.
The methods by which the enemy's submarines were captured or destroyed
were not revealed, but we know that fast motor boats, each armed with a
powerful gun, were employed in the hunt, and that steel nets were
sometimes used. When a big fish was caught the floats of the nets gave
warning, and destroyers promptly arrived to deal with it.
Innocent-looking patrol boats were sometimes attacked, and, too late,
the biter discovered that he was bitten. There is a story that a
submarine commander, approaching one of these patrols, called out, "I
give you ten minutes to take to your boats;" whereupon the skipper,
whipping a concealed gun round and preparing to fire, returned answer,
"And I give you three minutes to go to the bottom."
No submarine loss caused such bitter chagrin in Germany as the sinking
of the famous U29 late in March. You will remember that it was this boat
which had sunk the _Hogue_, _Cressy_, _Aboukir_, and _Hawke_. Captain
Weddigen, who commanded U29, had become a popular hero in Germany, and
the Kaiser had showered honours on him. He was a good type of sailor,
both skilful and brave, and it is to his credit that he was known in
this country as "the polite pirate." He not only expressed his regret at
having to sink merchant ships, but gave food and comforts to their
crews, and towed their boats some distance towards the land. When it was
known that Weddigen had gone down with all his crew in U29, the Germans
put forth an absurd story that the submarine had been sunk while she was
engaged in life-saving, and was unable to defend herself. One German
newspaper demanded "revenge for Weddigen," and declared that no more
sacrifices must be made to "the German system of humanity in war"!
* * * * *
I will conclude this chapter with a brief account of the troubles and
trials which the Americans had to endure because of the attempts of
German agents to stir up all sorts of strife in their country. Almost
from the beginning of the year there were explosions and fires in the
factories which were making munitions for the Allies, and there was
little doubt that these outrages, which frequently led to loss of life,
were the work of German hirelings. During August the _New York World_
published evidence proving that German money was lavished amongst
newspapers for the purpose of getting them to publish articles in favour
of Germany. It also proved that men were paid to bring about strikes in
engineering shops, to blow up ships laden with munitions, and to
interfere in every possible way with American affairs, so as to cause
trouble between Britain and the United States.
On 6th September matters came to a head. Papers taken from an American
journalist at Falmouth showed that Dr. Dumba, the Austro-Hungarian
ambassador, was at the bottom of a series of attempts to prevent
factories from making munitions for the Allies, and to stir up American
exporters against Britain. Amongst these papers was a private letter
from Captain von Papen, a German soldier attached to the German Embassy.
In it he spoke of "these idiotic Yankees." The Americans were indignant
at these exposures and insults, and the Government demanded that Dr.
Dumba should be recalled. He was handed his passports, and he left
America--for America's good.
On 10th November the Italian liner _Ancona_, bound from Naples to New
York, was fired at and torpedoed in the Mediterranean Sea by two large
submarines, probably German, but carrying the Austrian flag. Some 500
persons were on board, and only some 260 were saved. Amongst those who
perished were about 20 American citizens. At once President Wilson sent
a sharp Note, demanding that Austria should disavow the crime, punish
the captains of the submarines, and promise to safeguard American
passengers in the future. To this Note Austria replied in a very defiant
fashion, and by so doing again strained the patience of the American
people almost to the breaking point. At the close it looked as though
America was about to break off all relations with Austria.
In December the German Government was obliged to recall Captain von
Papen and another member of the Embassy. These two men had set the
American Government at defiance, and had encouraged plots throughout the
length and breadth of the country. Some of their agents were brought to
trial, and were punished, and President Wilson announced that the men
who were plotting to destroy property and to undermine the Government
must be "crushed out." Thus, at the close of the year America seemed to
be ready to put an end to the German mischief-makers who had done so
much to disturb the peace of the country, and to foster lawlessness and
strife.
[Illustration: A German Submarine half submerged.]
CHAPTER XII.
STORIES OF SUBMARINES.
"_We'll duck and we'll dive like little tin turtles,_
_We'll duck and we'll dive beneath the North Seas,_
_Until we strike something that doesn't expect us:_
_From here to Cuxhaven it's go as you please._"
Rudyard Kipling.
I have told you in these pages of many daring deeds and narrow escapes
on the battlefield; but for exploits which really thrill us and make us
hold our breath, we must go to the men who fight in the air or under the
sea. Jules Verne never imagined anything half so marvellous as their
doings. When the war is over, we shall hear stories of aviators and of
the crews of submarines which will make the wildest inventions of
writers of adventure seem tame and colourless.
"The business of the submarines," says Mr. Kipling, "is to run monstrous
risks from the earth, air, and water, in what, to be of any use, must be
the coldest of blood." Submarine officers, he continues, "play hourly
for each other's lives, with Death, the umpire, always at their elbow on
tiptoe, to give them 'out.'" And consider the bowling and fielding in
this nightmare game, where there is rarely a second innings. A bomb from
a Zeppelin or an aeroplane, a shot from a 4-inch gun, a bump against a
mine, a collision with a reef or the bows of a destroyer, trawler, or
tramp, an accident to the complicated gear--and all is over.
Nevertheless, the officers and crews of submarines soon lose the sense
of imminent peril, and go about their business quite unconcerned.
* * * * *
The following story shows how a submarine was trapped, but managed to
free herself and turn the tables on her enemy. A British boat, which was
cruising under water in the North Sea, ran her nose into a net and
became entangled. She rose to the surface, meaning to cut away the net
and get clear. No sooner did her conning tower appear above the water
than her commander saw a Zeppelin hovering right above him, and in a
moment a bomb plumped into the sea unpleasantly near. He had no
alternative but to go below again; but this he had to do as gingerly as
possible, for otherwise the submarine would have wrapped herself up in
the net still more. Steadily she sank, and by slow working and wriggling
managed to get clear of the entanglement. Then she lay on the bottom,
and her commander began to think out the next move in the perilous game.
Should he go back to warn the other submarines, or should he wait and
try to "bag" something? He knew that the Zeppelin believed him to be
entangled in the net, and that it was sure to signal for destroyers to
come and finish him off, so he sat tight and waited. In a few minutes he
heard the screws of the destroyers churning above him. Then he rose, and
at the critical moment gave the signal to let loose a torpedo. The shot
went home: the destroyer crumpled up, and was taken in tow by a consort.
Unhappily, as the commander had no more torpedoes, he was balked of a
second victim.
* * * * *
Since the war began, British submarines have penetrated into every
harbour and river mouth on the coast of Germany. One day a British boat
in the mouth of a German river was seen by the enemy. At once she went
under; but though she lay on the silt at the bottom, she had not more
than five feet of water above her. Almost any patrol boat could have hit
her and destroyed her had her whereabouts been known; but somehow the
Germans missed her. They meant to catch her, however, and began to sweep
the river with a wire trawl. Before long the commander of the submarine
heard the trawl rasping along his hull. He sat and listened, expecting
every moment that it would catch on something, and reveal him to the
Germans working above. The suspense was enough to turn a man's hair
gray. Happily, the trawl slid off the hull, and the danger passed. At
nightfall the submarine made her way into the open sea, and finally
reached harbour safely.
* * * * *
The following story has been told of a fight between a British submarine
and a Zeppelin. One day a boat came to the surface, and found herself
right underneath a Zeppelin that was flying only a few yards above the
sea. The commander could not see the sky, only the shining bulge of the
airship. Luckily he was not under the "stinging end" of the monster.
