A winter of the most bitter misery has closed in on the unfortunate city; miserable-looking shapes by the thousands, without home or food, crowd the narrow, crooked streets. As sand flows through an hourglass, so regiment after regiment, from every part of the vast empire of the czar, streams through the streets which now are black with people. From far-distant Siberia and from the borderlands of Turkestan these gray-clad soldiers pour through Warsaw to the plains of Poland. In their dull features no trace can be discovered of what they feel or think. One can study the faces of these Tartars, Mongols, and Caucasians as much as one pleases, there remains always the same mystery. Tramp, tramp, tramp—they march from the Kalish station along the railroad until they disappear together with the horizon in a single gray mass—who knows whither, who knows whence? It is at such times that one realizes the magnitude ofRussia if one considers that many of them have traveled all the way from the Ural Mountains.
Quietness and gloominess now reign in Warsaw's hospitals, in which formerly there was so much life and activity. The patients have been sent, as far as their condition permitted, into central Russia to recuperate, and at this time only slightly wounded men are brought in. This is a bad sign, for the doctors figure correctly that it indicates that those seriously wounded are left on the battle fields and perish there. The hotels, on the other hand, are full of life. There officers have settled down; every rank and every branch of the service is represented here, from the grizzly general down to the beardless lieutenant; every province of the immense empire seems to have sent a representative. You may see there the most fantastic figures: Caucasian colonels with enormous caps, huge mustaches, and black boots, figures which look still exactly like the Muscovian warriors from the days of Napoleon. It strikes one as very strange to hear so many German names borne by these Russian officers. And while the poor inhabitants of Warsaw await their fate with fear and trembling, the officers are the only ones full of joy, for war is their element and a promising opportunity for thousands of enticing possibilities which peace never brought them.
During November and December, 1914, both in north and south Poland, continuous fighting went on along the lines. In south Poland the field of action was at first north of Cracow, between the Rivers Warta and Pilitza, and later between the latter and the River Nida. But although the result of this fighting—which mainly was in favor of the German-Austrian forces—to a certain extent influenced the result in the central sector to the west of Warsaw, the details of it do not properly call for consideration at this time and place. For it was directed much more by the Austrian General Staff than by that of the German armies, the forces involved were preponderantly Austro-Hungarian, and it was more closely connected with the Russian attack on Galicia and the Carpathians than with Von Hindenburg's attack on the Russian center. It will find its proper consideration in another place in connection with the Galician campaign.Suffice it to say here that the Austro-Hungarian forces under Boehm-Ermolli, supported by the German division under General van Woyrsch, carried successfully that part of Von Hindenburg's general plan which had been assigned to it—the protection of the right wing of his central group of troops and the shielding of Cracow from a direct Russian attack.
To the north of the central group—north of the Vistula and between it and the Narew—the Germans had assembled, as we have already stated, another group which had as its bases Soldau and Thorn. Their chief task was to protect the German provinces of West and East Prussia from a Russian attack from Novo Georgievsk and Warsaw.
During November, 1914, these forces restricted themselves entirely to defensive fighting along the border. With the beginning of December, however, when the Russians had temporarily weakened their forces fighting north of the Vistula in order to send additional support to the defenders of Warsaw, the Germans attempted an advance which for a short time was successful.
On December 10, 1914, Przasnysz, about twenty-five miles southeast of Mlawa, was stormed after the latter place had been occupied some time before. By December 15, 1914, however, the Russians had again stronger forces at their command for this part of the front, and with them they not only threw the Germans again out of Przasnysz, but forced them to evacuate Mlawa and retire behind their border. A week later, about December 22, 1914, the Germans again advanced from Soldau and Neidenburg, and by December 24, 1914, Mlawa once more was in their hands. Although the fighting in this sector practically went on without intermission from the beginning of November, 1914, to the end of February, 1915, comparatively small forces were involved on both sides. This, of course, excluded any possibility of a decisive result on either side, and we can therefore dismiss this end of the campaign with the statement that, although the Germans north of the Vistula were more successful in keeping the Russians off German soil than the Russians were in keeping the Germans out of Poland, the latterdid not make here any appreciable headway in the direction of Warsaw, and accomplished no more than to keep a goodly number of Russian regiments tied up in the protection of Novo Georgievsk and the northern approach to Warsaw instead of permitting them to participate in the repulse of the main attack against the Polish capital, where they would have been very useful indeed.[Back to Contents]
WINTER BATTLES IN EAST PRUSSIA
The most northern part of the eastern front is now the only one left for our consideration. We have already learned that when the German General Staff planned its second drive against Warsaw, it had been decided to restrict the German forces collected in East Prussia south of the Niemen and east and south of the Mazurian Lakes to defensive measures. At that time—the beginning of November, 1914—and until about the beginning of February, 1915, they consisted of two army corps under the command of General von Bülow, who at the outbreak of the war and for a few years previous to it had been in command of a division with headquarters at Insterburg, and who was therefore well qualified for his task through his intimate knowledge of the territory. About 50 per cent of his forces belonged to the Landwehr, about 25 per cent to the Landsturm and only about 25 per cent were of the first line. These faced a numerically very superior force variously estimated at five to seven army corps. The Germans therefore found it necessary to equalize this overpowering difference by withdrawing behind a strong natural line of defense. This they found once more behind the greater Mazurian Lakes to the south and behind the River Angerapp which flows out of the lakes at Angerburg to the north until it joins the river Pissa slightly to the east of Insterburg.
The town of Gerdauen, East Prussia was burned during the Russian invasion, when for a time East Prussia suffered like Belgium and Poland.
The town of Gerdauen, East Prussia was burned during the Russian invasion, when for a time East Prussia suffered like Belgium and Poland.
These positions apparently were prepared during the early part of November, 1914. For as late as November 15, 1914, fightingtook place at Stallupoehnen on the Kovno-Königsberg railroad and some ten miles east of the Angerapp. A few days earlier, on November 9, 1914, a Russian attack, still farther east, north of the Wysztiter Lake, had resulted in considerable losses to the Russians. North of the Pissa River the Germans managed to stick closer to their border, along which there flows a small tributary of the Niemen offering natural protection. Considerable fighting took place in this territory around the town of Pillkallen, but the German line held.
