CHAPTER XXXIX
RAIDS ON THE ENGLISH COAST
During the first days of November, 1914, the Germans planned and carried out a general surprise for the British navy. After the battle in the Bight of Helgoland, back in August, the British thought that Germany would continue to keep her navy within the protection of her coast defenses, perhaps forever. But such was not her intention.
On the afternoon of November 2, 1914, there gathered off some part of Germany's northern shore a squadron consisting of the battle cruisers Von der Tann, Seydlitz, and Moltke, the protected cruisers Kolberg, Strassburg, and Graudenz, the armored cruisers Yorck and Blücher, together with some destroyers. The slowest of these vessels could make a speed of 25 knots, and the fastest, the Graudenz and Moltke, could make 28 knots. The guns of the Blücher were the heaviest in the squadron, those of her primary battery being 12-inch cannon. Ten-inch guns were on the decks of the other ships.
The first that the rest of the world knew of the gathered force was at evening, November 2, 1914, when a fleet of British fishermen hailed them with friendly signs, thinking them British ships, not far from Lowestoft some time after six o'clock. The fishermen started at once for their home ports in order to apprise the British authorities, but they had not gone far when the news was flashed to the British admiralty office from the wireless room of the British gunboat Halcyon. But only the first few words of the warning were able to get through, for the wireless operators on the German ships "jammed" their keys, and a few shots from the German guns were sufficient to bring down the wireless apparatus of the gunboat as well as one of her funnels. She turned off and made for her home port to report the news some hours later.
It was only ten miles from the British shores that the Halcyon had sighted the German ships, but they were able, nevertheless, to elude all British warships in those regions and proceeded to Yarmouth, firing at the wireless station, the naval yards, and the town itself. Fearing mines near the coast, the German commander did not attempt to come in too close, with the result that many of the German shots fell short, and, in spite of the fact that the bombardment lasted for nearly half an hour, the damage done by them was not great.
The inhabitants of the towns of Lowestoft and Yarmouth were asleep in the early hours of the morning when they first heard the booming of the German guns. In the darkness of the British winter they hurriedly went down to the water front, where, far out at sea, they could make out faintly the hull of but one vessel, but the red flashes from the booming guns showed that other ships were present. The crowds on the shore watched two British destroyers and two submarines, which had been lying in the harbor, put out after the German force. The latter by that time had started off, dropping in its wake a number of floating mines. This strategy resulted in the loss of the submarine D-5, which hit one of the mines and sank immediately. The German cruiser Yorck was claimed by the British to have hit a mine also, with the result that she sank and carried down with her some 300 of her crew. This was denied later by the German admiralty, and like all such controversies must remain a secret with the officials of both Governments.
Judged by material effects, this raid was a failure. But in view of the fact that the Germans had shown that a squadron could actually elude the large number of British warships patrolling the North Sea, and was actually able to strike at the British coast, it was a moral victory for Germany.
"We must see clearly that in order to fight with success we must fight ruthlessly, in the proper meaning of the word." These were the words of Count Reventlow, when he heard the news of the defeat of the German squadron commanded by Von Spee off the Falkland Islands. As a result, and in revenge for this defeat, the German admiralty planned a second raid on the coast towns of England. The towns chosen for attack this time were Hartlepool, Scarborough, and Whitby. The first of these was a city of 100,000 persons, and its principal business was shipbuilding. Scarborough was nothing more than a seaside resort, to which each summer and at Christmas were attracted thousands of Englishmen who sought to spend their vacations near the water. Whitby, though it had some attractions for holiday crowds, such as a quaint cathedral, was at most nothing more than a home port for a number of fishing boats.
It was brazenly claimed later by the Germans that these three towns, according to definitions in international law, were fortified ports, and consequently open to attack by hostile forces. In reply the British claimed that there was nothing in any of the three which could bring them into that category. This controversy is still another which the war developed. There is, however, the fact that the information which the German Government had obtained about them, and which it made public, must necessarily have been less comprehensive than that supplied to the world at large by the British authorities. Guidebooks, as well as tourists who have visited the place, reported that an old castle stood in Scarborough which in past centuries had been a fort, but which at the outbreak of the war was nothing more than a show place. The only gun in place at the castle was an obsolete piece that had seen service in the Crimean War. Whitby, in times of peace, at least, had not even such "armament."
