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Title: World's War Events, Vol. II

Author: Various

Editor: Francis J. Reynolds
        Allen L. Churchill

Release Date: July 4, 2008 [EBook #25963]

Language: English

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PRESIDENT WILSON READING HIS WAR MESSAGE TO CONGRESS, APRIL 2, 1917

[1]

WORLD'S WAR
EVENTS

FRANCIS J. REYNOLDS

ALLEN L. CHURCHILL

VOLUME II

[2]

[3]

WORLD'S WAR
EVENTS

VOLUME II

BEGINNING WITH THE ATTACK AT VERDUN
EARLY IN 1916 THE STORY OF THE
WAR AND OF AMERICAN
AID IS CARRIED TO
THE CLOSE OF
1917

[4]
[5]

CONTENTS

[7]

THE BATTLE OF VERDUN

RAOUL BLANCHARD

The Battle of Verdun, which continued through from February 21, 1916, to the 16th of December, ranks next to the Battle of the Marne as the greatest drama of the world war. Like the Marne, it represents the checkmate of a supreme effort on the part of the Germans to end the war swiftly by a thunderstroke. It surpasses the Battle of the Marne by the length of the struggle, the fury with which it was carried on, the huge scale of the operations. No complete analysis of it, however, has yet been published—only fragmentary accounts, dealing with the beginning or with mere episodes. Neither in France nor in Germany, up to the present moment, has the whole story of the battle been told, describing its vicissitudes, and following step by step the development of the stirring drama. That is the task I have set myself here.

The year 1915 was rich in successes for the Germans. In the West, thanks to an energetic defensive, they had held firm against the Allies' onslaughts in Artois and in Champagne. Their offensive in the East was most fruitful. Galicia had been almost completely recovered, the kingdom of Poland occupied, Courland, Lithuania, and Volhynia invaded. To the South they had crushed Serbia's opposition, saved Turkey, and won over Bulgaria. These triumphs, however, had not brought them peace, for the heart and soul of the Allies lay, after all, in the West—in England and France.[8] The submarine campaign was counted on to keep England's hands tied; it remained, therefore, to attack and annihilate the French army. And so, in the autumn of 1915, preparations were begun on a huge scale for delivering a terrible blow in the West and dealing France the coup de grâce.

The determination with which the Germans followed out this plan and the reckless way in which they drew on their resources leave no doubt as to the importance the operation held for them. They staked everything on putting their adversaries out of the running by breaking through their lines, marching on Paris, and shattering the confidence of the French people. This much they themselves admitted. The German press, at the beginning of the battle, treated it as a matter of secondary import, whose object was to open up free communications between Metz and the troops in the Argonne; but the proportions of the combat soon gave the lie to such modest estimates, and in the excitement of the first days official utterances betrayed how great were the expectations.

On March 4 the Crown Prince urged his already over-taxed troops to make one supreme effort to "capture Verdun, the heart of France"; and General von Deimling announced to the 15th Army Corps that this would be the last battle of the war. At Berlin, travelers from neutral countries leaving for Paris by way of Switzerland were told that the Germans would get there first. The Kaiser himself, replying toward the end of February to the good wishes of his faithful province of Brandenburg, congratulated himself publicly on seeing his warriors of the 3d Army Corps about to carry "the most important stronghold of our principal enemy." It is plain, then, that the object was to take Verdun, win a decisive victory, and[9] start a tremendous onslaught which would bring the war to a triumphant close.

We should next examine the reasons prompting the Germans to select Verdun as the vital point, the nature of the scene of operations, and the manner in which the preparation was made.

Why did the Germans make their drive at Verdun, a powerful fortress defended by a complete system of detached outworks? Several reasons may be found for this. First of all, there were the strategic advantages of the operation. Ever since the Battle of the Marne and the German offensive against St. Mihiel, Verdun had formed a salient in the French front which was surrounded by the Germans on three sides,—northwest, east, and south,—and was consequently in greater peril than the rest of the French lines. Besides, Verdun was not far distant from Metz, the great German arsenal, the fountain-head for arms, food, and munitions. For the same reasons, the French defense of Verdun was made much harder because access to the city was commanded by the enemy. Of the two main railroads linking Verdun with France, the Lérouville line was cut off by the enemy at St. Mihiel; the second (leading through Châlons) was under ceaseless fire from the German artillery. There remained only a narrow-gauge road connecting Verdun and Bar-le-Duc. The fortress, then, was almost isolated.

For another reason, Verdun was too near, for the comfort of the Germans, to those immense deposits of iron ore in Lorraine which they have every intention of retaining after the war. The moral factor involved in the fall of Verdun was also immense. If the stronghold were captured, the French, who look on it as their chief bulwark in the East, would be greatly disheartened, whereas it would delight the[10] souls of the Germans, who had been counting on its seizure since the beginning of the war. They have not forgotten that the ancient Lotharingia, created by a treaty signed eleven centuries ago at Verdun, extended as far as the Meuse. Finally, it is probable that the German General Staff intended to profit by a certain slackness on the part of the French, who, placing too much confidence in the strength of the position and the favorable nature of the surrounding countryside, had made little effort to augment their defensive value.