Immediately he sank till his decks were awash, and went away to
windward, so that the Zeppelin had to follow him with the wind in its
teeth. Then he sent a man to the gun on deck. The waves were washing
over the submarine, and the man was nearly drowned; but he hung on, and
whenever he saw a chance, fired a shot at the airship, which by this
time was dropping bombs. One of his shots got home, and the Zeppelin was
obliged to steer to leeward and give up the chase. A fortnight later she
was seen with a patch on the place where she had been hit.
* * * * *
On page 283 of our third volume I told you how Lieutenant Holbrook won
the Victoria Cross for conspicuous bravery while in command of a
submarine which was scouting in the Dardanelles during December 1914. In
these narrow waters, and in the Sea of Marmora, some extraordinary feats
were performed by our submarines during the year 1915. An American
correspondent tells us that our under-water boats created a reign of
terror amongst the peasants and villagers living on the shores of that
sea. Turkish warships and gunboats and large numbers of transports and
supply ships were sunk, and navigation was almost entirely suspended. On
April 27, 1915, Submarine E14 dived under the enemy mine fields and
entered the Sea of Marmora. In spite of strong currents, the presence of
hostile patrols, and the hourly danger of attack from the enemy, she
succeeded in sinking two Turkish gunboats and two transports, one of
them large and full of troops; and after cruising in the enemy's waters
for twenty-two days, returned in safety. For this remarkable exploit,
which the admiral at the Dardanelles declared himself unable to do
justice to, Lieutenant-Commander Edward Courtney Boyle received the
Victoria Cross.
Late in May the British submarine E11 had an extraordinary "bag." She
succeeded in destroying one large Turkish gunboat, two transports, one
ammunition ship, and three storeships, and drove another storeship
ashore. Then she passed through the minefield on her homeward way; but,
on sighting another Turkish transport, returned, and managed to torpedo
it. In the course of her cruise she entered the Golden Horn, and
actually discharged a torpedo at a transport lying alongside the
arsenal. The Turks declared that the torpedo struck the quay and blew up
two hundred yards of masonry. Lieutenant-Commander Martin Eric Nasmith,
who was the heart and soul of these intrepid feats, was rightly awarded
the highest token of valour.
* * * * *
Getting into and out of the Sea of Marmora is a terribly difficult
business, as the "Narrows,"[18] through which all ships must pass, was
strewn with mines; the shores were studded with batteries and concealed
torpedo tubes. Lieutenant Holbrook, you will remember, had to dive under
five rows of mines before he could torpedo the Turkish battleship
_Messudiyeh_. Mr. Kipling tells us that "one boat went down the straits,
and found herself rather canted over to one side. A mine and chain had
jammed under her forward diving-plane. So far as I made out, she shook
it off by standing on her head and jerking backwards; or it may have
been, for the thing has occurred more than once, she merely rose as much
as she could, when she could, and then 'released it by hand,' as the
official phrase goes."
[Illustration: Lieutenant Guy D'Oyly Hughes starting off with his Raft.
(_Photo, Central News._)]
Perhaps the most thrilling feat of daring ever associated with submarine
warfare was performed by Lieutenant Guy D'Oyly Hughes on August 21,
1915. Lieutenant Hughes had already distinguished himself during the
operations of E11 which I have described above. He volunteered to make a
single-handed attempt to blow up a Turkish railway. A raft was prepared,
and on it were placed the charge, his clothes, a revolver, a bayonet,
and an electric torch. Round his neck he carried a whistle. Towards
dusk the submarine ventured within sixty yards of the land, and then
Lieutenant Hughes, stripped to the skin, went overboard, and pushing his
raft before him, swam to the shore. When he touched bottom he found that
the cliffs were too high to scale. He therefore started off again, and
swam along the shore until he reached a less precipitous landing-place.
Having dressed, he clambered up the rocks, carrying his charge with him.
After a stiff climb he reached the top of the cliffs, and proceeding
with great caution, made his way to the railway line, which he followed
towards a viaduct.
He had only advanced about five or six hundred yards when he heard
voices, and shortly afterwards caught a glimpse of three Turkish
soldiers sitting by the side of the line and talking loudly. After
watching them for some time he decided to leave the charge, which was
heavy and cumbersome, and make a wide circuit inland, so as to get to
the viaduct unseen. This he did, the only incident by the way being an
unfortunate fall from a wall into a farmyard, where his sudden
appearance startled the poultry and disturbed the household. He was not,
however, detected. When he came in sight of the viaduct he found that it
was guarded. A fire was burning at one end of it, and there were men
close at hand. It was impossible to destroy the viaduct, so he returned
to the place from which he had started, picked up his charge, revolver,
bayonet, and electric torch, and looked for a spot where he might do as
much damage as possible to the line.
Searching about, he found a low brickwork support over a small hollow,
and there he placed his charge. He was only 150 yards from the three
soldiers, who were still sitting by the line. He muffled the fuse pistol
as tightly as possible with a piece of rag; but when he pulled it the
noise was sufficiently loud to be heard by the soldiers, who stood up,
looked around them, and catching sight of the lieutenant, ran towards
him. He fired two shots at them, but missed, and hotly pursued, beat a
hasty retreat along the line to the eastward. A few shots were fired at
him, but he was not hit, and after running about a mile he found himself
close to the shore.
At once, without discarding his clothes, he plunged into the water, and
as he did so the charge exploded. Fragments of brick and earth fell
around him, and even near the submarine, which was then in a small bay
behind the cliffs about six hundred yards from the shore. After swimming
for four or five hundred yards the lieutenant blew a long blast on his
whistle, but the submarine did not hear it. Day was now rapidly
breaking, so he turned back to the shore and rested for a short time.
Then he threw away his revolver, bayonet, and electric torch, and
entering the water once more, swam towards the bay in which the
submarine was lying. Not until he had rounded the last point was his
whistle heard.
As his comrades prepared to come to his assistance he heard shouts from
the cliffs above, and saw Turkish soldiers firing on the submarine,
which now came out of the bay stern first. In the morning mist he
mistook the bow, the gun, and the conning tower for three small rowing
boats. Thinking that these boats were manned by his enemies, he swam
ashore again and began to climb up to a hollow of the cliffs some
distance above him. He had not climbed more than a few feet before he
saw the submarine, realized his mistake, and began shouting to his
comrades. Once more he entered the water, and about forty yards from the
rocks was picked up in an exhausted condition. He had swum the best part
of a mile in his clothes.
Thus happily ended Lieutenant Hughes's daring adventure. I think you
will agree with me that as a story of pluck, endurance, and resource it
is hard to beat.
[Footnote 18: The narrowest part of the Dardanelles, 14 miles from the
Mediterranean. The width of the strait at the Narrows is about
three-quarters of a mile.]
CHAPTER XIII.
MORE STORIES OF SUBMARINE WARFARE.
You must not suppose that our submarines carried out their raids in the
Dardanelles and in the Sea of Marmora without loss. Several of our
under-water boats came to grief. E15, for example, while trying to
torpedo a Turkish ship at the Narrows,[19] ran ashore on the Asiatic
side. She was undamaged, and a Turkish destroyer speedily appeared on
the scene. The admiral on the station was anxious that she should not
fall into the enemy's hands, so he gave orders that she was to be
destroyed. The story of how she was finally blown up is worth telling.
Five different methods of destroying her were tried, but all in vain.
Aeroplanes endeavoured to drop bombs on her, but without success;
submarines tried to torpedo her, but failed; destroyers attempted to
sink her, but could not manage to do so; and two battleships fired at
her, but did not hit her. The battleships aimed their turret guns from a
distance of 5¼ miles, and found that the conning tower of the submarine
was too small a target. As a last resort the admiral gave the following
order: "Two picket boats from _Triumph_ and _Majestic_ are to attack E15
to-night (April 18) with torpedoes fitted to dropping gear. . . . Only
volunteer crews to be sent."
