Security in the widest sense was the ultimate end of our policy—security of mind, security from periodic panic, as well as actual military security. Looked at more closely, the immediate end was defence—the defence of the British Empire and of the United Kingdom.
DEFENCE AND INVASION
In the existing condition of the world a policy of 'splendid isolation' was no longer possible. Conditions with which we are familiar in commercial affairs, had presented themselves in the political sphere, and co-operation on a large scale had become necessary in order to avoid bankruptcy. England had entered into the Triple Entente because her statesmen realised, clearly or vaguely, that by doing so we should be better able to defend our existence, and for no other reason.
After 1911 it must have been obvious to most people who considered the matter carefully that in certain events the Triple Entente would become an alliance. It is the interest as well as the duty of allies to stand by one another from first to last, and act together in the manner most likely to result in victory for the alliance. What then was the manner of co-operation most likely to result in victory for that alliance which lay dormant under the Triple Entente?
But first of all, to clear away one obscurity—Invasionwas not our problem;Defencewas our problem; for the greater included the less.
The word 'defence' is apt to carry different meanings to different minds. The best defence of England and British interests, at any given time, may or may not consist in keeping our main army in the United Kingdom and waiting to be attacked here. It all depends upon the special circumstancesof each case. The final decision must be governed by one consideration, and one only—how to strike the speediest, heaviest, and most disabling blow at the aggressor. If by keeping our army in England and endeavouring to lure the enemy into our toils, that end is most likely to be accomplished, then it is obviously best to keep our army here. If by sending it into the north of France to combine with the French the supreme military object has a superior chance of being achieved, then it is best to send it into the north of France.
A defensive war cannot be defined and circumscribed as a war to drive out invaders, or even to prevent the landing of invaders. The best way to defend your castle may be to man the walls, to fall upon the enemy at the ford, to harry his lands, or even to attack him in his castle. There is no fixed rule. The circumstances in each case make the rule.
CO-OPERATION WITH FRANCE
A war is not less a defensive war if you strike at your enemy in his own territory, or if you come to the aid of your ally, whose territory has been invaded or is threatened. In the circumstances which prevailed for a considerable number of years prior to the outbreak of the present war, it gradually became more and more obvious, that our soundest defence would be joint action with France upon her north-eastern frontier. For there, beyond any doubt, would Germany's supreme effort be made against the Triple Entente. If the attack failed at that point, it would be the heaviest and most disabling blow which our enemy could suffer. If, on the other hand, it succeeded, France and England would have to continue the struggle on terms immensely less favourable.
This opinion was not by any means unanimously or clearly held; but during the summer of 1911 and subsequently, it was undoubtedly the hypothesis upon which those members of our Government relied, who were chiefly responsible for the conduct of foreign affairs. Unfortunately Parliament and the country had never accepted either the policy or its consequences; they had never been asked to accept either the one or the other; nor had they been educated with a view to their acceptance.
At that time the error was exceedingly prevalent, that it is a more comfortable business fighting in your own country than in somebody else's. From this it followed that it would be folly to engage in what were termed disapprovingly 'foreign adventures,' and that we should be wise to await attack behind our own shores. Recent events have wrought such a complete and rapid conversion from this heresy, that it is no longer worth while wasting words in exposing it. It is necessary, however, to recall how influential this view of the matter was, not only up to the declaration of war, but even for some time afterwards.
As to the precise form of co-operation between the members of the Triple Entente in case of war, there could be no great mystery. It was obvious to any one who paid attention to what happened during the summer and autumn of 1911, that in the event of Germany attacking France over the Agadir dispute, we had let it be understood and expected, that we should send our Expeditionary Force across the Channel to co-operate with the French army on the north-eastern frontier.
[1] It can hardly be overlooked, however, that this principle, rightly or wrongly interpreted, had something to do with the Crimean War (1854-56) and with the British attitude at the Congress of Berlin (1878).
[2] Viscount Milner in theUnited Service Magazine, January 1912.
(August 1911)
The full gravity of the Agadir incident, though apparent to other nations, was never realised by the people of this country. The crisis arose suddenly in July 1911. Six weeks later it had subsided; but it was not until well on in the autumn that its meanings were grasped, even by that comparatively small section of the public who interest themselves in problems of defence and foreign affairs. From October onwards, however, an increasing number began to awake to the fact, that war had only been avoided by inches, and to consider seriously—many of them for the first time in their lives—what would have happened if England had become involved in a European conflict.
THE EXPEDITIONARY FORCE
From various official statements, and from discussions which from time to time had taken place in Parliament, it was understood that our 'Expeditionary Force' consisted of six infantry divisions, a cavalry division, and army troops;[1] also that the national resources permitted of this force being kept up to full strength for a period of at least six months, after making all reasonable deductions for the wastage ofwar. Was this enough? Enough for what? ... To uphold British policy; to preserve Imperial security; to enable the Triple Entente to maintain the balance of power in Europe. These were vague phrases; what did they actually amount to? ... The adequacy or inadequacy of such an army as this for doing what was required of it—for securing speedy victory in event of war—or still better for preserving peace by the menace which it opposed to German schemes of aggression—can only be tested by considering the broad facts with regard to numbers, efficiency, and readiness of all the armies which would be engaged directly, or indirectly, in a European struggle.
War, however, had been avoided in 1911, and not a few people were therefore convinced that the menace of the available British army, together with the other consequences to be apprehended from the participation of this country, had been sufficient to deter Germany from pursuing her schemes of aggression, if indeed she had actually harboured any notions of the kind. But others, not altogether satisfied with this explanation and conclusion, were inclined to press their enquiries somewhat further. Supposing war had actually been declared, would the British force have been sufficient—acting in conjunction with the French army—to repel a German invasion of France and Belgium, to hurl back the aggressors and overwhelm them in defeat? Would it have been sufficient to accomplish the more modest aim of holding the enemy at his own frontiers, or even—supposing that by a swift surprise he had been able to overrun Belgium—at any rate to keep him out of France?
