CHAPTER III
ZEPPELINS ATTACK LONDON—BATTLES IN THE AIR
England's insularity disappeared on the night of May 31, 1915. The isolation by sea which had kept her immune from attack since the days of the Normans failed to save London from the Zeppelin. After ten months of war the British capital looked upon its dead for the first time. Four children, one woman, and one man were killed. An old apple woman died of fright. There were numerous fires, only three of which assumed serious proportions and these were extinguished by the fire department after a few hours.
London's initial glimpse of a Zeppelin was obtained about 11.30 p. m., when the theatre section was filled with homeward bound throngs. The lights attracted the raiders to this district, where a half dozen bombs were dropped. No sooner had the first of the missiles fallen than antiaircraft guns began to open a bombardment from many directions. Searchlights mounted at advantageous points threw their narrow pencils of light into the skies. The people in different sections of the city caught a fleeting glance of a huge airship that floated sullenly along, like some bird of prey from out of the past—a new pterodactyl that instead of seizing its victims dropped death upon them.
One shell fell in Trafalgar Square. The Zeppelins passed over the Houses of Parliament, Westminster, and other famous buildings, but apparently did not have their location well in mind as these noted monuments escaped harm.
But the Zeppelins had come. And they left scars which greeted Londoners the following morning to prove that the raid was not a bad dream which would disappear with the morning mists. In addition to the four persons killed, seventy others were injured, some of whom suffered the loss of limbs and other injuries that incapacitated them. Immediately there was a cry for revenge. Some of the newspapers advocated reprisals upon German cities. This the government refused to do and steadfastly adhered to a policy of war upon fortified places and armed men alone. Rioting took place in many districts where Germans were numerous. Shops and homes were looted. Every German who appeared in the streets, or any person who looked like one, was liable to attack. A number of aliens were badly handled. The public declared a spontaneous boycott upon every person having a name that seemed to be of German origin. There was a united movement to obtain some reparation for the Zeppelin raids. But the results were only trifling and the indignation died down with the passing days, British calmness soon succeeding the excitement of a moment.
Italian frontier towns became the goal of Austrian airmen on June 1, 1915. A half dozen persons were killed or injured and there was some property damaged. With warm weather and good flying conditions raids were in order every day.
On June 3, 1915, British aviators made a successful attack upon German airship sheds at Evere, Belgium. The same day French machines bombarded the headquarters of the crown prince in the Argonne, with what results never was definitely established, although there were reports that several high officers had been killed.
It was made known in London on June 3, 1915, that Great Britain and Germany had agreed to a plan for the protection of public buildings from air raids. According to this agreement hospitals, churches, museums, and similar buildings were to have large white crosses marked upon their roofs. Both governments pledged themselves to respect these crosses. Much importance was attached to the idea at the time, but its effects were disappointing. The marks either were not readily perceivable from an aeroplane or the pilots did not trouble themselves too much about the crosses. Public buildings continued to suffer.
On the night of June 4, 1915, German dirigibles attacked towns at the mouth of the Humber, the port and shipping of Hardwich, in England. There were some casualties and considerable property loss, but the British Government would not make public the extent of the damage as the places attacked were of naval importance. Calais, on the French coast was raided the next day by two German airmen. There was one casualty. England's east coast was visited by Zeppelins on the night of June 6, 1915, twenty-four persons being killed and forty hurt. There was much damage, all details of which were suppressed.
Just after the break of day on June 7, 1915, a British monoplane was returning from a scouting trip over Belgium. At the same hour a Zeppelin flew homeward from the English coast. The two met between Ghent and Brussels. Four persons had been killed and forty injured during the night at Yarmouth and other near-by towns on the East channel coast. Raids had been frequent of late and the British pilot sensed the fact that this Zeppelin was one of the dreaded visitors. He was several miles away when the big aircraft hove into view. Uncertain for a few minutes how to proceed, he rose until he was two thousand feet above the Zeppelin. His maneuver was not appreciated at first, or the Zeppelin crew did not see him. There was no attempt either to flee or give battle.