An officer in charge of the _Triumph's_ boat tells us[20] that he was
joined by the boat from the _Majestic_ at 10 p.m.
"We steamed about eight knots, as the current was strong, and until we
reached the beginning of the dangerous area we chatted--to keep up our
courage, perhaps! As a matter of fact, I wasn't in much of a funk, and
felt fairly cool, for I have been under fire a good many times, and I
recognized that I had got a chance that does not often come in a man's
life. It was a bit eerie, though, steaming along in the pitch dark, with
all lights out in the boat, towards the distant searchlights, not
knowing whether death or life awaited us. . . .
"We kept nearly in the centre of the channel, to avoid being spotted by
the No. 7 searchlight, which was not a very high one. We had come along
quite unobserved until we were abeam of it, passing the smaller
searchlights without much trouble. Unfortunately the men stationed near
the No. 7 searchlight saw us, and started firing 6 or 12 pounder
shrapnel at us.
"Thus the ball opened. We still had three to four miles to go. We
continued our way and approached the other searchlights. The alarm
having been given, all the other searchlights came on and sent their
beams searching round to pick us up, and as each beam struck us, bang
would go another gun. A few seconds later we would hear a ping as the
projectile whizzed past us, or a sharp metallic crack as a shrapnel
burst just over our heads."
By the time they arrived near the stranded submarine eight searchlights
were trained on them, and guns were firing at them from six different
points. Presently they saw a dark mass which they thought to be the
submarine, and fired a torpedo at it, but missed.
[Illustration: The End of a Submarine.
The cruiser has fired at the submarine and hit her, but to make
assurance doubly sure, is now crashing down upon her at full speed.]
"Suddenly we saw the _Majestic's_ boat in trouble and the crew calling
for help. It appeared that coming up behind us, and whilst the
searchlights were focussed on us, one of the beams passed us and shone
right on E15; and the _Majestic's_ boat was luckily only two hundred
yards away, and saw it. Lieutenant Godwin immediately fired one torpedo,
which did not strike the object. At that moment his boat was struck by a
shell under the water-line aft, and commenced to take in water rapidly.
He gallantly turned his boat towards E15 again, steamed in a bit, and
fired his second torpedo, which caught E15 just in front of the conning
tower and on the forward whale-back of the hull, making a fine
explosion. I consider this was a very brave deed, as Godwin knew he was
in imminent danger of sinking, but ran in again to have a second shot.
"When we saw them their stern-sheets were awash, and it looked as if
they might have to swim for it. We manoeuvred the boat to go alongside;
but the current was terrible, and it made the handling a very difficult
matter. The enemy saw the disaster, and redoubled their efforts. The sea
all round us was a mass of splashes from projectiles, some of them
fifteen to twenty feet high, whilst the water where the shrapnel burst
was pitted as if by heavy rain. How it was we were not hit I cannot say;
one would imagine it was impossible to come out of such a hail alive.
All I can say is that God preserved us, and not a shot actually hit us,
though we were one and all wet with the splashes.
"As we steamed round again before heading out, we saw a man crawling out
of the other boat's stern-sheets. He had been forgotten in the hurry of
the moment. It looked like suicide to go back, but of course we could
not leave him there, so manoeuvred close again and shouted to him to get
into the water and swim towards us, which he did, and we hauled him into
the boat unconscious. . . .
"By this time we thought we had better clear out, so turned our nose
towards home and steamed away at half speed, still under heavy fire. We
did not like to go full speed, as we thought it would shake up the
wounded man too much."
The officer who relates the story tells us that when he reached the
_Majestic_ the commander, "with the true old Navy touch, instead of
congratulating us on the success of the expedition, and our people on
their lives being saved, only asked them if they had saved any of the
boat's gear!" Congratulations, however, came later, when the
Vice-Admiral signalled that he had read with much pride the report of
the torpedo attack on the wreck of E15, and that he considered the
service which had been rendered of the greatest value.
* * * * *
During the early months of the war the Baltic Sea was Germany's own
domain. Her merchant vessels went to and fro across its waters without
molestation from the British. By July 1915, however, our submarines had
got through the dangerous channels, and were busily engaged in
destroying German shipping. It was no easy matter for our submarines to
enter the Baltic. The Germans had laid mines in the narrow waters by
which alone entrance could be gained, and had established a patrol
service. They felt sure that they could keep out the British submarines,
but they had underestimated British skill, courage, and caution. From
that time onward German vessels were sunk at the rate of about two a
day. A battleship and at least two cruisers were sunk before the end of
November, and a state of panic reigned. It was all-important that the
Germans should maintain sea communication with Sweden, from which they
drew vast quantities of iron ore and other raw materials, and also with
Denmark. You can imagine their consternation when they found that none
of their merchant ships dare leave port without the risk of being sent
to the bottom. I need not tell you that in every case the British were
most careful to save the lives of the crews.
* * * * *
One of the most successful of our submarine officers was Commander Max
K. Horton. He was present during the Battle of Heligoland Bight, and you
have already read (page 168, Vol. II.) how on September 13, 1915, he
sank the light cruiser _Hela_, and was playfully dubbed by his comrades
"The Double-toothed Pirate." The next day, at great risk, he examined
the outer anchorage of Heligoland, and on 6th October sank a German
destroyer off the mouth of the Ems. When or how he got into the Baltic
Sea we do not know, but we do know that on July 2, 1915, he torpedoed
the German battleship _Pommern_, and that shortly afterwards the Tsar
recognized this important service by conferring on him the Order of St.
George. At the same time the cross of the same order was awarded to the
members of his crew. During the Battle of the Gulf of Riga, which I
shall describe in a later chapter, Commander Noel Laurence torpedoed the
German cruiser _Moltke_, which, you will remember, took part in the East
Coast raids and in the Battle of the Dogger Bank. She was badly
disabled, and was towed away, probably towards Kiel. The Tsar awarded
Commander Laurence and his crew similar distinctions to those conferred
upon Commander Max Horton and his comrades.
* * * * *
One of our submarines, E13, ran aground early in the morning of 19th
August on the Danish island of Saltholm, which lies in the Sound between
Copenhagen and the Swedish town of Malmö. At 5 a.m. a Danish torpedo
boat saw her, and signalled to her that she would be allowed twenty-four
hours in which to try to get off. At the same time a German destroyer
arrived, and remained close to the submarine until two other Danish
torpedo boats came up, when she withdrew. The submarine, you must
remember, was in Danish waters, and if the Germans should attack her
they would commit an act of war against Denmark, which, as you know, is
neutral. Nevertheless, at 9 a.m., two German destroyers appeared,
launched a torpedo at the submarine, and fired at her with all their
guns. The British commander ordered his men to abandon the vessel; but
while they were doing so machine guns were turned on them, and shrapnel
was burst above them. Fourteen of the poor fellows were killed, and not
a soul of the crew would have remained alive had not a Danish torpedo
boat gallantly steamed in between the submarine and the German
destroyer, and thus covered the stranded vessel. This cowardly and
murderous act caused great indignation not only in Britain but in
Denmark. Once more German sailors had covered themselves with infamy.
* * * * *
Russian submarines were also active in the Baltic. The following story
tells us how a Russian submarine collided with a German warship which
she had just torpedoed.
Having picked up the smoke of enemy vessels on the horizon, the
submarine approached them, and by means of her periscope discovered that
they consisted of ten ships of the line and several torpedo boats. To
prevent the enemy from seeing his periscope, the commander of the
submarine steered to the port side of the squadron, where he was between
the ships and the light. With his periscope six inches above the water,
he approached the squadron, and then dived. When he rose again he
sighted on his starboard the ram of the leading warship, which was
cutting across his course at a distance of not more than sixty yards.
