The most southerly of them is Belfort,[133]which you will find standing on a plain within fifteen miles of the Swiss border. This plain is called by soldiers "the Gap of Belfort," and it is the only real break in the hill frontier that covers France all the way from the Mediterranean to Flanders. You can see at a glance that if the Gap were not strongly fortified an army could easily march into France from the direction of the Rhine. To block this easy road the French have constructed the very strong ring-fortress of Belfort. It was besieged during the Franco-German War, and yielded on February 13, 1871; but its defenders made such a gallant resistance that they were allowed to march out with what are called the honours of war—that is, with their drums beating, their flags flying, and their arms in their hands. To commemorate the siege, a huge lion has been carved on the face of the precipice below the castle by the sculptor of the statue of Liberty in New York harbour.[134]One wonders why the Germans did not take over Belfort after their conquest. Had they done so, they would have provided themselves with an ever-open door into France.
Rising steeply from the Gap, and running north-north-east for 150 miles is the highland region known as the Vosges Mountains. Since 1871 the frontier between France and Germany has run along the crest of these mountains for about fifty miles. The Vosges consist chiefly of granite rocks, and everywhere there are signs that they were once covered with glaciers. We still see the old moraines, consisting of the heaps of rock and soil that were left behind when the glaciers melted, and the lakes that were scooped out by the great ice fields that slowly crept over the mountains in bygone ages. We also see the rounded summits which the French callballons. The highest of theseballonsare over 4,000 feet in elevation, and are to be found about twenty miles north of Belfort.
The Vosges fall steeply to the Alsatian plain, but descend gradually to the west. No single railway crosses them between the Gap of Belfort and the gap which you see to the north of Strassburg, but many carriageroads traverse the passes. The whole region is very picturesque; the lakes are surrounded by forests of pine, beech, and maple; there are many green meadows, which provide pasturage for large herds of cattle; numerous ruined castles stand on the spurs, and the lower slopes are studded with vineyards.
From what you have read you will readily understand that the Vosges are a formidable barrier to invasion from the east. To the west of the main chain you see another ridge of heights, and beyond them the valley of the Upper Moselle. On this river, not far from its head-waters, is the second great barrier fortress of France—Epinal.[135]To the north of Epinal, and about ten miles west of Nancy, is the third fortress—Toul.[136]The fort of St. Michel, about twenty miles north-west of Toul, is the key to the circle of forts that defend the entrenched camp, and the strongest fort on the frontier. If you were to visit Toul you would see little or nothing of the batteries, for they are hidden in brushwood and stunted woods high above the vineyards.
Farther to the north, about thirty-five miles west of Metz, is Verdun, which has already been mentioned in these pages. As Verdun is the only barrier fortress which was seriously attacked by the Germans during 1914, let us learn something of its story. Verdun is a great entrenched camp, contained within a ring which measures thirty miles round. There are sixteen large forts and about twenty smaller forts on this ring, and the most distant of them is about nine miles from the centre of the city. All these defences have been constructed since the Franco-German War, during which the city was bombarded on three different occasions. It yielded early in November 1870.
During the Battle of the Marne the Crown Prince made a great effort to capture Verdun. I have already told you that he battered down Fort Troyon,[137]but was unable to capture it, though it lay in ruins. Between the 10th and 12th of September the Crown Prince's army, along with the other German armies, was forced to retreat. It fell back two days' march to the north, and immediately the French general, Sarrail,[138]prepared Verdun to stand a long siege. Seven thousand civilians—"useless mouths," as the French soldiers call them—were ordered to withdraw, and the food supply for the garrison was regulated.
General Sarrail was well aware that if the great howitzers of the Germans were once permitted to come within range of the forts they would succumb as speedily as those of Liége, Namur, and Maubeuge. He therefore pushed out his circle of defences for twenty miles from the city. By means of earthworks and trenches he made a great fortified zone, which encircled the forts at such a distance that the German howitzers were kept out of range. Every height and valley was seamed with defences, and some of the hillsides became a maze of barbed wire. The heavy guns of the forts were moved out to the advanced trenches, and rails were laid down so that as soon as they were "spotted" they could be moved on to another position. Thus, instead of fixed forts, each, say, mounted with ten heavy guns, these same ten heavy guns were "dotted here and there in trenches rapidly established in one place and another, along perhaps half a mile of wooded vale, and free to operate when they moved over perhaps double that front."