But as the monoplane drew nearer it was sighted and a combat followed such as never was seen before. Sub-Lieutenant R. A. J. Warneford, a young Canadian who had not reached twenty-one years of age, matched his pygmy machine against the great aerial dreadnought. The fight started at a height of 6,000 feet. Lieutenant Warneford released his first bomb when about 1,000 feet above the Zeppelin. He saw it strike the airbag and disappear, followed by a puff of smoke. Because of the sectional arrangement this did not disable the airship. The Lieutenant circled off and again approached the Zeppelin. Every gun was trained upon him that could be brought to bear. The wings of his machine were shattered many times, but he kept on fighting. When once more above the enemy craft, he released another bomb. It also struck the Zeppelin, but appeared to glance off.
The antagonists resorted to every conceivable ruse, one to escape, the other to bring down its quarry. All efforts of the Zeppelin commander to reach the height of his antagonist were defeated. His lone enemy kept above him. The battle varied from an altitude of 6,000 to 10,000 feet. Three other bombs struck the airship, and each time there was the telltale wisp of smoke.
The Zeppelin was mortally injured. Her commander turned to earth for refuge. Seeing this, Lieutenant Warneford came nearer. He had but one bomb left. Descending to within a few hundred feet of the airship, while its machine guns played upon him, he released this remaining bomb. It struck the Zeppelin amidship. There was a flash, a roar, and a great burst of smoke as the vanquished craft exploded and plunged nose downward. The rush of air caused by the explosion upset the equilibrium of the victorious machine, which dropped toward the ground and turned completely over before its pilot could regain control. The presence of mind which he showed at this juncture, was one of the most remarkable features of this remarkable conflict.
The young Canadian pilot righted his machine in time to see the Zeppelin end its career. Like a flaming comet it fell upon the convent of Le Grand Beguinage de Sainte Elizabeth, located in Mont Saint Amand, a suburb of Ghent. This convent was used as an orphanage. The burning airship set fire to several buildings, causing the death of two sisters and two children. The twenty-eight men aboard were killed. Accounts from Amsterdam a day or two later gave a vivid description of the charred remnants of the machine, the burned convent buildings, and the victims all piled together.
Lieutenant Warneford saw the Zeppelin fall and knew that its raiding days were over. Then he discovered that his own machine was in trouble. In another moment he realized the impossibility of returning to the British lines, and was compelled to volplane toward earth, cutting off his driving power. Descending in a soft field, he found that his motor was out of order. Thirty precious minutes were spent repairing the damage. It took him as long again to get his machine started, a task not often accomplished by one man. But he sailed serenely home and brought the news of his strange victory.
Within twenty-four hours Lieutenant Warneford was the hero of the world. His name and achievement had been flashed to the four corners of the earth. Every newspaper rang with acclaim for the boyish aviator who had shown that one man of skill and daring was a match for the huge Zeppelin. It was the old story of David and Goliath, of the Roman youth who bested the Gaul, of Drake's improvised fleet against the Armada. The lieutenant was called to London and presented with the Victoria Cross by King George, who thanked him in the name of the British Empire for adding another laurel to the long list of its honors. A day or two later President Poincaré received him in Paris and pinned the Legion of Honor cross upon his breast.
But this same week saw the climax of this war romance—a tragic ending to a war epic. Lieutenant Warneford was practicing with a new French machine at Versailles. He either lost control or the motor failed him. It dropped to earth, killing the pilot and an American newspaper correspondent who was in the observer's seat. This sudden end to a career so brilliant, the cutting off of a future so promising, cast a pall over the minds of both the French and British airmen. The body of Lieutenant Warneford lay in state at the French capital and afterward in London, where every honor was shown his memory.[Back to Contents]
CHAPTER IV
VENICE ATTACKED—OTHER RAIDS
British airmen visited Ghent on June 8, 1915, where several ammunition depots were fired. The railway station was hit and a number of German troops in a train standing there killed or hurt.
On June 9, 1915, Venice was shelled by Austrian aviators, bombs falling near St. Mark's and setting a number of fires. There were no casualties as far as known.