When people proceeded to seek for answers to these questions, as many did during the year 1912, they speedily discovered that, in considerations of this sort, the governing factor is numbers—the numbers of the opposing forces available at the outbreak of war and in the period immediately following. The tremendous power of national spirit must needs be left out of such calculations as a thing immeasurable, imponderable, and uncertain. It was also unsafe to assume that the courage, intelligence, efficiency, armament, transport, equipment, supplies, and leadership of the German and Austrian armies would be in any degree inferior to those of the Triple Entente. Certain things had to be allowed for in a rough and ready way;[2] but the main enquiry was forced to concern itself with numerical strength.
There was not room for much disagreement upon the broad facts of the military situation, among soldiers and civilians who, from 1911 onwards, gave themselves to the study of this subject at the available sources of information; and their estimates have been confirmed, in the main, by what has happened since war began. The Intelligence departments of London, Paris, and Petrograd—with much ampler means of knowledge at their disposal—can have arrived at no other conclusions. What the English War Office knew, the Committee of Imperial Defence likewise knew; and the leading members of the Cabinet, if not the whole Government, must be presumed to have been equally well informed.
It was assumed in these calculations, that in case of tension between the Triple Entente and the TripleAlliance, the latter would not be able—in the first instance at all events—to bring its full strength into the struggle. For unless Germany and Austria managed their diplomacy before the outbreak of hostilities with incomparable skill, it seemed improbable that the Italian people would consent to engage in a costly, and perhaps ruinous, war—a war against France, with whom they had no quarrel; against England, towards whom they had long cherished feelings of friendship; on behalf of the Habsburg Empire, which they still regarded—and not altogether unreasonably—with suspicion and enmity.
NEUTRALITY OF ITALY
But although the neutrality of Italy might be regarded as a likelihood at the opening of the war, it could not be reckoned on with any certainty as a permanent condition. For as no one can forecast the course of a campaign, so no one can feel secure that the unexpected may not happen at any moment. The consequences of a defeat in this quarter or in that, may offer too great temptations to the cupidity of onlookers; while diplomacy, though it may have bungled in the beginning, is sure to have many opportunities of recovering its influence as the situation develops. Consequently, unless and until Italy actually joined in the struggle on the side of the Triple Entente, a considerable section of the French army would, in common prudence, have to be left on guard upon the Savoy frontier.
In a war brought on by the aggressive designs of Germany, the only nations whose participation could be reckoned on with certainty—and this only supposing that Britain stood firmly by the policy upon which her Government had embarked—were Russia,France, and ourselves on the one side, Germany and Austria-Hungary on the other.
It would certainly be necessary for Germany, as well as Austria, to provide troops for coast defences, and also for the frontiers of neutral countries, which might have the temptation, in certain circumstances, to deneutralise themselves at an inconvenient moment, if they were left unwatched. On the north and west were Denmark, Holland, and Belgium, each of which had a small field army, besides garrison and fortress troops which might be turned to more active account upon an emergency. On the south and east were Montenegro, Servia, and Roumania, whose military resources were on a considerable scale, and whose neutrality was not a thing altogether to be counted on, even before the Balkan war[3] had lowered the prestige of Turkey. In addition there was Italy, who although a pledged ally in a defensive war was not likely, for that reason, to consider herself bound to neutrality, benevolent or otherwise, if in her judgment, the particular contingencies which called for her support had not arisen at the outset.
SUPERIORITY OF GERMAN NUMBERS
After taking such precautions as seemed prudent under these heads, Germany would then be obliged to detach for service, in co-operation with the Austrians in Poland, and along the whole eastern border, a sufficient number of army corps to secure substantial superiority over the maximum forces which Russia, hampered by an inadequate railway system and various military considerations,[4] couldbe expected to bring into the field and maintain there during the first few months of the war.
It was reckoned[5] after taking all these things into account, that Germany would have available, for the invasion of France, an army consisting of some ninety divisions—roughly, rather more than a million and three-quarters of men—and that she could maintain this force at its full strength—repairing the wastage of war out of her ample reserves—for a period of at least six months. It was assumed that the Kaiser, relying upon the much slower mobilisation of Russia, would undoubtedly decide to use the whole of this huge force in the west, in the hope that before pressure could begin to make itself felt in the east, France would either have been crushed, as she was in 1870, or so much mangled that it would be possible to send reinforcements of an overwhelming character to make victory secure in Poland.
Against this German force of 1,800,000, France, according to the best information available, could put into the field and maintain at full strength for a similar period of six months about 1,300,000 men. But this was the utmost that could be expected of the French, and the initial discrepancy of 500,000 men was very serious. It precluded all reasonable hope on their part of being able to take the offensive, to which form of warfare the genius of the people was most adapted. It would compel them to remain on the defensive, for which it was believed at thattime—though wrongly, as events have proved—that they were ill suited by temperament as well as tradition.
If England joined in the war by land as well as sea the numerical deficiency would be reduced to 340,000 on the arrival of our Expeditionary Force. In this connection, as well as for other reasons, the attitude of Holland and Belgium, and that of Germany with respect to these two countries, were clearly matters of high importance.
Holland had a field army of four divisions, and her interests could be summed up in the words, 'preservation of independence.' She would naturally wish to avoid being actively embroiled in the war on one side or the other; and, fortunately for her, she had every reason to believe that her neutrality would not be disturbed or questioned. Her territories lay to one side of the probable campaign area, and moreover, whatever might be the ulterior designs of Germany with regard to western expansion, it was obvious that her immediate interests must necessarily lie in Dutch neutrality, which would be infinitely more useful to her than a Dutch alliance. For Holland holds the mouths of the Scheldt and Rhine, and so long as she remained neutral, it was anticipated that imports and exports would readily find their way into and out of Germany. This advantage would cease were Britain to establish a blockade of these inlets, as she would certainly do if they belonged to a hostile Power.
POSITION OF BELGIUM
In certain respects Belgium was in the same case as Holland. She likewise had a field army of four divisions, and her interests could be summed up in the words, 'preservation of independence.' Buthere all resemblance between the two countries ended.
