THE FIRST ATTACK ON WARSAW.
It is high time that we returned to the Eastern theatre of war. In Chapter XXXIV. of Volume II. you were told that at the end of September 1914 the Russians, after their crushing defeats of the Austrians, had advanced through Galicia to within a hundred miles of Cracow. At that time it seemed to us in the West that the Russian left would be almost certain to capture the great Galician fortress, and advance into Silesia and across the Carpathians towards Vienna within the next few weeks. Meanwhile we believed that the Russian right would be over the German frontier in full march for Berlin. It was rumoured—falsely, as we now know—that the Austrians shared our belief, and that their Government had decided to leave Vienna for Salzburg[151] or Innsbruck.[152] Though the Allies in the West were held up by the Germans on the Aisne, the prospects of their rapid and complete success in the East seemed very bright indeed.
Then suddenly came a great disappointment. We learnt that, instead of advancing on Cracow, the Russians were retreating from Galicia. By the middle of October they were back again on the San, with nothing to show for their victories and their weeks of hard fighting. Why had they retreated? They were not pushed back by the Austrians; they were retiring of their own accord in order to meet a new and dangerous movement which the Germans had begun to make in Russian Poland.
On the frontier of East Prussia there was a deadlock, and von Hindenburg had come to the conclusion that all the victories that could be won in that deadly region of lake and swamp would avail him nothing. His business was to destroy the Russian armies, and that could not be done by even a dozen successful campaigns in East Prussia. He must strike hard at the Russian centre—somewhere across the Polish plain, which was then but lightly held by his enemy.
At what point in the Russian centre should he try to break through?—that was the question. There was one point that seemed to beckon him with the promise of full and speedy success. I have already told you that on the Vistula, half-way between the German fortress of Thorn and the Galician frontier, stands the great city of Warsaw.[153] It is not only a great place of manufactures, but a powerful fortress and the capital of Russian Poland, which contains twelve million people—Poles, Germans, Russians, and half a score other races. Amongst these mixed peoples Germany had many friends who would spy for her, and otherwise help her to win the city. Though the Tsar had promised to set up the old kingdom of Poland again if all went well with his arms, nobody yet knew whether the Poles would be loyal to Russia, or whether they would throw in their lot with the Germans. The Kaiser's agents had been secretly at work amongst them, striving hard to show that Codlin was their friend and not Short.[154] They believed that if the Germans could seize the capital of Poland the Poles would declare for them.
There was another and more important reason why von Hindenburg should launch his attack against Warsaw. The city is a great railway junction. Four railways, with cross lines to relieve the pressure on any one line, meet at Warsaw. One of these lines runs northwards to East Prussia; a second goes north-east to Petrograd; a third eastwards to Moscow; a fourth south along the right bank of the Vistula to Novo Alexandra, where it sweeps eastwards, and links up with the main system of South Russia. If Warsaw could be seized the Russian communications would be cut; a wedge would be thrust in between the northern army and the southern army in Galicia, and, so divided, they would be an easy prey. Clearly, Warsaw was the place at which the Russian centre must be broken.
The task was by no means easy. Warsaw itself lies on the west bank of the Vistula, with strong forts and lines of entrenchments in front of it; but the main railway stations are on the east bank of the river in the suburb of Praga, which is connected with the city proper by three bridges—the fine Alexander Bridge, for foot passengers and ordinary traffic, in the middle; the new road bridge to the south of it; and the railway bridge, protected by the guns of the citadel, to the north. Between the city and the main railway stations flows the river Vistula, broad, deep, and rapid—the greatest military obstacle in Eastern Europe. The capture of the city alone would not be sufficient for von Hindenburg's purpose. If the Russians could hold the eastern bank they could still bring up reinforcements, and could still maintain communications with their armies to the north and south. If, however, the stations in Praga could be seized, the Russians could not use their railways, and, as you know, a modern army cannot live long without railways. Further, the Germans would be in an excellent position to carry the whole line of the Vistula; and, once this was won, the Russians could be kept at bay by means of comparatively small forces, and prevented from making war in Poland until they had retaken the line of the river. The bulk of the German armies would then be able to leave the Eastern theatre of war and fall in strength upon the Allies in the West.
Now, it was highly important that von Hindenburg should capture Warsaw without loss of time. The autumn rains were setting in, and the Polish roads, never good, would soon be quagmires, through which heavy guns and wagons could only be hauled with great difficulty. The Russians believe that General Winter always fights for them; in Poland, General Mud is their equally good friend.
In the early days of October, by means of the gridiron of railways which Germany has constructed on her eastern border for the express purpose of invading Russia, von Hindenburg massed about a million men all along the frontier from Thorn southwards, and soon they began to move across the rolling ridges and low boggy valleys towards the Vistula. The left (A) advanced towards Warsaw along both banks of the Vistula; the centre (B) pushed eastwards from Kalisz; while the right (C) moved north-eastwards from Silesia. The right consisted of three columns, the most southerly of which was composed of Austrians, who were to push along the Upper Vistula. This Austrian column was to work with the column on its left, and both were to strike at Josefov, which stands between the confluence of the Vistula and the San and the fortress of Ivangorod.