On November 30, 1914, the Russians had again occupied that part of East Prussia located between the border and the Mazurian Lake-Angerapp line. On that day the first of a long series of attacks against this very strong line was made east of Darkehmen, but was as unsuccessful as all its successors. The German Emperor saw some of this fighting during a short visit to the East Prussian defenders. All through December, 1914, the Russians made repeated attacks against the German lines, always without accomplishing their object of breaking through it and advancing again against Königsberg. Of course, they inflicted severe losses on their adversaries, though their own, both in disabled and captured, were much more severe, due to the disadvantages which the difficult territory heaped upon the attacking side. By the beginning of January winter had set in in full earnest and the weather became so severe that no fighting of any importance took place throughout the entire month. The only exceptions were Russian attacks about January 15, 1915, against Loetzen, the German fortress on the eastern shore of the northernmost group of the lakes, which, however, brought no results. At the same time Gumbinnen was once more the center of considerable fighting.
Later in the month, January 26, 28, and 29, 1915, this town again and again had to pay dearly in additional destruction of what little of it that was still left of its former prosperity for the advantage of being located on the Königsberg road. On January 30, 1915, the Russians attempted to break through a little further south at Darkehmen—but still the German lines held.
In the meanwhile new troops had been prepared and collectedand were being rushed to that part of the east front for the purpose of clearing all of East Prussia of its invaders. These reenforcements were sent to the right and left wings of the Mazurian Lakes-Angerapp line, and the former began its attack in February. A few days before an exceptionally heavy snowfall, accompanied by very high winds and very low temperatures, had set in. This not only added to the hardships of the troops, but increased immensely the difficulties with which the leaders on both sides had to contend. On account of the weather the roads became impassable for motor cars and the railroads were hardly in better condition. At no time could a general count with any amount of certainty on the prompt execution of movements. Trains were delayed for hours and regiments appeared in their allotted positions hours late.
The right wing of the German front was sent around the southern end of the lake chain by way of Johannisburg. There the Russians had thrown up very strong fortifications in connection with the dense forests surrounding this town. To the southeast the river Pisseck forms the outlet for one of the lakes and flows toward the Narew. This line, too, was held by the Russians, who had considerable forces, both in Johannisburg and to the east in Bialla. In the late afternoon and during the night of February 8, 1915 a crossing over the Pisseck was forced and Johannisburg was stormed. Russian reenforcements from the south—Kolno—arrived too late and were thrown back with considerable losses in men and guns. In spite of the bitter cold the Germans pressed on immediately. They took Bialla on February 9, 1915, and then immediately pushed on to Lyck with part of their forces. This town, like so many other East Prussian towns, had suffered cruelly, having been in the thick of the fighting almost from the beginning of the war. Now the Russians again made a most determined stand in its vicinity, induced, no doubt, chiefly by the defensive advantages which the territory offered here. To the west of Lyck, beyond the Lyck Lake, they had built up very strong intrenchments which resisted all German attacks for days, and it was not until the middle of February, 1915, that they gave up these positions. But even then they continuedto hold Lyck itself, and it was not taken until after the middle of the month. The other part of the right wing in the meantime had forced the Russians out of the southeast corner of East Prussia and was advancing against Grajeko and Augustovo.
In the north the German left wing had pushed its advance simultaneously, starting from around Tilsit and the Niemen line. The Russians fell back on strongly prepared intrenchments along the line Pillkallen-Stallupoehnen, but by February 10, 1915, they had to give up this line and withdraw still farther south and east toward Eydtkuhnen, Kibarty, and Wirballen, all places of which we heard considerable during the previous battling in East Prussia. It was snowing furiously and the Russians apparently counted with too much certainty on this as a means of keeping the Germans from following closely. They procured quarters in these three towns and were going to enjoy a much needed rest for one night. But during that night the Germans, overcoming all difficulties of snowdrifts and impassible roads, attacked and stormed Eydtkuhnen as well as Wirballen and killed, wounded, or made prisoners almost all the Russian forces located there, amounting to about 10,000 men with considerable artillery and even greater quantities of supplies. Gumbinnen also was retaken by the Germans and by February 12, 1915, they were on Russian territory and advancing once more against Suwalki.
By the middle of February the last Russian had been driven out of Germany. This series of battles, known commonly as the "Winter Battle of the Mazurian Lakes" not only freed East Prussia, but yielded comparatively large results in the numbers of prisoners taken. In nine days' fighting about 50,000 men, 40 guns, and 60 machine guns were captured. Both sides, of course, suffered also heavy losses in killed and wounded. These great battles here briefly summarized to round out the account of the operations of the first six months are described in greater detail in Volume III.[Back to Contents]
RESULTS OF FIRST SIX MONTHS OF RUSSO-GERMAN CAMPAIGN
This brings us approximately to the end of the first six months' fighting at the eastern front. It will be well now to pause for a short space of time and to sum up the results of the tremendous conflict which has been narrated. However, before we consider these results from a military point of view and strike the balance of successes achieved and failures suffered, let us see how they affected those who were the actors in this terrible tragedy of mankind—the men who fought these battles and their leaders, and the poor, unfortunate men, women, and children whose habitations had been thrown by an unkind fate into the path of this vortex of death and destruction.
In determining the total losses which the Russian and German forces suffered during the first six months of the war, it is next to impossible to arrive at this time at absolutely correct figures. This is especially true in regard to the German troops. In a way this sounds strange, for the German war organization made itself felt in this respect, just as much as along other lines, and in none of the countries involved were the official lists of losses published as rapidly, frequently, and accurately as in Germany, especially in the early stages of the conflict. However, these lists included the German losses on all fronts as well as on the seas, and therefore are available for our purposes only as a basis for a computation of average losses. But by taking these totals and comparing them with other figures from various sources—newspapers, official Russian reports, English and French computations (non-official), statistics of the International Red Cross, etc.—it is possible to determine a total per month of German losses of all kinds—killed, wounded, missing, and captured—for all fronts on which German forces were fighting during the first six and a half months of the war. This total is 145,000 men per month. Assuming that all in all the losses were about evenly dividedon the western and eastern fronts, and disregarding the comparatively small losses of the navy, we get a monthly average of German losses at the eastern front of 72,500 men, or a total for the entire period of 471,250 men. This does not include those wounded who after a varying period of time were again able to return to the fighting, and whose number of course was very large, but represents the number of those whose services had been lost to the German forces for all time.