The result was that the army of the Crown Prince found itself held up in the form of a semicircle, as shown in this diagram. Against these outer lines of defence seven German army corps were launched, but with no success.
In the third week of September the Bavarian army made a determined attack on the little town of St. Mihiel,[139]which stands on the Meuse, midway between Toul and Verdun. North to Verdun and south to Toul, between the Meuse and the Moselle, is the district known as "the Plain of the Woëvre."[140]It is crossed by the Heights of the Meuse, which form a plateau about three hundred feet above the river, and fall steeply towards the east in deep ravines and wooded knolls. On 20th September the Bavarians pushed through the Woëvre and drew near to the Meuse. Two forts blocked their way, one of them being on the site of an old earthwork known as the Camp of the Romans. The Bavarians got their heavy guns into position, and by the evening of 22nd September the Camp of the Romans was in ruins. The garrison, however, made such a gallantresistance in the outer works that the German general permitted it to retire with the honours of war. As the French marched out of the fort the Germans cheered them, presented arms, and dipped their flags. Shortly afterwards the Bavarians seized St. Mihiel and its bridgehead,[141]on the western side of the water. A French cavalry detachment prevented them from advancing any further, and they were forced to entrench themselves on the edge of the river.
What was the object of the Germans in capturing St. Mihiel? The Crown Prince's army was trying to push through the Verdun defences from the Argonne, and at the same time the Bavarians were trying to advance by way of St. Mihiel. Should these movements succeed, Verdun would be completely encircled, and long before this happened, the French army holding the semicircle about the fortress would be obliged to fall back. "The wedge at St. Mihiel was a sort of buckle to which the Germans desired to fit the strap by pushing down from the north-west." Happily General Sarrail had enough, but only just enough, men to prevent the strap and the buckle from meeting. For a day or two, however, he was in grave peril.
As time went on the Germans found their position in the Woëvre more and more uncomfortable. They had no railway within fifteen miles of St. Mihiel, and the main road to that place was in the hands of the French. Nevertheless, they hung on to the little town and the bridgehead for months, though the wedge of country which they held was constantly attacked both from the south and from the north. Soon, however, there was a war of entrenchments in this region, just as there was on the Aisne.
On 3rd October the Crown Prince made a desperate attempt to break through the French lines round Verdun. He marched his men from Varennes,[142]on the eastern edge of the Argonne, along a forest road to a place called Vienne,[143]on the Aisne, in the hope of capturinghis former headquarters of St. Menehould,[144]from which he might strike south-eastwards to St. Mihiel. In order to reach Vienne the Germans brought their guns through a wood lying to the north of the road. Somewhere in the neighbourhood of this wood the French fell upon the Germans, and drove them back in rout to Varennes, which they afterwards captured. Thus they won the road right across the Argonne, and were able to get into touch with the right of their 4th Army.
Now we must move westwards to Rheims,[145]and see what was happening in and around that ancient city. Rheims, as you know, is perhaps the most interesting of all the historical towns of France. It stands, you will remember, on the right bank of the Vesle, in a plain bounded by vine-clad hills, and is the chief centre of the trade in champagne. Even under the Romans it was an important town, and if I were to tell you its history since Roman times, I should need many pages which I cannot now spare. But I must dwell on one or two incidents in its long story. You have already heard of Clovis, who succeeded his father as king of the Franks in the year 481 A.D. He was a pagan, and during his wars he burned and ruined many of the churches of France. In 493, like our own King Ethelbert of Kent, he married a Christian princess. She tried hard to convert him to Christianity, but for three years without success. At length he was attacked by the Goths, who lived between the Vosges and the Rhine, and was very hard pressed. In the thick of the fight he swore that he would be converted to his wife's God if He would grant him the victory. His foes were overcome, and on Christmas Day, 496, in the cathedral at Rheims, Clovis and three thousand of his men were baptized by the bishop. "Bow thy head meekly," said the good old man to the king; "adore what thou hast burned, and burn what thou hast adored." This excellent piece of advice might well be given to that arch-Goth whose legions destroyed Louvain, and were now about to ruin the most glorious monument of Christendom.
