Now let us return to the Russian armies invading Galicia. While Brussilov was seizing and holding the Uzsok, Lupkow, and Dukla Passes, Dmitrieff, commanding what I have called Army D, was pushing his way towards Cracow. As he movedwestwards he had some heavy fighting to do. He carried a strongly fortified town by assault, and his men waded up to the neck in ice-cold water through the river Raba in the face of a heavy fire. One bitter day they carried trenches and wire entanglements at the point of the bayonet. They were seasoned by forty-five days of almost continuous struggle, and were in the highest spirits. By the end of the first week in December his Cossacks were in the suburbs of Cracow, and his main force was about twelve miles east of the fortress. His right was preparing to wheel round so as to close in on the city from the north, where it was hardest to defend. On 4th December it was only three and a half miles from the outer fortifications.
A month previously, when the Russians were within a hundred miles of the fortress, it was ill prepared to stand a siege. While they were retiring to the San and advancing again, the Austrians had been busy strengthening its defences by making a wide circle of trenches around the city, and putting big movable guns into them, as the French had done at Verdun.[166]No field army, however, had been placed in these trenches, because it was hoped that Mackensen's new move on Warsaw would be sufficient to cause the Russians to retire again. By the end of the first week in December it was clear that Brussilov and Dmitrieff were not going to be drawn off by any threat in Poland, but were going to leave the defence of Warsaw to the other Russian forces. The Austrians now saw that they must attack the Russians in Galicia, unless they were prepared to see Cracow fall into the hands of the enemy.
Two armies were, therefore, launched against the Russians. The first army, which consisted largely of Hungarians, pushed up from the plain to the south through the Carpathian passes in order to sweep Brussilov out of them and then threaten the Russian rear and its lines of communication. Meanwhile a second Austrian army moved from the south-west amongst the foothills of the Carpathians, and struck at the left of the Russians in front of Cracow. The two armies attacked at the same time. On 8th December, while Brussilov was heavily engaged in the mountains, Dmitrieff fought a battle on theoutskirts of the city. He held his own well, but he found that the Austrian right was working its way through the higher glens so as to reach the valley of the river Donajetz[167]and threaten his rear, and that at the same time a third force from the direction of the Warta was strongly attacking his right. He was, therefore, obliged to fall back.
Four days later the Austrians succeeded in seizing the broad and easy pass of the Dukla, and were in a position to pour their forces down upon Galicia, and hold up the rear of Dmitrieff's army while the other army strongly attacked it from the west. The position of the Russians was now very dangerous, and another retirement was necessary. Dmitrieff fell back behind the line of the river Donajetz and its tributary the Biala, so as to cover the mouth of the Dukla Pass. His front now curved from the Vistula to the east of its confluence with the Donajetz, Tarnow on the Biala, past Krosno, and almost to the head-waters of the river San. Brussilov continued the line south-eastwards, and covered the northern exits of the Lupkow Pass and the Uzsok Pass.
There was great disappointment in France and Great Britain when the news arrived that the Russians were againretreating. So far, however, there was no disaster. As long as the enemy could be held in the passes all might yet be well. If, however, the Uzsok Pass, which carries a railway from the Hungarian plain to Przemysl and Lemberg, could be captured by the Austrians, Brussilov would have to retire northwards, in which case the enemy would be able to regain the besieged city of Przemysl. While the struggle was raging in the mountains, the Russians heavily bombarded the city, in the hope of capturing it and setting free the troops that were around it. Unhappily, the bombardment had no effect.
A few days later the Austrians seized the crest of the Lupkow Pass, and began fighting hard for the Uzsok Pass. Before, however, they could become really dangerous, Russian reinforcements arrived, and a counter-attack began. About 20th December, when the snow lay thick on the mountains and icy blizzards were sweeping across the passes, the Russians once more advanced. The left, swinging south-west from Krosno, seized the mouth of the Dukla Pass, and cut off and captured more than 10,000 Austrians. Meanwhile the centre and right moved forward to the position shown on the map (p.249), and by Christmas Day Brussilov was holding the mouths of the Lupkow and Uzsok once more. He did not fear fresh attacks by way of the passes, for the wild wintry weather forbade the passage of troops even across the lowest gaps in the chain. At the end of the year the Russians were still besieging Przemysl, and their right was within forty miles of Cracow.