Belgium was not merely the southern portion (Holland being the northern) of that Naboth's vineyard, the possession of which German visionaries had proclaimed to be essential to Teutonic world-power. Belgium was more even than this. If the permanent possession of Belgian territory was a political object in the future, temporary occupation was no less a military necessity of the present. For in order that Germany might benefit in full measure by her numerical superiority, Belgian roads and railways were required, along which to transport her troops, and Belgian hills and plains on which to deploy them. If Germany were confined to the use of her own frontiers she would not only lose in swiftness of attack, but her legions would be piled up, one behind another, like a crowd coming out of a theatre. She needed space on which to spread out her superior numbers in order that her superior numbers might make certain of victory.
There was an idea at this time (1911-12) that Germany would be satisfied to keep to the south-east of the fortified line of the Meuse—moving through Luxemburg and the mountains of the Ardennes—and that if Belgium saw fit to yield, under protest, toforce majeure, the northern region, containing the great plain of Flanders and all cities of importance, would be left inviolate. This theory was probably erroneous, for the reason that—as the event has shown—Germany required a greater space and more favourable ground, than would have been provided under this arrangement, in order to bring her great superiority to bear.
With the French on the other hand there was no similar advantage to be gained by the violation of Belgian neutrality. From their point of view the shorter the battle front could be kept the better. If Belgium chose to range herself by the side of France as a willing ally it would undoubtedly be a great gain; but if she chose to remain neutral the French could have no object in invading or occupying her territories.
It was assumed, and no doubt rightly, that, like Holland, Belgium would prefer to remain neutral—leaving the question of future absorption to take care of itself—provided she could do this without enduring the humiliation of allowing foreign armies to violate her soil. For she knew that, in the event of a French victory, her independence would remain assured; whereas, if the Germans were successful, she would have avoided awakening their hostility and giving them an excuse for annexation. But even if Belgium, under gross provocation, were forced to take sides against Germany, the deficit in numbers on the side of the Triple Entente would only be reduced by some eighty or a hundred thousand men. The deficit would still stand, roughly, at a quarter of a million men.
INADEQUACY OF BRITISH ARMY
In view of the foregoing considerations it was clearly absurd to think that our own small force was at all adequate, in a military sense, to deter Germany from engaging in a war of aggression. Had we been able, during the years 1912 to 1914, to see into the minds of the German General Staff we should probably have realised that this inadequacy was even greater than it appeared. We should then haveknown that the numbers of the Kaiser's striking force had been carefully understated; and that the amount of preparations in the way of material had been hidden away with an equal industry. We should also have learned, that the sending of our army abroad was viewed with scepticism in German military circles, as an event hardly likely to occur. But even if our Expeditionary Force did go, it was altogether inadequate to redress the adverse balance; still more inadequate to bring an immediate victory within the range of practical possibility. It was inadequate to hold back the premeditated invasion, either at the German frontier, or even at the French frontier. It was inadequate to make Belgian resistance effective, even if that nation should determine to throw in its lot with the Triple Entente.
As a matter of the very simplest arithmetic our land forces were inadequate for any of these purposes. They were unequal to the task of maintaining the balance of power by giving a numerical superiority to the armies of the Triple Entente. Our armaments therefore did not correspond with our policy. It was clear that they would not be able to uphold that policy if it were put to the supreme test of war. It was impossible to abandon our policy. It was not impossible, and it was not even in 1912 too late, to have set about strengthening our armaments. Nothing of the kind, however, was undertaken by the Government, whose spokesmen, official and unofficial, employed themselves more congenially in deriding and rebuking Lord Roberts for calling attention to the danger.
Of course if it had been possible to place reliance upon the statement of the English War Minister,made little more than a year before war broke out,[6] that every soldier under the voluntary system is worth ten conscripts, we and our Allies would have been in a position of complete security. In that case our force of 160,000 would have been the equivalent of 1,600,000 Germans, and we should from the first have been in a superiority of more than a million over our enemies.
Even if we could have credited the more modest assumption of the Attorney-General—made nearly four months after war broke out—that one volunteer was worth three 'pressed' men, the opposing forces would have been somewhere about an equality.[7]
Unfortunately both these methods of ready-reckoning were at fault, except for their immediate purpose of soothing, or deluding the particular audiences to which they were addressed. The words were meaningless and absurd in a military sense; though conceivably they possessed some occult political virtue, and might help, for a time at least, to avert the retribution which is due to unfaithful stewards.
Both these distinguished statesmen, as well asmany of their colleagues and followers, were beset by the error of false opposites. A soldier who has enlisted voluntarily, and another who is a conscript or 'pressed' man, have equally to fight their country's enemies when they are ordered to do so. In both cases the particular war may be against their consciences and judgments; and their participation in it may therefore be involuntary.
Of two men—equal in age, strength, training, and courage—one of whom believes his cause to be just, while the other does not, there can be no doubt that the former will fight better than the latter—even though the latter was enlisted under the voluntary system while the former was a conscript or 'pressed' man. In this sense the superiority of the 'voluntary' principle is incontestable. But is there any evidence to show, that either the original soldiers, or the new levies, of the German army are risking their lives in this war any less willingly than our own countrymen, who went out with the Expeditionary Force, or those others who have since responded to Lord Kitchener's appeal? Is there any reason to suppose that they are fighting any less bravely and intelligently?[8]
Another matter of importance in these calculations with regard to the military strength of the Triple Entente and the Triple Alliance was the time limit.
THE THREE PERIODS OF WAR
There are three periods in war. There is theonsetof war, where swiftness of action is what tells most; there is thegripof war, where numbers oftrained men are what tell most; and there is thedragof war, when what tells most is the purse.
Speaking by the book, it is of course numbers which tell all the way through. At the beginning—in theonset—the aim is to hurl superior numbers at a vital point—taking the enemy by surprise, and thereby disordering his whole plan of campaign—very much as you knock a limpet off a rock, with a sharp unexpected blow.
If this effort fails to settle matters, then we are in thegrip. Here it is a case of sheer heavy slogging of all the available trained troops. The weaker side is driven to the defensive. It is found making use of every artificial and natural advantage to counteract the superiority which threatens it, and which must speedily prevail, if only it be superior enough.