Again he dived, and gave the order to fire a torpedo. The order was
obeyed, and was immediately followed by a collision. A terrible crash
was heard. The whole submarine trembled; the electric bulbs burst;
crockery and all kinds of articles flew about; something above cracked,
broke, and gave way. The submarine took a list to starboard, and the
crew were unable to keep their feet. What had happened? The hull of the
warship had struck the centre of the submarine. The men hung on to
anything within reach, and fortunately kept their heads. "Full speed
ahead" was the order, and soon the submarine regained her balance.
She was 75 feet below the surface when a loud explosion was heard. The
torpedo had got home. The noise was so great that the commander thought
the shell of his boat had been damaged by the collision, and that it was
collapsing under the pressure of the water. He therefore rose to 60
feet, but the sound of the approaching screw of a large ship forced him
to dive to 80 feet. Again and again he tried to rise, but every time he
heard the screws of battleships and torpedo boats above him. He now
discovered that his periscope was damaged, and that his boat was leaking
and losing its buoyancy. Water had to be blown out of the tanks from
time to time, and this revealed the presence of the submarine to the
ships above. It was not until near midnight that she dared come to the
surface. She rose carefully, and, thanks to the darkness, was not seen.
Soon she was making her way to the shore, having been under water for
four hours without a break.
* * * * *
About the second week of May German submarines were reported in the
Mediterranean. During the month of February the Germans completed the
first of their big submarines which were capable of making the journey
from Zeebrugge to the Dardanelles within three weeks. Secret bases had
been established in Eastern waters, and the British Government offered a
large reward for their discovery. Several of them were found on Greek
islands. Before long the German submarines made their presence felt. We
shall learn in a later chapter how, on 26th May, one of them managed to
torpedo the _Triumph_, and the next day sent the _Majestic_ to the
bottom. The submarines practically put an end to the bombardment of the
Dardanelles forts by our ships of war. While firing at the forts the
ships were obliged to move slowly, and thus were at the mercy of an
enemy under water.
Germany's new submarines in the Mediterranean mounted bigger and more
effective guns than had formerly been employed on under-water craft, and
they were able to destroy several vessels by shell fire. Not only
British, French, and Italian vessels were sent to the bottom, but one if
not two American ships. I have already told you of the sinking of the
_Ancona_. Dastardly as it was, it was outdone on 30th December, when the
Peninsular and Oriental liner _Persia_ was sent to her doom. She was on
her outward voyage, and at lunch time was off the island of Crete, when,
without warning of any kind, a torpedo was launched against her. Five
minutes after she received her death-blow she had vanished utterly. More
than 330 out of the 501 passengers and crew were lost, and amongst the
victims were a large number of women and children. Lord Montagu, who was
saved, cabled home as follows:--
"I have had a miraculous escape. The ship sank by the stern,
dragging me down with her. When I was blown up to the surface
again I saw a dreadful scene of struggling human beings. There
was hardly any wreckage to grasp. Nearly all the boats were
smashed, and only three remained afloat. After a desperate
struggle, I climbed on the bottom of a broken boat with 28
Lascars and three other Europeans. Our number was reduced to 19
by Thursday night, and only 11 remained on Friday, the rest
having died from exposure and injuries. We saw a neutral steamer
pass close by on Thursday evening at about 8 o'clock, but she
took no notice of the red flare shown by another of the
_Persia's_ boats. We saw a large steamer three miles away on the
next day; but she too ignored our signals, probably thinking
they were a ruse of an enemy submarine. Our broken boat capsized
constantly, and we were all the time washed by the waves, so
that we were almost exhausted when the second night began. At
8.30 p.m. we saw the Alfred Holt steamer _Ningchow_ near us, and
shouted as loudly as we could. On Friday night at 9 o'clock she
rescued us. We had been thirty-two hours in the sea without
water or food, except one biscuit, since breakfast time on
Thursday."
Within a day or two of this outrage the British steamer _Glengyle_ was
also sunk in the Mediterranean, but happily all the passengers were
saved. In the North Sea we had got the submarine danger well in hand,
but in the far more extensive Mediterranean the enemy remained powerful
for mischief down to the close of the year.
[Footnote 19: For an account of the Narrows, see Chapter XX.]
[Footnote 20: _Blackwood's Magazine_, October 1915.]
CHAPTER XIV.
WINTER FIGHTING IN POLAND AND EAST PRUSSIA.
In chapter XXIX. of our third volume I told you how von Hindenburg's
second attempt on Warsaw was foiled, and how the Russians during the
last days of December 1914 stood firm on a front of great strength. At
the beginning of the year 1915 the Russian front extended from the
Baltic Sea right to the border of Rumania--a distance of at least nine
hundred miles. In January 1915 the Russians were holding the longest
battle front ever known in the history of the world.
We may divide this very extended battle front as Cæsar divided
Gaul--into three parts. The trenches in the central or Polish zone ran
from the mouth of the Bzura, on the Middle Vistula, to the Upper
Vistula, at its confluence with the Donajetz, in a fairly straight line,
for a distance of about two hundred miles. On either side of this
central zone there were two wings which differed greatly in character.
Both were bent back from the line of the central zone: the north or
right wing followed a sickle shape through a region of lake and marsh
from the Baltic to the Vistula, and was for the most part within the
East Prussian frontier; while the south or left wing ran from the Upper
Vistula to follow the line of the Carpathians.
We will now learn something of the fighting which took place in the
first three months of the year 1915 on the north or right wing. For the
first few weeks there was ordinary trench warfare such as was going on
in the West. Attacks and counter-attacks were frequent, but there was no
action of any great importance. Most of the attacks were made by night,
beneath the light of rockets and star-shells and the glare of
searchlights. On the Bzura River the trenches of friend and foe were
only sixty yards apart, and in this section of the line the Germans
tried a very ingenious method of breaking down the Russian wire
entanglements. They filled barrels with clay, and rolled them down the
slopes towards the Russians, who believed that men with wire-cutters
were hiding behind the barrels and pushing them forward. They therefore
flung their hand grenades at the barrels, only to discover that they
were moving by their own weight, and that there were no men behind them.
When the Russians had thus exhausted their supply of hand grenades, the
Germans pushed forward and tried to rush the trenches. They were only
beaten off after a furious struggle. Shells and bombs containing poison
gases were also used by the Germans on this part of the line.
In Poland there was the same kind of warfare as on the Bzura. Across the
plains the Germans had made a maze of very strong trenches and
earthworks with deep underground chambers, floored and roofed with wood.
In Galicia, towards the end of January the bright sun melted the snows
of the Carpathians, and the streams became roaring torrents which made a
very effective barrier against surprise attacks. Nevertheless the enemy
kept up a very heavy bombardment across the flooded waters. On the
Donajetz River the Austrians broke the rules of war, and fired from
their machine guns explosive bullets, which when they entered a man's
body blew away half his back.
Towards the end of January the Russians began to take the offensive on
the wings. At this time, you must remember, the new forces which the
Allies in the West had raised were not yet ready to take the field. The
"thin line of steel and valour" in Artois and Flanders was only just
holding its own, and it was feared that if the Germans brought troops
from the East they would be able to break through the Allied line and
reach the Channel ports. The Grand Duke Nicholas was, therefore,
requested to attack von Hindenburg, and prevent him from releasing
troops for service in the West. Earlier in the war he had sacrificed
large numbers of his men in East Prussia to give his Western Allies a
breathing space. Now, although his forces were very weak in guns,
rifles, and ammunition, he showed the same high courage and chivalry. He
knew that, if he pushed forward into the sacred land of East Prussia,
von Hindenburg would hasten to engage him, and that if he threatened
Hungary, the great granary of the Central Powers, the enemy would be
bound to oppose him. The Grand Duke Nicholas was well aware that he
could not hope for conquest. All that he could do would be to worry the
enemy and prevent him from sending troops to the West.
