THE “UNTERSEE” GERMAN
My Kiel Acquaintance—Submarines by Rail—German Submarines at Constantinople—My Voyage of Discovery—The Exploit of U51—Captain von Hersing—German Hero-worship—A Daring Feat—A Modest German!—Von Hersing in England—The German Naval Officer—His Opinion of the British Navy—A Regrettable Incident—Dr. Ledera Imprisoned—I Encounter an Austrian Spy—He Confides to me his Methods—The Carelessness of British Consuls.
My Kiel Acquaintance—Submarines by Rail—German Submarines at Constantinople—My Voyage of Discovery—The Exploit of U51—Captain von Hersing—German Hero-worship—A Daring Feat—A Modest German!—Von Hersing in England—The German Naval Officer—His Opinion of the British Navy—A Regrettable Incident—Dr. Ledera Imprisoned—I Encounter an Austrian Spy—He Confides to me his Methods—The Carelessness of British Consuls.
An axiom, and a very valuable one, for a man employed in secret service work for a newspaper should be to stay always at the best hotel in any city at which he is making investigations. For one thing, big fish swim in large lakes; for another, the visitors at large hotels are less noticed and less likely to be suspected than those at smaller places.
At the Pera Palace Hotel I had many interesting conversations with German officers, for whom I had to swallow my dislike for reasons of policy. They complained tome bitterly of the absence of amusement, for all the theatres and picture palaces were closed, and there was no distraction whatever for the apostles of “Frightfulness.” I was always ready with sympathy, and we got on very well together.
The officer of the Polish Legion at Vienna who told me about the terrible fate of the 28th Regiment, had introduced me to a German foreman-constructor of submarines, who had come from the famous Germania Shipyard at Kiel. He was a typical German of the boasting type, and as the result of a little judicious handling, some beer, and a great deal of flattery, of which any traveller in Germany has to take with him an unlimited supply, I soon discovered a great deal as to the mystery of the German submarines in the Sea of Marmora. Of the small type there are, I believe, not more than four; very likely the number has been increased since I left Turkey, as I will explain.
A little more than a year ago the English newspapers were engaged in discussing thepossibility of Germans carrying submarines by rail. Whilst this was in progress the Germans had already solved the problem, and had conclusively proved that submarines of the smaller type can easily be manufactured in one place in sections and carried hundreds of miles by rail to another, where, with the aid of experts, they can be fitted together. As my new acquaintance informed me, Germany had already done this most successfully.
I proved the accuracy of the man’s statement when I was at Constantinople, as I saw no less than four German U boats, Nos. U4, U18, and U25. I could not detect the number of the fourth craft. They were of a uniform size and U18 had painted on the conning-tower a huge Iron Cross, showing that it had achieved some great distinction—great, at least, to the German mind.
Hiring a rowing boat, and wearing my fez, I discovered the base of the submarines on the afternoon of January 15th. It was cleverly hidden behind two big German liners in the Golden Horn, between theMarine Arsenal and Has Keiul, the little village that had been entirely destroyed by the powder explosion. By this time, if my informant were correct—and I have no reason to doubt the accuracy of his statements, for, like so many Germans, he told me a good deal more than he ought—the number of submarines has been increased to six; he himself had been concerned in putting them together at Trieste. As a matter of fact, soon after my arrival in England I read in different neutral as well as English newspapers that two more German submarines of small size had arrived in Constantinople from an Austrian port in the Adriatic.
The German submarine officers and crews to be met with in Constantinople are not at all of the swaggering Prussian type. They wear the usual German uniform, whereas their fellows of theGoebenandBreslau, which fly the Turkish flag, wear the fez. The so-called Turkish submarines do not exist save in the imagination of certain people whose interest it is to write about them. They are in reality German submarinesflying the German naval flag. I have reason to believe also that there are very few Turkish aeroplanes or flying-men. An American newspaper suggested that it was possibly a Turkish submarine that sunk thePersia; but as there are no Turkish submarines, one of them could not possibly have been guilty of this crime against civilisation.
These smaller submarines must not be confused with U51, which, as the German newspapers have proudly described, made the great voyage from Kiel to Constantinople, either through the English Channel or by the northern passage round Scotland. This took place in the spring of 1915.
The U51 is a huge craft, painted a dark grey, its appearance being very suggestive of its sinister purpose. It has a big gun mounted on the forepart. The size of the craft astonished me when I saw it some days after its arrival at Constantinople, on my first visit, and I think it must be one of the largest afloat. Unfortunately, I was not allowed on board: there were limitations to the privileges that my papers were able tosecure for me. Beside this leviathan the U4 and her sisters would look mere pigmies; but they are vicious little craft, hornets with sharp and painful stings.
Now that Weddigen has been killed, Captain von Hersing is the popular hero of the German submarine navy. He is the type of man that possesses a strong appeal for the English sportsman. He is of the Max Horton order, and it was he who sank theTriumphand theMajestic.
In Germany heroes are made on the slightest possible provocation and for very indifferent achievements; but Captain von Hersing certainly deserves his fame. He is modest, a rather rare quality in the present-day German.
The story of his feat, which he narrated to me during my first visit to Constantinople, has already been told time after time. As quietly as any Englishman would have done he described to me that wonderful voyage; how he picked up petrol in the Bay of Biscay at an exactly appointed time and place; how he passed by Gibraltar in broaddaylight on the surface of the water; the agonies he suffered during the imprisonment of his boat for two hours in a British submarine net off Lemnos; how he eventually escaped with a damaged propeller, and arrived at Constantinople in the early days of May.
During the whole recital of his achievements the nearest thing to self-glorification that I was able to detect in his manner was a momentary flashing of the eye, which no one would deny even to Admiral Beatty himself. He was disinclined to discuss the war, and I remember that at the time I thought how correct this attitude was in an officer, and how different from many of his fellows of the land service, who will discuss nothing else.