In the case of the Russian losses it is somewhat easier to arrive at fairly accurate figures, at least as far as their losses through capture are concerned. For the official German figures in this respect go into great detail and undoubtedly may be accepted as generally correct. During the early part of the war when the Russians were fighting along the border and on East Prussian territory they lost 15,000 officers and men by capture, at Tannenberg 90,000, and immediately afterward in the Lake district 30,000 more. In October, 1914, fighting in the province of Suwalki, during Hindenburg's advance to the Niemen and his retreat, he captured 10,000, and by November 1, 1914, there were according to the official German count 3,121 officers and 186,797 men in German prison camps. By January 1, 1915, this number had increased to 3,575 and 306,294 respectively, and by the middle of February the total in round numbers must have been at least 400,000. That this is approximately correct is proven by the statement of the Geneva Red Cross published in the "Journal de Genève," which gives the total of Russian prisoners in the hands of the Central Powers by the end of February as 769,500. According to the same source the Russians had lost by that time in killed 743,000 and in totally disabled 421,500, while their slightly wounded—those who finally returned again to the active forces—reached the huge total of 1,490,000. These figures again are for the entire Russian forces, those fighting against German as well as Austro-Hungarian forces. Just what proportion should be assigned to the Russian forces fighting against the Germans is rather problematical. For while these were fighting on a much larger front than those who had been thrown against Galicia and the Bukowina, thelatter were comparatively much more numerous and, therefore, probably suffered proportionately larger losses. Some of the losses also occurred in the fighting against Turkey. However, we will be fairly safe—most likely shooting below rather than above the mark—in estimating one-half of all these losses as having been incurred on the Russo-German front. This, then, would give us for the period of August 1, 1914, to February 15, 1915, the following total Russian losses in their fighting against the German forces: Killed, 371,500; totally disabled, 210,750; captured, 384,750, a grand total of 967,000, or about twice as much as the German losses.
Even these figures, without any further comment, are sufficient to indicate the terrible carnage and suffering that was inflicted on the manhood of the countries involved. But if we consider that every man killed, wounded or captured, after all, was only a small part of a very large circle made up of his family—in most cases dependent on him for support—and of his friends, even the most vivid imagination fails to give proper expression in words of the sum total of unfathomable misery, broken hearts, spoiled lives, and destroyed hopes that are represented in these cold figures.
At various points in this history we have had occasion to speak of the various generals, both Russian and German, who were directing these vast armies, the greatest numerically and the most advanced technically which mankind has ever seen assembled in its entire history. To go into details concerning the hundreds of military geniuses which found occasion to display the fruits of their training and talent would be impossible. But on each side there was among all these leaders one supreme leader on whose ability and decision depended not only the results of certain battles, but the lives of their millions of soldiers—yes, even the fate of millions upon millions of men, women and children. The Russians had intrusted their destiny to a member of their reigning family, an uncle of the czar, Grand Duke Nicholas, while the Germans had found their savior in the person of a retired general, practically unknown previous to the outbreak of the war, Paul von Hindenburg. Each hadbeen put in supreme command, although the former's burden was even greater than that of the latter, including not only the Russian forces fighting against the Germans, but also those fighting against the Austro-Hungarians. On both, however, depended so much that it will be well worth while to devote a short space of time to gain a more intimate knowledge of their appearance, character and surroundings. We will spend, therefore, a day each at the headquarters of these two men by following the observations which some well-known war correspondents made during their visits at these places.
The war correspondent of the London "Times" had occasion during his travels with the Russian armies to make the following observations: "Modern war has lost all romance. The picturesque sights, formerly so dear to the heart of the journalist, have disappeared. War now has become an immense business enterprise, and the guiding genius is not to be found on the firing line, any more than the president of a great railroad would put on overalls and take his place in an engine cab. Here in Russia the greatest army which ever met on a battle field has been assembled under the command of one individual, and the entire complicated mechanism of this huge organization has its center in a hidden spot on the plains of West Russia. It is a lovely region which shows few signs of war. In a small forest of poplars and pines a number of tracks has been laid which connect with the main line, and here live quietly and peacefully some hundreds of men who form the Russian General Staff. A few throbbing autos rushing hither and thither and a troop of about 100 Cossacks are apparently the only features which do not belong to the everyday life of the small village which is the nearest regular railroad station. Many hundreds of miles away from this picture of tranquillity is stretched out the tremendous chain of the Russian front, each point of which is connected with this string of railroad cars by telegraph. Here, separated from the chaos of battle, uninfluenced by the confusion of armed masses, the brain of the army is able to gain a clear and free view of the entire theatre of war which would only be obscured by closer proximity."
Another, a French correspondent, says: "Whatever happens anywhere, from the Baltic Sea to the Carpathian Mountains, is known immediately in the big blue railroad cars whose walls are covered with maps. Telegraph and telephone report the most minute occurrence. Should the commander in chief desire to inspect a position or to consult personally with one of the commanding generals there is always an engine ready with steam up. Headquarters suddenly rolls off; and, after two or three days, it returns noiselessly, with its archives, its general staff, its restaurant, and its electric plant. The Grand Duke rules with an iron fist. Champagne and liquor is taboo throughout the war zone, and even the officers of the general staff get nothing except a little red wine. Woe to anyone who sins against this order, here or anywhere else at the front. The iron fist of the Grand Duke hits, if necessary, even the greatest, the most famous. At a near-by table I recognize an officer in plain khaki, Grand Duke Cyril. The proud face and the powerful figure of the commander in chief, Grand Duke Nicholas, is sometimes to be seen in this severe room. Shyly one approaches the chief commander upon whose shoulders rests all the responsibility; and the attitude of the man who has been chosen to lead the Russian armies to victory does not encourage familiarity. Next to him I notice Janushkewitch, the Chief of the Great General Staff, with the gentle, almost youthful face of a thinker. But everything is ruled by the personality of the Grand Duke, which, with its mixture of will power and of gracious majesty, is most captivating."