The city had been saved by the valour of the Hungarians. But for their stubborn fighting in the passes, Dmitrieff would have eaten his Christmas dinner on the banks of the Oder, and his joyful toast to his soldiers would have been, "Onward to Berlin."
We must now learn how von Mackensen made his swoop on the threatened city of Warsaw. When the Cossacks in Galicia were within an easy day's ride of Cracow, and North Poland was shrouded in white, clammy mists which no eye could pierce for more than a few hundred yards, his troops set out from Thorn on the second great venture. The first had failed, but the second might be a triumph. Who could say?
About 13th November Ruzsky's outposts along the Vistula were driven in, and his scouts reported that a very strong force of Germans was advancing along both banks of the river. The Russian general had far too few troops to meet the large numbers now flung against him, and, as I explained in the previous chapter, he could not expect reinforcements either from the south or from beyond the Vistula for a considerable time. He was, therefore, forced to retire, and by the 16th November the Germans were fifty miles to the east of their frontier, and half-way to Warsaw. No doubt during their advance they captured many prisoners and many guns, but owing to the straggling character of the Russian march, which was described on page239, the losses of our ally were not so high as they would have been in the case of a Western army. The Turkomans,[168]mounted on fine horses, and wearing orange and scarlet sheepskin coats, flashed to and fro in the midst during many rearguard actions, and managed to delay the enemy's advance. One of these delaying fights took place on the night of the 15th-16th November, and was claimed by von Hindenburg as a great victory. He reported that he had captured 28,000 prisoners, and Berlin went mad with delight. The commander-in-chief was at once rewarded—he was made a field-marshal.
Ruzsky's idea was to fall back in good order behind the river Bzura, which rises near Lodz, flows northwards for twenty or more miles, then runs eastwards for about forty miles, and finally flows north to join the Vistula, some ten miles below Lowicz.[169]During its eastward course the river flows through a great belt of marshes, which lie partly in the course of the river and partly to the west of it. The marshes are crossed by a few small paths totally unfitted for the passage of large bodies of men with heavy guns. All the bridges along the river had been broken down, but in its upper reaches the river could be forded. Look at this little map. You will find on the railway from Thorn to Lowicz the town of Kutno, and almost due south of it, beyond the Bzura, you will see Piatek. Between these two places the marshes are crossed by a great causeway, along which the heaviest traffic can make its way. From what I have told you of the Bzura, you will gather that an army lying behind the marshes of the river would be in a very strong position to meet a frontal attack. They could only be assailed in front along one road—the causeway already mentioned. They might, of course, be outflanked by a force crossing the river below Lowicz (A), or fording the stream to the south of the marshes (B). The Germans, as we shall see, made not only a frontal attack along the causeway, but also flanking attacks atAandB.
About fifteen miles to the south of Piatek is Lodz, the "Manchester of Poland." It contains half a million people,and has grown more rapidly than any other city of Europe. Its chief industry is cotton, but there are also large factories in which silk, woollen, and linen fabrics are made, as well as numerous dye-works, flour mills, distilleries, and machine shops. The Germans had captured it during their first march on Warsaw, but had lost it during the retreat. They were now to make a bold bid for it again.
Accordingly the German right now pressed hard against the Bzura at B, south of the marshes. While the right was crossing the river at B, the extreme left moved towards Plock, so as to outflank the Russian position by crossing the river at A. The main attack, however, was to be made not on the flanks but in the centre, across the causeway at C. Now I want you to notice that if Russian reinforcements could have come up from the south, the German flanking forces at B would have been hemmed in between the Russians to the north of Lodz and those advancing on the city from the south. Von Hindenburg, however, felt quite sure that the Russians from the south could not arrive in time owing to the broken roads and railways. Long before they came up he hoped to be in Warsaw.
