The Russians were too strong for him, and on Sunday, 27th September, von Hindenburg gave the order to retreat. He now realized that he could not cross the Niemen, and that even if he could, his success would not force the Russians to withdraw troops from Galicia. The retreat was a difficult matter; but von Hindenburg, as you know, was a master of marsh warfare. Only in the centre, where he had to cross the swampy country to the east and south-east of Suwalki, was he in difficulties.
Rennenkampf instantly followed him up, and by flinging his left well south towards the valley of the Bobr, endeavoured to cut off the German forces between Augustovo and the causeway leading to Suwalki. He had to push through the Forest of Augustovo, a region much like that in which von Hindenburg had destroyed Samsonov's army. Guided by the foresters of the district, his men slowly threaded the matted woods, and by 1st October had seized Augustovo. For two days there was a fierce rearguard action in the woods, and the Germans lost heavily in guns and prisoners. Rennenkampf claimed that 60,000 Germans had been killed, wounded, or captured; and if his estimate is correct, he had fully revenged Tannenberg. Von Hindenburg, however, managed to get the bulk of his force away, and by 9th October they were all back again in East Prussia, whither Rennenkampf could not follow them without the risk of being entrapped in the woods and lakes and marshes where Samsonov had suffered disaster in the last days of August.
"Three Emperors' Corner." Photo, Central News.
Here three empires meet—the German, Austrian and Russian—three empires that between them hold sway in Europe over more than 375 millions of people, Teutonic and Slav, and exercise authority over nearly 2½ million square miles of territory—about two-thirds of the whole continent. In the foreground is seen a portion of German Silesia, on the right is Austrian Galicia, and in the background Russian Poland. The broad river is the Prgemeza; the smaller river is a tributary which here separates Austria from Russia.
Von Hindenburg's great advance to the Niemen had failed. It had achieved nothing; and meanwhile, as we shall soon hear, the Russians were advancing towards Cracow, and were drawing nearer and nearer every day to Silesia. A great effort had now to be made to check them, and von Hindenburg was ordered southward to undertake the task.
Now let us return to the Russians in Galicia. In the third week of September 1914, Russian armies appeared before the two chief fortresses of Central Galicia—Jaroslav and Przemysl. Both these strongholds are on the river San, and a glance at the map on page [303] will show you that before the Russians could move either on Cracow or across the Carpathians into Hungary both of them must be captured. At one time the Austrians had meant to make Jaroslav a first-class fortress; but they had not finished the fortifications, and it was now defended by a strong circle of entrenchments and a number of redoubts on both banks of the river. Jaroslav was expected to offer a stubborn resistance, but it fell within three days. Przemysl, however, was a very much harder nut to crack. It stands in a strong natural position amidst the foothills of the Carpathians, and its forts and lines of defence were very strong indeed. For weeks it had been preparing for the impending siege. The "useless mouths" had been sent away; gangs of workmen had been busy strengthening all the weak points, and a large store of ammunition had been collected. The garrison numbered about 30,000 men. On 22nd September the Russians closed in on the place, and soon completely surrounded it. As the Russian commander was short of big siege guns, he determined to starve the place into surrender. It was known that the supply of food within the city was not large, and the fortress was expected to yield in a few weeks at most. It held out for fully six months.
Leaving an army to mask the fortress, the remainder of the Russian forces in Galicia pushed on towards Cracow, which I have already described in Chapter VIII. of this volume. Cracow stands, as you know, on the northern edge of the Carpathians, at a point where the Vistula is as broad as the Thames at Windsor. The hills on the north and south were strongly fortified, but the real defence of the city was the circle of deep entrenchments, pushed so far out from the town that the siege guns of the enemy could not get within range of it. While the Russians were advancing, the Austrian garrison of at least 100,000 men laboured night and day to make the fortified zone impregnable.
They knew—none better—that Cracow was the key-fortress of Eastern Europe. If it fell, the Russians would be able to advance both into Germany and into Austria. Forty miles west of Cracow they would be in Silesia, the largest and most important manufacturing area of Germany, and the seat of its chief coal and iron mines. One-quarter of all the coal mined in Germany comes from Silesia, and it has some of the richest zinc deposits in the world. Its chemical and textile manufactures are the most extensive in all the Fatherland, and it has well been called the German Lancashire. If the Russians could enter Silesia and begin to lay waste its crowded industrial towns, a blow would be struck at the very heart of Germany. Berlin, too, would be in peril, for a road to the capital would be opened along the river Oder and behind the line of frontier fortresses.