The cathedral at Rheims is the Westminster Abbey of the French nation. From the latter half of the 12th century to the year 1825 all the sovereigns of France, with the exception of Henry IV., Napoleon, andLouis XVIII., were crowned within its time-honoured walls. Here it was that Joan the Maid, having inspired the faint-hearted Dauphin to free his land from the thrall of the English, stood by the high altar in white armour, and when the crown was placed upon his head, kneeled at his feet and cried, "Now is the will of God fulfilled." To every Frenchman the walls which witnessed this scene must be for ever sacred.
The present cathedral stands on the site of that in which Clovis was baptized, and was begun early in the thirteenth century. It took seventy-five years to complete, and has long been considered the most perfect example of the architecture of the Middle Ages. The front of the cathedral is wonderfully beautiful, and is referred to in the following couplet, which mentions the most striking features of the four noblest of French cathedrals:—
"Bell-towers of Chartres,[146]nave of Amiens,Choir of Beauvais,[147]portal of Rheims."
"Bell-towers of Chartres,[146]nave of Amiens,Choir of Beauvais,[147]portal of Rheims."
The front is adorned with a multitude of statues and sculptured scenes from the Scriptures. One of the scenes shows the Day of Judgment; another illustrates the baptism of Clovis. The most beautiful of the statues is that of our Lord, and is known as "Le Beau Dieu." Over the portal, before the bombardment, were three large stained-glass windows, the central one, a magnificent rose window, nearly forty feet across. Within the cathedral were many rich and priceless treasures. For centuries lovers of art and students of history from all the corners of the world have made pilgrimage to Rheims to rejoice in the beauty of this exquisite temple.
I have already told you that during the German retreat von Buelow had withdrawn from Rheims, and had fallen back to the ridge beyond the Suippe. From this ridge (AAA) General Foch had been repulsed, and the Germans had pushed forward in the hope of recapturing the city. They seized the heights marked C to the north of the city, and a part ofthose marked D to the east of it, and occupied the line marked BBB. The heights marked C are but 9,000 yards from the city, and from these points of vantage the Germans, on 18th September, began a terrific bombardment. Many civilians were killed, and large sections of the city were destroyed by flames. It was during this bombardment that the Germans for ever disgraced themselves by shelling the cathedral. Their excuse was that the French had set up signal stations on the roof and tower, and were firing guns close to the building. The French had done nothing of the kind. When the shelling began the Red Cross flag flew over the cathedral, and within it were many wounded, chiefly Germans. There can be no excuse for von Buelow; the cathedral was not in the zone of fire; he deliberately trained his guns upon it—probably out of sheer spite. Neutral nations were shocked when they heard of this senseless and barbarous outrage; but a German officer, writing in a German newspaper, explained the German state of mind.
"It is of no consequence if all the monuments ever created, all the pictures ever painted, and all the buildings ever erected by the great architects of the world were destroyed, if by their destruction we promote Germany's victory over her enemies. . . . The commonest, ugliest stone placed to mark the burial-place of a German grenadier is a more glorious and perfect monument than all the cathedrals of Europe put together. . . . Let neutral peoples and our enemies cease their empty chatter, which is no better than the twittering of birds. Let them cease their talk about the cathedral at Rheims, and about all the churches and castles of France which have shared its fate. These things do not interest us."
"It is of no consequence if all the monuments ever created, all the pictures ever painted, and all the buildings ever erected by the great architects of the world were destroyed, if by their destruction we promote Germany's victory over her enemies. . . . The commonest, ugliest stone placed to mark the burial-place of a German grenadier is a more glorious and perfect monument than all the cathedrals of Europe put together. . . . Let neutral peoples and our enemies cease their empty chatter, which is no better than the twittering of birds. Let them cease their talk about the cathedral at Rheims, and about all the churches and castles of France which have shared its fate. These things do not interest us."
How the destruction of a noble work of art could promote Germany's victory over her enemies is difficult to understand. It is worthy of note that a hotel close to the cathedral remained untouched: it was kept by a German.
For some months the north-east tower of the cathedral had been under repair, and when the bombardment began it was surrounded by scaffolding. On 19th September a shell set fire to the outer roof; the fire quicklyspread to the scaffolding, and then to the wooden beams of the portal. An American correspondent tells us that, when the flames gained on the building, the Archbishop of Rheims and a party of volunteers rushed inside and carried out the wounded Germans on stretchers. The rescuing parties were not a minute too soon. Already from the roofs molten lead was falling. The blazing doors had fired the straw on which the wounded lay, and the interior was like a prairie fire. Splashed by the molten lead, and threatened by falling timbers, the priests, at the risk of their lives and limbs, carried out the wounded, numbering sixty in all. But after bearing them to safety their charges were confronted with a new danger. Inflamed by the sight of their own dead, four hundred citizens having been killed by the bombardment, and by the loss of their cathedral, the people of Rheims who were gathered about the burning building called for the lives of the German prisoners. "They are barbarians," they cried. "Kill them!" The archbishop and one of his clergy placed themselves in front of the wounded.