An extraordinary state of things soon occurred. At first the Russians beat off attacks on the causeway, and held the German army in the villages north of the marshes. But on 19th November von Mackensen made a huge effort. He crossed the causeway, and pushed the Russians well south of Piatek. For the next four days his troops tramped across the causeway, and the Russians fell back more and more, till there was a deep sag in their line east of Lodz. Von Mackensen pushed this sag deeper and deeper, and wider and wider, until it resembled a pocket, and on 23rd November the bottom of the pocket fell out, and the Russian army was split into two parts, as shown in the diagram on the next page. The Germans burst through the gap, and the Russians were now in a most dangerous plight, especially as the enemy was bringing up strong forces both from the south-east and the south. Lodz was now being attacked from the front, from the flank, and from the rear. The Germans appeared to have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams.
"There's many a slip between the cup and the lip," says the old proverb. The Germans now expected to envelopthe divided forces of the Russians, and make an end of them altogether. But when the cup was almost at their lips, the slip took place. The Russians had hastily summoned guns and men from Asia, and troop trains had been rolling for weeks past at top speed along the Siberian railway. The Siberians were detrained at a station on the railway south of Lowicz, just as reinforcements from the south were at last coming up. On the 24th the Siberians appeared on the field; another day, and they would have been too late—the Russian left would have been destroyed for ever.
Ruzsky, now reinforced, did his utmost to close up the mouth of the pocket, and thus cut off the 90,000 Germans who were within it. For two days he pressed together the edges of the top of the pocket, and more and more shut in the trapped corps. More troops were needed to close it completely, and Rennenkampf, on the extreme right, was ordered to push forward with the utmost speed. Unhappily, he arrived a day too late, and the pocket was never wholly shut up.
Von Mackensen strove hard by bringing up reserves to force back the Russians who were pinching him on either side, and by doing so managed to provide an exit for his trapped troops. From 24th to 26th November a furious struggle continued night and day. Battalions were broken into fragments, and the men roamed about the frozen and deserted land "like a pack of hungry wolves." By the 26th something like 40,000 men had escaped, and had reached their own lines. Amongst them was a remnant of the Prussian guards. Not only had thousands of Germans been killed and wounded, but multitudes of prisoners were in Russian hands. A few days later Warsaw was swarming with them. But for Rennenkampf's late arrival Russia would have accomplished a new Sedan.
Fresh troops were now brought up from Germany, and a determined effort was made to envelop the Russians by striking hard at their left while the rest of the line was strongly held up. The Russian left wing was pushed back, chiefly because it had broken roads and railways behind it, and was farthest from its base of supply. Lodz, to the rear of the Russian lines, now formed an ugly salient, much like that at Ypres. Ruzsky knew that if he were forced to retreat through the seven miles of the Lodz streets he could only march slowly and in crowded formation, and would probably be badly cut up in the process. It was a risk which there was no reason to face. Lodz was of no value in his plan of campaign, though, of course, it was valuable to the enemy because of its resources. Ruzsky therefore determined to give it up, and to straighten out his line by falling back. Accordingly, on the 27th he slowly retreated. His withdrawal lasted more than a week. German shells began to fall in the streets of Lodz on 5th December, and the next day the enemy entered the city, and were received with great joy by their fellow-countrymen, who form a large part of its population. For the second time the Germans were masters of Lodz.
There was much joy in Berlin, and the capture of the city was acclaimed as a great victory, in which "we did not lose a single man." As we have seen, the Russians gave it up of their own accord, because the game of holding it was notworth the candle. As a matter of fact, there was no battle and no victory. It is said that for fifteen hours the Germans shelled empty trenches, from which the Russians had withdrawn on the previous day. Nevertheless they still speak of the Battle of Lodz, and consider it a feather in their caps.