It was on the 16th of December, 1914, that this second raid took place. Over the North Sea there hung a light mist. The German admiralty did not afterward make public the names of the cruisers which participated in this expedition, but they are believed to have been the Derfflinger, Blücher, Von der Tann, Seydlitz, and Graudenz. It was at eight o'clock in the morning that the residents of the three English towns first heard the booming of the German guns, and coast guards near by were able, with the aid of very strong glasses, to make out the hulls of the attacking cruisers some miles out to sea. It was not thought possible that the Germans could again elude the British ships on patrol in these waters, and the guards therefore thought that the firing came from ships flying the Union Jack and tried to signal to them. But they came to realize the truth when they received no answering signals.
As it was not known but that the Germans would make an attempt to land, the guards in the obsolete fort at Hartlepool took their positions and two small patrol boats in the harbor made ready to give what resistance they could. These, the Doon and the Hardy, drew the fire of the German guns, and, seeing it was impossible to withstand the German fire, they made off and escaped. This time the Germans were better informed about the conditions they dealt with, and evidently had no fear of mines, for they came to within two miles of the shore. The forts on shore were bombarded and private houses near by were hit by German shells, killing two women who lived in one of them. The forts tried to reply to the German guns, but those of the English battery were by no means modern, and firing them only served to further convince the Germans that the place was fortified; they inflicted no damage on the German ships.
The lighthouse was the next target chosen by the Germans, one of their shells going right through it, but leaving it standing. Within fifty minutes 1,500 German shells were fired into the town and harbor. While two of the three cruisers which were engaged in bombarding drew off further to sea and fired at Hartlepool, the third remained to finish the battery on shore, but in spite of the fact that it was subjected to long and heavy firing, it was not so terribly damaged. Many of the shells from the other two ships went over the towns entirely and buried themselves in the countryside that heretofore had been turned up only by the peaceful plow. Other shells did havoc in the business and residential sections of Hartlepool and West Hartlepool, bringing down buildings and killing civilians in them as well as on the streets.
At about the same hour the coast guards near Scarborough reported the approach of foreign ships off the coast, and then telephoned that the strangers were German cruisers and that they had begun to bombard the town. A German shell destroyed the shed from which the telephone message had come and the warnings from it ceased. It was seen by those on shore that the attack here was being made by four ships, two of them cruisers and two of them mine layers, only 800 yards out in the water. This time they were not handicapped by the fact that they had to stand out so far from shore, and it was a surprise to the natives to see ships of such draft come so close to land—a fact which convinced the British authorities that spies had been at work since the first raid, sending to the German admiralty either charts or detailed descriptions of the region.
The castle was badly damaged by their fire; the town itself came next, the Grand Hotel coming in for its share of destruction. They did little injury to a wireless station in the suburbs, but hit quite a number of residences, the gas and water works.
Half an hour afterward the two cruisers which had fired upon Scarborough appeared off Whitby and began to fire at the signal station there. In the ten minutes that the bombardment of Whitby lasted some 200 shells fell into the place. This time the fact that the German ships came close to the shore worked against them, for there are high cliffs close to the water at the spot and it was necessary for the German gunners to use a high angle, which did not give them much chance to be accurate. The German ships next turned seaward and made for their home ports.
The scenes enacted in the three towns during the bombardment and afterwards were tragic. Considering the fact, however, that the persons under fire were civilians, many of them women and children, their coolness was remarkable. They did not know what should be done, for the thought of bombardment was the last thing that had come into the minds of the authorities when England went to war, and as a result no instructions for such an emergency had been issued by the authorities. Some thought it best to stay within doors, some thought it best to go into the streets. In Hartlepool a large crowd gathered in the railway station, some fully dressed, some only in night clothes.
Many of the women carried babies in their arms and were followed by older children who clung to their skirts. Policemen led this crowd out of the station and started them along a street which would bring them out into the country, but while they were passing the library they were showered by the stone work as it fell when hit by the German shells. One shell, striking the street itself, killed three of the six children who were fleeing along it in company with their mother. Many other persons met deaths as tragic either within their own homes or on the streets. St. Mary's Catholic Church as well as the Church of St. Hilda were damaged, as were the shipyards and the office of the local newspaper. The destruction of the gas works left the town in almost complete darkness for many nights afterward. The authorities issued a proclamation ordering all citizens to remain indoors for a time, and then began to count the number of dead and injured. The first estimate gave the former as 22 and the latter as 50, but subsequent reckoning showed that both figures were too low.