He told me that he had spent a considerable time in England, and that he liked the English. The promptness with which he denied that it was his boat that had sunk theLusitanialeft me in no doubt as to his view of that colossal outrage. In fact, I have heard from many sources that the German Navyregards this discreditable exploit as a blot upon its name. I talked to him many times at the Pera Club, where there were comparatively few Germans and plenty of food, the one fact probably explaining the other.
If all Germans were of the same type as the German naval officers and men, the word “Hun” would probably never have been applied; it certainly would not so aptly fit. In their franker moments these naval officers and men confess that they hate the horrible work they are obliged to do; but that they have no alternative but to carry out the orders received from Berlin. There are brutes among them, no doubt, but such German naval officers as I have met compare very favourably with their swaggering colleagues of the land service. German sailors are under no misapprehension as to the might and efficiency of the British Navy. It is not they who spread the tale of the British Fleet hiding in ports while German ships proudly sail the North Sea. It is not they who ask plaintively, “Will the British Fleet never come out?” They are practicalmen, and for the most part honest men, and they know that Germany has it in her own hands to bring out the British Fleet in no uncertain manner.
The Germans are annoyed because the valuable ships of the British Navy do not parade up and down in the neighbourhood of Heligoland and Wilhelmshaven and allow themselves to be torpedoed by German submarines. The German idea of naval warfare is sometimes childish, but it belongs to the layman and not to the expert. “Our people started the war ten years too soon,” was the remark that one German officer made to me.
It is not difficult to see that there is very little love lost between the German Army and the German Navy, which is scarcely to be wondered at. A very casual observer has only to contrast the characters of the two classes of men, as I saw them at the Pera Palace Hotel; the one swaggering and strutting about, grumbling at the lack of amusement, growling if theLiebesgabe(parcel) from Berlin, with its sausage(leberwurst) and the like, cigars, andpâté de fois gras, is a day late; the other quiet, well-mannered, accustomed to great hardship and danger from childhood, self-respecting and respecting others—the nearest approach to an English gentleman that the Germans are capable of producing. Not many naval officers hail from the Hun country of Prussia.
It is beyond question true that the sinking of theLusitaniais terribly unpopular in the German Navy, although the German people went hysterical with joy about it, and still regard it as one of the great German feats of the war.
The presence of German submarines at Constantinople is not altogether relished by the Turks. Each of the four submarines I saw had a gun on the forepart of the vessel; not a powerful weapon, it is true, but quite sufficient to instil terror into the inhabitants of the city, should they not behave themselves according to German ideas.
There is still some antagonism shown in Turkey towards the Germans, but,unfortunately, very little. The German sway is almost supreme, but for all that they take no risks. They are conscious of an undercurrent of distrust, and they never allow the Turk too much ammunition, lest it may be used against themselves. It is notorious that the shortage of ammunition in Gallipoli was due not entirely to German inability to convey it there, but rather to the fact that the master did not trust the servant. A well-munitioned Turkey would be a danger, and ill-munitioned Turkey is a safeguard.
A little incident which came to my knowledge shows that even now the Germans have to exercise tact in dealing with the Turks. At the Hotel Tokatlian, in Pera, there was a daily foregathering of all the German and Austrian newspaper representatives in the city. One day I heard them discussing the fate of one of their number, Dr. Ledera, of theBerliner Tageblatt. I gathered that he had offended the Turks by describing how, owing to the state of theGoebenand their own shortage of big guns, they had removed two of the largest from that vesseland taken them down for use against the English at Gallipoli. This information, which I brought to this country as early as last June, officially stated in so important a newspaper, intimated to the Russians and the British that theGoebenwas practically out of action. The Turks were greatly incensed, and promptly arrested Dr. Ledera. He was sent to an internment-camp in a distant part of Anatolia, where the conditions were far from luxurious. The German Ambassador, the late Baron von Wangenheim, had to exert the utmost possible pressure to secure the release of his indiscreet compatriot. After six weeks’ imprisonment the erring correspondent was brought back to Constantinople, escorted over the frontier, and ordered never to return to Turkey. In spite of this, each day leaves the Turk more hopelessly under the yoke of his German master.
I have always had my own views about the German spy system in England. Of one thing I am certain, that it is thorough; but, as I have previously pointed out, it is not soperfect as so many people in this country are inclined to believe. The first essential for a travelling German or Austrian spy is to obtain by fair means or by foul a passport from a neutral country. Only with this can he hope to enter England, and return in safety. I encountered one of these spies, and the conversation I had with him is of considerable interest as throwing light on German methods. He was an Austrian, and we got into conversation during my journey from Vienna to the Swiss border. As we approached the frontier he made obvious efforts to discover my views and sympathies. I allowed him first to express his own, which were violently pro-German. Nevertheless, he said, “I have been among thoseSchweinhundentwice in the last six months.” (The “Schweinhunden,” by the way, were the English.) “Fortunately, I did not allow the grass to grow under my feet during my seven years’ residence there, and I flatter myself I can speak English as an Englishman. Do you know any English?” he asked.
“A little,” I replied, in order to draw him out. He then began to converse with me in that tongue, and he undoubtedly was justified in his boast that he could speak English perfectly. Furthermore, he looked a very excellent and presentable specimen of the Anglo-Saxon race, such as one sees any morning during the London season, before the war, of course, in Bond Street, Pall Mall or Piccadilly.
In order to obtain a false passport the travelling spy must get first a false birth certificate. This, of course, involves forgery, but it can be obtained with no very great difficulty and at a reasonable price by those who know where to seek it. In the early days of the war there was a regular trade in passports in several neutral countries, where they could be purchased for between £10 and £12. Those days are now passed, for the English Government has awakened to the grave danger arising from this commerce.
With a birth certificate, in conjunction with a letter from some commercial firm tothe effect that the bearer or person referred to wishes to proceed to England on certain business, the obtaining of a passport is not so difficult as it might appear. The documents are presented at the Passport Office of a neutral country and the necessary passport obtained. The next step is to get itvisé’dby the British Consul, who is not as often English as he should be. When he is of English nationality he is frequently too old to be alert and on the lookout for spies. Once the passport isvisé’dthe travelling spy of German or Austrian birth or interests arrives at Folkestone, Tilbury, Southampton, or some other port where there is no lack of strict scrutiny. Lately the investigations have been especially severe, but of what avail is this if the passports and business letters that accompany it are based upon a forged birth certificate?