A few days later von Hindenburg thus addressed his men:—
"In the course of severe fighting, lasting several days, my troops have brought to a standstill a Russian army superior in numbers. Over 60,000 prisoners, 150 guns, and about 200 machine guns have fallen into our hands. But the enemy is not yet annihilated. Therefore, forward, with God, for King and Fatherland, till the last Russian lies beaten at our feet."
"In the course of severe fighting, lasting several days, my troops have brought to a standstill a Russian army superior in numbers. Over 60,000 prisoners, 150 guns, and about 200 machine guns have fallen into our hands. But the enemy is not yet annihilated. Therefore, forward, with God, for King and Fatherland, till the last Russian lies beaten at our feet."
No doubt the Germans had made large captures, but so had the Russians. Von Hindenburg, though he called upon his men to rejoice, knew that he had really failed in his object, which was to make the Russians retire from Galicia and come to the help of their hard-pressed comrades in North Poland. They had done nothing of the sort. As you know, the Galician campaign went on without interference.
Von Hindenburg had promised his troops that they should eat their Christmas dinner in Warsaw. He was still seventy miles from the city, and December was already six days old. There was no time to be lost if his promise was to be kept.
He now hurled his left against the Russian right wing, which lay north of the Bzura and well east of Lowicz. At the same time he increased his forces in East Prussia, and ordered them to march southwards from Mlava so as to cut the main railway from Warsaw to Petrograd. Had this move succeeded, the Russians would have been obliged to abandon Warsaw. Happily, a force advanced from the fortress of Novo Georgievsk, and drove back the Germans from East Prussia almost to their frontier. For the time being, the Russian right flank was secure.
The Russian wing just south of the Vistula was not, however, well placed to meet the other attack. It was cut into two by the river Bzura, and its communications were very bad. So, with great wisdom, Ruzsky determined to withdraw this wing behind the Bzura and its tributary the Rawka, which flows north to join the Bzura, a few miles east of Lowicz. Behind these rivers he would have good communications, bymeans of which he could easily bring up food, munitions, and reinforcements. So far the winter frosts had not been severe; there was only a thin coating of ice on the Polish bogs, and the Vistula and the Pilitza were still open for river traffic. Just when Ruzsky was planning his retirement a complete thaw set in, and in a few days the whole countryside was one slough of despond. The Germans advancing against his new position would have to flounder through many feet of mud to get at him.
For a fortnight the Russians slowly fell back all along the line, and the towns to the west of the line of the Bzura and the Rawka were occupied by the Germans. By the 18th of December the Russians were in their new position, which soon proved itself to be as strong as the Allied position from Arras to Nieuport. The same kind of warfare now took place both in East and West. The Russians dug themselves in close to the shallow, muddy streams, and on the other side the Germans occupied the fairly high bank which marks the rim of an old channel.
Attacks and counter-attacks were nightly incidents of the struggle. When the early darkness set in, the Germans, in close formation, crashed through the cat-ice along the shore, waded breast-high through the bitterly cold waters, and, in spite of severe losses, frequently gained the Russian bank. Sometimes they captured an advanced trench, but rarely could they hold it, and all the time they were losing heavily. Warsaw was only thirty-five miles away, and the roar of the German guns was clearly heard in the city. But there was no panic; the Russian lines were proof against every assault. By Christmas Eve the enemy was doing no more than hold his trenches. In East and West alike stalemate had set in.
A writer thus describes Christmas Day in the Russian lines: "The Bishop of Moscow," he says, "arranged a solemn Christmas Day service, with trained singers who were serving in the army. He later visited the hospitals, giving short and plain addresses, and blessing each branch of the service in turn. There was a great Christmas tree in the station, where presents were distributed to the wounded. Gifts were also distributed under fire by the hospital workers to the soldiers in the trenches. In the evening I took part in a Christmas gathering in one of the big hospitals. Every one's health was drunk in turn; the persons toasted were mentioned by their Christian names, and all was woven into a long song. Afterwards we sang songs of the Volga."