A glance at the map below will explain why an attempt was to be made to force the river at this point. There is no railway on the eastern bank of the Vistula between Novo Alexandra and the San. The railway strikes off south-east from Ivangorod, and the nearest point on it to Josefov is Lublin, thirty-three miles away. All the roads in this region are bad, and the forces fighting in it are at a great disadvantage, because they have no railway by which to bring up troops, food, ammunition, and big guns. The Russians defending Josefov had no railway on the eastern side of the river within thirty-three miles, while the Germans had a railhead about ten or twelve miles away on the western side.
Von Hindenburg's First Advance on Warsaw.
If von Hindenburg could force the river at Josefov, and cut the railway at Lublin, while his northern columns seized Warsaw, the Russians would be in a bad way. They would have to retreat from the line of the Vistula, and for months to come would be unable to take the offensive in Poland. The German plan was excellent if only it could have been carried out secretly. The Russian cavalry, however, soon let the Grand Duke Nicholas know that the German columns were advancing, and he was clever enough to guess exactly what von Hindenburg was trying to do. He knew that if his armies remained to the west of the Vistula they would be badly supplied with food and munitions, because the railways of the Polish plain are few and far between, and also because his forces might easily be divided by the German centre, one column of which was pushing along the north bank of the broad, muddy river Pilitza. He determined to risk nothing, and leaving a screen of light horse west of the river to keep in touch with the enemy, ordered the rest of his forces to fall back behind the San and the Vistula. The march on Cracow had, therefore, to be abandoned; the grip on Przemysl to be loosened; and the Russian army in Galicia brought back for fifty miles, as you have already heard.
All Russian Poland west of the Vistula was thus given up to the enemy. The Russians have always had the courage to retreat when the way of safety lies to the rear, but they only recoil for a stronger and fiercer leap forward. They were not greatly disturbed even when the German centre entered Lodz, the Manchester of Poland. The capture of this great industrial city was, of course, a great loss to Russia, but an attempt to hold it would have resulted in disaster. Nor were they dismayed when the German right centre, pushing through Radom, reached the Vistula below Ivangorod, and began to cross.
The German advance was slow, but it was very thorough. As the columns proceeded eastwards they felled whole forests to form corduroy roads by which their guns could cross the marshes. Even the gauge of the railway from Kalisz by way of Lodz to Warsaw was altered so that German rolling stock could be used. They advanced as though they intended to occupy the country for all time.
They were full of confidence. Captured Poles had told them that the Grand Duke did not intend to defend Warsaw, and that he meant to give up the valley of the Vistula. German aviators reported that they had seen troop trains moving from the capital and from Ivangorod eastwards. Van Hindenburg was completely misled, and began to dream of a new Tannenberg.[155]
By 15th October the Germans were attacking the line of the Vistula in force. An attempt was made to cross the river between Ivangorod and Warsaw. Raft after raft crossed the stream, and soon two battalions of infantry were drawn up on the eastern bank waiting for their fellows to arrive. Suddenly from the woods and coppices the Russians sprang forward in overwhelming numbers. The two battalions were wiped out, and the crowded rafts on the river disappeared as the Russian shells crashed down upon them. A strong assault on the bridgehead at Ivangorod met with the same terrible fate. A pontoon bridge was thrown across the stream, but when it was thick with marching men, shrapnel began to burst above it. The river ran red with blood, and the stream was choked with corpses.
These two attempts to cross the river were but feints. The real attempt, as we know, was being made at Josefov, where the river narrows. The eastern shore seemed to be held lightly; there was no sign of the enemy, and a large German force with guns crossed the river by means of pontoons, and pushed on towards the railway from Ivangorod to Lublin, fully believing that it had turned the Russian left. Then came a rude awakening. On 21st October General Ruzsky fell upon them at a village in the midst of swampy flats, eight miles from Novo Alexandra. The Russians plied the bayonet with deadly effect, and few Germans escaped to tell the tale. Next day Ruzsky was over the river, driving the Germans before him.
He counter-attacked both north and south of Ivangorod, and thus was able to cut off the German centre and left from the German right. The invaders were now in two groups, the one to the north and the other to the south of the Pilitza. Advancing with great spirit, the Russians thrust the enemy out of the open country near the river into the great spruce woods which extend westwards for ten miles. Countless hand-to-hand engagements took place in their marshes and forest glades. The slaughter was terrible. At a village north of the railway between Radom and Ivangorod, the Russians buried 16,000 dead, their own and the enemy's. When the tide of war had rolled by, the forest seemed as though it had been swept by a hurricane. The Germans were forced into the open country beyond the woods, and as they emerged the Russian guns caught them and mowed them down in thousands.
The Germans fought desperately, but every attempt to make a stand was crushed, and the remnants were forced back. By the 25th they were at Radom, and the Crown Prince, who had been waiting to enter Ivangorod in triumph, boarded the train which was waiting with steam up, and hurried westwards into safety. The Russians gave the retreating enemy no rest day or night. Near Kielce[156] they stood at bay. The strongest position in their line was a graveyard, with a little white church in the middle. The Caucasians[157] poured like a torrent over the wall and seized the gate, which was the only outlet. In the darkness, amidst the graves, men fought with clubbed muskets and cold steel until the ground was literally soaked with blood. Ringed round by foes, the Germans and Austrians strove with the fury of despair, but they were no match for the Caucasians. The enemy's loss was very heavy, and 12,000 prisoners and fifty guns were taken. At one o'clock on 4th November the Russians, horse, foot, and artillery, poured into Kielce. Meanwhile the extreme left of the Russians had won Sandomir[158] after storming a triple line of defences, and the routed enemy was flying south-west towards Cracow.