In Scarborough most of the inhabitants were still in bed when the bombardment started and for a few minutes did not become excited, thinking the booming of the guns was the sound of thunder. But when the shells began to drop on their houses they knew better. Many were killed or wounded while they hastily got into their clothes. One shell hit St. Martin's Church while communion was being held. Here, too, the railway station was made the objective of many refugees, and the police did what they could to send the women and children out of range of fire by putting them on trains of extra length. As in all such scenes there were humorous sides to it. One old workman, while hurrying along a street was heard to say: "This is what comes of having a Liberal Government." In all, about 6,000 people left the town immediately and did not return for some days.
Similar were the scenes enacted in Whitby when the turn of that town came. Only two persons were killed in that town, while thirteen casualties were reported from Scarborough.
The raid immediately became the subject for discussion in the newspapers of every country on the globe. In England it was bitterly denounced, and the term "baby killers" was applied to the men of the German navy. In Germany it was justified on the ground that the German admiralty had information and proof that the bombarded cities were fortified, and therefore, under international law, subject to bombardment. Nor did the German journalists lose the opportunity to declare that Great Britain no longer ruled the waves nor to show pride over the fact that their fleet had successfully left the German coast and had successfully returned to its home port. The war, they said, had been brought to England's door.
The year 1914 ended gloomily for the British public; nothing could have disappointed them more than the failure to catch the Germans. Nor did the new year open brightly for Britain, for on the first day of January, 1915, there came the news of disaster to the Formidable, sister ship to the Bulwark. The lesson of the Hogue, Cressy, and Aboukir had not been learned, for this ship went down under the same circumstances. While patrolling near Torbay during a night on which there was a bright moon and a calm sea, this ship, in company with seven other large ships unaccompanied by a "screen" of destroyers, was hit by a torpedo fired from a German submarine. Most of her crew were asleep when the torpedo struck and damaged the engine room so much that no lights could be turned on. In the darkness they hurried to the deck, which was slanting from her list. In obedience to orders issued by the admiralty after the sinking of the Cressy and the ships with her, the rest of the fleet immediately sailed away from the scene, so that no more of them would be hit. Only a light cruiser stood by the sinking Formidable. A second torpedo struck her and this had the effect of letting water into her hold on the side which was slowly coming out of the water. She took a position with even keel after that, and this fact enabled most of her crew to get off safely before she sank.
Once more the Germans were to attempt a raid on the coast cities of England. The date of this third attempt was January 24, 1915. This time the British were a bit better prepared, for a squadron of battle cruisers, consisting of the Lion, Tiger, Princess Royal, New Zealand, and Indomitable, put out from a port in the north of England at about the same time that the Germans left their base. All of these ships, with the exception of the last named, were quite fast, having speeds of from 25 to 28.5 knots; they were at the same time carrying heavy armament—13.5-inch guns in the main batteries. In company with them went four cruisers of what is known in England as the "town class"; these were the Nottingham, Birmingham, Lowestoft, and Southampton, together with the three light cruisers Arethusa, Aurora, and Undaunted, and a squadron of destroyers. The German fleet which was engaged in this raid consisted of the Seydlitz, Moltke, Derfflinger, and Blücher, in company with a fleet of destroyers. The German ships were not quite as fast as the English ships, nor did they carry guns of such range or destructive power as their British opponents.
Early in the first hours of January 24, these two forces, unknown to each other were steaming head on, the Germans taking a course leading northwest and the English a course leading southeast. At twenty minutes past seven in the morning the Aurora first sighted the enemy and engaged him immediately with her two 6-inch guns, sending at the same time word of her discovery to Admiral Beatty. Admiral Hipper, the German commander, as soon as he knew the enemy had sighted him, turned about and started to steam in a southeasterly direction.
In view of the results of this battle, it is best to go into the matter of the tactics involved. Tactics may be of two kinds—spontaneous or premeditated. When two hostile fleets meet on the high sea far from the base of either, the object of each is the complete destruction of the other, and the tactics employed are spontaneous. Such an action was that off Coronel. But on a closed sea such as the North Sea spontaneous tactics can rarely be used, for the reason that naval bases are too near, and from these there may slyly come reenforcements to one or the other or to both of the fighting fleets, making the arrangement of traps an easy matter. This is particularly true of the North Sea, on which it is possible for a fleet to leave Cuxhaven early in the evening and to be at Scarborough early the following morning. In addition, sailing is restricted because an unusually large portion of its waters is too shallow to permit of the passage of large ships.