Let us now rush across space and follow still another war correspondent, this time a representative of the German press, to the headquarters of the German armies: "Field Marshal von Hindenburg has an impressive appearance. With his erect, truly military carriage he makes a picture of strength and health. With him appears a very young-looking general who cannot be older than fifty years. A high forehead, clear blue eyes, a powerful aquiline nose, an energetic mouth, a face—in one word—which would be striking even if the man, to whom it belongs, would not be wearing a general's uniform and theinsignia of the order 'Pour le mérite'—one knows that one is face to face with the chief of the General Staff, Ludendorff. The Field Marshal greets his guest with charming friendliness, leads the way to the table and offers him the seat to his right. During the simple evening meal he rises and offers the toast: 'The German Fatherland!' Around the table are about ten officers, among them Captain Fleischmann von Theissruck of the Austrian army, who represents the Austrian General Staff. The Field Marshal mentions a letter which he received from some one entirely unknown to him in which the writer reproaches him most severely because some Cossacks had entered some small town on the border. 'That will happen again and again,' he says, 'and cannot be avoided. I cannot draw up my troops along the entire border, man by man, like a quarantine guard. To gather forces quickly again and again and to beat the Russians again and again, that is the best way to make them disgusted with their stay at the German border.' Then he relates some details about the battle of Tannenberg. He does not tire of entertaining his guest with interesting details about the fighting. He mentions the vast number of presents which have been sent to him by his numerous admirers. 'It is touching how good people are to me. A great many of their gifts are very welcome—but what shall I do with framed pictures while I am in the field? What shall I do after the war is over? Nothing. I'll go back to Hanover. There are lots of younger men [pointing to Ludendorff and the others] who want their chance, too. With my years, there is nothing more beautiful than to retire after one's work has been done and to make room for the younger generation.'"
Apparently the men at the "helm of the ship" lead a life of comparative ease and security. But if we consider the fearful responsibilities that they have to carry and the tremendous mental strain under which they are continuously, we can readily see that their lot is not to be envied. Of course, their rewards are equally great if they are successful. But what if they fail? At any rate they, as well as the troops who fight under them, have the glamour of fighting, the promise of glory, the senseof duty well done, to sustain them. But what of those others, equally or even more numerous, on whose fields and forests, in whose streets and market places, around whose houses and churches the battles rage and the guns roar? What of the women and children, the sick and the old, whose fathers, husbands and sons are doing the fighting or, perhaps, have already laid down their lives upon the altar of patriotism? What is there left for them to do when they see their houses go up in flames, their few belongings reduced to ashes, their crops destroyed and even their very lives threatened with death and sometimes—worse yet—with dishonor?
All this and more, millions upon millions of Russians and Germans, rich and poor alike, had to suffer most cruelly. And on the eastern front this suffering in a way, perhaps, was even more severe than in the west. For there the actual fighting, while extending over an equally long front, was much more concentrated, and after the first few months did not move forward and backward; and existence, except in the immediate vicinity of the firing line, was at least possible, even if dangerous and precarious. But in the east thousands upon thousands of square miles in East Prussia, in West Russia, and especially in Poland, the fighting passed in ever advancing and retreating waves as the surf rolls along the beach, and soon gunfire and marching millions of armed men had leveled the country almost as smoothly as the waves of the ocean grind the sand.
In East Prussia the devastation wrought by the Russians, some through wanton lust for destruction and in unreasoning hate for the enemy, but mostly through the pressure of military necessity, was terrible, especially east of the Mazurian Lakes and south of the Niemen. But there, at least, the poor inhabitants had the consolation of being able to return to their destroyed homes after the Russians had been finally driven out and to begin to build up again what war had destroyed, and in this they had the help and support of their highly organized government and their more fortunate compatriots from the interior.
In Poland, however, especially in the rural districts, even that consolation was lacking. For after German and Russian armiesalike had passed over the country again and again, not only destroying values that it had taken centuries to build up, but on account of the huge masses concerned frequently denuding the entire countryside of absolutely every means of sustenance, the final result was occupation by the enemy. And even if that enemy, true to his inherent love of order and to his talent for organization, immediately proceeded to establish a well-regulated temporary government, at the best his efforts would have to be restricted; for he had not much to spare, neither in men to do the work needed, nor in means to finance it, nor even in food to give sustenance to those who had lost everything.
And the worst of it was that for years previous to the outbreak of the war the two principal races inhabiting Poland—the Poles and the Jews—had been fighting each other, with the Russian sympathies strongly on the side of the Poles. Now when war overtook this unfortunate country, both the Poles and the Russians threw themselves like hungry wolves upon the unfortunate Jews. They were driven out from their villages, often the entire population irrespective of age, sex, or condition. They were made to wander from one place to another, like so many herds of cattle, except that no herd of cattle had ever been treated as cruelly as these poor helpless droves of women, children, and old and sick people whose men folk were fighting for their country while this very country did its best to kill their families. This is not the place or time to go into this horrible catastrophe, beyond stating this fact: In July, 1914, Poland had been inhabited by millions of hard-toiling people who, though neither overly blessed with wealth or opportunities, nor enjoying conditions of life that were particularly conducive to happiness, were at least able to found and raise families and to sustain an existence which was bearable chiefly because of the hope for something better to come. Six months later—January, 1915—these millions had stopped toil, for their fields were devastated, their cattle had been killed or driven away, their houses had been burned down. Hundreds of thousands of them had been forced to flee to the interior, other hundreds of thousands had died, some through want and illness, some during the fighting around their homes, somethrough murder and worse. Families had been broken up and others wiped out entirely, and thousands of mothers had been separated from their children, perhaps never to see them again. Even if, in isolated cases, destruction, and even death, was merited or made inevitably necessary, in the greatest number of cases the suffering was as undeserved as it was severe.
From a military point of view the net result of the fighting during the first six months of the war most decidedly was in favor of the Germans. February, 1915, found them conquerors along the entire extent of the Russo-German front, and the Russians those who had been conquered. In spite of the successful campaigns which German arms had won, however, they had fallen far short of what they had apparently set out to do, and in that wider sense their successes came dangerously near to being failures. But even at that they were still ahead of their adversaries; for though they had not gained the two objects for which they had striven most furiously—the possession of Warsaw and the final destruction of the offensive power of the Russian armies—they held large and important sections of the Russian Empire, they had driven the Russians completely out of Germany and forced them to do their further fighting on their own ground, and they had reduced the effectiveness of their armies by vast numbers, killing, disabling, or capturing, at a most conservative estimate, at least twice as many men as they themselves had lost.