Arrived in England, the travelling spy communicates with the resident spy, cautiously lest the resident spy is being watched. In all probability they meet at a large hotel, or at a railway station, nothing is written.If an appointment has to be made it is done over the telephone or by a message through a third party.
In the early days of the war spies were inclined to be careless, being so convinced of the obtuseness of the English officials. The result was that a number of them attended an exclusive little party which gathered at dawn in the Tower of London. The censorship of letters has doubtless checked written communication to a very great extent.
To check spying the greatest care should be exercised by the British consuls abroad; they should never, unless absolutely confident of thebona fidesof the bearer,viséa passport, and, of course, unless they do so the passport is absolutely worthless. If necessary, the British Consul should have the assistance of a shrewd international detective from England with a knowledge of foreign languages, a man who is accustomed to appraising character and ferreting out information; it would be difficult for the applicant to smooth away his suspicion, a thing which is very easy with most consuls.
The statement of my Austrian acquaintance that he had been twice to England within a period of six months (and I have no reason to doubt his word) shows that even now there are very obvious imperfections in the system for keeping spies out of England. In offering my views it is not with any idea of teaching the authorities their business, but rather the hint of one who has come into touch with the spies themselves, and in the hope that my words may be of assistance. It must be remembered that the authorities at the ports of entry can judge only on the actual papers produced.
“OUR KAISER IS HERE!”
Getting Out of Constantinople—I Become Suspicious—I Appeal to Halil Bey—A Gloomy Apartment—I Visit the Prefecture of Police—I Join a Military Train—Marvellous Engineering—A Subtle Device—The Kaiser at Nish—I See the Two Monarchs—A Remarkable Stroke of Luck—I am Invited to the Banquet—Fokker Aeroplanes.
Getting Out of Constantinople—I Become Suspicious—I Appeal to Halil Bey—A Gloomy Apartment—I Visit the Prefecture of Police—I Join a Military Train—Marvellous Engineering—A Subtle Device—The Kaiser at Nish—I See the Two Monarchs—A Remarkable Stroke of Luck—I am Invited to the Banquet—Fokker Aeroplanes.
Secret service work in German-governed countries demands astuteness, resource, and constant watchfulness over words and actions alike, and a good deal of “Damn the consequences.” To be known within the German war zone as one connected with an English newspaper would naturally be fatal.
Getting into an enemy country in war time is always difficult; but getting out of it is frequently precarious. I began to fear that I was being watched in Constantinople. The German system of watching is simple and effective. If the suspect be of sufficientimportance three or four detectives are told off to follow his movements continuously, but one at a time. He is, therefore, not likely to recognise his watcher as would be the case if one man only were detailed for the duty.
Intuitively I felt that the few very innocent and harmless, but to me very important, papers I had with me were being subjected to examination in my room at the hotel. As a precaution I rearranged them, carefully noting the order in which they lay. When next I returned to the hotel in the evening my suspicions were confirmed—my papers had obviously been disturbed. It might, of course, have been mere curiosity on the part of the Greek servants, but I remembered that these same servants work hand and glove with the police or military authorities. Accordingly, I determined to get away with all possible expedition.
At that time it was announced in the very attenuated Constantinople newspapers that the Kaiser was going to Belgrade. The movements of the German Emperor on the Continent are as much of a puzzle to his ownpeople and his allies as they are to the subjects of the Entente Powers. There were in Constantinople, too, the same rumours as to his ill-health which had been spread throughout Europe. On the other hand, there was the definite statement that he was coming East. The desire to see him face to face, if possible, and also the wish to get out of Constantinople, set me to work planning how most speedily to effect my purpose.
I bethought myself of Halil Bey, the Foreign Minister, who had so kindly secured for me an interview with Enver Pasha. To my surprise the old man saw me at once. His is a very different reception-room from that of his colleague, Enver. Gloomy, miserable, without electric light or even an oil lamp, and lit only by candles, it was far from the sort of room that one would expect to be occupied by a Minister of Foreign Affairs. It was, however, another evidence of the good work of the Roumanians in cutting off the coal supply of Constantinople.
I explained to Halil that it was my greatdesire to do myself the honour of seeing, if possible, the All-Highest War Lord, and that I wished to leave Constantinople for Belgrade. Halil Bey, in common with every other Turk, was in high spirits over the Gallipoli evacuation, and after a little judicious flattery as to his enormous powers, I succeeded in obtaining a letter to the Prefect of Police at Stamboul, and in order that he should see me instantly Halil gave me his card, which is reproduced below.
Halil Beys Card
Halil Bey’s Card
I lost no time in securing one of the few public carriages that are to be had in thecity, and made my way behind the thinnest pair of horses imaginable to the Prefecture of Police. It was rather like entering the lion’s den, but it had to be done. If the police were really suspicious of me I should not be very long left in doubt.
I was a little disturbed to hear from the Prefect that the only way of getting out of Constantinople to Belgrade was by a German military train. The first Balkan Express which was to link up Constantinople with Berlin and Vienna, was not due to start for a day or two, and as I felt disinclined to wait for it, I determined to push on to Belgrade and join the Balkan Express there. This would give me a short time in which to examine that town, which, as I have said, I was most anxious to see. I mentioned to the Prefect that I had been honoured by Enver Pasha with an interview, and that I felt sure His Excellency would do anything in his power to facilitate my movements.
“I will see what can be done,” said thePrefect. “Please leave with me your passport and call again in the morning.”
With considerable trepidation I returned to the Prefecture next morning, and to my delight found my passport marked in Turkish not only with permission to leave, but with actual permission to travel by the military train to Belgrade. The “visieat” (a written permission from the police to leave), which usually takes a few days to obtain, was handed to me at the same time, so I was more favoured than any other traveller. I felt that the stars were indeed fighting for me in their courses. At 11.30 a.m. I arrived at the Railway Station at Stamboul, and soon found myself in a queerly assorted company consisting of men of the German Red Cross Service, German officers, non-commissioned officers and soldiers.