"Before you kill them," they cried, "you must first kill us!"
Surely this noble deed will live in history. There can scarcely be a finer picture of heroism than that of the venerable archbishop, with his cathedral blazing behind him, facing a mob of his own people in defence of their enemies.
The same writer gives us some idea of the havoc wrought by the German shells: "The windows, that were the glory of the cathedral, were wrecked. Statues of saints and crusaders and cherubim lay in mangled fragments. The great bells, that for hundreds of years have sounded the Angelus[148]for Rheims, were torn from their oak girders and melted into black masses of silver and copper, without shape and without sound. Never have I looked upon a picture of such wanton and wicked destruction."
In the square in front of the cathedral stands a fine statue of the Maid on horseback. Strange to say, though the square was ploughed up with shells, the figure of the Maid was uninjured; only the horse's legs were chipped and scarred. A French soldier had placed a tricolour in the outstretched hand of the figure. All through those days of terror and destruction the French flag was upheld by the arm of France's ancient deliverer.
On the morning of 28th September the German attack on Rheims was more violent than it had ever been before. From all parts of the Allied line came the same story of desperate attempts to break through, of hand-to-hand fighting, and terrible losses. That same evening the French, pushing forward, drove the Germans from their position. The whole French front moved forward, and, for the time being, Rheims was safe from capture, though big guns still rained shells upon it.
On September 29, 1914, the first batch of Indian troops arrived at Marseilles. As the transports hove to in sight of the gleaming limestone cliffs that flank the port a message from the King was read to them. "I know," wrote his Majesty, "with what readiness my brave and loyal Indian soldiers are prepared to fulfil their sacred trust on the field of battle, shoulder to shoulder with their comrades from all parts of the Empire. Rest assured that you will always be in my thoughts and prayers."
As the vessels approached the quays they were greeted with loud cheers from crowds of townsfolk, most of whom had never seen an Indian soldier before. They marvelled at the dark faces, the turbans, the soldierly bearing, and the fine equipment of our Indian brothers. Later in the daythe troops were marched through the city. As our dusky warriors, with their bright eyes and gleaming teeth, swung along the streets, the people shook them by the hand and cheered them again and again. Young girls showered flowers upon them and pinned roses to their tunics and turbans. Perhaps it was the little, sturdy, smiling Gurkhas who aroused the greatest enthusiasm. As they advanced behind their pipers, men, women, and children clambered on to the tables and chairs of the cafés to catch a glimpse of them, and the air rang with shouts of "Vivent les Anglais!"[149]"Vivent les Hindous!"
The men were afterwards marched off to a rest camp, where they remained for a few weeks, preparing for the fiery ordeal that awaited them.
There was now a deadlock on the Aisne. The rival armies faced each other in trenches that had become almost as strong as fortresses, and both sides were powerless to advance. Every day there were attacks and counter-attacks, but they were very costly in life, and the ground gained was measured in yards. General Joffre had foreseen this as far back as the 18th of September, when he had informed Sir John French of his plan to bolt the Germans from their burrows.
Now he proposed to send two new armies, numbering in all some 300,000 men, to extend the line of the 6th Army, and fall fiercely on von Kluck's right flank.
From the 11th of September onwards there was continual fighting on the right bank of the Oise. While this was going on, Joffre was slipping new forces to the north by rail. At first he took every man that could be spared from the fighting line along the Aisne. These troops, however, were not numerous enough to cope with the Germans, so two new armies were formed and pushed northward. One of them was commanded by General Castelnau,[150]who, you will remember, had so grievously disappointed the Kaiser by beating the Bavarians on the heights near Nancy.[151]His army was to lie to the north of the 6th French Army, with its centre crossing the river Somme. At the same time another new army was being formed at Amiens. It was under the command of General Maud'huy,[152]who was a brigadier in the army of Lorraine when war broke out. Joffre had seen in him a soldier of the highest promise, and in three weeks had promoted him through all the grades to be the commander of an army. Noteven in Napoleon's time had any soldier been advanced so rapidly. Maud'huy's army was to march eastwards on St. Quentin and strike at the rear of the enemy.