This value, as a matter of fact, was great. The theatre of operations at Verdun offers far fewer inducements to an offensive than the plains of Artois, Picardy, or Champagne. The rolling ground, the vegetation, the distribution of the population, all present serious obstacles.

The relief-map of the region about Verdun shows the sharply marked division of two plateaus situated on either side of the river Meuse. The plateau which rises on the left bank, toward the Argonne, falls away on the side toward the Meuse in a deeply indented line of high but gently sloping bluffs, which include the Butte de Montfaucon, Hill 304, and the heights of Esnes and Montzéville. Fragments of this plateau, separated from the main mass by the action of watercourses, are scattered in long ridges over the space included between the line of bluffs and the Meuse: the two hills of Le Mont Homme (295 metres), the Côte de l'Oie, and, farther to the South, the ridge of Bois Bourrus and Marre. To the east of the river, the country is still more rugged. The plateau on this bank rises abruptly, and terminates at the plain of the Woëvre in the cliffs of the Côtes-de-Meuse, which tower 100 metres over the plain. The brooks which flow[11] down to the Woëvre or to the Meuse have worn the cliffs and the plateau into a great number of hillocks called côtes: the Côte du Talon, Côte du Poivre, Côte de Froideterre, and the rest. The ravines separating these côtes are deep and long: those of Vaux, Haudromont, and Fleury cut into the very heart of the plateau, leaving between them merely narrow ridges of land, easily to be defended.

These natural defenses of the country are strengthened by the nature of the vegetation. On the rather sterile calcareous soil of the two plateaus the woods are thick and numerous. To the west, the approaches of Hill 304 are covered by the forest of Avocourt. On the east, long wooded stretches—the woods of Haumont, Caures, Wavrille, Herbebois, la Vauche, Haudromont, Hardaumont, la Caillette, and others—cover the narrow ridges of land and dominate the upper slopes of the ravines. The villages, often perched on the highest points of land, as their names ending in mont indicate, are easily transformed into small fortresses; such are Haumont, Beaumont, Louvemont, Douaumont. Others follow the watercourses, making it easier to defend them—Malancourt, Béthincourt and Cumières, to the west of the Meuse; Vaux to the east.

These hills, then, as well as the ravines, the woods, and the favorably placed villages, all facilitated the defense of the countryside. On the other hand, the assailants had one great advantage: the French positions were cut in two by the valley of the Meuse, one kilometre wide and quite deep, which, owing to swampy bottom-lands, could not be crossed except by the bridges of Verdun. The French troops on the right bank had therefore to fight with a river at their backs, thus imperiling their retreat. A grave danger, this, in the face of an enemy determined to take full advantage of[12] the circumstance by attacking with undreamed-of violence.

The German preparation was, from the start, formidable and painstaking. It was probably under way by the end of October, 1915, for at that time the troops selected to deliver the first crushing attack were withdrawn from the front and sent into training. Four months were thus set aside for this purpose. To make the decisive attack, the Germans made selection from four of their crack army corps, the 18th active, the 7th reserve, the 15th active (the Mühlhausen corps), and the 3d active, composed of Brandenburgers.

These troops were sent to the interior to undergo special preparation. In addition to these 80,000 or 100,000 men, who were appointed to bear the brunt of the assault, the operation was to be supported by the Crown Prince's army on the right and by that of General von Strautz on the left—300,000 men more. Immense masses of artillery were gathered together to blast open the way; fourteen lines of railroad brought together from every direction the streams of arms and munitions. Heavy artillery was transported from the Russian and Serbian fronts. No light pieces were used in this operation—in the beginning, at any rate; only guns of large calibre, exceeding 200 millimetres, many of 370 and 420 millimetres.

The battle plans were based on the offensive power of the heavy artillery. The new formula was to run, "The artillery attacks, the infantry takes possession." In other words, a terrible bombardment was to play over every square yard of the terrain to be captured; when it was decided that the pulverization had been sufficient, a scouting-party of infantry would be sent out to look the situation over; behind them would come the pioneers, and then the first wave of the assault. In case the enemy[13] still resisted, the infantry would retire and leave the field once more to the artillery.

The point chosen for the attack was the plateau on the right bank of the Meuse. The Germans would thus avoid the obstacle of the cliffs of Côtes de Meuse, and, by seizing the ridges and passing around the ravines, they could drive down on Douaumont, which dominates the entire region, and from there fall on Verdun and capture the bridges. At the same time, the German right wing would assault the French positions on the left bank of the Meuse; the left wing would complete the encircling movement, and the entire French army of Verdun, driven back to the river and attacked from the rear, would be captured or destroyed.