An Italian airship squadron raided Pola, the principal Austrian naval base, on June 14, 1915. Pola has one of the best harbors on the Adriatic and is an exceptionally strong position. It was from there that Austrian warships and aircraft made their attacks upon Italian and other allied shipping. The city had a big arsenal and miscellaneous war plants. The arsenal was struck by some of the bombs dropped during this raid, shipping in the harbor was bombarded, and one warship badly damaged. This was perhaps the most valuable accomplishment of the Italian air service in offensive actions up to that time. Contrary to what might be expected from the Latin temperament, Italy had confined herself to the use of aircraft for scouting purposes almost exclusively. The campaign in Tripoli had taught her their value, and she had not shown a disposition to bombard Austrian cities in reply to attacks upon her own people.
The visit of the Zeppelins to London had aroused not only the ire of Britain, but that of her French allies. It was decided to take reprisals. Forty-five French machines left the eastern border during the night of June 15, 1915, and set their journey toward Karlsruhe. Some of the craft were large battle planes; all of them had speed and carrying capacity. Approaching Karlsruhe they at first were taken for German machines, by reason of the location of Karlsruhe far from the front.
The squadron divided and approached the city from a half dozen different directions, dripping bombs as they came. One of the largest chemical plants in Germany was set afire and burned to the ground. Both wings of the Margrave's Palace were struck and one of them practically ruined. In the opposite wing, which escaped with only slight damage, the Queen of Sweden, who is a German by birth, was sleeping. She was said to have missed death only by a few inches. Other titled persons in the palace had narrow escapes. A collection of art works was ruined. Despite the fire of antiaircraft guns the French machines hovered above the city and dropped bombs at will, again proving that there was no sufficient protection against air attacks except by flotillas of equal force.
Within a half hour flames started in many sections of the city. The chemical and other plants were burned. Karlsruhe's citizens were made to realize the losses which German airmen had inflicted upon the noncombatants of other countries. According to the best advices 112 persons were killed and upward of 300 wounded. The maximum number admitted by the Germans to have been injured was 19 killed and 14 wounded. But persons arriving in Geneva, for weeks after the raid, told of the wholesale destruction and large casualties. The victims were buried with honors, and the German Government issued a statement deploring the "senseless" attack. This was one of the few raids made by aviators of the allied powers in which the lives of noncombatants were lost. That it was a warning and not an adopted policy is indicated by the fact that it was not followed up with other raids.
Zeppelins were seen off the east coast of England about midnight on June 16, 1915. They left in their wake one of the longest casualty lists resulting from aerial raids upon England up to that time. South Shields was the principal sufferer. Sixteen persons were killed and forty injured. The Zeppelins devoted their attention to the big Armstrong works principally. Guns and munitions of almost every description were being made there, and the raid was planned to wreck the establishment. This attempt was partially successful, but the buildings destroyed soon were replaced and operations at the plant never ceased. The extent of the damage was kept secret, but the number of victims again caused indignation throughout the British Empire.
One result of this raid was a demand in the House of Commons on June 24, 1915, that the public be informed as to defense measures against air raids. The Government had evaded the question at every opportunity, and up to that time kept discussion of the subject down to the minimum. But on this occasion the Commons were not to be easily disposed of, and insisted upon an answer. This was promised for a future day, but Home Secretary Brace announced that 24 men, 21 women, and 11 children had died as a result of attacks from the air since the war began. He said that 86 men, 35 women, and 17 children had been wounded. Of these a percentage died later. The secretary intimated that the Government was keeping a record of every pound's worth of damage and every person injured, with the expectation of making Germany reimburse.
The South Shields attack led to further expansion of the air service and redoubled measures to check the raiders. It seems likely that not a few aircraft have been captured about which the British Government made no report. What the motives for this secrecy are it would be hard to decide. But a guess may be hazarded that, as in the case of certain submarine crews, it is intended to charge some aviators and Zeppelin crews with murder after the war is over, and try them by due process of law. For a time the Government kept a number of men taken from submarines, known to have caused the loss of noncombatant lives, in close confinement. Germany retaliated upon army officers, and the British were compelled to retire from their position. It has been hinted that in the case of the Zeppelin raiders she had quietly locked up a number of them without announcing her purpose to the world.
The closing days of June, 1915, brought two raids on Paris. Taubes in one instance, and Zeppelins in another were held up by the air patrol and driven back, a few bombs being dropped on Saint Cloud. The work of the Paris defense forces was notably good during the summer of 1915, countless incursions being halted before the capital was reached.