Finally, after a longer or shorter period of indecisive deadlock, the time comes when trained troops and material of war accumulated in advance begin to run short—when new levies, raised since the war broke out, begin to take the field, well or ill equipped, well or ill armed, as the case may be. When this stage is reached we are in thedragof war; and the side which can best afford to feed, clothe, and arm its fresh reinforcements stands at an enormous advantage.
In 1870 war was announced on July 15th, and formally declared on the 19th. Three weeks later, on August 6th, the important battles of Woerth and Spicheren were won by the Germans. On September 2nd, the issue of the war was decided, when the Emperor of the French, with his main army, surrendered at Sedan. Metz fell in the last days of October, and Paris on the first day of March in thefollowing year. In that war theonsetsettled everything. There was no realgripof the opposing forces. The German attack had been so swift, vigorous, and successful that France was knocked out in the first round.
RESULTS OF SUCCESS IN ONSET
The speed with which great armies can be mobilised and hurled against one another has not diminished in the forty odd years which have elapsed since thedébâcle. On the contrary, the art of war has been largely concerned in the interval with the vital question, how to get in the first deadly blow.
The military view was, that probably not earlier than the fifteenth day—certainly not later than the twenty-first—a battle would take place which must be of the highest importance, and which might quite well be decisive. It might make ultimate German victory only a matter of time; or it might only determine whether the ensuing campaign was to be waged on French or German soil—whether there was to be a German invasion of France or a Franco-British invasion of Germany. Consequently, if our Expeditionary Force was to render assistance at the critical time, it must reach its position on the frontier within a fortnight of the outbreak of war.
As to thedragof war, the Triple Entente had the advantage, if that stage were ever reached. For the purses of England, France, and Russia were much longer than those of Germany and Austria. It was important, however, to remember that there would be no hope for us in thedragof war, if Germany could deliver a heavy enough blow at the beginning, as she did in 1870.
These were the considerations as to time, which presented themselves to students of the militarysituation during the breathing space which followed upon the Agadir crisis. The substantial accuracy of this forecast was confirmed by what happened during August and September of last year. In 1914 war was declared by Germany on August 1st. For several days before she had been engaged actively in mobilisation. Three weeks later three important battles—on the road to Metz, at Charleroi, and at Mons[9]—were won by the Germans. If it had not been for the unexpected obstacle of Liège the last two engagements would in all probability have been fought at an even earlier date, and in circumstances much more unfavourable to the Franco-British forces. But in the early days of September, instead of the crushing defeat of Sedan, there was the victory of the Marne, and the Germans were forced to retreat to entrenched positions north of the Aisne.[10]
Theonsetperiod was ended; but the issue had not been settled as in 1870. France and England had not been knocked out in the first round. To this extent the supreme German endeavour had miscarried. Nevertheless a great advantage had been secured by our enemies, inasmuch as it was now apparent that the ensuing campaign—thegripof war—would be contested, not on German soil, but in France and Belgium.
LIMITATIONS OF SEA POWER
The value of the assistance which the British Navy would be able to render to the cause of the Triple Entente was a consideration of the highest importance. But while the fleet, if the national confidence in it were justified, would render invaluable assistance to military operations, it was necessaryto bear in mind—what Englishmen in recent times have been very apt to forget—that no success at sea, whether it consisted in the wholesale destruction of hostile ships, or in an absolute blockade of the enemy's coast, could by itself determine the main issue of a European contest of this character. Disaster in a land battle could not be compensated for, nor could the balance of power be maintained, by any naval victory. War would not be brought to an end favourable to the Triple Entente, even by a victory as complete as that of Trafalgar. It is also well to remember that peace came, not after Trafalgar, but after Waterloo, nearly ten years later.
The strange idea that the security of the British Empire can be maintained by the Navy alone, seems to be derived by a false process of reasoning, from the undeniable truth, that the supremacy of our Navy is essential to our security. But though it is essential—and the first essential—it is not the only essential of security.
An insular Power, largely dependent on sea-borne food supplies and raw materials for its industries—a Power which governs an empire in the East, which has dependencies scattered in every sea, which is politically united with immense but sparsely peopled dominions in the four quarters of the globe—must keep command of the sea. If that supremacy were once lost the British Empire, as an empire, would come to an end. Its early dissolution would be inevitable. Therefore it is true enough to say that if the German Alliance—or any other alliance—were to win a decisive naval victory against Britain, it would end the war completely and effectively so far as we were concerned.
But the converse is not the case, and for obvious reasons. In a contest with a continental enemy who conquers on land, while we win victory after victory at sea, the result will not be a settlement in our favour, but a drawn issue. And the draw will be to his advantage, not our own. For having overthrown the balance of power by reason of his successful campaign and invasions, he will then be free to concentrate his whole energies upon wresting away naval supremacy from the British Empire. In time the Sea Power which is only a Sea Power will be overborne with numbers, and finally worsted by the victorious Land Power. For how is it possible to fight with one hand against an enemy with two hands? The fleets of Europe which at last must be combined against us, if we allow any rival to obtain a European predominance, are too heavy odds. German preparations alone were already causing us grave anxiety nearly three years before the Agadir crisis occurred. How then could we hope to build against the whole of Europe? Or even against half of Europe, if the other half remained coldly neutral?
[1] In all about 160,000 men, of whom some 25,000 were non-combatants.
[2] Such, for instance, as the fact that the time-table of German mobilisation appeared to be somewhat more rapid than that of the French, and much more so than that of the Russians.
[3] The first Balkan war broke out in the autumn of 1912.
[4] Russia had anxieties of her own with regard to the intentions of Roumania, of Turkey in Persia and the Caucasus, and of China and Japan in the Far East.
[5] These calculations were worked out in various ways, but the net results arrived at were always substantially the same. In view of the fact that the main conclusions have been amply proved by the results of the present war, it does not seem worth while to weary the reader with more sums in arithmetic than are absolutely necessary.
[6] Colonel Seely at Heanor, April 26, 1913.