During my journey I made some curious and interesting discoveries, all tending to emphasise German thoroughness and cunning. Probably no one in England realises the wonderful work done by the Germans in repairing the broken railway bridges inSerbia. It is the rapid and substantial rebuilding of these bridges, destroyed by the Serbians in their retreat, that enables the Germans to get to Constantinople in a little over two days. These reconstructions are most likely the greatest engineering feats that the world has ever seen. Tunnels that were blown up have been restored to their original state with marvellous celerity, and as I travelled across the bridges, and at a high rate of speed, the evidences of the Serbians’ tragic retreat were to be seen on every side. Beside the new bridges lay those which the Serbians destroyed. Beside the line were the remains of dead horses, broken-down carts, and the hundred and one things that mark the retreat of an army pursued by its foes. The ever-careful German had removed the hides from the horses, obviously with the object of making up the leather shortage.
In the course of my journey I received another instance of German forethought. I was told that in the event of Greece being invaded by the Bulgars, and the Greeksloathe the Bulgars as the Prussians loathe the English, the invaders were to be dressed in German uniforms in order to deceive the Greeks. Immense quantities of these uniforms, I later discovered, were lying at Nish.[1]Is there anything against which the extraordinary German mind does not provide? This, however, does not convince me that the Germans will attack Salonica. From what I heard, it would appear that they have a very wholesome respect for General Sarrail, whose acquaintance they had already made at Verdun, which they had failed to take owing to his able and stout defence of that stronghold.
The adaptability of the German is nowhere better emphasised than in Turkey and the Balkans. Instinctively he knows that a German in a familiar uniform is not likelyto be so obnoxious as a German in a strange uniform; consequently his method is to disguise himself by adopting the military uniform of the country in which he is detailed for duty. This is one of the most important traits in his character. For instance, as I have already said, German flying-men in Turkey are to be seen in Turkish uniforms, and scores of German officers are to be found at the Turkish War Office also wearing the familiar uniform of the Moslem.
The Turks are by no means optimistic about the Salonica Expedition. Frankly they are afraid of it, and for that reason have heavily entrenched themselves to the south of Adrianople. Their fear is that the Allied troops may make an attack on Constantinople from the north-west or may attempt to cut the railway.
It has been suggested that my fortunate meeting with the Kaiser was a matter of luck. In a way it was; but it was more particularly due to my persistent desire to see Belgrade. I had failed to get there during my outward journey to Constantinople, butI was determined not to be baulked. I had no thought of staying at Nish, and it was not until we were approaching the station of that town that a fellow traveller, a German non-commissioned officer, looked out of the window and shouted out so loudly and excitedly that all the travellers in the corridor carriage could hear, “Unser Kaiser ist hier” (our Kaiser is here). I jumped up and looked out of the window and saw the flags and decorations, and felt that indeed Fate had been kind to me.
The magic name of the Kaiser was too much for me. I could not think of letting pass such a magnificent opportunity of seeing the Great War Lord, and I therefore determined to leave the military train at the Serbian town so recently the capital, but now in the hands of the Germans. Nish was under snow. The day of my arrival, January 18th, 1916, was brilliantly clear, just such a day as one finds at Montreal or St. Moritz. I had hoped to get at least a glimpse of the Kaiser, but I was far more fortunate than that, encountering him onseveral occasions during this to me fateful day. I never for one moment anticipated being present at that curious and historical Royal Banquet at which were made the vain-glorious Latin and German speeches that were telegraphed all over the world.
Just as our train steamed into the station the Kaiser was making his state entry into the Serbian capital, which has now become the headquarters of the German, not as many people think the Austrian, Army in the Balkans. It is a vast arsenal, choked with munitions of war, in particular shells for big guns and also the guns themselves. The town is crammed with Serbian military prisoners, who are allowed their liberty, and roam about freely. They seem comparatively contented with their lot.
My feelings when I ascertained the presence of the Kaiser can only be appreciated or understood by a journalist. I soon gathered together my belongings with the aid of a German soldier I called to help me. I then decided to look around and endeavour to approach as near as possible to the Kaiserhimself. As a matter of fact I was not far away from him. King Ferdinand had only a few minutes previously received him on his arrival from the West, and the Royal pair were walking up and down the platform arm in arm, and without ceremony. I noticed a handkerchief in the Kaiser’s hand which he was constantly lifting to his mouth, but the distance was too great for me to hear him coughing.
I had never seen Ferdinand before, and it was fully eight years since I had seen the German Emperor, and what a change those eight years had wrought! The Kaiser is not a tall man, as he is represented to be in photographs, and by the side of the great massive figure of the hawk-nosed Ferdinand—who has a duck-like waddle—the Great War Lord seemed almost diminutive. The Kaiser wore a long grey coat, with greyish fur collar, and a spiked helmet covered with some khaki-like material. The place where the monarchs promenaded was held by German guards. The people, among whom were a great many Austrian and a fewDutch nurses, did not evince a great amount of either interest or curiosity. This struck me as strange as, if the Kaiser were to appear in any other town in Europe, he would create a sensation. I particularly noticed that the Bulgarian Ministers obsequiously removed their hats at the sight of the Kaiser, and approached him in an attitude of great deference and with bared heads. Towards their own monarch they did not seem to show the same deference. Later I learned that the relations between Ferdinand and his Court are of a very informal nature.
What most struck me about the Kaiser was his obvious look of fatigue. It might have been due to the war, to the effect of his two-day journey, or to ill-health. I cannot say. But he looked a tired and broken man. His hair was white, although his moustache was still suspiciously dark, and his face was drawn and lined. There was also an entire absence of the old activity of gesture, the quick, nervous wheeling about, and the unstable manner of the man. All of which Iremembered distinctly from my previous encounter with him in 1908.
