EFFECT OF BALKAN WARS
The events which occurred in the Turkish peninsula between October 1912, when the first Balkan war broke out, and August 1913, when the second was ended by the Treaty of Bucharest, were not without their bearing upon the general balance of power in Europe. Turkey had collapsed before the onset of the allied states of Montenegro, Servia, Bulgaria, and Greece, and this was a serious injury to German interests. The Ottoman Empire had been warmly suitored, over a long period of years, by the diplomacy of Berlin, with a view to co-operation in certain contingencies. On the other hand, the result of the second war—fomented by the intrigues of Vienna—in which Bulgaria was finally overpowered by the other three states, destroyed for the time being Slav solidarity, and thereby considerably relieved the apprehensions of Austria with regard to her southern frontier and recently annexed provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina.... Profit-and-loss accounts of this sort are impossible to work out upon an arithmetical basis, and perhaps the chief importance of such occurrences as these lies in the effect which they produce upon the nerves of the onlookers. On the whole—judging by the tone of diplomacy at the time—the Balkan series of events appeared to have raised greater anxieties in the Chancelleries of Germany and Austria than in any other quarter; though why this should have been so, it is difficult to understand.
Looking back at the Balkan struggle in the light of subsequent events, it appears to us now a great deal less remarkable for what it actually produced than for what it failed to produce. It failed to set Europe in a blaze, and yet it afforded far better opportunities for doing this than the Serajevo murders in June 1914.
The full inner history of the negotiations between the Great Powers, for six months prior to the Treaty of Bucharest, will be interesting reading, if it ever sees the light. If even one of them had chosen to work for war during this period, nothing could have kept the peace. If one or two of them had been apathetic, war must inevitably have come of itself. But even France—who at that time was showing signs of superficial excitement, and on that account was credited, not only in the German press, but in a section of our own, with chauvinistic designs—worked hard for peace. It is certain that Germany desired peace; many well-informed people indeed believed that at this time she desired peace more ardently than any other state. It is true that a few days before the Treaty of Bucharest was signed, Italy had been secretly sounded by Austria as to whether she would join with her two allies in making an attack on Servia; but the Italian reply being of a kind that took away all hope of securing the military assistance of that country in the proposed adventure, the Concert of Europe continued to perform the pacific symphony apparently in perfect accord.
GERMANY'S TWO DATES
The policy of Germany, in 1912 and 1913, to preserve peace, and her efforts—equally successful—in the following year to provoke war, were probably due to one and the same cause. Two dates from Germany's point of view were of supreme importance—the summer of 1914, when her new military preparations would be complete, and when the Kiel Canal—having been widened and deepened[[4]]—would be available for the passage of Dreadnoughts; the summer of 1916, by which date the French Army increases were due to take effect, and the Russian scheme of military reorganisation would have been carried through. From the point of view of Berlin and Vienna war could be waged to greatest advantage so soon as the first of these two dates had been reached. If, however, Italy, always a doubtful participator, could have been tempted by self-interest to make common cause with her allies in the summer of 1913, the certainty of her adherence would have turned the scales in favour of the earlier date. For Italy could put an army of 700,000 men into the field; and this no doubt would have more than compensated for the benefits which might have been lost by anticipating the ideal moment by a year.
[[1]] Germany took time by the forelock, and began to carry through the contemplated programme before disclosing the terms of the Army Bill to the legislature. Consequently her intentions were known in a general way to every Intelligence department in Europe, long before they were actually announced.
[[2]] In going through the memoranda upon which this chapter is based, I came across a paper written at the end of July 1913 by a retired soldier friend, in answer to a request on my part for certain technical information as to French and German preparations. On the margin of the document, which gives a very full and able analysis, he had added the following postscript as an expression of his personal opinion. "N.B.—Most Important: The German Bill takes immediate effect. The French only takes effect in 1916 because (1) the French are not going to retain the class which finishes its service this year with the colours; (2) comparatively few are fit for enrolment at twenty; (3) there has been great delay in Parliament ... A year from now will be the critical time. Germany will have had the full benefit from her Bill, whereas France will have a mass of young recruits still under instruction. The strain on officers will be tremendous in order to knock this mass of raw men into shape." It is rarely that a prophecy is fulfilled practically to a day.
[[3]] Mr. Haldane, the Secretary of State for War, in justifying this reduction explained that 'his infantry was in excess, the artillery was deficient.' He would rather not have cut off these nine battalions, "but he could not use them. He had four more than he could mobilise" (Auchterarder, December 29, 1906). In his view "the first step to doing anything for developing the national basis of the Army was to cut something off the Regular Forces" (Newcastle, September 15, 1906). "He did not think Compulsory Training would be adopted in this country until after England had been invaded once or twice" (London, December 1, 1911). The British, however, had the best reasons for feeling secure: they "were always a nation of splendid fighters. They were never ready, but they fought the better the less ready they were..." (Glasgow, January 6, 1912).
[[4]] On June 23, 1914, the Emperor William opened the new lock at the North Sea end of the Kiel Canal. On the following day he performed the same function at the Baltic end. The Times correspondent remarks that the Emperor's passage through the Canal on this occasion was of symbolical rather than practical significance, as on the one hand German Dreadnoughts had already used the widened passage experimentally, while on the other hand it would be a long time before the whole work was finished. He continues: "The extension works, which were begun in 1907, are, however, of vast importance, especially to the Navy. The Canal has been made two metres deeper, and has been doubled in breadth. The places at which large ships can pass one another have been increased in number, and at four of them Dreadnoughts can be turned. There are now four, instead of two, at each end, which means a great saving of time in getting a fleet through. Above all, the distance between Kiel and Wilhelmshaven for battleship purposes is reduced from more than 500 to only 80 nautical miles. The new locks at Brunsbüttel and Holtenau are the largest in the world."—The Times, June 25, 1914.