During the first three weeks of August, 1914, the Russian armies had invaded East Prussia and laid waste a large section of it. Then came the débâcle at Tannenberg, and by the middle of September, Germany was freed of the invader, who had lost tens of thousands in his attempt to force his way into the heart of the German Empire. Not satisfied with these results, the Germans on their part now attempted an invasion of large sections of West Russia, pursuing their defeated foes until they reached the Niemen and its chain of fortresses which they found insurmountable obstacles. It was once more the turn of the Russians, who now not only drove back the invading Germans to the border, but who by the beginning of October, 1914, faced again an invasion of their East Prussian province. However, less thantwo weeks sufficed this time to clear German soil once more, and by October 15, 1914, the Russians had again been forced back across the border. By this time the German Commander in Chief, Von Hindenburg, had learned the lesson of the Niemen. Instead of battering in vain against this iron line of natural defenses, he threw the majority of his forces against Poland, and especially against its choicest prize—historic Warsaw. October 11, 1914, may be considered the approximate beginning of the first drive against the Polish capital. During about two weeks of fighting the German armies advanced to the very gates of Warsaw, which then seemed to be theirs for the mere taking. But suddenly the Russian bear recovered his self-control, and with renewed vigor and replenished strength he turned once again against the threatening foe. By October 28, 1914, the Germans in North and Central Poland and the Austro-Hungarians in South Poland had to retreat.
November 7, 1914, became the starting date for the third Russian invasion of East Prussia. The Germans now changed their tactics. Instead of meeting the enemy's challenge and attempting to repeat their previous performances of throwing him back and then invading his territory, they restricted themselves, for the time being, to defensive measures in East Prussia, and launched a powerful drive of their own against Russian territory. For the second time Warsaw was made their goal. By this time, to a certain extent at least, the offensive momentum of both sides had been reduced in speed. Where it had taken days in the earlier campaigns to accomplish a given object, it now took weeks. Of course the rigors of the eastern winter which had set in by then played an important part in this slowing-up process, which, however, affected the speed only of the armies, but not the furor of their battling. December 6, 1914, brought the possession of Lodz to the Germans, and on the next day the Russians were taught the same lesson before the Mazurian Lakes that they had taught to the Germans a few months before when they faced the Niemen. East Prussia up to the Lakes was in the hands of Russia, but beyond that impregnable line of lakes and swamps and rivers they could not go.
In the meanwhile the drive against Warsaw was making small progress in spite of the most furious onslaughts. There, too, a series of rivers and swamps—less formidable, it is true, than in East Prussia, but hardly less effective—stemmed the tide of the invaders. For more than two weeks, beginning about December 20 and lasting well into January, the Russians made a most stubborn stand along the Bzura and Rawka line, and successfully, though with terrible losses, kept the Germans from taking Warsaw. However, in order to accomplish this they had to weaken their line at other points and thus bring about the collapse of their drive against Cracow, by means of which they expected to gain from the south the road into Germany which had been denied to them again and again in the north.
The end of January, 1915, found the Germans practically as far in Poland as the beginning of the month. It is true that they had made little progress in four weeks, but it is also true that they had given up none of the ground they had gained. And with the coming of February, 1915, they reduced their offensive activities at that part of the front and turned their attention once more to East Prussia. The second week of February, 1915, brought to the Russians their second great defeat on the shores of the Mazurian Lakes. By February 15 East Prussia again had been cleared of the enemy, and parts of the Russian provinces between the border and the Niemen were in the hands of the Germans who apparently had made up their minds that they were not going to permit any further Russian invasions of East Prussia if they could help it. They now held a quarter of Poland and a small part of West Russia, while the Russians held nothing except a long battle front, stretching almost from the Baltic to the Carpathian Mountains and threatened everywhere by an enemy who daily seemed to grow stronger rather than weaker.[Back to Contents]
FIRST MOVES OF TURKEY
The entrance of Turkey, the seat of the ancient Ottoman Empire, into the Great War in 1914, with its vast dominions in Europe, Asia, and Africa, created a situation which it was appalling to contemplate. The flames of world war were now creeping not only into the Holy Land, the birthplace of Christian civilization, but to the very gates of Mecca, the "holiest city of Islam." Would the terrible economic struggle in Europe, the war for world trade, now develop into a holy war that would bring the religious faiths of the earth on to a great decisive battle ground?
The seething flames of economic supremacy that were consuming Europe had threatened from the beginning of the war to creep into the Occident, as we shall see in the chapter on "Japan and the Far East." Moreover, as described in "Naval Operations," it was in the waters of the Near East that the first big incident of the war on the sea took place.
Despite the fact that the public had been looking forward to an immediate clash of the dreadnought squadrons of the two countries somewhere between the east coast of Scotland and the Dutch shore, nothing of the kind happened. Instead, both grand fleets ran to safety in the landlocked harbors of their respective countries.
In was to the Mediterranean in the first week of August, 1914, that the attention of the world was first drawn by events. Two German warships, theGoebenand theBreslau, were off the coast of Algeria. The first was one of the finest ships of theGerman navy, a superdreadnought battleship cruiser of 23,000 tons, capable of making more than 28 knots an hour. Her main battery consisted of ten 11-inch guns, and in addition she mounted twelve 5.9-inch guns and twelve 21 pounders. She was capable therefore of meeting on equal terms any enemy vessel in the Mediterranean, and more than capable of outrunning any of the heavier vessels of the French or British navy stationed in those waters. TheBreslauwas capable of a similar speed, but was a much weaker vessel, being a light cruiser of only 4,478 tons. Both of these vessels had enormous coal capacities, theBreslau, in particular, being able to travel more than 6,000 miles without refilling her bunkers.
The speed and the coal capacity of these vessels were to prove of vital importance in the events of the next few days. For their rôle was to be one of flight, not to battle. England alone and, in an overwhelming degree, England and France combined hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned the two German warships in the Mediterranean. Realizing this, the German commander, after firing a few shots into the Algerian coast towns of Bone and Philippville, steamed northwest with the intention either of outwitting the English and French squadron commanders, or of running through Gibraltar and so on to the broad Atlantic to wage war upon the British mercantile marine. The British, however, were alive to this danger and headed off the two German warships. Whereupon they turned northeast.
Early on the morning of Wednesday, August 5, 1914, these ships were discovered steaming into the harbor of Messina, Italy. The English and French fleets, close upon the heels of the enemy, immediately took up positions at either end of the Straits of Messina, confident that they had successfully bottled up the Germans.