In spite, however, of his fatigues the Kaiser was obviously intent upon making himself agreeable. He examined with apparent interest the medals of the Bulgarian soldiers, chatting with Royal affability, and smiled right and left. None the less he was a greatly aged man, and, as I have said, there was the constant use of the handkerchief, a large Turkish affair of red, embroidered with the white Turkish star and crescent in the corner.
As I was standing watching the Royal pair, I was approached by two Bulgarian officials in civil clothes followed by a handful of soldiers. Their mission was to inquire my reason for coming to Nish. The one who addressed me spoke German execrably. At first he took me for a Teuton, but when I explained my nationality he asked eagerly if I were able to speak French, and seemed much delighted when he found he could continue his interrogations in that tongue, which he spoke much better than German.I told him the object of my journey, flattered his patriotic feelings by complimenting the Bulgarian Army and nation as a whole, and was invited to accompany him to one of the rooms of the station, where he introduced me to the Chief of the Bulgarian Press Bureau, M. Romakoff. I seemed to have made a good impression on the two Bulgarian officials. They babbled away in their native tongue to M. Romakoff, but, of course, I could not understand what they were saying, but the upshot of the conversation was that I was addressed by the Chief of the Press Bureau, and asked if I would like on behalf of the neutral press to attend the Royal Banquet, which was to be given that evening. It would be simple but historic. I trembled with excitement and joy when I thought of the sensation that my account of the banquet would make when it reached England. If M. Romakoff could have read my thoughts it would not have been the banquet alone about which I trembled, but my own execution; fortunately he was not psychic.
The Director walked with me up and down the platform and showed himself extremely friendly. I gathered that I should be one of four journalists in the room, and I hugged myself at the thought of the surprise of the august company when they realised that in their midst was the representative of a hated English newspaper.
I spent the intervening time between my arrival at Nish and the hour of the banquet in walking about the town with two members of the Bulgarian Press Bureau, who spoke excellent French. I had no idea what impression they gleaned as to my personality. I must be a clever actor to have disguised my excitement into even reasonable coherence.
But a few weeks previously Nish had been gaily decorated with the flags of the Entente Allies, who were expected to come to the help of poor, suffering Serbia; yet the town seemed already to have settled down to a comparatively contented existence. Very little damage had been done to any of the buildings, as far as I could discover. Iwas assured that business had not been so brisk during the whole of the history of the town. German soldiers were spending their money freely, and nearly all the larger houses of the town had been turned into hospitals, whose supplies were being gathered from the surrounding country.
As we strolled about I noticed the departure of the Royal train and the arrival of a munition train, including several trucks laden with Fokker monoplanes. I do not claim to any special knowledge of aeroplanes, but these new Fokkers struck me as having a very great wing expanse. For the purpose of railway transport the wings were fastened back and the engines carefully covered. A Fokker monoplane is so long that it occupies practically the whole of two large trucks.
[1]As I correct the proofs, February 15th, I read on the authority of theMorning Post’sAthens correspondent, that some time ago three of the best Bulgarian divisions on the Doiran front were withdrawn to Sofia, where they were clothed as Germans, afterwards returning to their stations!
THE BANQUET AT NISH
The Banqueting Hall—A Small Gathering—The Menu—The Kaiser and King Ferdinand—Von Falkenhayn—An Impressive Figure—The Kaiser’s Health—His Poor Appetite—Constant Coughing—King Ferdinand’s Triumph—The Bulgarian Princes—German Journalism—A Bombastic Oration—“Hail, Cæsar!”—The Kaiser’s Unspoken Reply—The Hour of “The Fox”—The End of an Historic Function—The Post Office Closed.
The Banqueting Hall—A Small Gathering—The Menu—The Kaiser and King Ferdinand—Von Falkenhayn—An Impressive Figure—The Kaiser’s Health—His Poor Appetite—Constant Coughing—King Ferdinand’s Triumph—The Bulgarian Princes—German Journalism—A Bombastic Oration—“Hail, Cæsar!”—The Kaiser’s Unspoken Reply—The Hour of “The Fox”—The End of an Historic Function—The Post Office Closed.
The Banquet was held in the Town Hall of Nish. The banqueting-room was profusely decorated with the flags and the colours of the Germanic Powers, although Austria is not in great evidence at Nish, having apparently made Belgrade her headquarters. When I entered the room I was surprised to find that the function was to be a comparatively small one. There were not more than fifty covers, and several of the places were empty, the actual attendance being about forty. The band of the Life Guards, numbering about twenty, was ensconced behind palms, and played a programme of music which is here reproduced.
Programme of Music at the Nish Banquet
Programme of Music at the Nish Banquet
There were three tables, forming three sides of a square; or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, parallelogram. They were simply decorated with roses and early spring flowers, yellow being the predominating colour. The Banquet, of which simplicity was the predominating feature, was served by Bulgarian soldier servants. The menu card is reproduced here, and I append a translation.
Menu at the Nish Banquet
Menu at the Nish Banquet
THE KAISER’S MENU.
Balkan Dishes.
[Translation.]
Nish, January 18, 1916.
Royal Dinner.
The coat of arms at the top is the Bulgarian Royal Arms of King Ferdinand. It is embossed in the original in black, red, and gold. One of the chains round the crest is probably that of the Golden Fleece.
The dishes are as follow:
Chicken broth.Trout from Lake Ochrida (west of Monastir).Pilaff of lamb.(Pilaff is a Balkan stew, with rice.)Venison à la Cumberland.(The Duke now with the enemy.)Pâté de foie gras.Fennel from Varna (Bulgaria) and endive.(Fennel is a reedy vegetable used in salador cooked with butter.)Bulgarian ice.Cheese straws.Dessert.
As might be expected from the German military authorities, their arrangements for the Press were excellent. Our seats were close to the Royal party, and we had no difficulty in hearing the speeches.