The Germans on this occasion had arranged a trap. They knew that after making two successful raids on the English coast the British would keep even a closer watch for them. When they sailed from their base, it was with the expectation of meeting a hostile force, as was undoubtedly their expectation on the first two raids. But they did not intend to fight matters out on high waters. What they wanted to do was to get the British involved in a good running engagement, steering a southeasterly course the while and luring the British ships within striking force of a waiting fleet of superdreadnoughts and perhaps land guns and mines. This explains why Admiral Hipper turned stern as soon as he got into touch with the enemy.
There was a distance of fourteen miles between the two fleets when the Lion got her heavy guns into action. The German line was off her port (left) bow. At the head of that line was the Moltke, and following her came the Seydlitz, Derfflinger, Blücher, and the destroyers in the order given. At the head of the British line was the Lion, followed by the Tiger, Princess Royal, New Zealand, and Indomitable in the order named. The other cruisers and the destroyers of the British fleet brought up the rear. In the chase which followed the Germans were handicapped by the fact that the Blücher was far too slow to be brought into action, which meant that either the other ships must leave her behind to certain destruction or that they must slow down to keep with her. They chose the latter course, while her stokers did their best to increase her speed. In the English fleet there was the same trouble with the Indomitable, but inasmuch as the British were the pursuers and had a preponderance in ships and in the range of their guns, this did not matter so much to them. But the stokers of the Indomitable worked as hard, if not harder, than those of the Blücher.
By half past nine the two forces were seven miles apart and the battle was on. It is necessary here to give certain facts about gunnery on a large modern battleship. Firing at a range of seven miles means a test of mathematics rather than of the mere matter of pointing guns. At that distance the target—the ship to be hit—is barely visible on the sky line on the clearest and calmest sea. If a hole the size of the head of a pin be made in a piece of cardboard and the latter be held about a foot and a half from the eye, the distant ship will just about fill the hole.
The guns on the modern battleships are not "laid"; that is, they are not aimed as were the cannon of past days or the rifle of to-day. It is set toward its target by two factors. The first is known as "traverse," which means how far to the left or right it must be pointed in a horizontal plane. The second factor is "elevation"—how far up or down it must be pointed in a vertical plane. The latter factor determines how far it will throw its projectile, and up to a certain point the higher the gun is pointed the further will go the shell. A certain paradox seems to enter here. It is a fact that a distant ship presents a target more easily hit if its bow or stern is toward the gunner. If it presents a broadside there is the danger that the shells will go either beyond the ship or will fall short of it, for the greatest beam on a warship is not much more than 90 feet. If the bow or stern is toward the gunner he has a chance of landing a shell on any part of the 600 or more feet of the ship's length. The first firing in a battle at a distance is known as "straddling," by which is meant that a number of shots are sent simultaneously, some falling short, some falling beyond the target, and some hitting it.
The german cruiser "Blücher" turning on her side as she sank in the North Sea battle of January 24. 1915. The other vessels of the German squadron escaped.
The man who really "aims" the gun never sees what he is shooting at. At some point of vantage on his ship one of the officers observes the enemy and reports to the chief gunner the distance, the direction, and the effect of the first shots. The gunnery officer then makes certain calculations, taking into consideration the speed of his own ship and the speed of the enemy ship. He knows that at a given moment his target will be at a given point. He knows also just how fast his shells will travel and makes calculations that enable him to place a shell at that point at just the right second. In this battle the shells of the British ship took about twenty seconds to go from the mouths of the guns to the German hulls. And they made a curve at the highest point of which they reached a distance of more than two miles; and most wonderful of all was the fact that at the beginning of the firing a man standing on the deck of one of the German ships could not even see the ship which was firing the shells at her, though the weather was very clear.
By a quarter to ten o'clock the Lion had come up with and had passed the slow Blücher, firing broadsides into her as she went by. The Tiger then passed the unfortunate German ship, also letting her have a heavy fire, and then the Princess Royal did likewise. Finally the New Zealand was able to engage her and later even the slow Indomitable got near enough to do so. By that time the Blücher was afire and one of her gun turrets, with its crew and gun, had been swept off bodily by a British shell.
Meanwhile the Lion, Tiger, and Princess Royal kept straight ahead till they were able to "straddle" even the leading ship of the enemy's line. The Tiger and Lion poured shells into the Seydlitz, but were unable to do much damage to the Moltke. While they were thus engaged the Princess Royal singled out the Derfflinger for her target. The light British cruiser Aurora, Arethusa, and Undaunted were far ahead of the rest of the British fleet and were firing at the Moltke, but thick black smoke which poured from their funnels as their engines were speeded up got between the gunners of the Lion and their target, the Moltke, completely obscuring the latter. As a result the three light British cruisers were ordered to slow down and to take positions to the rear.