[7] Sir John Simon (Attorney-General and a Cabinet Minister), at Ashton-under-Lyne, November 21, 1914.... This speech is instructive reading. It is also comforting for the assurance it contains, that if the speaker approved of our taking part in this war (as he vowed he did) his audience might rest satisfied that it was indeed a righteous war; seeing that war was a thing which, on principle, he (Sir John Simon) very much reprehended. And yet we are not wholly convinced and reassured. There is a touch of over-emphasis—as if perhaps, after all, the orator needed the support of his own vehemence to keep him reminded of the righteousness. The pacifist in war-paint is apt to overact the unfamiliar part. One wonders from what sort of British officer at the front the Attorney-General had derived the impression that 'one' of our own voluntary soldiers—gallant fellows though they are—is the equal of 'three' of the Germans who face him, or of the Frenchmen who fight by his side.... This speech puts us not a little in mind ofEvangelist'swarning toChristian, with regard toMr. Legality'sfluent promises to relieve him of his burden—"There is nothing in all this noise save a design to beguile thee of thy salvation."
[8] Sir John Simon clinched his arithmetical calculation of 'three' to 'one,' by stating that 'the Kaiser already knew it'; and this reassuring statement was received with 'laughter and cheers.' The laughter we can understand.
[9] The battle in Northern Alsace was fought on August 21 and 22. A French army was driven back at Charleroi on the 22nd, and the British at Mons on the 23rd.
[10] September 6-12.
(August 1914)
Such was the position of affairs at July 1911, as it appeared to the eyes of people who—during the ensuing period—endeavoured to arrive at an understanding of the problem without regard to the exigencies of party politics. Between that date and July 1914, when war broke out, various changes took place in the situation. The general effect of these changes was adverse to Britain and her allies.
In 1911 the German estimates provided for considerable increases, especially in artillery and machine-guns. The peace strength of the Army was raised.
In the following year, 1912, further additions were made to the peace strength, and two new army corps were formed out of existing units—one for the Polish, the other for the French frontier. Artillery and machine-guns were very greatly increased in the ordinary estimates of that year, and again in those of 1913. In addition, Germany at the same time added a squadron to her fleet in the North Sea, by arranging to keep more ships permanently in commission.
MILITARY INCREASES
But early in 1913 it became known, that the German Government was about to introduce an Army Bill, providing for immense and sensational additions. The sum of £50,000,000 was to be raised by loan for initial expenditure. The increased cost of upkeep on the proposed new establishment would amount to £9,500,000 per annum. Sixty-three thousand more recruits were to be taken each year. The total peace strength of the Army was to be raised by approximately 200,000 men. Nearly four millions sterling was to be spent on aircraft, and ten and a half on fortifications; while the war-chest was to be raised from six to eighteen millions. Twenty-seven thousand additional horses were to be purchased.
These proposals were timed to take effect the same autumn; so that by the following Midsummer (1914), the military strength of Germany would have reaped the main benefit which was anticipated from the enormous additions.
It was not in the power of France to increase the actual total of her numbers, because for many years past she had already taken every man who was physically fit for military service. About eighty per cent of the young Frenchmen who came each year before the revision boards had been enlisted; whereas in Germany—up to the passing of the new Army Law—considerably less than fifty per cent had been required to serve. The German Army as a consequence was composed of picked men, while the French Army contained a considerable proportion who were inferior both in character and physique.
But in the face of the new German menace France had to do the best she could. She had to do it alone, for the reason that the British Governmententertained conscientious and insuperable objections to bearing its due share of the burden.
Already, prior to the sensational expansion of Germany in 1913, France had endeavoured to counteract the current yearly increases in the military estimates of her neighbour, by various reorganisations and regroupings of active units, and by improvements calculated to improve the efficiency of the reserves. But when information was forthcoming[1] as to the nature and extent of the developments proposed under the German Army Bill of 1913, it was at once realised that more drastic measures were essential to national safety.
Before the German projects were officially announced, the French Government took the bold step of asking the legislature to sanction a lengthening of the period of active military service from two years to three, and an extension of the age limit of the reserves from forty-seven to forty-nine. Power was also taken to summon, in case of emergency, the annual contingent of recruits a year before their due time. Increases in artillery, engineers, railways, barrack accommodation, and subsidiary services were asked for and obtained. The cost of these, when the whole sum came to be calculated, was found to amount to £32,000,000.
Apart, therefore, from material preparations of one kind and another, Germany was taking steps to add 200,000 men to her striking force, and the intentions of France were approximately the same. In thecase of Germany, however, the increases of strength would be operative by Midsummer 1914, while with France they would not take effect until two years later.[2]
Germany, moreover, was arranging to take 63,000 more recruits annually. France was unable to obtain any more recruits, as she already took all that were fit to bear arms. The increase in her striking force was made mainly at the expense of her reserves. Year by year, therefore, the numerical inferiority of France must become more marked.
Russia meanwhile was proceeding with her programme of military extension and reorganisation which had been decided on after the Japanese war. A great part of her expenditure was being devoted to the improvement of her exceedingly defective system of railways and communications, and to the fortification of the Gulf of Finland.
Austria did not remain stationary in military preparations any more than her neighbours. Her intake of recruits was 181,000 in 1912. It was decided to raise it to 206,000 in 1913, and again to 216,000 in 1914.
In the British Army, during this critical period, there had of course been no increases, but the reverse.
The Regular Forces, which had been, reduced in 1906 by nine battalions,[3] were in 1914 some eight thousand men under their nominal strength. The Territorials, which had never yet reached the figure postulated by their originator, were at this date about 47,000 short. The Army Reserve was doomed in the near future to an automatic shrinkage on a considerable scale, owing to the reductions which had been effected in the Regular Forces, from which the reservists were drawn at the expiry of their terms of service.
Actually, therefore, the weakness of our own military position had become more marked since 1911. Relatively it had undergone an even greater change for the worse, owing to the stupendous German programme, to the fact that we had lagged behind in the matter of aircraft, and that our naval preponderance was not so great as it had been three years earlier.