What may have been intended as a raid equal to the Cuxhaven attack was attempted on July 4, 1915, but was foiled by the watchfulness of the Germans. Cruisers and destroyers approached German positions on an unnamed bay of the North Sea, and a squadron of British seaplanes rose from the vessels. German airmen promptly went aloft and drove off the invaders. The set-to took place near the island of Terschelling off the Netherlands. When convinced that the Germans were fully ready to meet them the British turned back and put out to the open sea. It was intimated from Berlin that a considerable naval force had been engaged on the British side. There was a good deal of mystery about the incident.
Perhaps the most important accomplishment of the British flying men during July, 1915, as concerns actual fighting, was the destruction of three Taubes at the mouth of the Thames. The invaders were sighted while still at sea and the word wirelessed ahead. Four British machines mounted to give battle, and after a stirring contest above the city brought down two of the Taubes. They were hit in midair, and one of them caught fire. The burning machine dropping headlong to earth furnished a spectacle that the watchers are not likely to forget. The third Taube was winged after a long flight seaward and sank beneath the waves, carrying down both occupants. This contest took place July 20, 1915, and followed several visits to England by Zeppelins, none of which had important results.
On July 21, 1915, French aviators made three conspicuous raids. A squadron of six machines descended upon Colmar in Alsace, dropping ninety-one shells upon the passenger and freight stations. Both broke into flames, and the former was almost wholly destroyed, tying up traffic on the line, the object of all attacks upon railroad stations, except at such times as troops were concentrated there or trains were standing on the tracks ready to load or unload soldiers.
The second raid of this day was especially interesting, because a dirigible and not an aeroplane was employed, the French seldom using the big craft so much favored by the Germans. Vigneulles and the Hatton Chattel in the St. Mihiel salient were the objectives of the dirigible. A munition depot and the Vigneulles station were shelled successfully. The third air attack was made upon Challerange, near Vouziers, by four French aeroplanes. Forty-eight bombs were dropped on the station there, a junction point and one of the German lesser supply bases. The damage was reported to have halted reenforcements for a position near-by where the French took a trench section on this same day. Accepting the report as true, it exemplifies the unison of army units striving for the same purpose by remarkably different methods and weapons.
The French kept busy during this month of July, 1915, with raids upon Metz and intermediate positions. Metz is the first objective of what the French hope will be a march to the Rhine, and since the start of the war the Germans there have had no rest.
On July 28, 1915, Nancy was visited by a flock of Zeppelins and a number of bombs dropped which did considerable damage in that war-scarred city. Eleven or twelve persons were killed.
During the night of July 29-30, 1915, a French aviator shelled a plant in Dornach, Alsace, where asphyxiating gas was being made. Several of his bombs went home and a tremendous explosion took place that almost wrecked the machine. But the driver returned safely. An air squadron also visited Freiburg, so often the target of airmen, and released bombs upon the railway station.
French airmen were extremely active on July 29, 1915. One flotilla bombarded the railroad between Ypres and Roulers, near Passchendaele, tearing up the track for several hundred yards. German bivouacs in the region of Longueval, west of Combles, also were shelled from the air, and German organizations on the Brimont Hill, near Rheims, served as targets for French birdmen. A military station on the railway at Chattel was shelled, and the station at Burthecourt in Lorraine damaged. Forty-five French machines dropped 103 bombs on munition factories and adjoining buildings at Pechelbronn, near Wissemburg.[Back to Contents]
PART III—THE WESTERN FRONT
CHAPTER V
SUMMARY OF FIRST YEAR'S OPERATIONS
The first anniversary of the war on the western front fell on August 2, 1915. It was on Tuesday, July 28, of the previous year that Count Berchtold, the Austro-Hungarian Foreign Minister, had pressed the button in "the powder magazine of Europe"—the Balkans—by declaring war on Serbia.
For two days the world looked on in breathless, wondering suspense. Then, like a series of titanic thunderbolts hurled in quick succession, mighty events shaped themselves with a violence and a rapidity that staggered the imagination.