You may be sure that the Germans were not asleep while Joffre was making his preparations. They saw at once what his object was, and they did not lose an hour in making ready to parry his blow. They had plenty of men to spare, for their trenches on the Heights of the Aisne were so strong that they could be held by a very thin line of troops. The General Staff at once began shuffling its armies to and fro, while new forces were hurried up from Germany. The interest of the struggle had now passed from the front on the Aisne to the right flank of the enemy.
By the 20th of September the 6th French Army, under General Maunoury, was lying south of the village of Lassigny, a day's march to the north of the confluence of the Oise and the Aisne. Von Kluck had already extended his right to meet the French attack. Amidst the wooded hills which lie between the village and the Oise there was very heavy fighting, which lasted several days. The Germans had occupied Lassigny, and were drinking themselves drunk with the red wine and cider which they found in the village, when the French burst on them with the bayonet and tumbled them pell-mell out of the place. Next morning the tables were turned. German guns shelled the village, and German cavalry swept the French out of its ruins. The rival forces dug themselves in, and soon the conditions on the Aisne were repeated.
Meanwhile de Castelnau had got into position to the north of Lassigny, and fierce fighting was raging about Roye, which was lost and won, taken and retaken. If either side could break through at Roye or Lassigny, it would be able to turn against one or other of the armies to its right or left and roll it up. Neither side, however, could gain and keep a yard of ground at this "death angle." Again the line was extended; by the 30th of September Maud'huy's army was advancing eastwards to the north of the Somme, only to find itself opposed by von Buelow's command. Every new French force brought up to extend the line was met and checked by a corresponding German force. Everywhere the enemy showed wonderful energy. While they were holding Maud'huy's army their troops were beinghurried northwards behind their lines, and they were nowhere caught napping. Maud'huy dug himself in on the Albert plateau, and von Buelow could not drive him back. Here, too, there was deadlock.
Once more the French line was extended farther north, and as it extended so did the corresponding German front. Each side was attempting to outflank the other, and it was clear that the double movements could only be stopped by the sea. So the rival armies went clawing northwards. Between the Oise and Arras the French were holding their own with difficulty; in the Arras position they were fairly strong, but round Lille, which was held by French Territorials, they had but a mere ribbon of troops.
In the closing days of September the French learnt that the Germans had begun a new and very dangerous move. Masses of German cavalry were sweeping across the Belgian flats into France. Uhlans were within sightof the sea, and were threatening Maud'huy's left flank round Lille and among the colliery villages to the north of Arras. There were rumours of many troop trains moving through Liége and Namur and Brussels, and it seemed that the cavalry on Maud'huy's flank were but the vanguard of a huge army which was about to be flung against the French rear.
Nor was this all. The Germans had begun to besiege Antwerp. No one could say how long it could hold out. After the experience of Liége and Namur its chances were small, but it was hoped that the Belgian army might make an obstinate stand outside the circle of forts. No risks, however, could be taken. New armies must be moved without delay to the extreme left of the Allied line, in order to check the new German attack, and also to hold out a helping hand to the defenders of Antwerp.
To this post of honour Sir John French now laid claim. At Mons his army had been on the left of the Allied line; now it was in the centre. This meant that it was far from its base, and could only obtain its supplies by cross-country routes which ran through the lines of communications of the French armies. Sir John now asked to be transferred to his old position on the extreme left wing, where he would be near the coast, and could be readily supplied with food, ammunition, and reinforcements. His fine, seasoned soldiers were wasted on the Aisne, where the fight had dwindled to a series of artillery duels, with here and there a sharp struggle in the advanced trenches. If, as seemed likely, the Germans were about to make a dash for the coast, in order to capture Calais and the Channel ports, and thus threaten England, the British army desired nothing better than the chance to stop it. In these circumstances, General Joffre agreed that the British army should be carried northward by train, and should take up a position on the left flank of Maud'huy's army, which early in October 1914 had reached the south bank of a canal running westwards from Lille through La Bassée to Bethune.[153]
I need not tell you that the transfer of an army from the Aisne to the Franco-Belgian border was a very difficult and delicate operation indeed. Our trenches on the Aisne were in many places only about 100yards from those of the enemy yet, platoon by platoon, battalion by battalion, and brigade by brigade, our men were shifted out of their trenches at night, and French soldiers were slipped in to take their places. The transfer began on 3rd October, when the 2nd Cavalry Division, under General Gough, marched to Compiègne, where it took train through Amiens to St. Omer, which lies to the west of Bethune. For sixteen days the business of withdrawing our men from the Aisne and sending them northwards by train continued, and all the time the Germans were quite unaware of what was going on. They had one of the greatest surprises of their lives when they discovered that the British army was opposing them on the Franco-Belgian border. German prisoners could not believe their eyes when they saw that their captors wore the familiar khaki. They firmly believed that the British army was in the trenches of the Aisne valley.