Then quickly there developed one of the most dramatic incidents in the history of naval warfare. It is described in this chapter as well as in the narrative on "Naval Operations" because of its direct bearing on Turkish politics and policies. The captain and officers of theGoebenand theBreslauwent ashore at Messina, made their wills and deposited their valuables with theGerman consul. The decks of the apparently doomed vessels were cleared for action, flags run up to the resounding cheers of the sailors and with the brass bands of the boats playing "Heil dir im Siegerkranz" they steamed swiftly out of Messina harbor to what seemed like certain destruction.
A blood-red sun was quickly setting in the perfect Italian sky. The bands were hushed aboard the German warships, every light was dimmed, and the sailors were ordered to their posts. In tense whispers they discussed the coming fight. The ships were already at top speed plowing through the waters of the Mediterranean as fast as the throbbing engines could urge them. A sharp lookout was kept for the enemy, but as one hour, two hours, three hours passed and none was seen it became apparent that for the time at least they had evaded detection. Rounding the southern coast of Italy, they turned due east and the course laid for Constantinople.
Morning came and still, at 28 knots an hour, the German warships were speeding toward the Turkish capital—and safety. To the rear, too far to reveal their funnels, the pursuing French and English squadron followed, thin lazy strips of smoke attested their presence to the men aboard theBreslauand theGoeben.
Suddenly far to the southeast the masts of a single vessel were seen on the horizon. Then the smokestacks of the British light cruiserGloucesterpoked their tops above the skyline and daringly she opened fire on the mightyGoeben. Tempting, however, as the opportunity was for the German commander with an overwhelming force at his heels he dared waste no time nor run the risk of a chance shot disabling his vessel. He sheered off sharply to the northeast and in a few hours lost the pluckyGloucesterto view.
At the end of this week in August theGoebenand theBreslau, their engines hot from constant steaming at forced speed, but with flags flying and bands playing, steamed through the narrow channel of the Dardanelles, through the sea of Marmora, and cast anchor off the gloriously beautiful city of Constantinople. As quickly as the formalities would permit the two German warships were transferred to Turkish sovereignty, and to all intentsand purposes, as future events proved, the Ottoman Empire entered the war as an ally of Germany and Austria.
Turkey's attitude in these early days of the crisis of August, 1914, was conditioned by several major causes easily discernible. For almost a generation, Germany has been sedulously cultivating Turkish friendship. With that single-minded purposefulness so conspicuous in her diplomacy, Germany found it easy, especially under the régime of the former Sultan Abdul Hamid II to outmaneuver the easy-going diplomacy of France, Russia, and England. Indeed, she found a real rival only in England, who, starting with the initial advantage of long political friendship with the Turkish people and the good will that grew out of the Crimean War, successfully opposed many of the chess moves of her German rival.
However, with the coming to Constantinople as German Ambassador of the late Marshal von Bieberstein, German prestige became supreme. Easily the best German diplomatist of the present generation, Von Bieberstein dominated the diplomatic corps at Constantinople and practically dictated the foreign policy of Turkey. Through him, the Deutsche Bank secured the great Bagdad railway concession and completed the commercial subjugation of the country by Berlin.
These disquieting developments had been watched with anxiety in London. But it was not until Von Bieberstein sprang the Bagdad railway surprise that England fully awoke to the situation. Then she stepped in and prevented any extension of the line to the Persian Gulf, an area which British political and commercial circles regarded as peculiarly their own.
At the same time an effort was made to reclaim the position Great Britain had lost in Turkey. With the fall of Abdul Hamid and the coming of the Young Turks there seemed a chance to do this, especially as Germany was looked upon by the members of the Committee of Union and Progress as the chief support of the deposed sultan. Kaiser William, however, played his cards with consummate skill. The German policy was quickly adapted to the new situation. Von Bieberstein was eventually shifted to London and the leaders of the Young Turks, such as the youthfuland popular Enver Bey, were invited to Berlin to come under the influence of the German army chiefs. The British Government, then in the midst of negotiations with Russia and unwilling or unable to enter into any outside arrangement that seemed to oppose the satisfaction of the Russian dream of Constantinople refused to accept the Young Turks' invitation to guarantee the integrity of the Turkish Empire for a limited period in return for commercial and political concessions. On the other hand, Emperor William reaffirmed to the new sultan his guardianship of Islam and his interest in the welfare of the Mohammedans wherever found.
But perhaps the deciding factor in the inclination of the Turks toward Germany and her ally was to be found in the situation of the Mohammedan world. Turkey had never reconciled herself to the English control of Egypt and India and saw in the present war a possibility such as had never occurred before and possibly would never occur again of wresting from the British the far-flung lands peopled by the followers of Mohammed. With powerful allies, and on more even terms than they had ever dreamed of, they could now do battle with the enemy that held their race in subjugation and with Russia, whose avowed object through generations had been the capture of Constantinople, the possession and perhaps desecration of the holy places of their religion and the dismembering of the last self-governing state of Mohammedanism.
These, then, were the major considerations that weighed with the Turkish people, no less than with the Turkish Government, in coming to a decision. So tremendous were the stakes at issue, so widespread, almost world-wide, were the interests involved, that Turkey, situated as it was guarding practically the sole gateway leading from Europe to Russia, could not hope to remain neutral. For better or for worse a decision between the two warring factions must be made.
England, France, and Russia protested vigorously against the action of the Turkish Government in taking over theGoebenand theBreslau. Turkey replied by drawing attention to an incident that had seriously inflamed public opinion in the OttomanEmpire. When the war started two first-class battleships, theSultan Osmanand theReshadie, were nearing completion for Turkey in English yards. Without any diplomatic preliminaries the British admiralty confiscated the two ships on the grounds of naval necessity. Whatever may have been the English motive, the Turkish people regarded this as an attempt on the part of England to weaken the Ottoman Empire and to make it impossible for it to safeguard its national interests in the troublesome days that were surely to come to neutrals as well as to belligerents.
But the Entente Powers hesitated to force a break on theGoebenandBreslauquestion and the diplomatic correspondence of the period shows that they had strong hope, not only at that moment, but up to the moment of the final severance of relations of keeping the Turkish nation in a state of neutrality at least. Signs were multiplying, however, that such was not the intention of those in control at Constantinople.
In August and September, 1914, great activity prevailed throughout the country. Arms and ammunition, especially heavy artillery in which the Turkish army was notoriously weak, constantly arrived from Germany and Austria. Every train from the central countries brought German army officers and a sprinkling of German noncommissioned officers with which to stiffen the Ottoman troops. The army was mobilized and General Liman von Sanders, a distinguished German officer, was appointed inspector general of the Turkish army. Immense stores of food and munitions were concentrated at Damascus, Constantinople, Bagdad, and on the Trans-Caucasus frontier, while a holy war against the infidel was openly preached.