The failure of the second attempt to capture Warsaw brings us down to the end of the year 1914, and the moment is convenient for summing up the work of the Russian armies during the first five months of the war. In common with her Allies, Russia was not ready to take the field when war was declared; most of her soldiers had yet to be called up, and she had not sufficient rifles, ammunition, and uniforms for them. Further, by means of her very imperfect railway system, she had to transport such forces as were ready many thousands of miles before they could reach the theatre of war. In spite of all these difficulties, she had a force prepared to strike a full fortnight before the Germans believed that she could put her men into the field.
While the Kaiser's hosts were swinging through Belgium, in the hope of overwhelming the French and the British, the Russians, though still too weak for the purpose, invaded East Prussia, the sacred land of the German squires, and by doing so relieved to some extent the strain in the West. Dearly did Russia pay for this act of chivalry. She suffered one of the most terrible defeats in her history at Tannenberg; but she was still undismayed. In Galicia, on the other hand, she crushed the Austrians in two mighty battles before the Germans could come to their aid, and captured the whole eastern half of the country.
Her troops were rapidly approaching Cracow, which alone barred the road to Silesia and Berlin, when the Germans, who from the first were greatly superior in numbers, made a dangerous move against Warsaw, the great railway centre which it was essential for Russia to hold if she was to maintain the war on the enemy's frontier. To meet this grave threat, the Grand Duke ordered his forces to fall back from Galicia, and hold the long line of the Vistula against the determined invader. Then when von Hindenburg had made his furious thrust, and had been flung back almost from the gates of Warsaw, the Russians sprang forward once more, and drove the Germans in rout behind their own frontier. Again they swept into Galicia, and there they were maintaining themselves when the year 1914 came to a close.
By means of the network of railways on the German frontier von Hindenburg rapidly massed troops for a march across the undevastated north of Poland towards the city which had already foiled him, hoping that this new threat would have the former effect. It failed in its purpose. The Russians met his many with their few behind the marshes of the Bzura, and the late arrival of Rennenkampf's troops alone saved the Germans from being completely wiped out. As it was, they suffered terribly, but reinforced, made another frenzied attempt on Warsaw. Again the Russians retreated, and behind a river front of great strength defied the Germans to do their worst. By Christmas Eve the Germans had failed, for the second time in three months, to capture the city of their desire.
Such in the briefest possible outline is the record of Russia's part in the war during the year 1914. The Russians had most loyally supported the Allies; they had sacrificed thousands of men in order to draw against them the greatest number of Germans, and by their stubborn and persistent efforts they had caused the enemy after 15th November to abandon his offensive movements in the West. Their commander-in-chief and most of their other leaders had shown fine generalship and great resolution, and their soldiers had given fresh proof of the dogged courage for which they have always been renowned.
All this came as a great surprise to those who remembered that the Russian armies had been utterly baffled and overthrown in the war which they had waged ten years before against Japan. Then they were badly trained, badly equipped, and badly led; but Russia had taken to heart the bitter lessons of defeat, and during the intervening years had so thoroughly reorganized her forces that they were now able to inflict defeats upon the foremost military nation of the world. As an armed power Russia had been born anew.
At the beginning of the great struggle King George sent a message to the Sultan, in which he referred to the friendship which had existed between the United Kingdom and Turkey for more than a century. Two days before the fall of Tsingtau this old friendship was broken; we were forced to declare war on the Power which we had so often befriended during more than a hundred years. The fact was that Germany had become all-powerful in Turkey, and the Sultan was merely a puppet in the Kaiser's hands.
I have already told you how the Kaiser courted the Sultan in 1889,[170]and won for Germany many important industrial and commercial advantages in Asia Minor. In July 1908 an event took place in Turkey which seemed at first to be a great blow to Germany. Up to that time the government of Turkey had been Oriental; the Sultan was absolute; there was no parliament, and bad governors robbed the people right and left. Western ideas, however, had gradually been gaining ground, especially amongst the younger men. In July 1908 the Young Turks, after long preparation, rose in rebellion under a vain but very pushing man named Enver Bey. The Sultan, the Kaiser's friend, was deposed; his younger brother was placed on the throne, and a new form of government, in which the people had some share, was set up. Before long, Enver Bey became the most powerful man in the country. He was a simple captain when the reform movement began, but he rapidly rose to be Chief ofthe General Staff and Secretary for War.