[Illustration: The Russians retaking a Trench before Bolimov.
(_By permission of The Illustrated London News._)
The following account of the incident pictured above was given by a
Russian soldier:--"They did not stay long when we came down on them with
our bayonets. Our artillery had dropped many shells right in the trench
before we got there. The machine guns played on us until the last
minute, and we paused to fire at the gunners. The few Germans who were
left tried to drag the guns away with them, but our men took them away
from them."]
In order to provide a sufficient force for these attacks, the Russians
had to draw off men and guns from their centre. Von Hindenburg knew
this, and he therefore determined to make another effort to capture
Warsaw by a frontal attack. The fifty-sixth birthday of the Kaiser was
drawing near, and what better present could be made to him than the
great Polish capital? You will remember that at this time the Russians
were lying along the right bank of the Bzura and its tributary the
Rawka. Look at the map on the next page and find the town of Bolimov, on
the western bank of the Rawka. It is about forty miles from Warsaw, and
is connected with it by a fairly good road. In front of Bolimov there
are rolling downs and belts of wood. You will notice that the Russian
lines cross the Rawka south of Bolimov.
On the last day of January von Mackensen, who had brought up large
numbers of heavy guns all along the left bank of the Rawka, began a
terrific bombardment of the Russian lines. This was done to puzzle the
Russians and make them uncertain as to where the infantry attack was to
be made. The Germans proposed to advance on a line of seven miles
between Bolimov and the Bzura.
On the night of 1st February, when the snow was falling heavily, the
German guns fiercely shelled the Russian trenches between the Warsaw
road and the Bzura River. When it was supposed that the wire
entanglements had been blown into a million fragments and the trenches
utterly wrecked, 140,000 Germans, including Prussian Guards, advanced in
masses, sometimes ten and sometimes twenty-two deep. They were mown down
by Russian shot and shell; nevertheless they carried the first line of
trenches, and by the evening of the 2nd February had pushed the Russians
back to the crest of a ridge behind the town of Borzymov. On Wednesday
the Germans looked like succeeding; but by means of the railways which
you see to the north and to the south of Borzymov, and also by means of
the roads, the Grand Duke hurried up reinforcements from Warsaw. They
marched through the driving snow, and arrived on the scene of battle
late on Thursday. By this time the Germans had been checked. They had
pushed across the crest of the ridge behind Borzymov, had advanced five
miles along the railway, and had very nearly broken through the Russian
front.
[Illustration: The Battle on the Rawka.]
The fighting was terribly fierce, and the Germans lost heavily. Around
Borzymov the slaughter was so great that the ground was cumbered with
German dead, and the survivors used the bodies of their fallen comrades
to build up defences. The woods to the south of the Bolimov-Warsaw road
were also strewn with dead. By 8th February the Germans had been flung
back to the banks of the Rawka, and the Russians had crossed the river
at Dachova. The German loss cannot have been less than 20,000 men. The
great attempt had failed, and it was now clear that Warsaw could not be
captured by a frontal attack.
As soon as von Hindenburg saw that the Bzura-Rawka lines were too strong
for him, he was ready with a new plan. He was now about to try a flank
attack. Look carefully at the map on the next page and notice the
railways which meet in the Polish capital. By these railways alone can
a Russian army maintain itself westward of the Vistula. In front of the
main railway (A A) from Warsaw to Petrograd you see a river line--that
of the Niemen and the Narev. Von Hindenburg's plan was to push out from
East Prussia, carry the river line, cut the railway, and thus force the
Russians to retire from Warsaw, which would then fall into his hands.
Meanwhile the Austrians, on the Russian left wing, were to drive back
Brussilov, relieve Przemysl, and try to recapture Lemberg. If these
operations should succeed, the Russians would be forced back from the
line of the Vistula to the river Bug, and it would take them a year's
fighting to recover the lost ground.
First of all we will follow the fortunes of the East Prussian campaign.
While the fighting was proceeding on the Rawka, the Russians, who
numbered about 120,000, were making headway in East Prussia. Despite the
keen frost, the icy winds, and the deep snowdrifts, they pushed back the
weak German forces opposed to them, until, on 6th February, their right
was not far from Tilsit, and their left rested on the town of
Johannisburg. Nowhere were they less than twenty-five miles within the
East Prussian frontier.
On 7th February von Hindenburg sprang his surprise upon the invaders. He
suddenly hurled 300,000 men against the whole line which the Russians
were holding. According to custom, the German left wing made an
outflanking movement. It was successful, and the Russians holding this
part of the line were forced to retreat along the railway towards Kovno.
The 20th Corps just to the south of it now had its right "in the air,"
and was obliged to retire. In the forests and marshes north of Suwalki
it was broken up into parties of stragglers. The remainder of the
Russian line was also driven back, but only after a stern struggle. By
15th February the Germans were on Russian soil, and were moving towards
the river line which screens the railway from Warsaw to Petrograd. They
were about to attack on the Niemen, the Bobr, and the Narev at one and
the same time. If the river line should be forced, the railway would
soon be reached and cut.
I have told you what happened in East Prussia in a few sentences; but
you must not suppose that the Germans won easy victories. The Russians
resisted desperately, and many of them fought to the last cartridge.
Though their losses were very heavy, they performed a great feat in
retreating seventy miles with a force three times as great hard on their
heels. The Germans had a good railway system to help them in their East
Prussian advance, but more than half of the Russian army had to retire
through thick forests and drag heavy guns across a rough, broken country
deep in snow and without railways.
[Illustration: Map to illustrate the German attack on the river line.]
The Kaiser sent the following message to his people: "Russians
crushingly defeated. Our beloved East Prussia liberated from the enemy.
Our beautiful Mazurian land is waste. (Signed) Wilhelm." The Germans
claimed that they had captured 75,000 prisoners and 300 guns, but this
was false. The total Russian losses were, perhaps, 80 guns and 30,000
men.
[Illustration: Austrian Trenches.
_Photo, Topical Press._
This photograph gives a good idea of the way in which trenches are
constructed and manned. It will be noticed that the front and rear
trench communicate by means of a narrow cutting, and that the trenches
are dug zigzag so that they cannot be enfiladed along the full length.]
CHAPTER XV.
A BATTLE OF THE MIDDLE AGES.
The Russians had already prepared positions on the river line, and by
19th February they had occupied them, and were waiting for the Germans
to attack. Next day the enemy launched forces against the Niemen, about
fourteen miles to the north of Grodno. A thick belt of wood on the banks
of the river screened them from view, and some of them succeeded in
crossing the river, but could not emerge from the forests on the other
side. Though the railway was less than ten miles away, they were unable
to reach it.
Meanwhile the fortress of Ossowietz, on the Bobr, was undergoing a
second siege. You will remember that the Germans had tried to capture it
in the previous September, but had failed, because the fortress stands
amidst marshes, and they could not find solid ground from which to fire
their big guns. Again they failed, though they used every possible
device to bring about its downfall. Every knuckle of hard soil on which
a howitzer could be placed was known to the garrison, and they were able
to silence the big guns of the enemy before they could do much mischief.