German vessels lying off Constantinople seem to have been given more or less of a free hand and frequently searched Russian and British vessels for contraband. The Turkish authorities appear to have gone as far as they dared in preventing Russian supplies getting through to the Black Sea. Russia protested and at times, along the shores of the Black Sea, used methods closely bordering upon open warfare. Both sides, however, seemed reluctant to take definite steps toward an open break.
In so far as Turkey was concerned this was probably due to a disagreement among the members of the Government and others of powerful influence outside official life. It was said that the sultan, the grand vizier, and Djavid Bey, Minister of Finance, as well as a majority of the cabinet, were opposed to war. However that may be, the issue was soon decided by a small but immensely powerful clique headed by Enver Bey and Talaat Bey, two of the more prominent and forceful of the Young Turk leaders of the Committee of Union and Progress.
Of all the figures in Turkish life during the first months of the Great War, the most picturesque and probably the most influential in the events that led up to the outbreak of hostilities in Turkey was that of the youthful Enver Pasha. He was one of the heroes of the remarkable rebellion that resulted in the downfall of Abdul Hamid, and since then he had ever played a leading part in the constantly shifting drama in Constantinople. Dapper, alert intelligent, and approachable, modest almost to the point of shyness, Enver was almost a venerated figure among the Turkish people. As he passed on horseback, his slim figure erect and stiff in its military pose, he attracted more attention and interest than did the sultan himself.
He formed the chief and perhaps the strongest link between Constantinople and Berlin. Honored in an unprecedented manner by the sultan, Enver's influence in Constantinople was almost supreme. It is through him that the various negotiations with Berlin were conducted. Soon after the triumph of the Young Turk movement Enver went to Berlin as military attaché to the Turkish Embassy, and thoroughly imbibed the Prussian military spirit. He returned to the Turkish capital an enthusiastic admirer of the German army system and became a willing ally of General Liman von Sanders in the latter's attempt to repair the weaknesses of the Turkish army revealed by the Balkan War.
Second only to Enver Pasha in those critical days was Talaat Bey, an old and more experienced member of the inner council of the Committee of Union and Progress and also a prominent figure in the revolution against Abdul Hamid. He was described by Sir Louis Mallet, British Ambassador to Constantinople, as themost powerful civilian in the cabinet and also as the most conspicuous of the leaders of the Committee of Union and Progress. He was troubled by no such personal modesty and shyness as was Enver. He was, however, a much harder man to judge. Enver was openly pro-German in the weeks that preceded the actual break with the Entente Powers, but for a long time the real intentions of Talaat Bey were in doubt—at least they were to the British, French, and Russian Ambassadors.
Djemel Pasha, Minister of Marine, while pro-German in his sentiments, is believed to have hesitated in advising an open break, largely because of the condition of the Turkish navy and the state of Turkish finance. The arrival of theGoebenand theBreslau, the importation of hundreds of German sailors to stiffen the Turkish marine, and, during October, the receipt of about $20,000,000 in gold from Berlin, won him over. In the end Djemel Pasha stood with Enver and Talaat.
Other members of the Turkish Cabinet made a demonstration of attempting to hold their country to an uneasy neutrality. Whether their efforts were sincere or designed to prevent an open rupture until the psychological moment had arrived it is impossible to say. Sir Louis Mallet, in his private dispatches to his Government, expresses his firm conviction that the sultan, the heir apparent, the grand vizier, Prince Said Halim, Djavid Bey, the Minister of Finance and a clear majority of the cabinet were determined not to allow Turkey to be drawn into the war. Up to the very last minute the British Ambassador did not despair of the success of this peace party. Events were too strong for these advocates of neutrality—events and the control of the all-important army and navy by Enver and his associates. By the sword the Ottoman Empire was reared and by the sword it has been ruled ever since.
During the months of September, 1914, and October, 1914, there were many plain signs that Enver Pasha and Talaat Bey were heading straight for a break. On September 9, 1914, the Porte gave notice of the proposed abolition of the capitulations by which the various powers enjoyed extraterritorial rights. At the same time what amounted to a final demand was made uponthe British Government to return the two Turkish battleships seized at the outbreak of the war.
Extraordinary efforts were made by all the Entente Powers to keep Turkey neutral. They proposed to agree to the abolition of the capitulations as soon as a modern judicial system could be set up in Turkey; they agreed to guarantee the independence and integrity of the country for a limited but extended term of years; they declared that Turkey would not suffer by any changes of national frontiers growing out of the war; and England even promised to return the two superdreadnoughts upon the conclusion of the war, claiming that their retention meanwhile was absolutely necessary for her protection.
The main stipulations made by the Entente Powers in return for these concessions were that the German crews of theGoebenand theBreslaube sent out of Turkey and that General Liman von Sanders and the other members of the German military mission be dismissed. With these demands Turkey refused to comply, after hesitating over the first. Indeed, the strength of the German stiffening in Turkey was constantly becoming greater: by the middle of September there were no less than 4,000 German officers and noncommissioned officers in Constantinople alone and every train from the north brought others. This situation of tension between Turkey and the Entente Powers continued all through September and October. The outside world momentarily expected an open rupture.[Back to Contents]
THE FIRST BLOW AGAINST THE ALLIES
On October 29, 1914, came news of a Bedouin invasion of the Sinai peninsula and an occupation of the important Wells of Magdala on the road to the Suez Canal. England became alarmed, and her composure was not restored by the news that came a few hours later. Claiming that Russia had taken aggressiveaction in the Black Sea, three Turkish torpedo boats sailed into Odessa Harbor, shelled the town, sank a Russian guardship, and did other considerable damage.
On the following day, October 30, 1914, the Russian Ambassador at Constantinople asked for his passports and the British and French representatives with evident reluctance soon followed suit. On November 1 Turkey was definitely and irretrievably at war with the Entente Powers and an ally of Germany and Austria.