This revolution seemed to have overturned Germany's plans, and to have robbed her at one blow of all the power and influence which she had gained in Turkey. Thanks, however, to the army which von der Goltz had drilled and trained and officered, Germany managed to retain her influence. Enver Bey and other leading Young Turks were won over, and Germany continued to hold the reins of military power. Then came the war with Italy, and in 1912 the sudden and unexpected Balkan War, in which the German-trained Turkish army was badly beaten. When all was over, Turkey had been reduced to a little country less than twice the size of Wales.
After this disaster the Turkish army was practically handed over to Germany, lock, stock, and barrel. German officers were poured into the army, and nearly all the divisions and brigades had German commanders. In January 1914 General Liman von Sanders became commander of all the thirteen corps of the Turkish army.
Now, I think you can understand that when the great European war broke out it was highly improbable that Turkey would remain neutral. We were most anxious to keep Turkey out of the fight, and on 7th August Sir Edward Grey promised, on behalf of Great Britain, France, and Russia, that if she would refrain from war we would guarantee her independence, and would see that she lost no territory when the struggle was over. We also undertook to make no change in the government of Egypt, which, as you know, was then supposed to be under the overlordship of the Sultan.
When we declared war on Germany there were in this country two men-of-war which Messrs. Armstrong, Whitworth, and Company had built for the Turkish Government, but which had not been handed over to their owners. According to what is called International Law,[171]a nation going to war has a perfect right to acquire any warships which have been built or are building in its ports, but have not left the country. Our Admiralty very properly bought these vessels from the builders. Sir Edward Grey telegraphed to the Sultan on 25th August, expressing his deep regret that the Government had been obliged to take this course, and promising to restore the ships at the end of the war if Turkey would remain strictly neutral. There seemed to be a good deal of angry feeling against Britain in Constantinople when the Turks learnt that we had taken over their ships. The Turkish Prime Minister, however, assured us that this angry feeling was largely pretence, and meant nothing. Turkey, however, was soon to show herself in her true colours.
In Chapter XXI. of our second volume I told you that the two German cruisersGoebenandBreslauwere chased by a British squadron in the Mediterranean, but that they managed to escape, and on 10th August took refuge in the Dardanelles. It was the duty of Turkey as a neutral Power to see that these ships did not pass through the Strait, and that they were either sent off to sea again in the course of twenty-four hours, or were disarmed and interned until the end of the war. Next day, to the astonishment of the world, the Turks announced that they had bought the cruisers from Germany because Britain had seized the ships which had been built for them on the Tyne. I have already told you that Britain had every right to take over the Turkish ships. On the other hand, Turkey had no right whatever to buy warships from a nation that was at war with another nation. To do so was a friendly act to Germany and an unfriendly act to Britain, France, and Russia. If the Turks had acted according to international law, they would have ordered theGoebenandBreslauout of their waters, in which case the Allied ships in the Mediterranean would have captured them. By buying them, the Turks prevented Britain from reducing the enemy's naval strength, and at the same time they assisted Germany by paying over their price. By means of these ships the Turks hoped to make themselves masters of the Black Sea.
This unfriendly act in itself afforded Great Britain good grounds for declaring war on Turkey; but she was very patient, and confined herself to protests. The Turkish Government promised to send away the German officers and crews of theGoebenandBreslau, but did not do so. All the while the Turkish Prime Minister was protesting that Turkey wished to be neutral; but he was merely playing for time. Attempts were being made to stir up rebellion in Egypt and India, and Turkey was holding her hand until the Moslems in these countries should be ready to rise.