An officer writing home thus describes the transfer of the British army:—
"We left the river Aisne, and now we are a long way north of that position. It was a wonderful move. French troops appeared out of the darkness and took our places. They had marched many miles, but were quite cheerful and calm, their only desire being to get into our 'dug-outs' and go to sleep. Then we marched down the hill into a comparative peace, and, joy of joys! were allowed to smoke and talk. It was a bitterly cold night, and we were dreadfully sleepy. We nodded as we trudged along. And so we entrained, and slept, closely packed indeed, but on beautiful soft cushions instead of the mud of a trench; the men were comfortable, being wedged by forties in covered trucks with clean straw for beds. We awoke in Paris. We passed slowly through, and slept again until we stopped for water at Amiens."Our journey continued as fast as a train holding 1,000 men and their transport wagons can travel, and we were at Calais by evening. But a murrain on the foggy weather, which prevented us from catching a glimpse of the heights of Dover town! However, at another stopping-place there was a charming English girl giving the soldiers cigarettes, and the sight of her and a word or two made us doubly brave."
"We left the river Aisne, and now we are a long way north of that position. It was a wonderful move. French troops appeared out of the darkness and took our places. They had marched many miles, but were quite cheerful and calm, their only desire being to get into our 'dug-outs' and go to sleep. Then we marched down the hill into a comparative peace, and, joy of joys! were allowed to smoke and talk. It was a bitterly cold night, and we were dreadfully sleepy. We nodded as we trudged along. And so we entrained, and slept, closely packed indeed, but on beautiful soft cushions instead of the mud of a trench; the men were comfortable, being wedged by forties in covered trucks with clean straw for beds. We awoke in Paris. We passed slowly through, and slept again until we stopped for water at Amiens.
"Our journey continued as fast as a train holding 1,000 men and their transport wagons can travel, and we were at Calais by evening. But a murrain on the foggy weather, which prevented us from catching a glimpse of the heights of Dover town! However, at another stopping-place there was a charming English girl giving the soldiers cigarettes, and the sight of her and a word or two made us doubly brave."
The Second Corps was timed to arrive on the canal to the west of Bethune on 11th October. It was to connect up with Maud'huy's army holding the line south of the canal, and Gough's cavalry was to hold back the Germans until it was in position. Next day the Third Corps was to arrive and detrain at St. Omer. Then the cavalry was to clear its flank, and hold back the Germans again until the Third Corps was in position. Finally, it had to do similar work until the First Corps could arriveand take its place in the long northward line. Such was the plan; and, thanks to the splendid manner in which the French and British staffs worked together, it succeeded. By 19th October 100,000 British soldiers had been silently and secretly withdrawn from their trenches on the Aisne, almost within eyeshot of the Germans, and had been carried 150 miles by rail to their new positions. During the journey some of our men passed near enough to the Channel to see British warships far out on the gray waters.
We won the race to the sea, but only by a short neck. How the Germans poured across Belgium, and how the remnants of the Belgian army, aided by a small British force, kept them at bay until the situation was saved, will be told in our next volume. The transfer of the British army from the Aisne to the Franco-Belgian border marks the close of the third great chapter of the war. Thenceforward, for many months, war was to be waged along a line of trenches extending from the wind-whipped dunes of the narrow seas to within sight of Alpine snows, a distance of more than 450 miles.