The war from the point of view of the Turkish people was a matter of four frontiers. There was the Dardanelles to guard; there was Egypt and the Suez Canal to be threatened and perhaps captured; there was the Caucasus, where across towering mountains and deep gorges the Ottoman faced the Russian, his hereditary and most feared enemy; and finally there was Mesopotamia. All of these theatres of possible warfare presented military problems, and one of them naval problems among the most intricate and interesting of those facing the nations involved in this unprecedented war. In the Caucasus the mountains and the scarcity of broad passes and good roads, the almost entire lack of railway facilities and the whole nature of the country rendered offensive operations as difficult as on the northeast frontier of Italy or in the Carpathians. In Syria and on the road to the Suez Canal, the waterless desert, the entire absence of railways, the paucity and inadequacy of roads and the nature of the obstacles to be crossed before an invasion of Egypt was possible made the task one of terrible difficulty. In the Dardanelles the peninsula of Gallipoli, strong as it was in natural advantages, was open to naval attack from two and perhaps three sides and its defense must prove not only a costly affair but one the issue of which must be constantly open to doubt. Lastly in Mesopotamia the task for the Turks was a comparatively easy one, for an invading army must meet with constant difficulties through lack of water, excessive heat, absence of roads and railways and distance from real base of supplies.
At the time of Turkey's entry into the war, military opinion all over the world was divided on the question of the relativeefficiency of her army. All agreed, however, that as an individual fighting animal the Turk had few if any equals. Centuries of warfare had established his reputation, and the wonderful defense of Plevna had set the seal upon it. On the defensive, it was believed by many, he was unbeatable, conditions of supply and equipment being equal.
The Balkan War, however, had been a severe blow to his prestige. It was widely felt that his defeat by the Bulgars, the Serbians, and the Greeks had revealed serious, even vital, weaknesses in the Ottoman army. Consequently the test of Turkey in the Great War was anxiously awaited by both allies and foes. Tremendous issues were at stake, and the failure or success of the soldiers of the Crescent in standing before the troops of Russia, France, and Great Britain was bound to have an important, perhaps decisive, influence on the outcome of the struggle as a whole.
It is doubtful if the general staff of any of the warring countries had any accurate or dependable figures of the Turkish army. Especially was this so of the army on a war footing. At one time only Mohammedans were permitted to serve with the colors, the citizens of other religious beliefs being called upon to pay a yearly tax in lieu of service. Of recent years, however, that law was altered, and in the Balkan War Mohammedan and Christian served side by side and fought with equal ardor for their country. Just how large a proportion of the Christian population had been incorporated into the army at the time of the outbreak of hostilities few experts were in any position to estimate.
Germany, because of her painstaking investigations in Turkey as well as in every other country, probably was in possession of more accurate data than any other nation, not even excepting the Turks themselves. The best neutral authorities speak of 1,125,000 as the total war-time strength of the Ottoman forces, but that estimate was made prior to the war and before the world had learned that nations under modern conditions are able to place a much larger proportion of their available manhood in the field than was ever thought possible. Probably the Turkish war strength was underestimated. The chief difficulty was not infinding the men, but in providing quickly equipment, and at the outset that was evidently a very real obstacle in Turkey.
The Turkish army was essentially a German creation, and largely the personal accomplishment of that very able military organizer and student of war, Field Marshal von der Goltz. Von der Goltz spent a decade with the Turkish army, and returned to Germany only to reorganize the eastern defenses of his country in preparation for the Great War. When Turkey entered the struggle he returned to Constantinople at Enver Bey's personal request.
The Turk does not become subject to military duty until he reaches the age of twenty. Then, however, for the next two decades he belongs to the army, either actually or potentially. The first nine years are spent in the Nizam or first line, first with the colors and then in immediate reserve. Then come nine years in the Redif or Landwehr, and, finally, two years in the Mustaph'-phiz or Landsturm.
All branches of the Turkish army were not equally good. Cavalry and infantry were probably the equal of corresponding troops in the armies of any other country, but the inefficiency of the artillery was blamed for the débâcle of the Balkan War. Many of the thousands of German troops poured into Turkey before and after she entered the war were trained gunners sent with the object of stiffening the weakest arm of the Turkish army.
The Turkish army has always suffered, as have the armies of many other countries, from a shortage of properly trained officers. Since the advent of the Young Turks, and especially since Enver Pasha, with his German training, succeeded to the position of Minister of War and Commander in Chief, the personnel of the officers' corps has been vastly improved. But it takes years—yes, generations—to create an adequate supply of officers and noncommissioned officers for an army of the proportions of Turkey's, and the assistance of the German stiffening must have been of inestimable advantage to the Ottoman command.
At the outbreak of the war the Turkish army was disposed in four regional groups. The number of men actually with the colors, according to the best estimates, was 500,000, with another250,000 trained men in immediate reserve awaiting equipment. In or near Constantinople were about 200,000 troops, including the First, Third, and Fifth Corps, a part of the Sixth, and four cavalry brigades. In Thrace, watching the uncertain Bulgars and Greeks, were the Second and most of the Sixth Corps with cavalry regiments and frontier guards. In Palestine, menacing the Suez Canal, were the 40,000 troops of the Eighth Corps, besides unnumbered irregular Arab forces, who could not, however, be depended upon. In the Caucasus the Ninth, Tenth, and Eleventh Corps and three brigades of cavalry were facing the Russian forces across the winding frontier. At Bagdad the Thirteenth Corps, and at Mosul the Twelfth, stood guard over Mesopotamia.
For centuries England had had a very genuine and active interest in the Persian Gulf, recognizing its strategic and potential commercial importance with that foresight which has distinguished her statesmen and traders for generations. Russia had been regarded as the most likely nation to contest England's predominance in that quarter of the world, and her every move was watched and checkmated in Downing Street.
At the outbreak of the war, however, and for a decade before, Germany had given many signs that she had to be reckoned with in any arrangements in the waters washing the shores of Mesopotamia. And it soon became apparent that the domination of that part of Turkey was to be one of the chief spoils of victory. Much has been written about Germany's territorial ambitions. Much of it is based upon pure speculation, but publicists in Germany make no disguise of the Fatherland's desire to win and make a political and economic unit of the countries now embraced in Germany, Austria-Hungary, Servia, perhaps Rumania, Bulgaria, and Turkey in Europe and Asia. One has but to take up the map and outline this aggregation of states and turn to a table of statistics to realize the enormous advantages and powers of such a unit. Politically and economically, it would dominate Europe as has no other power for many generations. Economically and financially, it would be absolutely independent of the rest of the world, but even if it were not, no nation or combination of nations could afford to attempt to isolate it.[Back to Contents]