The Battle of Verdun lasted no less than ten months—from February 21 to December 16. First of all, came the formidable German attack, with its harvest of success during the first few days of the frontal drive, which was soon checked and forced to wear itself out in fruitless flank attacks, kept up until April 9. After this date the German programme became more modest: they merely wished to hold at Verdun sufficient French troops to forestall an offensive at some other point. This was the period of German "fixation," lasting from April to the middle of July. It then became the object of the French to hold the German forces and prevent transfer to the Somme. French "fixation," ended in the successes of October and December.

The first German onslaught was the most intense and critical moment of the battle. The violent frontal attack on the plateau east of the Meuse, magnificently executed, at first carried all before it. The commanders at Verdun had shown a lack of foresight. There were too few trenches, too few cannon, too few troops. The soldiers had had too little experience[14] in the field, and it was their task to face the most terrific attack ever known.

On the morning of February 21 the German artillery opened up a fire of infernal intensity. This artillery had been brought up in undreamed-of quantities. French aviators who flew over the enemy positions located so many batteries that they gave up marking them on their maps; the number was too great. The forest of Grémilly, northeast of the point of attack, was just a great cloud shot through with lightning-flashes. A deluge of shells fell on the French positions, annihilating the first line, attacking the batteries and finding their mark as far back as the city of Verdun. At five o'clock in the afternoon the first waves of infantry assaulted and carried the advanced French positions in the woods of Haumont and Caures. On the 22d the French left was driven back about four kilometres.

The following day a terrible engagement took place along the entire line of attack, resulting toward evening in the retreat of both French wings; on the left Samognieux was taken by the Germans; on the right they occupied the strong position of Herbebois.

The situation developed rapidly on the 24th. The Germans enveloped the French centre, which formed a salient; at two in the afternoon they captured the important central position of Beaumont, and by nightfall had reached Louvemont and La Vauche forest, gathering in many prisoners. On the morning of the 25th the enemy stormed Bezonvaux, and entered the fort of Douaumont, already evacuated.

[15]

FIRST ATTACK ON VERDUN

In less than five days the assaulting troops sent forward over the plateau had penetrated the French positions to a depth of eight kilometres, and were masters of the most important elements of the defense of the fortress. Verdun and its bridges were only seven kilometres[16] distant. The commander of the fortified region himself proposed to evacuate the whole right bank of the Meuse; the troops established in the Woëvre were already falling back toward the bluffs of Côtes de Meuse. Most luckily, on this same day there arrived at Verdun some men of resource, together with substantial reinforcements. General de Castelnau, Chief of the General Staff, ordered the troops on the right bank to hold out at all costs. And on the evening of the 25th General Pétain took over the command of the entire sector. The Zouaves, on the left bank, were standing firm as rocks on the Côtes du Poivre, which cuts off access from the valley to Verdun. During this time the Germans, pouring forward from Douaumont, had already reached the Côte de Froideterre, and the French artillerymen, out-flanked, poured their fire into the gray masses as though with rifles. It was at this moment that the 39th division of the famous 20th French Army Corps of Nancy met the enemy in the open, and, after furious hand-to-hand fighting, broke the backbone of the attack.

That was the end of it. The German tidal wave could go no farther. There were fierce struggles for several days longer, but all in vain. Starting on the 26th, five French counter-attacks drove back the enemy to a point just north of the fort of Douaumont, and recaptured the village of the same name. For three days the German attacking forces tried unsuccessfully to force these positions; their losses were terrible, and already they had to call in a division of reinforcements. After two days of quiet the contest began again at Douaumont, which was attacked by an entire army corps; the 4th of March found the village again in German hands. The impetus of the great blow had been broken, however, after five days of success, the attack had fallen flat.[17]

Were the Germans then to renounce Verdun? After such vast preparations, after such great losses, after having roused such high hopes, this seemed impossible to the leaders of the German army. The frontal drive was to have been followed up by the attack of the wings, and it was now planned to carrying this out with the assistance of the Crown Prince's army, which was still intact. In this way the scheme so judiciously arranged would be accomplished in the appointed manner. Instead of adding the finishing touch to the victory, however, these wings now had the task of winning it completely—and the difference is no small one.

These flank attacks were delivered for over a month (March 6-April 9) on both sides of the river simultaneously, with an intensity and power which recalled the first days of the battle. But the French were now on their guard. They had received great reinforcements of artillery, and the nimble "75's," thanks to their speed and accuracy, barred off the positions under attack by a terrible curtain of fire. Moreover, their infantry contrived to pass through the enemy's barrage-fire, wait calmly until the assaulting infantry were within 30 metres of them, and then let loose the rapid-fire guns. They were also commanded by energetic and brilliant chiefs: General Pétain, who offset the insufficient railroad communications with the rear by putting in motion a great stream of more than 40,000 motor trucks, all traveling on strict schedule time; and General Nivelle, who directed operations on the right bank of the river, before taking command of the Army of Verdun. The German successes of the first days were not duplicated.