In Chapter IX. of this volume you learned something of the first clash of arms in Eastern Europe. I told you how two Russian armies beat a German army in East Prussia, and overran the greater part of the province. This success, you will remember, was short-lived. Von Hindenburg destroyed Samsonov's army at Tannenberg, and Rennenkampf's forces barely managed to escape. In Galicia, however, the Russians carried everything before them. They smote the Austrians hard, and for a time put them out of action. There were people in this country who believed that in a few weeks the Russian right would be across the Vistula, marching triumphantly towards Berlin; while the Russians in possession of Cracow would be advancing into Silesia and Hungary. Let us see what really happened.
When I broke off my story von Hindenburg was following up Rennenkampf, who was rapidly falling back from Königsberg towards the Russian frontier. On 7th September 1914 the German general made a great advance towards the Niemen. His right moved along the railway from Gumbinnen towards Kovno, his centre pushed forward by way of Suwalki,[154]while his right, which had detached troops to besiege the fortress of Ossowietz,[155]on the Bobr, swept towards Grodno. The country through which he was now moving is one tangle of bog and lake; it is traversed by only three railway lines, but the roads are few. The troops moving east from Suwalki had to cross a causeway which threads the marshes to the east and south-east of that town. An army traversing such a country is at a great disadvantage. Men and guns and transport have to movealong narrow roads, with bogs and lakes on their flanks. It is almost as difficult to cross marsh roads as to cross the passes of a great mountain chain. The Russians had already learnt this by their bitter experiences in East Prussia.
The country through which von Hindenburg was now advancing is famous in history as the theatre of a campaign by one of Napoleon's armies in 1812. But whereas Napoleon invaded the region in midsummer, the Germans were advancing through it on the stormy eve of a Russian winter, and were hampered by much more transport than that which accompanied the French army.
Rennenkampf was unable to offer much opposition to von Hindenburg as he pushed forward, nor would he have resisted him if he could. His object was to lure von Hindenburg on towards the Niemen, where he felt sure he could put an end to his advance. If he could force the Germans to retreat, he would be able to fall upon their rear as they marched back along the narrow roads with the deadly swamps and quagmires around them, and revenge Tannenberg. He therefore let the enemy come on, and only delayed him from time to time by a little rearguard fighting. The German troops which travelled by railway moved fast. On 20th September the siege of Ossowietz began, and next day the main bodies of the enemy reached the Niemen at three points, marked A, B, and C on the diagram. Rennenkampf by this time had got most of his men over the broad stream, and they were now lying in deep trenches on the low eastern shore. He had received large reinforcements, and he was now confident that he could prevent the Germans from crossing.
On the morning of 26th September von Hindenburg's heavy howitzers beganto throw their shells across the river at B, while his engineers built pontoon bridges. As soon as a bridge was completed, concealed Russian guns blew it to pieces. All day long the howitzers boomed, but there was no reply from the Russian side. At nightfall von Hindenburg felt sure that he had driven his enemy out of their trenches, and that next day he might safely attempt to cross the river.
On the morning of the 27th bridges were again built and swung across the stream. The Russians waited until the Germans were on them, and then their guns smashed them to fragments. There was terrible loss on the German side, and nowhere could they make headway. At all points along the river they were held up in the same way. Meanwhile the siege of Ossowietz had hopelessly failed: in the spongy moss surrounding the "island" of solid ground on which the fortress is built no firm positions could be found for the big guns.
The Russians were too strong for him, and on Sunday, 27th September, von Hindenburg gave the order to retreat. He now realized that he could not cross the Niemen, and that even if he could, his success would not force the Russians to withdraw troops from Galicia. The retreat was a difficult matter; but von Hindenburg, as you know, was a master of marsh warfare. Only in the centre, where he had to cross the swampy country to the east and south-east of Suwalki, was he in difficulties.
Rennenkampf instantly followed him up, and by flinging his left well south towards the valley of the Bobr, endeavoured to cut off the German forces between Augustovo and the causeway leading to Suwalki. He had to push through the Forest of Augustovo, a region much like that in which von Hindenburg had destroyed Samsonov's army. Guided by the foresters of the district, his men slowly threaded the matted woods, and by 1st October had seized Augustovo. For two days there was a fierce rearguard action in the woods, and the Germans lost heavily in guns and prisoners. Rennenkampf claimed that 60,000 Germans had been killed, wounded, or captured; and if his estimate is correct, he had fully revenged Tannenberg. Von Hindenburg, however, managed to get the bulk of his force away, and by 9th October they were all back again in East Prussia, whither Rennenkampf could not follow them without the risk of beingentrapped in the woods and lakes and marshes where Samsonov had suffered disaster in the last days of August.