EFFECT OF BALKAN WARS
The events which occurred in the Turkish peninsula between October 1912, when the first Balkan war broke out, and August 1913, when the second was ended by the Treaty of Bucharest, were not without their bearing upon the general balance of power in Europe. Turkey had collapsed before the onset ofthe allied states of Montenegro, Servia, Bulgaria, and Greece, and this was a serious injury to German interests. The Ottoman Empire had been warmly suitored, over a long period of years, by the diplomacy of Berlin, with a view to co-operation in certain contingencies. On the other hand, the result of the second war—fomented by the intrigues of Vienna—in which Bulgaria was finally overpowered by the other three states, destroyed for the time being Slav solidarity, and thereby considerably relieved the apprehensions of Austria with regard to her southern frontier and recently annexed provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina.... Profit-and-loss accounts of this sort are impossible to work out upon an arithmetical basis, and perhaps the chief importance of such occurrences as these lies in the effect which they produce upon the nerves of the onlookers. On the whole—judging by the tone of diplomacy at the time—the Balkan series of events appeared to have raised greater anxieties in the Chancelleries of Germany and Austria than in any other quarter; though why this should have been so, it is difficult to understand.
Looking back at the Balkan struggle in the light of subsequent events, it appears to us now a great deal less remarkable for what it actually produced than for what it failed to produce. It failed to set Europe in a blaze, and yet it afforded far better opportunities for doing this than the Serajevo murders in June 1914.
The full inner history of the negotiations between the Great Powers, for six months prior to the Treaty of Bucharest, will be interesting reading, if it ever sees the light. If even one of them had chosen to work for war during this period, nothing could havekept the peace. If one or two of them had been apathetic, war must inevitably have come of itself. But even France—who at that time was showing signs of superficial excitement, and on that account was credited, not only in the German press, but in a section of our own, with chauvinistic designs—worked hard for peace. It is certain that Germany desired peace; many well-informed people indeed believed that at this time she desired peace more ardently than any other state. It is true that a few days before the Treaty of Bucharest was signed, Italy had been secretly sounded by Austria as to whether she would join with her two allies in making an attack on Servia; but the Italian reply being of a kind that took away all hope of securing the military assistance of that country in the proposed adventure, the Concert of Europe continued to perform the pacific symphony apparently in perfect accord.
GERMANY'S TWO DATES
The policy of Germany, in 1912 and 1913, to preserve peace, and her efforts—equally successful—in the following year to provoke war, were probably due to one and the same cause. Two dates from Germany's point of view were of supreme importance—the summer of 1914, when her new military preparations would be complete, and when the Kiel Canal—having been widened and deepened[4]—wouldbe available for the passage of Dreadnoughts;the summer of 1916, by which date the French Army increases were due to take effect, and the Russian scheme of military reorganisation would have been carried through. From the point of view of Berlin and Vienna war could be waged to greatest advantage so soon as the first of these two dates had been reached. If, however, Italy, always a doubtful participator, could have been tempted by self-interest to make common cause with her allies in the summer of 1913, the certainty of her adherence would have turned the scales in favour of the earlier date. For Italy could put an army of 700,000 men into the field; and this no doubt would have more than compensated for the benefits which might have been lost by anticipating the ideal moment by a year.
[1] Germany took time by the forelock, and began to carry through the contemplated programme before disclosing the terms of the Army Bill to the legislature. Consequently her intentions were known in a general way to every Intelligence department in Europe, long before they were actually announced.
[2] In going through the memoranda upon which this chapter is based, I came across a paper written at the end of July 1913 by a retired soldier friend, in answer to a request on my part for certain technical information as to French and German preparations. On the margin of the document, which gives a very full and able analysis, he had added the following postscript as an expression of his personal opinion. "N.B.—Most Important: The German Bill takes immediate effect. The French only takes effect in 1916 because (1) the French are not going to retain the class which finishes its service this year with the colours; (2) comparatively few are fit for enrolment at twenty; (3) there has been great delay in Parliament ...A year from now will be the critical time. Germany will have had the full benefit from her Bill, whereas France will have a mass of young recruits still under instruction. The strain on officers will be tremendous in order to knock this mass of raw men into shape." It is rarely that a prophecy is fulfilled practically to a day.
[3] Mr. Haldane, the Secretary of State for War, in justifying this reduction explained that 'his infantry was in excess, the artillery was deficient.' He would rather not have cut off these nine battalions, "but he could not use them. He had four more than he could mobilise" (Auchterarder, December 29, 1906). In his view "the first step to doing anything for developing the national basis of the Army was to cut something off the Regular Forces" (Newcastle, September 15, 1906). "He did not think Compulsory Training would be adopted in this country until after England had been invaded once or twice" (London, December 1, 1911). The British, however, had the best reasons for feeling secure: they "were always a nation of splendid fighters. They were never ready, but they fought the better the less ready they were..." (Glasgow, January 6, 1912).
[4] On June 23, 1914, the Emperor William opened the new lock at the North Sea end of the Kiel Canal. On the following day he performed the same function at the Baltic end. TheTimescorrespondent remarks that the Emperor's passage through the Canal on this occasion was of symbolical rather than practical significance, as on the one hand German Dreadnoughts had already used the widened passage experimentally, while on the other hand it would be a long time before the whole work was finished. He continues: "The extension works, which were begun in 1907, are, however, of vast importance, especially to the Navy. The Canal has been made two metres deeper, and has been doubled in breadth. The places at which large ships can pass one another have been increased in number, and at four of them Dreadnoughts can be turned. There are now four, instead of two, at each end, which means a great saving of time in getting a fleet through. Above all, the distance between Kiel and Wilhelmshaven for battleship purposes is reduced from more than 500 to only 80 nautical miles. The new locks at Brunsbüttel and Holtenau are the largest in the world."—TheTimes, June 25, 1914.
It may be said—up to the very outbreak of war it was said very frequently—that the mere power and opportunity to make an outrageous attack are nothing without the will to do so. And this is true enough. Every barber who holds his client by the nose could cut his throat as easily as shave his chin. Every horse could kick the groom, who rubs him down, into the next world if he chose to do so. What sense, then, could there be in allowing our minds to be disturbed by base suspicions of our enterprising and cultured neighbour? What iota of proof was there that Germany nourished evil thoughts, or was brooding on visions of conquest and rapine?