The Nish banquet was of the usual Royal stiffness. I should probably have remarked many more things, but for my excitement and nervousness. The Kaiser sat on King Ferdinand’s right, and on King Ferdinand’sleft sat General von Falkenhayn, the chief of the German General Staff, whilst M. Radoslavoff, the Bulgarian premier, was placed on the right of the Kaiser. Interested as I was in the Kaiser, I was hardly less interested in the personality of von Falkenhayn, who is the brain of the great German War Machine. Although a man well into the fifties, he looks as if he had not yet crossed the half-century mark. It would be difficult to find a man with more refined and good-looking features. There is nothing markedly German about him, except perhaps his thoroughness, and I obtained the impression that the Germans have in him a war director of remarkable ability. He is trim and alert of movement, has close-cropped grey hair, and seems the personification of vigour, virility, and vivacity. He appears to be bearing the strain of war and its tremendous responsibilities in a remarkable manner. Seldom have I met a man who has struck me as being so well-fitted for the work before him as von Falkenhayn. Whenever I looked across at him as he satchatting quite freely with the Kaiser and Ferdinand, I had the impression that here was a man with far-reaching vision and great executive power.
I sat less than fifteen yards away from the Royal pair, and I had every chance of observing closely each change in expression or smile that flitted across their countenances. Now as I look back on the scene I see the Kaiser, not only perpetually coughing, but also looking so tired that I wonder afresh what great purpose it was that brought him from a sick-bed in Berlin to a little Serbian town with its dim petroleum lamps. It must have been something unusually important that caused him to accept the Little Czar’s invitation to travel for two days to be a guest at a dinner of forty covers. Whatever the Kaiser’s sufferings he was obviously endeavouring to be as pleasant as possible.
Everything I remember in connection with the Banquet confirms me in my impression that the War Lord was deliberately intent, not only on impressing KingFerdinand, but the members of his entourage as well, otherwise he could never have tolerated the air of equality which the Coburger adopted towards him. The Kaiser is by nature intolerant of patronage or condescension on the part even of his equals, much less would he view unmoved that of an inferior unless he had some deliberate purpose in view. He looked a pathetic figure as he sat coughing, as though his throat were choked with some virulent, irritating substance, and it must have cost him a great effort to smile repeatedly as Ferdinand leaned across and whispered something in his ear.
I found myself speculating as to what was passing through the Kaiser’s brain as he saw the yellow face, with its cunning little slits of eyes—eyes that reminded me of a typical money-lender—of his vain-glorious neighbour bent upon him. Try as he will, Ferdinand of Bulgaria can never disguise the suggestion of craftiness that is stamped upon his features. Those little eyes of his seem to be the windows of a very dark soul, andbehind that pepper and salt-bearded face, with the great hawk-like nose, there is a very cunning brain at work. From the fact that the Kaiser ate and drank practically nothing at the Banquet I was led to believe the story that he always eats before attending these State functions. Of course, it might have been that he was afraid of his throat. Certainly monarch never did less justice to an admirably-cooked meal. He did not even take wine. On the other hand, Ferdinand ate of each and all the dishes with great appetite, sipping his special brand of white wine with evident relish. Of all the company he seemed best pleased with himself, and when I noticed him studying the menu, it occurred to me that his vanity was flattered by seeing at the top his own Royal Cypher; it was his, Ferdinand of Bulgaria’s Banquet, and the All-Highest had journeyed for two long days and nights in order to be present.
I was glad that the Bulgar King was in a good humour, because when he smiles the grossness of his features is less obvious. Thecontrast between the Emperor and King was most marked, however, when they stood up.
By the side of the big, clumsy-looking Ferdinand the Kaiser appeared almost insignificant, but it was not his size that so engrossed my attention. All through the meal I could scarcely take my eyes from the haggard face of the author of the world-war who, on this January afternoon, looked so little like a war lord, as he sat apparently coughing away his life into the Turkish woven handkerchief which he held firmly in his right hand. His hair was terribly white, darkening a little at the parting where the roots showed. His cheeks were scored with many lines, and when I conjured up the vision of the healthy-looking Kaiser I had seen eight years previously in Amsterdam, I could not help marvelling at the change that those eight years had wrought in him. The only thing about him that was not changed was his upright deportment. He stood up firm and erect, just as one had seen him taking the salute at manœuvres or whenreviewing his Prussian Guard. His pose was that of an Emperor, and contrasted strangely with the heavy awkwardness of his brother monarch.
Among the other guests present were the two young Bulgarian princes. The Crown Prince Boris must have been a terrible disappointment to his father. He is round-shouldered and thin, and might, were he not a prince, have been aptly described as a lout. I do not think I am prejudiced in saying that but for his clothes he might as well have been a menial employed in his own father’s household. His expression entirely lacked intelligence, and he looked much older than his years. Perhaps the failings of his father, which he has possibly inherited, may account for this worn-out appearance. He gave me the impression of one greatly fatigued. He is far from handsome, with the big Coburg nose, but fortunately not constructed on so large a scale as that of his father. Prince Cyril, the younger brother, unlike Prince Boris, is of a much better appearance, and seems more intelligent, but of neither hastheir father any reason to be excessively proud. Both the young princes sat between German officers, and having once been acknowledged by the Kaiser, seemed to relapse into the insignificance for which they were so pre-eminently fitted by nature.
Perhaps one of the most amusing things in connection with the Banquet at Nish was the report of a German paper that the Kaiser, who was in joyous and playful mood, picked up Prince Cyril, tossed him up into the air, and placed him on his Royal knee and kissed him. In the enthusiasm of the moment the German journalist must have forgotten the Kaiser’s withered arm, which would have rendered it impossible for him, however playful his mood, to “toss” an infant of a week old. Furthermore, as I have explained, Prince Cyril is a young man fully-grown, and of far too loutish and uninteresting an appearance to invite the kisses even of the diplomatic Kaiser. However much that august monarch might have desired to propitiate the Bulgarian King, he would certainly have stopped short ofkissing Prince Cyril. Sometimes German journalists over-reach themselves.
The speeches, which were political and bombastic in character, were fully reported everywhere a few days after the Banquet. They were not, as has been stated in some quarters, delivered in English. King Ferdinand’s grandiloquent address to the Kaiser was, with the exception of the Latin phrases, delivered exclusively in German, excellent German by the way. The Bulgarian monarch spoke easily and without notes. He seemed to experience no difficulty in finding words. I did not take down the speeches, I confess that I was far too excited for that, besides I knew that they would be distributed throughout the civilized world through the agency of the German Press Bureau. I have referred to the columns ofThe Timesin order to refresh my memory.