Von Hindenburg's great advance to the Niemen had failed. It had achieved nothing; and meanwhile, as we shall soon hear, the Russians were advancing towards Cracow, and were drawing nearer and nearer every day to Silesia. A great effort had now to be made to check them, and von Hindenburg was ordered southward to undertake the task.
Now let us return to the Russians in Galicia. In the third week of September 1914, Russian armies appeared before the two chief fortresses of Central Galicia—Jaroslav and Przemysl. Both these strongholds are on the river San, and a glance at the map on page303will show you that before the Russians could move either on Cracow or across the Carpathians into Hungary both of them must be captured. At one time the Austrians had meant to make Jaroslav a first-class fortress; but they had not finished the fortifications, and it was now defended by a strong circle of entrenchments and a number of redoubts on both banks of the river. Jaroslav was expected to offer a stubborn resistance, but it fell within three days. Przemysl, however, was a very much harder nut to crack. It stands in a strong natural position amidst the foothills of the Carpathians, and its forts and lines of defence were very strong indeed. For weeks it had been preparing for the impending siege. The "useless mouths" had been sent away; gangs of workmen had been busy strengthening all the weak points, and a large store of ammunition had been collected. The garrison numbered about 30,000 men. On 22nd September the Russians closed in on the place, and soon completely surrounded it. As the Russian commander was short of big siege guns, he determined to starve the place into surrender. It was known that the supply of food within the city was not large, and the fortress was expected to yield in a few weeks at most. It held out for fully six months.
Leaving an army to mask the fortress, the remainder of the Russian forces in Galicia pushed on towards Cracow, which I have already described in Chapter VIII. of this volume. Cracow stands, as you know, on the northern edge of the Carpathians, at a point where the Vistula is as broad as the Thames at Windsor. The hills on the north and south werestrongly fortified, but the real defence of the city was the circle of deep entrenchments, pushed so far out from the town that the siege guns of the enemy could not get within range of it. While the Russians were advancing, the Austrian garrison of at least 100,000 men laboured night and day to make the fortified zone impregnable.
They knew—none better—that Cracow was the key-fortress of Eastern Europe. If it fell, the Russians would be able to advance both into Germany and into Austria. Forty miles west of Cracow they would be in Silesia, the largest and most important manufacturing area of Germany, and the seat of its chief coal and iron mines. One-quarter of all the coal mined in Germany comes from Silesia, and it has some of the richest zinc deposits in the world. Its chemical and textile manufactures are the most extensive in all the Fatherland, and it has well been called the German Lancashire. If the Russians could enter Silesia and begin to lay waste its crowded industrial towns, a blow would be struck at the very heart of Germany. Berlin, too, would be in peril, for a road to the capital would be opened along the river Oder and behind the line of frontier fortresses.
The capture of Cracow by the Russians would not only imperil Germany, but it would make them complete masters of Galicia. You already know what a very important part petrol plays in modern warfare. Motor cars, aeroplanes, and submarines must have petrol, or they cannot move. The petroleum of the world is chiefly found in America, round about Baku on the shores of the Caspian Sea, in Galicia, and in Rumania. The British navy had stopped the exports of petroleum from America; the Caspian oil fields were in the hands of Russia, and German supplies could only be obtained from Galicia and Rumania. The Galician oil fields, which are amongst the richest in Europe, lie along the northern slopes of the Carpathians. Once the Russians were masters of Galicia these oil fields would be in their hands, and the only other possible source of supply for the Germans would be in Rumania. Before the war began the Germans had provided themselves with huge supplies of petrol, but even in September 1914 these stocks were rapidly shrinking.
Once the Russians captured Cracow they could begin the great task of pushing across the Carpathians into Hungary. You know that there is nolove lost between the Hungarians and the Austrians. Should Hungary be threatened, and the Austrians be unable to send armies to drive back the invader, it seemed more than likely that the Hungarians would break away from the Germans and Austrians, and try to make peace on their own account. Nor was Hungary alone threatened. One hundred miles to the west of Cracow is the "Gap of Moravia," through which the river March flows to the Danube. It is the old highway from Germany into Austria, and along it runs the great railway which connects Silesia with Vienna. Thus the capture of Cracow would open a road not only to Berlin but to the capital of Austria as well.