It is said that the Germans lost 15,000 dead in their attempts to storm
the fortress.
Thus the attacks on the Niemen and the Bobr had come to nothing. By the
beginning of March the Russians were advancing everywhere along the line
from Kovno to the Narev, and the Germans were slowly retiring towards
East Prussia. There was desperate fighting with the bayonet amidst the
marshy woods near Augustovo, where large captures were made of German
guns, supplies, and prisoners. By the middle of March the Germans were
covering the East Prussian frontier, and were only ten miles within
Russian territory. Meanwhile a great battle had been fought and lost on
the Narev.
* * * * *
Look carefully at the map on p. 115; it shows you the country between
the East Prussian frontier and the Narev. This river flows in a winding
course through a district of marshes and heavy woods, with here and
there a few ridges. To the north of the river, and to the east of the
town of Przasnysz,[21] which stands midway between the frontier and the
Narev, there are some fairly high hills with patches of forest on their
sandy slopes. The crossing-places of the Narev are protected by
fortified towns, some of which you see marked by a star on the map.
Find the town of Mlawa, of which you have already heard. On a front
stretching for some twenty-five miles to the north-east of that town,
and about a day's march in front of the Prussian frontier railway, the
Germans massed two corps, and on 22nd February began to advance in three
columns. The right travelled from Mlawa by the railway which you see
marked on the map, the centre marched along the main highway towards
Przasnysz, and the left followed the valley of a little river towards a
road which enters the same town from the north-east. There was only a
single Russian brigade in front of Przasnysz, and it was easily driven
back. On the 24th the Germans entered the town, in which they seized a
number of guns and captured about half the brigade which had been
defending it.
On the previous day another Russian advanced body which lay on a ridge
near the village of Vola, to the south of Przasnysz, had been attacked.
Elsewhere the Germans were advancing without much difficulty, but on
this ridge a violent battle raged, and the Russians made a most heroic
stand. For thirty-six hours they held out, and on the evening of the
24th their reinforcements arrived. Four columns of Russians had advanced
on Przasnysz from the Narev line, and the invaders were pressed
northward on three sides. They were driven through the town in
confusion, and on the 26th it was once more in Russian hands. All the
next day the battle raged amongst the snowy ridges to the north-east and
north-west of the town, and by Sunday morning the enemy was in full
retreat for the frontier, leaving 10,000 prisoners behind him. Thus the
whole attempt to capture Warsaw by a flank movement had failed.
[Illustration: Scene of the Fighting round Przasnysz.]
The Battle of Przasnysz was more like a struggle of the Middle Ages than
a modern battle. The Russians short of arms and ammunition, and they
could not supply all their trained men with rifles. In this and in other
fights the Russians kept unarmed troops in the rear. When the men with
rifles fell, the unarmed were sent forward to take up the weapons of the
dead and wounded and then fling themselves on the foe. Men rushed into
the firing line at Przasnysz with a sword bayonet in one hand and two
bombs in the other. They charged through rifle and machine-gun fire
until they were near enough to fling their bombs, and then fell
furiously upon the enemy with cold steel, utterly reckless of wounds and
death. The Germans could not stand against such an onset, and fled. Thus
by sheer bodily might the Russians had flung back in rout a foe superior
to them in numbers, and once more von Hindenburg found Warsaw beyond his
grasp.
[Illustration: The Retreat of the Austrians across the Uzsok Pass.
_By permission of The Sphere._
This spirited drawing shows Russian cavalry driving the Austrians across
the snow-bound Uzsok Pass. (See page 120.) In this attack the Russians
fell upon the flank and rear of the Austrians during a violent
snowstorm, and pursued them for many miles. Hundreds of Austrians
surrendered.]
[Footnote 21: _Pshas´nish._]
CHAPTER XVI.
THE FALL OF PRZEMYSL.
You will remember that while von Hindenburg was vainly attempting to
pierce the river line of the Niemen and the Narev on the Russian right
wing, the Austrians were in motion against the south or left wing. On
page 249 of our third volume I gave you a map, which I repeat on page
119, showing the line which the Russians were holding in Galicia at the
close of the year 1914. They then held the northern entrances to the
Carpathian passes, and had pushed up the Dukla Pass almost to the crest.
Newspaper readers in this country believed that before long the Russian
legions would be pouring down on the Hungarian plain, and that when the
great granary of the Central Powers was invaded the end of the war would
be in sight.
During the month of January the Russians strove hard to push across the
Galician passes, and their cavalry actually descended to the Hungarian
plain thirty miles south of the mountains. Not only was fighting going
on in Galicia, but in Bukovina[22]--that is, the country of the beech
woods--which stretches southward from the Dneister, across the Pruth and
the Sereth, to the eastern face of the Carpathians. Ever since September
1914 the Russians had held Northern Bukovina, and they now wished to
conquer the whole of it, for several reasons. In the first place, it was
Germany's main source of supply for petrol; in the second place, it lay
on the frontier of Rumania, and it was thought that the presence of a
Russian army in Bukovina would induce Rumania to join the Allies.
Further, if Rumania should elect to do so, she would be able to join
hands at once with the Russians. In the third place, there are several
fairly easy passes from Bukovina into Hungary, and one of them is the
main route from the north to the plains of Hungary.
The Russians had only a division in Bukovina, and the Austrians opposed
them with a force which was not much stronger. By the middle of January
almost all the country was in the hands of the Russians. They had,
however, not yet secured the pass which would enable them to advance
into Hungary.
The time had now come for the Austrians to make a great effort to save
Hungary, and to prevent Rumania, with her large and well-equipped army,
from entering into the struggle on the side of the Allies. How was this
to be done? Two campaigns were necessary--the one to drive back
Brussilov from the passes and to relieve Przemysl, and the other to
clear Bukovina of the invaders.
Let us see how the campaign in Bukovina fared. Three Austrian corps and
one German corps crossed the mountains and advanced in two columns. The
Russians, you will remember, had only one division with which to meet
these four army corps. They were obliged to fall back, and thus Bukovina
was cleared. The Austrians captured town after town, and early in March
they entered Stanislau,[23] a railway junction only seventy miles from
Lemberg. They were delighted with their success, and they reported that
they had made huge captures of prisoners. They had now reached a
position from which they could threaten the Russian communications.
Soon, however, it was discovered that the Russians had only fallen back
to a point where they could be reinforced. As soon as their numbers were
sufficiently increased they advanced again, and pushed the Austrians out
of Stanislau, and almost back to the line of the Pruth. By doing so they
removed the danger to their communications.
[Illustration: Position of the Russians in Galicia at the end of 1914.]
Meanwhile what had happened in Galicia? Two Austrian armies had been
fighting fierce battles in the deep snows and slush of the Carpathians.
With infinite labour guns and transports had been hauled up the icy
slopes, where a foothold could barely be maintained. Infantry attacks
were difficult; the white snow threw up the figures of the men, who thus
became excellent targets, no matter what uniforms they wore. Even night
attacks were revealed, for on moonless nights the light reflected from
the snow made all things clear. Both sides suffered terribly from the
cold, but it told more severely on the Austrians than on the Russians,
who are accustomed to bitter winters. In the last week of January a
bright sun shone, and often the pure white snow was stained scarlet with
the blood of the fallen. Blizzards swept across the mountains during
February, and checked the fighting on the uplands, though it continued
to rage in the foothills. Perhaps the most terrible hand-to-hand
fighting known to history took place at a little village near the Uzsok
Pass. Large German forces for two months vainly tried to oust the
Russians, who had captured the position from them. Some idea of the
awful losses sustained by the Germans may be gathered from the statement
that one regiment changed from colonel to drummer boy three and perhaps
four times. The village stands on a height, and during the winter is
shrouded in snow. While the furious battles were raging, the height was
reduced to bare soil, every foot of its surface having been ploughed
with shell and drenched with blood. You can imagine the horror of trench
life in this region, with the thermometer below freezing-point and the
icy blizzards blowing almost daily. In some places the trenches were
only forty paces apart, and so fierce were the attacks and
counter-attacks that eight out of every ten men engaged in them are said
to have fallen. At the beginning of February the Russians in this region
destroyed a whole battalion of Germans, save the commander and twenty
men.