Towards the end of October the British Government learned that Turkish ships, without any declaration of war, and without warning of any kind, had wantonly attacked open, undefended Russian towns on the Black Sea. It was well known, too, that Enver Bey, the Turkish Minister of War, was strongly pro-German, and that since the war began German officers in large numbers had poured into Constantinople. Certain rights enjoyed by foreigners living in Turkey had been abolished; the army had been mobilized, and there was no doubt that an attack was being prepared against Egypt. On 29th October a horde of Bedouins[172]invaded the Sinai Peninsula,[173]and seized certain wells. The same day Turkish torpedo boats raided Odessa, sank and damaged several ships, and bombarded the town.
Next day the ambassadors of the Allies had interviews with the Sultan and his advisers. The Sultan and the Prime Minister were in favour of peace, but Enver Bey and the military party overruled them. On 1st November the ambassadors left Constantinople, and four days later the King issued a proclamation which began as follows:—
"Owing to hostile acts committed by Turkish forces under German officers, a state of war now exists between Us and the Sultan of Turkey."
Before I describe the part played by Turkey in the war during the year 1914, let me tell you something about the army which she was able to put into the field. Every man in Turkey is supposed to serve, but as a rule only Mohammedans are called upon to do so. The conscript belongs to the army for twenty years—nine in the Nizam, or first line; nine in the Redif, or Active Reserve; and two in the Mustafiz, or Territorial Militia. Probably, at a pinch, the Turks could put into the field between 700,000 and 800,000 men, providing there was equipment for them. Their artillery had suffered heavily in the BalkanWar; but since then Turkey had bought many quick-firing guns from Krupp and the famous Austrian firm of Skoda. Germany had also provided the Turks with a number of heavy batteries.
The Turkish foot-soldier has always been famous as a fighting man. He is, as a rule, strong and well built, his nerves are steady, he is very stubborn in defence, and he can bear fatigue wonderfully well. But, as you know, he did not come off with flying colours during the Balkan War, probably because the German discipline to which he had been subjected had robbed him of his old dash and go, and because he was not in full sympathy with the German officers who commanded him. As a soldier, he was half Turk, half German; he had lost many of his Turkish virtues as a fighting man, and had not fully acquired those of Germany. Nevertheless, he is still brave, still dogged, still much enduring, and will always prove a formidable foe.
An American caricature of the time showed the Sultan laying his head upon a block and chopping it off with his own hand. Most observers in Western Europe felt that by acting as the cat's-paw of Germany, Turkey was deliberately committing suicide. She was solving the century-old problem—Shall Turkey remain a European Power? However the war might end, Turkey was bound to be wiped off the map of Europe as an independent state. There were many people in this country who were deeply sorry to see a brave people thus tricked into disaster for a cause which they could not understand, and for which they had no sympathy. Before long, however, the children of Osman[174]were fighting and dying amidst the snows of the Caucasus or on the sands of the desert in their old fearless, uncomplaining fashion—fighting and dying for no purpose save to ensure the destruction of their race as a ruling power.
Naturally the Turks wished to fight in the Balkan Peninsula, and to recover, if possible, some of the territory which they had lost during the recent disastrous wars. This, however, they could not do, because Greece and Bulgaria, their neighbours, remained neutral. The Germans wished to usethe Turkish army to create diversions—that is, to attack the Allies at a distance from the main theatres of war, and thus compel them to divide their forces. The frontiers of Turkey in Asia touch that wild, mountainous region in which Russia holds sway beneath the towering masses of the Caucasus; they also touch the bounds of Egypt, in which Britain is supreme, and draw near to the head of the Persian Gulf, which for generations we have watched and guarded in the interests of our Indian Empire, and have long regarded as a British sphere of influence. In these three regions the Turks might be of real assistance to their German masters. If they fought in Transcaucasia, they would draw off Russian troops from the thousand-mile line which the soldiers of the Tsar were then holding from the Niemen to the Dniester. If they attacked the Suez Canal, they might bar Britain's short road to India, and force her to keep a large army in Egypt. Further, when the Turks advanced, their Moslem brethren in Egypt and India might rise in rebellion, and force Britain to withdraw troops from the Western front to put them down. Then, again, the Turks might push down to the shores of the Persian Gulf, and obtain a foothold from which India might be threatened and the oil fields of Persia secured. The Turks, therefore, attacked on the Persian Gulf, in Transcaucasia, and in Egypt. With their descent upon the Suez Canal I shall deal in our next volume; in this and the next chapter I will describe the fighting at the head of the Persian Gulf, and afterwards I will tell you something of the operations in Transcaucasia.
