The mutineers' procession reached the central railway station about 7 P.M., and proceeded, its numbers increasing steadily, through the Holsteinstrasse to the Market Place. It passed through the Dänische Strasse and Brunswigerstrasse toward Feldstrasse, in which was situated the military prison where the Markgraf stokers were confined. The procession had by this time become a howling, whistling, singing mob, whose progress could be heard many blocks away. Passers-by were compelled to join the procession. The entrances to the Hospitalstrasse and to the Karlstrasse at the so-called Hoffnung, near the prison, were guarded by strong military forces, and the prison itself was protected by a machine-gun detachment. Firemen were also ready to turn their hoses on the mob.
The procession reached the Hoffnung and prepared to force its way into the Karlstrasse. The commander of the troops stationed there ordered the mob to halt. His order was disregarded. The troops fired a blind volley over the heads of the mutineers, who nevertheless forged steadily ahead. The next volley was poured into the ranks of the marchers. It was followed by shrieks of rage, by scattering shots from the mutineers and by some stone-throwing. There was a sharp conflict for two or three minutes, and then the mob, howling and cursing, scattered panic-stricken. [23] Eight of them lay dead on the street, and twenty-nine were wounded. The officer in command of the troops and one lieutenant were also fatally injured, the former by knife-thrusts and stones.
[ [23] In all the clashes that marked the subsequent course of the German revolution not one instance can be found where the enemies of authority failed to run like sheep before loyal troops and determined officers. The "martyrs of the revolution" were mainly killed by stray bullets or overtaken by bullets while they were running away.
An hour later the street was quiet, and the night passed without further disturbances. The city was strongly patrolled, but otherwise there was nothing to indicate that the curtain had gone up on the world's greatest and most tragic revolution.
The leaders of the mutineers spent most of Sunday night and Monday morning in conference. A Soldiers' Council was formed—the first in Germany. The military governor of Kiel issued a proclamation, calling upon the mutineers to formulate and present their demands. They complied. Their demands were: The release of all persons arrested for breach of discipline; recognition of the Soldiers' Council; abolishing of the duty to salute superiors; [24] officers and men to have the same rations; the proposed expedition of the fleet to be abandoned, and, in general, better treatment of the ships' crews. The governor accepted all these demands, and announcement was made to that effect by wireless to all ships in the Kiel squadron. The mutineers declared themselves satisfied, and promised to resume their duties, to obey orders and to preserve order in the city and board their ships.
[ [24] It is difficult to understand why Socialists attach such importance to this question. It will be remembered that the very first decree issued by Kerensky was his famous (and fatal) "Prikaz No. 1," abolishing the salute. The Socialists, it is true, hate authority as embodied in a state, yet they voluntarily submit to a party authority quite as rigid as that of Prussian militarism.
In circumstances at all approaching the normal this would have marked the end of the revolt. But all the circumstances were abnormal. The men of the navy had, indeed, suffered fewer actual privations and hardships than those of the land forces, but even they had been underfed. Their families, in common with all Germans at home, had endured bitter want, and had written thousands of complaining letters to their relatives afloat. [25] The Socialist contagion—particularly of the Independent brand—had affected wide circles among sailors and marines. Indeed, the chief field of operations of the Rühles, Haases, Cohns and their Russian helpers had been the navy, where idle hands invited the finding of mischief for them to do. The morale of the members of the navy had also, in common with the morale of the land troops and of the whole German people, been badly shaken by the reverses that began in July, 1918, and by the desertion of Germany by her allies.
[ [25] Complaining letters from home to the men in the trenches were early recognized by the authorities as a source of danger for the spirit of the troops.
In addition to and above all this there were two fatal factors: authority, the corner stone of all civilized governments, had been shaken, and the mutineers had learned their own strength. If horses were sentient beings with means of communicating their thoughts, and if all the horses of a certain community suddenly discovered that they were really immeasurably stronger than their masters, it would require no great effort of imagination to realize that few horses in that community would thereafter suffer themselves to be harnessed. The only ones that would submit would be a small number of especially intelligent animals who could look ahead to the winter, with deep snow covering the pastures, with no straw-bedded stalls and walls set up against the cold winds.
So it was in Kiel. The mutineers had made their first kill; they had tasted blood. From all the ships of the squadron they streamed into the city. Patrols, established to maintain order, began going over to the revolting seamen. The mutineers secured more arms and ammunition from the barracks at the shipyards and the soldiers stationed there joined them. In the afternoon (Monday) the mutineers joined for a giant demonstration. A procession numbering possibly twenty thousand sailors, marines and soldiers, with a band at the head, marched to the different civil and military prisons and lockups and released the prisoners, who joined the procession. The civil and military authorities of Kiel, gravely disquieted, had meanwhile communicated with the government at Berlin and asked for help. The government replied that it would send Conrad Haussmann and Gustav Noske. Haussmann, who had for many years been one of the leaders of the Clerical (Catholic) party in the Reichstag, was a member of Prince Max's cabinet. He was chosen as the government's official representative. Noske, who was later to demonstrate himself to be one of the few really able and forceful men of Germany, had been for some years a member of the Reichstag as Majority Socialist. A woodworker by trade, he had as a youth lifted himself out of the ruck of his party by energy, ambition, hard work and straightforwardness. He became a party secretary and later editor of a Socialist paper in Chemnitz. [26] Although not so widely known as many other Socialist leaders in the Reichstag, he nevertheless played a prominent part in his party's councils and was highly regarded and respected. He enjoyed also a wide popularity among members of the fleet, and it was confidently expected that he would be able to calm the unruly troublemakers and restore order.