By eleven o'clock there were fires raging on both the Seydlitz and the Derfflinger, and Admiral Hipper decided to try to save his larger ships by sacrificing the destroyers that accompanied them. Consequently the German destroyers put their bows right toward the large British ships and charged, but the fire which they drew was too much for them and they gave up this maneuver.
The British destroyer Meteor, which had been maintaining a perilous position between the battleships, then attempted to torpedo the Blücher, which had fallen far to the rearward to be abandoned by the rest of the German fleet. Badly damaged as the Blücher was, the crew of one of her guns managed to get in some final shots, one of them nearly ending the career of the British destroyer. The Arethusa had also come up and prepared to launch a torpedo. Cruiser and destroyer torpedoed her at about the same moment, and later, while within 200 yards of the sinking German ship the Arethusa sent another torpedo at her. She now began to list, although not greatly damaged, on her port side till her keel showed. Her crew showed remarkable bravery.
The men lined up as though at a review and began to sing the German national airs, intending to go to their deaths in that formation. But an officer on the Arethusa shouted to them through a megaphone to jump while they could to save their lives. This had a psychological effect, and as the starboard side of her hull slowly came up her men were seen scrambling on it from behind her taffrail and creeping down toward her keel. Some of them almost walked into the water while she was in that position. Her guns were pointing toward the sky, one of them slowly revolving. Finally, when she was completely upside down she went under. Many of her crew were picked up by British small boats, and her captain, who was one of them, was taken to England, where he died later from the results of this experience and was buried with full naval honors.
The German destroyers had meanwhile come between their own cruisers and those of the enemy and emitted volumes of heavy smoke, which they hoped would form an effective screen between the former and the gunners on the latter. Admiral Hipper then ordered all of his ships to turn northward, in the hope of getting away behind this screen, but the British admiral anticipated this maneuver and changed the course of his ships so that he again had the German ships in view after both fleets had driven through the smoke.
The Lion of the British fleet was chosen as the target for the German ships, and by keeping a concentrated fire upon her were able to do considerable damage. One shell penetrated the bow of the Lion as it was partly lifted out of the water on account of the great speed she was making; this shot hit her water tank and made it impossible for her to use her port engine from that time on. She slowed down. When she fell out of the line it was necessary for Admiral Beatty to leave her, and he transferred his flag to the destroyer Attack. But all of this took time and it was quite long before he was able to rejoin his leading ships. By twenty minutes past twelve he had got aboard the Princess Royal.
Rear Admiral Moore automatically took up command of the British fleet while his senior officer was making these changes. It is not known what Admiral Moore's orders had been, but it is known that he suddenly ordered all ships to cease firing and allowed the German warships to proceed without further engaging them. By the time that Admiral Beatty was again on a battle cruiser the action was virtually over. The Indomitable passed a cable to the crippled Lion and towed the latter home, the rest of the British fleet keeping to the rearward to be ready for possible resumption of fighting.
Much criticism was made by the British press and by laymen on account of the sudden termination of the fight, and there was great complaint in England because the career of all the raiding German ships had not been brought to an end. But when the engagement ended the opposing fleets were within seventy miles of Helgoland, and the German admiralty had ready a fleet of dreadnoughts and another of battle cruisers to engage the British ships when they got within striking distance. By ending the fight when he did the British commander chose not to be led into this trap. Nor was there dissatisfaction in England alone. In Germany the complaint was that the ruse had not worked, and not long afterward Admiral von Ingenohl was replaced as commander of the High Sea Fleet by Admiral von Pohl. None of the blame for the failure was laid at the door of the officer who had actually been engaged in the fighting—Admiral Hipper—which showed that his senior officers had considered the engagement as part of a larger action.[Back to Contents]
CHAPTER XL
RESULTS OF SIX MONTHS' NAVAL OPERATIONS
The first six months of naval operations in the Great War came to a close without battle between the main fleets of the navies of the warring nations. The British navy had kept open communication with the Continent, allowing the Expeditionary Force, as well as later military contingents, to get to the trenches in Flanders and France. It had, in addition, made possible the transportation of troops from Canada and Australia. The ports of France were open for commerce with America, which permitted the importation of arms and munitions, and the same privilege had been won for the ports in the British Isles.