So ran the argument of almost the whole Liberal press; and a considerable portion of the Unionist press echoed it. Warnings were not heeded. They came only from unofficial quarters, and therefore lacked authority. Only the Government could have spoken with authority; and the main concern of members of the Government, when addressing parliamentary or popular audiences, appeared to be to prove that there was no need for anxiety. They went further in many instances, and denouncedthose persons who ventured to express a different opinion from this, as either madmen or malefactors. Nevertheless a good deal of proof had already been published to the world—a good deal more was known privately to the British Government—all of which went to show that Germany had both the will and intention to provoke war, if a favourable opportunity for doing so should present itself.
For many years past—in a multitude of books, pamphlets, leading articles, speeches, and university lectures—the Germans had been scolding us, and threatening us with attack at their own chosen moment. When Mr. Churchill stated bluntly, in 1912, that the German fleet was intended as a challenge to the British Empire, he was only repeating, in shorter form and more sober language, the boasts which had been uttered with yearly increasing emphasis and fury, by hundreds of German patriots and professors.
With an engaging candour and in every fount of type, unofficial Germany had made it abundantly clear how she intended to carry her designs into execution—how, first of all, France was to be crushed by a swift and overwhelming attack—how Russia was then to be punished at leisure—how after that, some of the nations of Europe were to be forced into an alliance against the British Empire, and the rest into a neutrality favourable to Germany—how finally the great war, which aimed at making an end of our existence, was to begin. And though, from time to time, there were bland official utterances which disavowed or ignored these outpourings, the outpourings continued all the same. And each year they became more copious, and achieved a readier sale.
Those, however, who were responsible for British policy appear to have given more credit to the assurances of German diplomacy than to this mass of popular incitement. The British nation has always chosen to plume itself upon the fact that the hearts of British statesmen are stronger than their heads; and possibly their amiable credulity, in the present instance, might have been forgiven, had their means of ascertaining truth been confined to the statements of incontinent publicists and responsible statesmen. But there were other proofs available besides words of either sort.
THE FIRST WARNING
The Liberal Government came into office in the autumn of 1905. Ministers can hardly have had time to master the contents of their various portfolios, before German aggression burst rudely in upon them. Conceivably the too carefully calculating diplomatists of Berlin had concluded, that the principles of the new Cabinet would tend to keep England neutral under any provocation, and that a heaven-sent opportunity had therefore arrived for proceeding with the first item in their programme by crushing France. It is a highly significant fact that early in 1906, only a few months after Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman's advent to power, he found himself faced with the prospect of a European war, which was only averted when our Foreign Minister made it clear to Germany, that in such an event this country would range herself upon the side of France.[1]
This was thefirstwarning.
THE SECOND WARNING
The British answer to it was to utter renewed protestations Of friendly confidence. As an earnest of our good intentions, the shipbuilding programme[2] of the previous Government was immediately reduced. The burden of armaments became the burden of innumerable speeches. In well-chosen words Germany was coaxed and cajoled to acquiesce in our continued command of the sea; but finding in our action or inaction an opportunity for challenging it, she turned a polite ear—but a deaf one—and pushed forward her preparations with redoubled speed. In vain did we on our part slow down work at our new naval base in the Firth of Forth. In vain did we reduce our slender army to even smaller dimensions.[3] In vain did we plead disinterestedly with Germany, for a reduction in the pace of competition in naval armaments, on the terms that we should be allowed to possess a fleet nearly twice as strong as her own. For the most part, during this period, official Germany remained discreetly silent, for the reason that silence served her purpose best; but when the persistency of our entreaties made some sort ofanswer necessary, we were given to understand by unofficial Germany—rather roughly and gruffly—that a certain class of requests was inadmissible as between gentlemen.
Then suddenly, having up to that time lulled ourselves into the belief that our fine words had actually succeeded in buttering parsnips, we awoke—in the late autumn of 1908—to the truth, and fell immediately into a fit of panic. Panic increased during the winter and following spring, and culminated during the summer, in an Imperial Defence Conference with the Dominions.
We had curtailed our shipbuilding programme and slowed down our preparations. Thereby we had hoped to induce Germany to follow suit. But the effect had been precisely the opposite: she had increased her programme and speeded up her preparations. At last our Government became alive to what was going on, and in tones of reverberant anxiety informed an astonished nation that the naval estimates called for large additions.
Ministers, indeed, were between the devil and the deep sea. The supremacy of the British Fleet was menaced; the conscience of the Radical party was shocked—shocked not so much at the existence of the menace as at official recognition of it, and at the cost of insuring against it. It was so much shocked, indeed, that it took refuge in incredulity; and—upon the strength of assurances which were of course abundantly forthcoming from the German Admiralty, who averred upon their honour that there had been neither addition nor acceleration—roundly accused its own anointed ministers of bearing false witness against an innocent neighbour.
None the less, large sums were voted, and the Dominions came forward with generous contributions.
Sir Wilfrid Laurier, indeed, who had been nourished and brought up on a diet of dried phrases, was sceptical. To this far-sighted statesman there appeared to be no German menace either then or subsequently. The whole thing was a mere nightmare, disturbing the innocent sleep of Liberalism and democracy.[4]
This was thesecondwarning.
THE THIRD WARNING
Thethirdwarning came in the form of subterranean rumblings, inaudible to the general public, but clearly heard by ministerial ears.
In July 1909, while the Imperial Conference on Defence was in session, Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg succeeded Prince Bülow as German Chancellor. Up to that time there had been the menace of the mailed fist, the rattling sabre, and the shining armour. Henceforward there was the additional menace of a diplomacy playing for time, with a careless and unconcealed contempt for the intelligence, the courage, and the honour of the British people and their statesmen.[5] The German Government had clearly formed the opinion that our ministers were growing more and more afraid ofasking their party to support increased naval estimates, and that it was only necessary to go on, alternately dangling and withdrawing illusory proposals for a naval understanding and a general agreement, in order to steal ahead of us in the race. Here, as in many other instances, the Germans had observed not altogether incorrectly; but they had drawn the wrong inference from the facts.
During the summer and autumn of 1910 was held the famous but futile Constitutional Conference, the primary object of which was to settle the quarrel between the two Houses of Parliament. With steadily increasing clumsiness, German diplomacy, through all this anxious time, was engaged in holding out its hand and withdrawing it again; until even men whose minds were worried with more immediate cares, could no longer ignore the gravity of the situation.
