This check enabled the Russian armies to withdraw towards the San and take up the position shown upon the map (page [293]). There was now no fear of a rout, and they reached the new position in perfect order. So far all von Mackensen's efforts to roll them up had failed. He had won a great victory, it is true; in a fortnight he had pushed back Dmitrieff some eighty-five miles, and had taken large numbers of prisoners and much war material. He had loosed upon the Russians such a storm of fire as had never been known before in the history of the world, and, blasted and scorched, they had fallen back hurriedly with overwhelming numbers hard on their heels. They had suffered awful losses, but they had not been destroyed. Most armies under such terrible punishment would have broken into flying fragments, but the Russians showed all the dourness and fortitude of their race and managed to hold together. Their rearguards freely sacrificed themselves, that the army might make good its escape. It was unbroken and undefeated at the Wistok, and the latter part of its retreat to the San was slow and orderly. The German victory was thus matched by an equally great Russian achievement. On 12th May the Russian army, after passing through an agony that seemed to promise its total destruction, lay along the San with its face still to the foe.
While the Russians were retreating from the Wistok to the San, the Grand Duke Nicholas and his staff looked the facts fairly in the face. They knew that they were hopelessly outclassed by the Germans both in guns and in number of men, and it was idle to suppose that they could resist von Mackensen's terrible thunderstorm of shell until they were equally well supplied. If they gave battle to the foe they would be utterly wiped out. As a Russian soldier put it, "We have only one weapon, the living breast of the soldier." The Grand Duke finally decided to retreat, not for leagues, but for hundreds of miles. He would draw the Germans on and on until he led them into the very heart of Russia if need be. As the Germans followed him eastwards they would leave the railways behind them and be forced to move their monster guns and heavy loads of shell over country without railways and without good roads. Thousands of square miles of territory would have to be given up to the invader, but as he pushed eastward his strength would grow less and less, and the time would be gained for Russia to supply herself with the guns and munitions which she so sorely lacked. Then, at last, her hour would strike. She would be able to turn and rend the weakened foe.
A Night Scene before the City of Warsaw. An Engagement in Front of the doomed Capital.
(From the picture by Frédéric de Haenen. By permission of The Illustrated London News.)
"Night fighting," says a correspondent, "is one of the splendid spectacles of war. Flashing batteries, wavering lines of musketry and machine-gun fire, make a picture painted in silver and gold on a background of black. The moon shines behind the gray clouds, shedding a soft radiance just strong enough to shape the shadows. On the western horizon flash after flash springs out of the darkness; these are the distant German guns. Nearer to us the Russian batteries are firing, each piece cutting a red flash of flame into the darkness before its muzzle. Suddenly a blazing rocket shoots up into the heavens and bursts into a shower of silver stars. As they fall slowly, the country beneath is lighted in high relief. A long arm of searchlight shoots across the heavens. A line of sparks reveals a battalion of the advancing enemy."
Such was the Grand Duke's plan. He knew full well all that it involved. Przemysl and Lemberg, at whose capture joy bells had rung throughout all Russia, would have to be left behind. The great city of Warsaw, which had thrice defied von Hindenburg, must be abandoned. The line of the Vistula must be allowed to fall into German hands, and probably the German flag would wave above the great Polish fortresses; but if the armies could be saved, all might yet be well.
In our first volume (page 64) I told you how Napoleon, the greatest war lord that Europe has ever known, marched a great army into Russia in the year 1812, and by so doing rang his death knell. The Russians were now about to repeat the tactics of 1812, and observers in the West prophesied that the Kaiser would be led into the same trap and suffer the same fate. But we must remember that the conditions had changed in many respects since Napoleon's day. He failed chiefly because he could not obtain sufficient supplies. The country through which he advanced had been swept clear of everything but wood and water, and all the food and munitions that his armies needed had to be sent forward by horse-drawn wagons along tracks which frequently ended in morasses. When these wagons failed to reach the troops, the men starved. Nowadays every army is accompanied by engineers who can build roads and light railways very quickly, and so keep the advancing army in touch with its bases. For example, during the campaign which I am about to describe, a German general boasted that his men, who then lay within a hundred miles of Riga, were eating bread baked in Berlin the day before. He also said that his engineers could construct fifty miles of asphalted road in two days. Motor transport has largely superseded the horse, and long distances, given fair roads, can be covered very quickly. Thus you see that in our time Napoleon's great difficulty need not be fatal.
There was, however, much danger in pushing far "into the bowels of the land." As the German lines of communication grew longer and longer, supplies would take more and more time to reach the armies, and there would be more and more chances that the line might be impeded or cut. Thousands of men would have to be taken from the firing-line to hold the railways and roads along which the convoys travelled, and thus the attack would gradually lose force, and at last be unable to resist a vigorous onset by the enemy.
Now we must return to the San, where the Russian armies were lying ready to retreat when the word was given. From the map on page [293] you notice that the Russian lines bulged out in front of Przemysl. Ivanov was prepared to give up this fortress, but not until he had cleared it of everything that might be useful to the enemy. In order to gain time he fought a holding battle in the centre and struck hard on the flanks. On the morning of 15th May his right began a three days' battle, in which the Austrians were well beaten, and after losing 30,000 men had to fall back. The enemy was caught in the open and the Russians plied the bayonet with deadly effect. On the borders of Bukovina the Russian left also had a success, and the enemy was driven back as much as thirty miles. But in the centre, where Mackensen was advancing, a very different state of things prevailed. The salient round Przemysl was fiercely attacked in three places, and its sides were driven in until the neck was less than ten miles across. Attacks were also made at two places farther north. When the Russian line was pierced at these points, the Austro-Germans were able to swing southwards towards the main railway, and the days of Przemysl were numbered.