The Austrian army which fought between the Dukla Pass and the Uzsok Pass
was charged with the duty of relieving Przemysl, but it was held back by
the Russians, as also was the army which was operating more to the east.
During the last days of February and the first days of March Brussilov
fought a fierce battle on a ridge near the Uzsok Pass. He held the
heights, drove back the Austrians, and even the most desperate bayonet
attacks could not force him from his position of vantage. The Austrians
were held up, and the Russians gained sufficient time to reinforce their
weak troops which had been driven out of Bukovina. I have already told
you that they advanced again and pushed the Austrians back to the line
of the Pruth.
* * * * *
The attempt to relieve Przemysl had failed, and on 22nd March the
fortress fell. Before I proceed to tell you the story of this Russian
success, let me give you some idea of the situation and importance of
Przemysl. It has been famous as a fortress for a thousand years. In
early times it was regarded as the key to the Hungarian plains, and in
modern times it has been considered as the main outlying protection to
the city of Cracow. The town claims to date back to the eighth century,
and certainly is one of the oldest cities of Galicia. The river San,
which washes its walls, descends in wide sweeps from the Uzsok Pass,
through mountain glens filled with fir and beech trees, and then through
the vales of the foothills, which are planted with groves of apricot,
pear, and cherry, and are dotted here and there with brightly painted
wooden houses. The valley of the San is the orchard land of Galicia.
The first modern forts of Przemysl were erected in 1871, and since then
have been several times enlarged and improved, until, on the eve of the
war, the fortress was one of the strongest in the country. It was a ring
fortress like Liége and Namur. At a distance of six miles from the city
there was a circle of outer forts with smaller works connecting them.
Within this ring, about a thousand yards from the city, there was
another circular series of forts. Had Russia been supplied with heavy
siege guns such as the Germans brought against the Belgian and French
fortresses, Przemysl would have fallen in a month. As it was, it held
out, during its second siege, for seven months.
A glance at the map[24] shows you that Przemysl is chiefly important
because of its situation with regard to the railways of Galicia. It
stands on the main trunk line connecting Lemberg with Cracow, and it
gives railway access to the Lupkow and Uzsok passes. While Przemysl held
out the Russians had to send supplies to their armies by long and
roundabout routes, and they could not readily mass troops for a big
movement against the passes. As far back as September 27, 1914, the
Russians had closed round it, and had sat tight in their trenches hoping
to starve it into surrender. The town was not well supplied with
provisions, and by the middle of October the defenders were on very
short commons indeed. Then came a blessed respite. Von Hindenburg's
first assault on Warsaw forced Ivanov to retire beyond the San, and the
Austrians found themselves able to pour food, ammunition, and supplies
into the besieged fortress. By the 12th of November, when the Russians
had surrounded it once more, there were four Austrian army corps in the
place, and these, with the townsfolk and refugees, numbered some 200,000
souls.
It is still a matter of wonder why the Austrians kept four army corps in
Przemysl. To hold the twenty-five miles circuit of the fortress 50,000
men would have been ample, and every extra mouth in the place only
brought the day of surrender nearer. One would have supposed that during
the retreat of the Russians in October distant lines of trenches would
have been flung out from Przemysl, as had been done at Verdun. The
Austrians, however, showed no foresight, and the governor seems to have
considered the town a capital place in which to spend the winter. When
the Russians returned they had nothing to do but sit down and let the
garrison eat up its supplies. When food gave out the fortress was bound
to fall.
[Illustration: The Fall of Przemysl.
(_From the picture by H. C. Seppings-Wright. By permission of The
Illustrated London News._)
This picture, which was drawn by the artist on the spot, shows Russians
advancing to occupy the fortress, and passing on the way large numbers
of Austrians who had been captured in the final sortie. The town of
Przemysl is seen in the distance on the right. In the background are
seen Austrian forts and a railway bridge being blown up. Almost in the
middle of the picture a land-mine is exploding.]
In December the Austrians made an attempt to relieve the fortress. In
Chapter XXVII. of our third volume I told you how the Austrians
launched two armies against the Russians, who were then threatening
Cracow, and how the Russians were forced to retreat to the position
shown on the map on page 119. During the Russian retreat the Austrians
were so near to Przemysl that they could hear its guns thundering, and
exchange signals with its garrison by means of searchlights. The time
had come for the Austrians within the fortress to dash out and break
through the lines of their besiegers. On 15th December five regiments
did so.
They broke through the Russian lines at the south-east angle, and for
four days there was fierce and doubtful fighting. The Russians, however,
managed to drive the Austrians back into the town. The sortie had
failed, with a loss of 3,000 killed and wounded. Shortly afterwards
Brussilov cleared the mouths of the passes, and by Christmas Day
Przemysl was once more girdled by a ring of iron. I have already told
you how the Austro-Germans made another attempt late in January and
early in February 1915 to relieve the strain on the fortress, and how it
came to nought. Thereafter the fall of Przemysl was only a matter of
time.
Fighting went on night and day. Many times the Austrians strove to break
out, but each time they were driven back, with huge losses on both
sides. The Russians counter-attacked, and won several of the forts.
"These unexpected blows," wrote a Russian general, "greatly excite the
garrison. Right through the night their searchlights sweep to and fro
over our positions, and the long white rays rest trembling on every fold
of the ground. At times something alarms the forts, and the air is
instantly filled with the thunder of Austrian guns. The fire is kept up
for thirty minutes to an hour before it subsides again." It is worthy of
note that not a single Russian shell fell within the town itself.
But all the time famine was doing its deadly work. Up to December there
was no shortage of food; but when the new year set in the rations were
severely cut down, first for the civilians, then for the soldiers, next
for the hospitals, and finally for the officers. The weather grew cold,
and there was no firewood. Bread could not be obtained at all, and a
fowl cost twenty-four shillings. Soon the cavalry began slaughtering
their horses for food. By March a cow was selling for £140, and a dog
for £2, 10s.
Mr. Stanley Washburn, a correspondent with the Russian army, tells us
that the place was greatly over-garrisoned by patient, haggard soldiers
starving in the trenches and sleek faultlessly-dressed officers living
on the fat of the land in fashionable hotels and restaurants. While the
garrison became thin and half starved, the officers ate three meals a
day, and enjoyed fresh meat, cigars, wines, and every luxury. While
soldiers were falling fainting in the streets, their officers were
leading the life to which they had been accustomed in Vienna during
times of peace.
On the night of 13th March the end began. The Russians pushed through
the outer line of defences and began to bombard the inner forts. Four
days later the Austrians strove for the last time to break out, but the
Russian guns caught them and mowed them down in swathes. The survivors
were driven back with heavy loss, and 4,000 prisoners remained in
Russian hands. Early on the morning of the 22nd the besiegers were
awakened by the noise of loud explosions. The Austrians were blowing up
the forts before surrendering the city. We are told that the burning
forts smoked like a circle of volcanoes. Soon a white flag was seen
fluttering above the highest building in the town. Przemysl was ready to
surrender. Meanwhile the officers were shooting their chargers, to
prevent them from falling into the hands of the Russians, and the
soldiers, crazy with hunger, were greedily devouring the raw flesh. Tons
of explosives were sunk in the river, guns and rifles were destroyed,
and bridges were blown up.