On July 31, 1914, "a state of war" was proclaimed in Germany; the next day (August 1) that country declared war on Russia; on August 2, 1914, Germany delivered her ultimatum to Belgium and invaded both France and Luxemburg, following up these acts with a declaration of war against France on the 3d of the same month.
Before the sun had risen and set again there came the climax to that most sensational week: Great Britain had thrown her weight into the scales against the Teutonic Powers. This occurred on August 4, 1914, the same day that the German frontier force under General von Emmich came into contact with the Belgian pickets before Liege.
After thirty-six hours of fighting the southern forts were captured and the city fell into German hands on August 7, 1914. It was not until the 15th, however, that General Leman, the Belgian commander, was conquered in his last stronghold, the northern fort of Loncin. When that fell, the railway system of the Belgian plains lay open to the invaders. Leman's determined stand had delayed the German advance for at least a week, and afforded an extremely valuable respite for the unprepared French and British armies.
The first drafts of the British Expeditionary Force landed in France on August 16, 1914. On August 7, 1914, a French brigade from Belfort had crossed the frontier into Alsace and taken the towns of Altkirch and Mülhausen, which, however, they were unable to hold for more than three days. Between August 7 and August 15, 1914, large bodies of German cavalry with infantry supports crossed the Meuse between Liege and the Dutch frontier, acting as a screen for the main advance. The Belgian army, concentrated on the Dyle, scored some successes against the Germans at Haelen, Tirlemont, and Engherzee on the 12th and 13th, but after the fall of Fort Loncin the German advance guards fell back and the main German right under Von Kluck advanced toward Brussels. On the 19th the Belgians began to withdraw to the fortress of Antwerp. Brussels fell to the Germans on the 20th. Von Kluck turned toward the Sambre and Von Bülow advanced along the Meuse to Namur. On the opposite bank (the right) of the Meuse the Saxon army of Von Hausen moved against Namur and Dinant, while farther south the German Crown Prince and the Duke of Württemberg pushed their forces toward the French frontier. Meanwhile, General de Castelnau, commanding the French right, had seized most of the passes of the Vosges, overrun upper Alsace almost to the Rhine, and had reached Saarburg on the Metz-Strassburg railway. On August 20, 1914, the Germans attacked Namur, captured it on the 23d, and demolished the last forts on the 24th. This unexpected event placed the Allies in an extremely critical situation, which led to serious reverses. The British force on the left was in danger of being enveloped in Von Kluck's wheeling movement; the fall of Namur had turned the flank of the Fourth and Fifth French armies; the latter was defeated by Von Bülow at Charleroi on the 22d; the pressure exerted by the armies of the Duke of Württemberg and the crown prince also contributed to render inevitable an immediate retirement of the allied right and center. The French army that had invaded Lorraine—a grave strategical blunder—had also come to grief. The Bavarians from Metz had broken its left wing on the 20th and driven it back over the frontier. De Castelnau was fighting desperately for Nancy on a long front from Pont-à-Mousson down to St. Dié. On the 24th the British line fell back to the vicinity of Maubeuge, where Von Kluck attempted to close it in. Sir John French frustrated the plan by further retiring to a line running through Le Cateau and Landrecies, August 25, 1914. After a violent holding battle during two days the whole British front had fallen back to St. Quentin and the upper valley of the Oise.