We were engaged with Bismarck cigars and coffee when there was a sudden hush in the hum of conversation. The hour of the speeches had arrived. There was a tenseexcitement as King Ferdinand rose. He did so with the air of a man who was conscious that he had reached the one great moment of his life. His voice was clearly heard in all parts of the room, and his delivery was extremely good. He began by pointing out that two hundred and fifteen years ago that day Frederick the First was crowned King, and forty-five years ago the New Germany was founded. To-day the Kaiser, after the glorious victory which had attended his arms, could with safety enter the former Roman fortress of Nish. King Ferdinand tendered his thanks to the Kaiser for his visit to the ancient town, a visit which cemented the alliance between the two countries.
“The world,” he contended, “has learnt to appreciate with surprise and admiration the strength of Germany and her allies, and believes in the invincibility of the German Army under the guidance and leadership of its Kaiser.”
The King expressed the hope that 1916 might bring “lasting peace, the sacred fruitsof our victories, a peace which will allow my people to co-operate in future in the work of Kultur, but, if fate should impose upon us a continuation of the war, then my people in arms will be ready to do its duty to the last.”
At this point King Ferdinand apparently found German entirely inadequate to the proper expression of his feelings, and that nothing short of a classical tongue would suffice.
“Ave! Imperator, Cæsar et Rex,” he burst forth, “Victor et gloriosus es. Nissa antiqua omnes Orientis populi te salutant redemptorem, ferentem oppressis prosperitatem atque salutem. Long live Kaiser Wilhelm!”
[Translation.]
“Hail! Emperor, Cæsar and King. Thou art victor and glorious. In ancient Nish all the peoples of the East salute thee, the redeemer, bringing to the oppressed prosperity and salvation.”
All this to a man who was bearing the strain of the occasion with obvious effort. Even whilst listening to the sonorous periods that proclaimed him Cæsar and a number of other things, he coughed into that handkerchief with its stars and crescent.
The Kaiser’s official reply, which by the way was never spoken, but was disseminated by order of the authorities, ran as follows:—
“Your Majesty has especially dwelt to-day on the three important epochs which coincide with this day. Very often as a young man, at the side of my grandfather, and later as ruler, I have celebrated this memorable day, always of the same importance, surrounded by the Knights of the Order.
“Now for the second time, by God’s decision, I celebrate it in the field, on old historic ground, a beautiful piece of country conquered by Bulgarian bravery, received by the King amidst his brave troops and their illustrious leaders and honoured by your Majesty with a high order, but above all with the appointment of Colonel of the 12th Balkan Infantry Regiment. Thusyour Majesty has done me an honour than which I could expect no better.
“To-day you have given me the fulfilment of a long cherished wish, and your words prove that we, in valuing this hour, are filled with the same feelings. We have been challenged by our enemies, who envied Germany and Austria-Hungary their peaceful and flourishing prosperity, and in most light-hearted manner endangered the development of the Kultur of the whole of Europe, in order to strike us and our loyal allies at the root of our strength.
“We have had a hard fight, which will soon spread further.
“When Turkey was threatened by the same enemies, she joined us and in stubborn fighting secured her world position.
“Your Majesty’s prudence recognised that the hour had come for Bulgaria, for you, to bring forward your old and good claims and smooth the way for your brave country to a glorious future. In true comradeship the glorious triumphal march of your Majesty’s nation in arms began, which,under the guidance of its illustrious War Lord, has added one sublime leaf of glory to another in the history of Bulgaria.
“In order to give visible expression to my feelings for such deeds, and to the feelings of all Germany, I have begged your Majesty to accept the dignity of Prussian Field-Marshal, and I am, with my Army, happy that you, by accepting it, also in this sense, have become one of us.
“With God’s gracious help great deeds have been accomplished here and on all other fronts.
“I experience feelings of the deepest gratitude to the Almighty that it has to-day been granted me, on this historic spot, once more consecrated with brave blood, amidst our victorious troops, to press your Majesty’s hands and listen to your Majesty’s words, in which is manifest the firm determination to fight for a successful and lasting peace, and to continue the loyalty and friendship sealed in the storm of war, in true common labour for the high taskimposed upon us by care for the welfare of our peoples.
“With the firmest confidence I also pursue this aim, and raise my glass to the welfare of your Majesty and your House, to the victory of the glorious Bulgarian army and to Bulgaria’s future.”[2]
The dinner was held on the two hundred and fifteenth anniversary of the coronation of Frederick the First, and the founding by him of the order of the Black Eagle. It is this fact that the Kaiser refers to in the first paragraph of his reply.
As a matter of fact, the only other speaker at the Banquet in addition to King Ferdinand was Von Falkenhayn. He rose to respond briefly to a few compliments that Ferdinand had bestowed upon him. One thing is certain, that the Kaiser could not, had he wished, have delivered his orationon account of the incessant cough which troubled him throughout the evening.
At the close of the Banquet, which was as excellently served as it had been well-cooked, the German and Bulgarian National Anthems were played, and the historic function, which throughout had been of an extreme simplicity, broke up with an informality that in itself was distinctive. Here were some of the great actors in the greatest drama of the world’s history performing, not for the benefit of the worthy citizens of the equally worthy little Serbian town of Nish, but for the people of the whole civilised world. My last impression of the two chief characters was that of Ferdinand, with a cunning gleam in his little slits of eyes, clasping the Kaiser’s right hand in both of his own. Was it to cement some important pledge, or was it merely warmth of feeling on the part of him who had earned the name of “The Fox” I wonder!
Immediately I left the Town Hall I dashed off in company with the other journalists to the post office, in the hope of beingable to get my narrative off to Londonviathe neutral country to which I belong; but I had reckoned without the German press censors, who no doubt inspired their Bulgarian brethren to close the telegraph office so that nothing should leave Nish without first having been submitted to the Bureau. But I felt that my news would wait, and I determined to catch the Balkan Express to Vienna.