About nine o'clock a letter reached the Russian headquarters from the
Austrian general saying that hunger had forced him to yield the
fortress. A few Russian officers entered and received the surrender; but
there was no triumphal parade such as had been witnessed when the
Germans entered Antwerp.
"Civilians inform me," wrote Mr. Washburn, "that they gladly
welcome the Russians, and that the first troops who entered were
greeted with cheers, while the garrison was frankly pleased that
the siege was over and their troubles at an end. I have seen on
the road and in the town tens of thousands of prisoners, and I
believe the Austrians, especially the Hungarians, are
first-class raw material, but that now they are utterly broken
and helpless." (This he considered to be due to their wretched
officers, who, if those seen in Przemysl were fair samples,
appeared to be the most selfish and incompetent in Europe.) "I
have never witnessed a more unpleasant sight than that of the
dapper, overdressed Austrian officers laughing and chatting
gaily as they were driven in carriages to the railway station
for departure, passing through columns of their own men, pale
and haggard from hardships which apparently had not been shared
in any particular by their officers."
* * * * *
So fell Przemysl. Its capture was not so much a Russian victory as an
Austrian disgrace. By overcrowding the place with soldiers, and putting
careless, ignorant officers in charge of them, the Austrians ensured its
downfall. About 120,000 prisoners, including 2,600 officers, fell into
Russian hands; about 1,000 guns were captured, 180 of them fit for use,
as well as a large amount of shell and small-arm ammunition. Russia had
obtained an excellent base from which to advance against the central
passes of the Carpathians, and she had set free an army of 100,000 men
for future operations.
The fall of Przemysl was greeted with great delight by the Allies, and
it was thought that before the end of the summer Cracow would be sure to
fall, Silesia would be entered, and the Russian legions would be
sweeping through Hungary. Alas! these rosy hopes were soon to be
disappointed. Within five weeks clouds began to gather in the East. The
Russians were caught napping. The strongest army which Germany had ever
mustered was hurled against them, and huge guns drove them remorselessly
back from the soil which they had so hardly won. Less than forty days
after the Austro-Germans began to move, Przemysl was once more in their
hands. Nor was the retreat stayed until the Russians were driven far
back on their own soil, and the very existence of their armies was at
stake.
[Footnote 22: _Boo-ko-ve´na._]
[Footnote 23: _Stan´is-low_, 75 m. S.S.E. of Lemberg. It has extensive
railroad shops.]
[Footnote 24: Vol. III., p. 247.]
CHAPTER XVII.
STORIES FROM EASTERN BATTLEFIELDS.
In this chapter I shall tell you some stories illustrating the fierce
fighting which took place in the Eastern theatre of war during the first
three months of the year 1915. I have already told you that Russian
women frequently disguised themselves as men and fought with great
heroism in the ranks. A Russian girl named Alexandra Lagereva was
awarded a commission early in the year for fine soldierly conduct in the
field. During one of the battles fought near Suwalki her detachment was
surrounded by the Germans, and forced to surrender. Alexandra noticed,
from the way in which her captors looked at her, that they had guessed
her secret. Perhaps for this reason they did not go through her pockets,
in which she carried a watch and a compass.
The prisoners were locked up in a church, and a sentry was placed at the
door. At night, when all was quiet, Alexandra formed a plan of escape. A
window was broken, and the girl crept through it. She stealthily
approached the sentry, whom she felled with a stone. Then several of her
comrades clambered out of the window, recovered their horses, and, along
with her, made off. Soon, however, a force of eighteen Uhlans barred
their way; but Alexandra and her comrades managed to capture them. When
the German lieutenant learned that his eighteen men had been overpowered
by a girl and six Russians, he tore his hair in rage. He was found to be
carrying important papers, and these Alexandra took to the nearest
Russian commander, whose report on her gallant conduct led to her
promotion. She was described as of middle height, slender and graceful,
and by no means of that masculine character which her deeds would lead
one to suppose.
* * * * *
Mr. Washburn, who has already been mentioned in these pages, tells us
that the Russian officer looks upon his men as his children, and that
they call him "father." "It is a strange relation," he says, "that one
sees between them. I recall seeing a grizzled old colonel marching his
much-cut-up regiment past him on the plains of Poland after an action.
As each company passed the old hero called out in his deep bass voice,
'I am pleased with you, my children; you have done well,' And each
company replied in unison, 'Thank you, father; we are willing to do as
much again.' And then they all marched back to the trenches and took up
the burden of the campaign once more."
* * * * *
You have already heard much about the Cossacks, who used to be
considered demons of cruelty, but are now known to be much like other
Russians--easy-going, kindly, and good-natured. One of the Cossack
regiments is described as being clad in baggy greatcoats of undressed
sheepskin dyed a deep claret colour, while other regiments sport similar
garments of a bright orange hue. All wear on their heads hairy busbies
about the size of a bushel measure. Each man owns his horse, and grooms
it until it looks like a racing thoroughbred. The Germans go in terror
of the Cossacks. A story is told that when a German soldier was captured
in Poland he looked uneasily about him. On being asked what worried him,
he said, "The Cossacks." He then went on to say that he and his comrades
believed that the Cossacks could not be trusted alone even by the
Russians. They were, he said, brought to the front in huge vans, and
when an action began the vans were turned towards the enemy, and the
doors were thrown open, when out leaped the Cossacks, sword in hand, and
dashed upon the foe. When the fight was over, so he told his captors,
the Cossacks were rounded up and coaxed back into their cages, where
they were kept in confinement until the next battle!
* * * * *
An American doctor who offered his services to Russia because "Russia
stuck to us during the Civil War," tells us that though the Germans are
better rifle shots than the Russians, they cannot compare with the
Tsar's soldiers when it comes to the bayonet. "When these moujiks,"[25]
said the doctor, "climb out of their trenches and begin to sing their
national songs they just go crazy, and they aren't scared of anything;
and believe me, when the Germans see them coming across the fields
bellowing these songs of theirs, they just don't wait one minute, but
dig right out across the landscape as fast as they can tear. I don't
think there's a soldier in the world that has anything on the Russian
private for bravery. They are a stubborn lot, too, and will sit in
trenches in all weathers, and be just as cheerful under one condition as
another. One big advantage over here, as I regard it, is the good
relations between the soldiers and their officers."
* * * * *
Mr. Washburn tells us[26] how the colonel of a Russian battery "had a
great laugh on the enemy. What happened was this. A German Taube flew
over the line several times, and it kept coming back so frequently, and
hovering over the battery, that the officers who were watching it became
suspicious that they had been 'spotted.' When darkness fell the men of
the battery became extremely busy, and by working like bees moved their
guns perhaps 600 yards to the south, and by daylight had them in the new
positions and fairly well masked. Shortly after sunrise back came the
aeroplane, and when over the old position it gave a signal to its own
lines and then flew back. Almost instantly shells fell fast and thick on
the abandoned spot. Six hundred yards away the men of the battery
watched the shells falling, and laughed their sides out at the way they
had fooled the Germans. . . . From glancing at the field torn up with
shell fire one begins to realize what observation means to the enemy.
With modern methods a single signal from an aeroplane may mean the
wiping out in a few minutes of an unsuspecting battery that has been
safely hidden for months."
[Footnote 25: _Moo´ziks_, Russian peasants.]
[Footnote 26: _The Russian Campaign, April to August_, 1915, by Stanley
Washburn.]