It was General Joffre's plan to retreat to a position south of the Marne, where his reserves would be available, a movement which was successfully carried out by all parts of the allied line during the following week. By September 5, 1914, this line extended from the southeast of Paris, along the southern tributaries of the Marne, across the Champagne to a point south of Verdun. Beyond that, De Castelnau was still holding the heights in front of Nancy. The powerful German advance had forced the Allies back some hundred and thirty miles, almost to the shelter of the Paris fortifications. It seemed only a matter of hours to the fall of Paris when General Joffre began his counteroffensive on September 6, 1914. Attempting to pierce and envelop the allied left center, Von Kluck marched across the front of the British to strike at the Fifth French Army commanded by General d'Espérey, who had replaced Lanrezac after the Charleroi defeat. But the turn of the tide was at hand. The Sixth French Army from Paris, under General Manoury, fiercely attacked Von Kluck's rear guards on the Ourcq; Sir John French drove against the right of the main German advance; the Fifth and Ninth French armies held the front of Von Kluck and Von Bülow; the Fourth French Army south of Vitry resisted the piercing movement of the Duke of Württemberg, and the Third French Army (General Sarrail) checked the crown prince at Verdun, while De Castelnau at Nancy entered upon the final stage of the battle of Lorraine. The first great German offensive had failed in its purpose. By September 12, 1914, the whole German front was retreating northward. The Aisne plateau, where the Germans came to a halt, is considered one of the strongest defensive positions in Europe, and General Joffre soon realized that it could not be taken by direct assault. He therefore attempted to envelop the German right and extended his left wing—with a new army—up the valley of the Oise. Some desperate German counterattacks were met at Rheims and south of Verdun, but they achieved small success beyond creating a sharp salient in their line at St. Mihiel, where the invaders managed to cross the Meuse, General Sarrail defended Verdun with a field army in a wide circle of intrenchments, with the result that the crown prince was unable to bring the great howitzers within range of the fortress, and his army suffered a severe defeat in the Argonne.
The allied stand on the Marne and the resultant battle not only checked the German avalanche and saved Paris, but dislocated the fundamental principle of the whole German plan of campaign—to crush France speedily with one mighty blow and then deal with Russia.
On September 3, 1914, the Russians had already captured Lemberg—two days before the allied retreat from Mons came to a sudden halt on the Marne. On that same day, too, the French Government had been removed from Paris to Bordeaux in anticipation of the worst. Having secured the capital against immediate danger, General Joffre now began to extend his line for a great enveloping movement against the German right. He placed the new Tenth Army under Maud'huy north of De Castelnau's force, reaching almost to the Belgian frontier. The small British army under Sir John French moved north of that, and the new Eighth French Army, under General d'Urbal, was intended to fill the gap to the Channel. With remarkable flexibility the Germans initiated the movement with their right as fast as the French extended their left, and the whole strategy of both sides developed into a feverish race for the northern shore. Before General d'Urbal could reach his appointed sector, however, that "gap" had been filled by the remnants of the Belgian army, liberated after the fall of Antwerp on October 9, 1914. By a narrow margin the Allies had won the race, but were unable to carry out the intended offensive. Desperate conflicts raged for a month, but they succeeded in holding the gate to the Channel ports. The first battle of Ypres-Armentières opened on October 11, 1914, when the Germans attacked simultaneously at Ypres, Armentières, Arras, and La Bassée. As a victory at either of the two last-named places would have amply sufficed for the German purpose, this fourfold attack appears to be a rather curious division of energy. The passages at Arras and La Bassée were held by General Maud'huy and General Smith-Dorrien respectively. The former defended his position for the first three weeks in October when the German attacks weakened; the latter, with the British Second Corps, had reached the farthest point in the La Bassée position by October 19, 1914. Violent fighting occurred round this sector during the latter part of October, and, though compelled to yield ground occasionally, the British force prevented any serious German advance. In the early stage of the struggle the Belgian army and a brigade of French marines held the Yser line. A British squadron, operating from the Channel, broke the attack of the German right, and during the last week of October the Belgians held the middle crossings, with the assistance of part of the French Eighth Army. All immediate danger was removed from this section by October 31, 1914, after the Belgians had flooded the country and driven the Württembergers back at Ramscapelle.
Returning to Ypres, we have stated that the Germans attacked four different points in this region, on October 11, 1914. By the 20th, however, it became apparent that their main objective was the Ypres salient—neither the best nor the easiest route to the sea. What, then, was the motive underlying this particular phase of the German strategic plan? It would be pure presumption—taking that word at its worst meaning—to criticize the deep, long-headed calculations of the German war staff. A reason—and a good reason—there must have been. What the historian cannot explain he may, perhaps, be permitted to speculate upon in order to arrive at some working hypothesis. Hence, would it be considered an extravagant flight of fancy to assume that the German decision was influenced by the very simple fact that the British Expeditionary Force was concentrated in and around Ypres? Skillful stage management is useful even in the grim drama of war, and the defeat or elimination of the British forces in the first great battle of the war would indeed have produced a most sensational effect with almost incalculable results. Be that as it may, the first battle of Ypres has already been accorded its position in the British calendar as "the greatest fight in the history of our army." There is yet another distinction that battle can claim: it was the first mighty collision between Anglo-Saxon and Teuton in the history of mankind. They had fought shoulder to shoulder in the past—never face to face. French troops also took part in the battle; they consisted of territorials, some cavalry, and Dubois's Ninth Corps; but the heaviest blows were delivered with whole-hearted force and energy upon the British line. This remarkable fight lasted nearly a month. During its progress the Allies withstood some half a million German troops with a force that never exceeded 150,000 in number.