The Conference adjourned for the holiday season, but resumed its sessions in October. The public assurances of those who took part in it on both sides agree in this, that nothing except the special subject for which it had been called into existence was ever discussed at its meetings. But many other things were certainly discussed outside its meetings—on the doorstep and the staircase, and in the anterooms. Among these topics the dangers of the international situation, and the peril of imperial security were the chief.
In October and November 1910 there was a great secret of Polichinelle. Conceivably we may learn from some future historian even more about it than we knew at the time. All that need be said here with reference to the matter is, that many persons onboth sides found themselves faced with a position of affairs, where the security of the country plainly required measures for its defence, of a character and upon a scale, which neither political party could hope to carry through Parliament and commend to the country, unless it were supported by the more responsible section of its opponents.
Neither party, however, was willing to pay the price necessary for the support of the other, and as a consequence imperial interests suffered. It is not necessary, however, to conclude from this lamentable failure that a sordid spirit of faction was the explanation. In the constitutional sphere certain principles were in conflict, which the parties concerned had the honesty to hold by, but lacked the sympathy, and possibly the intelligence, to adjust. The acrimony of an immediate controversy distorted the vision of those engaged in it; so that the proportions of domestic and foreign dangers were misjudged.
The failure of this constitutional conference was welcomed at the time by exultant shoutings among many, perhaps the majority, of the rank and file of politicians upon both sides. It was not so regarded, however, by the country, which in a remarkable degree refused to respond to the incitements of violence and hatred with which it was plied during the ensuing election. There was at this time, for no very definite reason, a widespread popular uneasiness, and something approaching a general disgust with politicians.
Among more considerate men on both sides, the breakdown was frankly spoken of as one of the great calamities in our political history. It was morethan that. It was in reality one of the greatest which have ever befallen Europe.
THE FOURTH WARNING
During the following July (1911), while in this country we were deeply engaged in the bitter climax of the constitutional struggle, there sounded afourthstrident warning from the gong of the German Chancellery.
The Agadir incident is one of the strangest which have occurred in British history during recent years. Its full gravity was not realised outside a very narrow circle at the time of its occurrence; and when subsequently it became more widely understood there was a curious conspiracy to hush it up—or, perhaps, not so much a conspiracy, as a general instinct of concealment—a spontaneous gesture of modesty—as if the British nation had been surprised bathing.
At the beginning of July the German cruiserPantherappeared at Agadir in Morocco. This visit was intended and understood as a direct challenge to France. Diplomacy was immediately in a stir.
Three weeks later Mr. Lloyd George spoke at the Mansion House, making it clear that England would not tolerate this encroachment. Even amid the anger and excitement which attended the last stages of the Parliament Bill, this statement created a deep impression throughout the country, and a still deeper impression in other countries.
Then the crisis appeared to fade away. Germany was supposed to have become amenable. We returned to our internecine avocations. The holiday season claimed its votaries, and a great railway strike upset many of their best-laid plans. The inhabitants of the United Kingdom are accustomed to thinkonly on certain topics during August and September, and it is hard to break them of their habits. To reconsider a crisis which had arisen and passed away some two and a half months earlier, was more than could be expected of us when we returned to work in the autumn.
But Mr. Lloyd George's speech was capable of only one interpretation,—if Germany had persisted in her encroachment, this country would have gone to war in August or September 1911 in support of France. His words had no other meaning, and every highly placed soldier and sailor was fully aware of this fact, and made such preparations in his own sphere as the case required. But from what has transpired subsequently, it does not seem at all clear that more than two or three of the Cabinet in the least realised what was happening. Parliament did not understand the situation any more than the country did.
Later on, when people had time to concentrate their minds on such matters, there was a thrill of post-dated anxiety—a perturbation and disapproval; criticism upon various points; a transference of Mr. McKenna from the Admiralty to the Home Office, and of Mr. Churchill from the Home Office to the Admiralty. Indignant anti-militarists, supporters for the most part of the Government, allowed themselves to be mysteriously reduced to silence. Business men, who had been shocked when they learned the truth, suffered themselves to be persuaded that even the truth must be taken with a pinch of salt. There was, in fact, a sort of general agreement that it was better to leave the summer embers undisturbed, lest a greater conflagrationmight ensue. The attitude of the orthodox politician was that of a nervous person who, hearing, as he imagines, a burglar in his bedroom, feels happier and safer when he shuts his eyes and pulls the blankets over his head.
THE FIFTH WARNING
A few months later, at the beginning of the following year (1912), thefifthwarning of the series was delivered.
It differed from its predecessors inasmuch as it was addressed to the ears of the British Government alone. Neither the Opposition nor the country heard anything of it until more than two years later—until the battles of Alsace, of Charleroi, and of Mons had been lost—until the battle of the Marne had been won—until the British Army was moving north to take up a position in Flanders. Then we learned that, when Lord Haldane had visited Berlin in the month of February 1912, he had done so at the special request of the Kaiser, in order to consider how Anglo-German misunderstandings might be removed.
Lord Haldane would have acted more wisely had he stopped his journeyen route, and never entered Berlin at all. For, two days before the date appointed for his visit, proposals for large increases of the German Army and Navy were laid before the Reichstag. His mission was to abate competition in armaments, and here was an encouraging beginning! Was it contempt, or insolence, or a design to overawe the supposed timidity of the emissary; or was it merely a blundering effort to steal a march in the negotiations by facing the ambassador on his arrival with afait accompli? Possibly it was a combination of all these; but at any rate it wasexceedingly clumsy, and no less significant than clumsy.
As to the mission—Germany was willing in a vague way to 'retard'—whatever that may mean—though not to abandon, or reduce, her naval programme, providing the British Government would agree to remain neutral in any war which Germany might choose to wage. France might be crushed and Belgium annexed; but in either event England must stand aside and wait her turn. On no other terms would the Kaiser consent to arapprochementwith this country, or allow the blessed words 'retardation of the naval programme' to be uttered by official lips.