South of Transcaucasia lies the Armenian plateau, which consists of lofty ranges of sterile mountains, with fertile vales and wide plains between them. The highest peak of this plateau is Ararat, on which it is said that the Ark rested after the flood. Ararat stands where the Russian, the Turkish, and the Persian empires meet, and from its southern slopes that famous river the Euphrates goes leaping through the mountain gorges on its way to the distant Persian Gulf. In the mountains to the south-east of Ararat rises the Tigris, which also flows towards the Persian Gulf, and gradually draws nearer and nearer to the Euphrates, with which it finally unites. Between the two rivers is Mesopotamia, which in early times was a wonderfully fertile country, but under the blighting hand of the Turk has become a wilderness, though it might again "blossom as the rose" if the waters of the rivers were properly distributed over the land.
On the plain of the Euphrates and the Tigris are the ruins of cities which were famous at the very dawn of history. Near the busy town of Mosul, on the Tigris, is the site of the ancient city of Nineveh; and near the Euphrates, not far from the town of Hilla, are the ruins of Babylon. Two hundred miles below Mosul is Bagdad, which recalls the "Arabian Nights." Above Basra, the city of Sindbad the Sailor, the Euphrates and the Tigris unite, and the combined stream flows for about seventy miles to the Persian Gulf as the Shat-el-Arab. On the eastern side of its lower course is Abadan Island, on which about 1,000 tons of crude oil are refined daily. The oil comes down a pipe line from the wells, which are about 150 miles north-east of the refinery.
The region between Basra and the Persian Gulf is the ancient land of Chaldea, the original home of Abraham, the father of the Hebrew people. Britons and Turks were now to meet in warfare on the river flats where the written history of the world began.
You can easily understand that the refinery at Abadan and the pipe line from the oil wells would be open to attack if we should go to war with Turkey. To lose this great source of supply would be a grievous blow to us, for more and more of our warships now raise their steam with oil instead of coal. As soon as the European war began the Government of India dispatched an Anglo-Indian force, consisting of the 2nd Dorsets and of Indian infantry and artillery, to the Persian Gulf. This force was landed on the island of Bahrein, but when war was declared with Turkey it re-embarked, and on 7th November reached the bar at the mouth of the Shat-el-Arab, near the village of Fao. A gunboat bombarded the mud fort of this village, and reduced it to silence in about an hour. A force of marines was then landed, and the place was occupied.
The transports then sailed up the estuary, passing Abadan on the left bank, and after a voyage of about thirty-five miles, disembarked, unopposed, at the Turkish village of Sanijeh,[176]where trenches were dug. While General Delamain, who commanded the British expedition, was waiting for reinforcements he was attacked by a force of Turks from Basra. The Indians quickly checked them, and later in the day showed the utmost gallantry in turning them out of a village in which they had established themselves.
On 13th November, soon after daybreak, two Anglo-Indian brigades, including the 1st Oxford Light Infantry and the 2nd Norfolks, arrived, under the command of Sir Arthur Barrett, off the bar of the Shat-el-Arab, and by the 15th were ready to disembark at Sanijeh. It was no easy task to get men, guns, and stores ashore on the slippery mud banks of a broad tidal river, but the work was accomplished before sunset. Meanwhile General Delamain attacked the village of Sahain, four miles to the north. A short, sharp action took place; but the 2,000 Turks who were posted in a date grove were not entirely cleared out of it. On the 16th the newly-arrived forces rested, and received the news that the Turkish garrison of Basra was advancing to give battle. There were Europeans in Basra, and General Barrett was eager to capture the place speedily, lest evil should befall the foreign residents.