Before the last thunderous echoes of Ypres had melted away in space, dreary winter spread its mantle over the combatants with impartial severity. During the next three months the opposing forces settled down and heavily intrenched themselves and then began that warfare at present familiar to the world, resembling huge siege operations. The Allies were fighting for time—the Germans against it. The allied commanders aimed at wearing down the man-power of the enemy by a series of indecisive actions in which his losses should be disproportionally greater than their own.
The most important events of the winter campaign were the fight near La Bassée in December, 1914, where the British Indian Corps distinguished itself; the fighting at Givenchy in January and February, 1915; the battle at Soissons in January, 1915, where the French lost some ground; the long struggle in northern Champagne during February and March, 1915, where the French first made use of artillery on a grand scale; and some considerable actions in the neighborhood of Pont-à-Mousson and the southeast valleys of the Vosges.
In March, 1915, the Allies began what has been described as a tentative offensive. Between March 10 and March 12, 1915, the British advanced about a mile on a front of three miles at Neuve Chapelle, but the aim of the operations, which were directed against Lille, could not be achieved. Early in April the French carried the heights of Les Eparges, which commanded the main communications of the Woevre, an action that led to a general belief that the Allies' summer offensive would be aimed at Metz. But the plan—if it ever was entertained—was abandoned toward the end of April, 1915, when the critical situation of the Russians in Galicia made it imperative to create a diversion in another area, where the effects would be more quickly felt. Before the French attack could mature, however, the second battle of Ypres was developing.
The Germans began shelling Ypres on April 20, 1915, to prevent reenforcements from entering the salient, and in the evening of April 22, 1915, they made their first attack with poisonous gas. A French division lying between the canal and the Pilken road had the first experience of this new horror added to the methods of warfare. Much has been written in condemnation of employing poisonous gas, and the practice has been widely discussed from the "moral" and "humane" point of view. The Germans claim that the French used it first—a contention not supported by evidence. "On the general moral question," says Mr. John Buchan, the well-known English writer on military subjects, "it is foolish to dogmatize." He points out that all war is barbarous in essence, and that a man who died in torture from the effects of poison gas might have suffered equal agony from a shrapnel wound. Hence he draws the conclusion that the German innovation, if not particularly more barbarous than other weapons, was at least impolitic, since its employment raised a storm of indignation and exasperated the feelings of Germany's enemies. Be that as it may, the poison clouds proved very effective at Ypres during April and May, 1915. The French line was driven in and the left brigade of the Canadians on their right was forced back in a sharp angle. For the first five days the northern side of the salient was steadily pressed in by gas and artillery attacks. This, the second battle of Ypres, ended about May 24, 1915; it had lasted practically as long as the first battle, though the fighting had been less continuous. The Germans were meanwhile striving desperately to force a decision in Galicia and Poland, simultaneously fighting a long-range holding battle in the west with fewer men and more guns.
On May 10, 1915, began the great attack by the French in the Artois, aimed at securing Lens and the communications of the Scheldt valley. After violent artillery-fire preparations, the French center south of Carency was pushed forward a distance of three miles. In a few days they took the towns of Albain, Carency, Neuville St. Vaast, and most of Souchez, besides the whole plateau of Lorette. But the Germans had prepared a number of fortins, which had to be captured before any general advance could be made. This mode of warfare enables a numerically inferior force well supplied with ammunition to resist for a considerable time the most resolute attacks. The French army was still engaged in this operation when the first anniversary of the war dawned. The situation at the moment is summarized in a French official communiqué as follows: "There has been no great change on the western front for many months. Great battles have been fought, the casualties have been heavy on both sides, but territorial gains have been insignificant."[Back to Contents]