The northern ports of the Central Powers were closed to commerce with all but the Scandinavian countries, and the oversea German possessions, where they were accessible to naval attack, had been taken from her. The German and Austrian flags had been swept from the seven seas, with the exception of those on three or four German cruisers that now and then showed themselves capable of sinking a merchantman.
In the four engagements of importance which had been fought by the end of January, 1915, the British had been the victors in three—the battles of the Bight of Helgoland, the Falkland Islands, and the third German raid of January 24, 1915—the Germans had been victors in one—the fight off Coronel.
British and other allied ships were unable to inflict damage on the coast defenses of Germany, but the latter in two successful raids had been able to bombard British coast towns, offsetting in a way the loss of oversea dominions.
Great Britain, after six months of naval warfare had lost three battleships, the Bulwark, Formidable, and Audacious;[1] the five armored cruisers Aboukir, Cressy, Hogue, Monmouth, and Good Hope; the second-class cruisers Hawke and Hermes; the two third-class cruisers Amphion and Pegasus; the protected scout Pathfinder and the converted liner Oceanic; losses in destroyers and other small vessels were negligible.
Germany had lost no first-class battleships, but in third-class cruisers her loss was great, those that went down being the eleven ships Ariadne, Augsburg, Emden, Graudenz, Hela, Köln, Königsberg, Leipzig, Nürnberg, Magdeburg, Mainz, and the Dresden; she lost, also, the four armored cruisers Blücher, Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, and Yorck; the old cruiser Geier (interned); the three converted liners Spreewald, Cap Trafalgar, and Kaiser Wilhelm; and the mine layer Königin Luise.
The German policy of attrition had not taken off as many ships as had been lost by Germany herself, and, as England's ships so far outnumbered her own, it may well be said that the "whittling" policy was not successful. She made up for this by having still at large the cruiser Karlsruhe which damaged a great amount of commerce, and by the exploits of her submarines, far outshining those of the Allies.
Russia had lost the armored cruiser Pallada, and the Jemchug, a third-class cruiser, and the losses of the French and Austrian navies were not worth accounting. With regard to interned vessels both sides had losses. While the Germans were unable to use the great modern merchantmen which lay in American and other ports, and had to do without them either as converted cruisers or transports, the Allies were forced to detail warships to keep guard at the entrance of the various ports where these interned German liners might at any moment take to the high seas.
In naval warfare the number of ships lost is no determining factor in figuring the actual victory—the important thing being the existence or nonexistence of the grand fleets of the combatants after the fighting is finished. Viewed from such an angle, the fact that the Allies had left no German ships at large other than those in the North Sea, cannot entitle them to victory at the end of the first six months of war. So long as a German fleet remained intact and interned in neutral ports, naval victory for the Allies had not come, though naval supremacy was indicated.
The fact was apparent, moreover, that while the Central Powers were being deprived of all their trade on the seas, the world's commerce endangered only by submarines was remaining wide open to the Allies.[Back to Contents]
PART III—THE WAR ON THE EASTERN FRONT
CHAPTER XLI
GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE THEATRE OF WARFARE
World war—the prophecy of the ages—now threatened the foundations of civilization. Whether or not the modern era was to fall under the sword, as did the democracy of Greece and the mighty Roman Empire, was again to be decided on battle grounds that for seventy centuries have devoured the generations. The mountain passes were once more to reverberate with the battle cry—the roar of guns, the clank of artillery, the tramp of soldiery. The rivers were to run crimson with the blood of men; cities were to fall before the invaders; ruin and death were to consume nations. It was as though Xerxes, and Darius, and Alexander the Great, and Hannibal, and all the warriors of old were to return to earth to lead again gigantic armies over the ancient battle fields.
While the war was gaining momentum on the western battle grounds of Europe, gigantic armies were gathering in the East—there to wage mighty campaigns that were to hold in the balance the destiny of the great Russian Empire, the empire of Austria, the Balkan kingdoms—Serbia, Montenegro, Rumania, Bulgaria. The Turks were again to enter upon a war of invasion. Greece once more was to tremble under the sword. Even Egypt and Persia and Jerusalem itself, the battle grounds of the Assyrians, the Babylonians, and the Trojans, the bloody fields of paganism and early Christianity, were all to be awakened by the modern trumpets of war.
Before we enter upon these campaigns in the East it is well to survey the countries to be invaded, to review the battle lines and travel in these pages over the fighting ground.
