Do you think me very obstinate? I have not suppressed the final word in our retrospective controversy so that you should not think me better than I am.
Au revoir, in true friendship, your
Tisza.
Tisza was strongly opposed to the U-boat warfare, and only tolerated it from reasons of vis major, because we could not prevent the German military leaders from adopting the measure, and because he, and I too, were convinced that "not joining in" would have been of no advantage to us.
Not until very much later—in fact, not until after the war—did I learn from a reliable source that Germany, with an incomprehensible misunderstanding of the situation, had restricted the building of more U-boats during the war. The Secretary of State, Capelle, was approached by competent naval technical experts, who told him that, by stopping the building of all other vessels, a fivefold number of U-boats could be built. Capelle rejected the proposal on the pretext "that nobody would know what to do with so many U-boats when the war was at an end." Germany had, as mentioned, 100 submarines; had she possessed 500, she might have achieved her aims.
I only heard this in the winter of 1918, but it was from a source from which I invariably gleaned correct information.
Seldom has any military action called forth such indignation as the sinking, without warning, of enemy ships. And yet the observer who judges from an objective point of view must admit that the waging war on women and children was not begun by us, but by our enemies when they enforced the blockade. Millions have perished in the domains of the Central Powers through the blockade, and chiefly the poorest and weakest people—the greater part women and children—were the victims. If, to meet the argument, it be asserted that the Central Powers were as a besieged fortress, and that in 1870 the Germans starved Paris in similar fashion, there is certainly some truth in the argument. But it is just as true—as stated in the Note of March 5—that in a war on land no regard is ever paid to civilians who venture into the war zone, and that no reason is apparent why a war at sea should be subject to different moral conditions. When a town or village is within the range of battle, the fact has never prevented the artillery from acting in spite of the danger to the women and children. But in the present instance, the non-combatants of the enemy States who are in danger can easily escape it by not undertaking a sea voyage.
Since the débâcle in the winter of 1918, I have thoroughly discussed the matter with English friends of long standing, and found that their standpoint was—that it was not the U-boat warfare in itself that had roused the greatest indignation, but the cruel nature of the proceedings so opposed to international law. Also, the torpedoing of hospital ships by the Germans, and the firing on passengers seeking to escape, and so on. These accounts are flatly contradicted by the Germans, who, on their part, have terrible tales to tell of English brutality, as instanced by the Baralong episode.
There have, of course, been individual cases of shameful brutality in all the armies; but that such deeds were sanctioned or ordered by the German or English Supreme Commands I do not believe.
An inquiry by an international, but neutral, court would be the only means of bringing light to bear on the matter.