Since my return to England I have received many messages full of the kindest congratulations upon my account of the Banquet at Nish. I do not wish to pose as a hero who does not understand the meaning of fear. Not even the Kaiser himself was more uncomfortable than I. What I ate I do not know. I suppose I did eat. I was fully conscious that were I recognised by one of the numerous Secret Service officers about the Kaiser, or by any other person who had happened to see me during one of my previous visits, either to Germany or the Near East, there would have been a short and simple ceremony by the wall of theTown Hall, in which a firing party and myself would have been the protagonists.
As I left the Banqueting Hall I felt as Alexander must have felt at the thought of there being no more countries to conquer. I had achieved, by a wonderful combination of circumstances, what I had never dreamed of achieving, and now all I desired was to get back to England to tell the whole story. I began to be in terror of discovery; such a trick on the part of Fate would be a supreme effort of irony. Only one thing remained for me to do, and that was to get back with the utmost possible expedition, but as it turned out I had yet other experiences. I was to travel to Vienna by the famous Balkan Express, the “Balkan-Zug,” as it is known to the Germans, which connects Berlin and Vienna with Constantinople.
[2]The author’s acknowledgments are due to the editor ofThe Times, from which the speeches are quoted, and to Reuter’s Agency for permission to quote the Kaiser’s reply.
THE BALKAN EXPRESS
Existence of the Balkan-Zug Denied—A Great Strategical Factor—The Publicity Train—German Economy—I Join the Balkan-Zug at Nish—King Ferdinand a Fellow-Passenger—His Condescension—Excellent Food—Ruined Belgrade—Arrival at Buda Pesth—A Tremendous Ovation—Russian Prisoners at Work—Arrival at Vienna—Another Tremendous Reception—Remarkable Punctuality.
Existence of the Balkan-Zug Denied—A Great Strategical Factor—The Publicity Train—German Economy—I Join the Balkan-Zug at Nish—King Ferdinand a Fellow-Passenger—His Condescension—Excellent Food—Ruined Belgrade—Arrival at Buda Pesth—A Tremendous Ovation—Russian Prisoners at Work—Arrival at Vienna—Another Tremendous Reception—Remarkable Punctuality.
I have seen it stated inLe Tempsthat the Balkan Express does not exist, that it is a bluff on the part of the Germans. I really cannot understand how a responsible editor of an influential paper can make such an assertion without first ascertaining whether or no he be writing the truth. Does he realise that he is misleading the people, which is calculated to do very serious harm to the cause of the Allies? The importance of the existence of this Balkan Express cannot be exaggerated, and its usefulness should not be under-estimated.
First of all, the Balkan Expressdoesexist, as I have travelled by it myself. It is one of the most perfectly-organised railway services I have ever seen, and I have seen many. This service enables the Germans to transfer all sorts ofmatérielto and from Berlin to Constantinople, and is therefore one of a series of great factors in the present war. By its aid German troops can be rushed to Constantinople within 56 hours, and from there transferred to whatever front most needs them.
It took me five days to travel from Vienna to Constantinople, along a miserable route, changing trains frequently. On my return journey I entered my compartment in the train at Nish and never left it until I reached my destination, Vienna, and that within 40 hours.
The Germans themselves are by no means eager that their foes should appreciate the great value, to them, of the Balkan Express. If the Allies can be made to believe that it does not exist they will in consequence become re-assured as to German plans in theNear East, and thus unconsciously aid those same plans by not being in a position to upset them. The Germans have great ambitions as regards, not only the Near East but the Far East also, and much of their energy is at present concentrated upon the realisation of those ambitions in Turkey, the Balkans, and Asia Minor. “To Egypt!” is something more than a mere political cry.
The Germans have strength, resources, and a grim determination to materialise those ambitions which shall strike at the power of the hated English in what they conceive to be its most vulnerable point, the Suez Canal. Nothing would please them better than, by virtue of misrepresentation of the true situation in the countries of the Entente Powers, that they should be enabled to spring a great and dramatic surprise upon their enemies. That is why I write feelingly about the statement to which I refer above. The Balkan Express will in all probability become one of the great factors in the situation in the Near East. It must be remembered that it is somethingmore than a train for the conveyance of passengers. It will become in all probability of great strategical importance. I had seen it suggested in British as well as foreign newspapers that the Balkan-Constantinople Railway is not working properly; the following account, I think, will be something of a revelation to many of the doubters.
The Balkan Express is the show train of the world. Never has there been a train with such grave responsibilities. It might well be called “the Publicity Train,” for its object at present is to advertise German victory and German thoroughness. Later it has sterner work to do. It is probably the handsomest train in Europe, and beyond doubt has been designed by the Germans with the object of impressing the thousands of people of various nationalities who gaze on it in wonder twice a week on its way from Berlin to Constantinople and twice a week from Constantinople to Berlin. The admiration of the Turks is tempered with alarm, for the Turk is no fool, and he sees that the efficiency which has enabled theGermans to reach Turkey may be the very barrier that hinders them from ever leaving it.
The Balkan-Zug, as it is called in the Central Empires, is, however, a source of unqualified delight to Germans, Austrians, Hungarians, Bulgarians, and the rest of the people who see it on its journey. Its name is blazoned in three-foot letters on each wagon. Engine and carriages are decorated with flags and flowers, and every passenger wears in his buttonhole a German flag on which appear the words “Balkan-Zug” and the date.
I had originally intended to join the Balkan Express at Constantinople, but as it would not be starting for two or three days I had booked my place upon it, securing my ticket at Constantinople, with the intention of boarding it at Belgrade, but circumstances had decided otherwise. When purchasing my ticket I had an illustration of the seriousness of the money question in Constantinople. Eight months previously when I was there gold was given at the banks in return for cheques, that, however, had developed into a shortage not only of gold but of silver, as I have explained, and for my ticket which really cost 870 piastres (£8), I had to pay the equivalent of £12 about, owing to the decrease in value of the Turkish £.