The eastern theatre in the first six months of the war, from August 4, 1914, to February 1, 1915, includes the scenes of the fighting in the historic Balkans and in the Caucasus. But the eastern front proper is really that region where the Teutonic allies and the Russians opposed each other, forming a fighting line almost a thousand miles long. It stretches from rugged old Riga on the shores of the Baltic Sea in the far north, down through Poland to the Carpathian Mountains, touching the warm, sunlit hills on the Rumanian frontier. When the total losses of the Great War are finally counted it will probably be found that here the heaviest fighting has occurred.
This is the longest battle line in the world's history. Partly on account of its great length, and partly because of the nature of the country, we see the two gigantic forces in this region locked together in their deadly struggle, swaying back and forth, first one giving way, then the other. This was especially the case in the northern section, along the German-Russian frontier.
The War in the East—The Relation of the Eastern Countries to Germany.
As we view the armies marshaling along this upper section, along the Baltic shore, southward, including part of East Prussia as well as Baltic Russia, we look upon the ancient abode of the Lithuanians, supposed to be the first of the Slavic tribes to appear in Europe. Hardly any part of Europe has a more forbidding aspect than this region. There the armies must pass over a flat, undulating country, almost as low in level as the Baltic, and therefore occupied in large part by marshes and lagoons through which they must struggle. In all parts the soil is unproductive. At one time it was a universal forest: thick, dark, and dank. A century ago, however, Catherine the Great distributed large areas of this comparatively worthless land among her favorites and courtiers. In this way a certain percentage was reclaimed, and with the incoming of the sunlight more favorable conditions for human life were established. Yet even now it is very thinly settled.
Through this region the armies must cross big rivers: the Oder, Dvina, Warthe, Vistula, Pregel, and Niemen, northward and northeastward. Just above or eastward of that point, where the German-Russian frontier touches the shore, the Baltic curls into a dent, 100 miles deep, forming the Gulf of Riga. Near the southern extremity of this gulf, eight miles from the mouth of the Dvina, is the city of Riga, ranking second only to Petrograd in commercial importance as a seaport, and with a population of about 300,000.
As the armies move across the frontier they come to a vast domain projecting into this marsh country, like a great, broad tongue licking the shore of the Baltic; this wide strip of German territory is East Prussia—a country to be beleaguered. Not far below the tip of this tongue, about five miles from the mouth of the Pregel River in the Frische Haff, and about twenty-five miles from the seacoast, is situated another embattled stronghold—the city of Königsberg which, since 1843, has been a fortress of the first rank. These two cities in the following pages will be the immediate objectives of the enemy forces operating on this section of the eastern front.
It will be obvious why the lines of battle were less permanently fixed here than in the more solid and mountainous sections of northern France. Railroads and fairly well-laid highways do indeed traverse these swamps in various parts, especially in German territory, but trenches could not be dug in yielding mire. In yet another feature were the military operations hampered by the nature of the terrain here; the use of heavy artillery.
We have seen that one of the chief causes of success attending German attacks in the other theatres of the war has been their use of heavy guns. But in the fighting before Riga, we shall see when the Germans seemed on the point of taking that city their heavy artillery was so handicapped that it was rendered practically useless. Being restricted by the marshes to an attack over a comparatively narrow front, they were compelled to leave their heavy guns behind on firmer soil. The guns which they could take with them were matched by the Russians; the fighting was, therefore, almost entirely limited to infantry engagements, in which the Russians were not inferior to the Germans. Thus, we shall find the German advance on Riga was stopped before it could attain its object.
In studying the fighting in this part of the eastern front, it will be seen why the Germans were more successful below Riga, and why the Russians were compelled to evacuate Vilna. Here is a broad rise, something like the back of a half-submerged submarine, which seems to cross the country, where the land becomes more solid. The armies must move, instead of through marshes, along innumerable small lakes, most of the lakes being long and narrow and running north and south, with a fairly thick growth of timber among them, mostly pine and spruce and fir. In character this section is rather similar to parts of Minnesota. There are two cities to be conquered in this drier region, Dvinsk, and, further south, Vilna, once the chief city or capital of the Lithuanians. We shall see the Russians thrust back from Königsberg, and the heavy fighting shifted over to this section; yet even here, where the huge guns of the Germans could find footing, the terrain was not suited to trench warfare, and every arrival of reenforcements on either side would swing the lines back or forth.
In studying the military movements in a country of this character, special attention must be paid to the railway lines. Railways, and more especially those running parallel to the fronts, are absolutely necessary to success. In looking, therefore, for a key to the object of any particular movement, the first step must be a close study of this railroad situation.
We find from Riga to the fortress of Rovno there is a continuous line of railroad, running generally north and south and passing through Dvinsk, Vilna, Lida, Rovno, and thence down through Poland to Lemberg. Every effort of the Russian armies in the succeeding chapters will be made to keep to the westward of and parallel to this line, and for a very good reason.
Feeding into this great north and south artery are the branch lines from Petrograd to Dvinsk; from Moscow to the junction at Baranovitschi; from Kiev to Sarny. Aside from these three important branch lines, there are a few other single-track off-shoots, but from a military point of view they are of no importance.
This line was the main objective (short of capturing Riga itself) of the German operations. This line proves especially vital to the Russians, for nowhere east of it is there another such line which could be used for the same purpose.
If, in the campaigns to be described, this railroad falls into Russian hands, it gives every facility for strengthening or reenforcing any part of the Russian front where German pressure becomes excessive. It is, in addition, a solution to the difficult problem of transportation of supplies. To use a military term, it gives the Russian army a mobility not possessed by the enemy because of a lack of similar facilities.
But should this railroad be taken by the Germans, the advantage would immediately be reversed. And if once the Russian lines were driven back beyond the railroad, a division of their forces would be forced upon them; their armies would be obliged to group themselves beside the three east and west branches already mentioned, for only by these three systems could their forces be supplied, lateral communications being absolutely lacking. And this is the key to the fighting, not only in the northern section of the front, but all along the line, down to Galicia. Naturally, only the Russian railroads need be considered, for in the first months of the war the Germans are the invaders in the northern half of the eastern front, except for a few short periods in the beginning. Compared to the German railway lines near the frontier, the Russian lines are very few.
There are two distinct railway lines running from Germany into East Prussia, with innumerable branches leading to all points of the Russian frontier, laid especially for military purposes. It was along these that we shall witness the German forces rushed from Belgium to drive back the first Russian advance. But, of course, the moment the Germans enter Russian territory they have no advantage over the Russians, since even their wonderful efficiency does not enable them to build railroads as fast as an army can advance. Hence, we observe their efforts to gain possession of the Russian railroads.
We come now to the central part of the eastern front. Here, just below East Prussia, Russian Poland projects into German territory in a great salient, about 200 miles wide and 250 long, resembling a huge bite in shape.
This land is a monotonous, wind-swept plain, slightly undulating, its higher parts not even 500 feet above sea level. To the northward and eastward it descends gradually into the still lower lands of East Prussia and White Russia, but in the south it lifts into the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains.
Gigantic armies are to move over this plateau, timbered in parts with oak, beech, and lime, and in some sections deeply cut by small rivers and streams forming fissures, some narrow and craggy, others broad and sloping with marshy bottoms. Toward the south the soldiers must cross narrow ravines in all directions, often covered with wild, thick undergrowth. The chief river is the Vistula, which enters by the southern boundary and flows first north, then northwest, skirting the plateau region at a height of 700 feet, finally making its exit near Thorn, thence on to the Baltic through East Prussia. Its valley divides the hilly tracts into two parts: Lublin heights in the east and the Sedomierz heights to the westward. Picture in your mind the great armies approaching these ridges, the most notable of which is the Holy Cross Mountains, rising peaks almost 2,000 feet above sea level.
The fighting forces in the northeast, where the plain slopes gradually into the Suwalki Province, must pass over a country dotted with lakes and lagoons, which farther on take on the character of marshes, stagnant ponds, peat bogs, with small streams flowing lazily from one to the other. Here and there are patches of stunted pine forests, with occasional stretches of fertile, cultivated soil. Throughout this section many rivers flow along broad, level valleys, separating into various branches which form many islands and, during the rainy seasons, flood the surrounding country.
Farther west the armies pass through broad valleys or basins, once the beds of great lakes, whose rich, alluvial soil give forth abundant crops of cereals. Here, too, flows the Niemen, 500 miles in length, watering a basin 40,000 square miles in area and separating Poland from Lithuania. It advances northward in a great, winding pathway, between limestone hills covered with loam or amid forests, its banks rising to high eminences in places, past ruined castles built in the Middle Ages. In the yellowish soil along its banks grow rich crops of oats, buckwheat, corn, and some rye. Naturally such a section would be thickly populated, not only on account of the fertile soil, but because the Niemen, like the Vistula, is one of the country's means of communication and transportation. As many as 90,000 men earn their livelihoods in navigating the steamers and freight barges passing up and down this great waterway. At Yurburg the Niemen enters East Prussia on its way to the Baltic.[Back to Contents]