These new attacks began on the left of the Meuse. The Germans tried to turn the first line of the French defense by working down along the river, and then capture the second[18] line. On March 6 two divisions stormed the villages of Forges and Regnéville, and attacked the woods of Corbeaux on the Côte de l'Oie, which they captured on the 10th. After several days of preparation, they fell suddenly upon one of the important elements of the second line, the hill of Le Mort Homme, but failed to carry it (March 14-16). Repulsed on the right, they tried the left. On March 20 a body of picked troops just back from the Russian front—the 11th Bavarian Division—stormed the French positions in the wood of Avocourt and moved on to Hill 304, where they obtained foothold for a short time before being driven back with losses of from 50 to 60 per cent of their effectives.

At the same time the Germans were furiously assaulting the positions of the French right wing east of the Meuse. From the 8th to the 10th of March the Crown Prince brought forward again the troops which had survived the ordeal of the first days, and added to them the fresh forces of the 5th Reserve Corps. The action developed along the Côte du Poivre, especially east of Douaumont, where it was directed against the village and fort of Vaux. The results were negative, except for a slight gain in the woods of Hardaumont. The 3d Corps had lost 22,000 men since the 21st of February—that is, almost its entire original strength. The 5th Corps was simply massacred on the slopes of Vaux, without being able to reach the fort. New attempts against this position, on March 16 and 18, were no more fruitful. The battle of the right wing, then, was also lost.

The Germans hung on grimly. One last effort remained to be made. After a lull of six days (March 22-28) savage fighting started again on both sides of the river. On the right bank, from March 31 to April 2, the Germans[19] got a foothold in the ravine of Vaux and along its slopes; but the French dislodged them the next day, inflicting great damage, and drove them back to Douaumont.

Their greatest effort was made on the left bank. Here the French took back the woods of Avocourt; from March 30 to the 8th of April, however, the Germans succeeded in breaking into their adversaries' first line, and on April 9, a sunny Sabbath-day, they delivered an attack against the entire second line, along a front of 11 kilometres, from Avocourt to the Meuse. There was terrific fighting, the heaviest that had taken place since February 26, and a worthy sequel to the original frontal attack. The artillery preparation was long and searching. The hill of Le Mort Homme, said an eye-witness, smoked like a volcano with innumerable craters. The assault was launched at noon, with five divisions, and in two hours it had been shattered. New attacks followed, but less orderly, less numerous, and more listless, until sundown. The checkmate was complete. "The 9th of April," said General Pétain to his troops, "is a day full of glory for your arms. The fierce assaults of the Crown Prince's soldiers have everywhere been thrown back. Infantry, artillery, sappers, and aviators of the Second Army have vied with one another in heroism. Courage, men: on les aura!"

And, indeed, this great attack of April 9, was the last general effort made by the German troops to carry out the programme of February—to capture Verdun and wipe out the French army which defended it. They had to give in. The French were on their guard now; they had artillery, munitions, and men. The defenders began to act as vigorously as the attackers; they took the offensive, recaptured the woods of La Caillette, and occupied the trenches before Le Mort Homme. The German plans were[20] ruined. Some other scheme had to be thought out.

Instead of employing only eight divisions of excellent troops, as originally planned, the Germans had little by little cast into the fiery furnace thirty divisions. This enormous sacrifice could not be allowed to count for nothing. The German High Command therefore decided to assign a less pretentious object to the abortive enterprise. The Crown Prince's offensive had fallen flat; but, at all events, it might succeed in preventing a French offensive. For this reason it was necessary that Verdun should remain a sore spot, a continually menaced sector, where the French would be obliged to send a steady stream of men, material, and munitions. It was hinted then in all the German papers that the struggle at Verdun was a battle of attrition, which would wear down the strength of the French by slow degrees. There was no talk now of thunderstrokes; it was all "the siege of Verdun." This time they expressed the true purpose of the German General Staff; the struggle which followed the fight of April 9, now took the character of a battle of fixation, in which the Germans tried to hold their adversaries' strongest units at Verdun and prevent their being transferred elsewhere. This state of affairs lasted from mid-April to well into July, when the progress of the Somme offensive showed the Germans that their efforts had been unavailing.

It is true that during this new phase of the battle the offensive vigor of the Germans and their procedure in attacking were still formidable.

Their artillery continued to perform prodigies. The medium-calibre pieces had now come into action, particularly the 150 mm. guns, with their amazing mobility of fire,[21] which shelled the French first line, as well as their communications and batteries, with lightning speed. This storm of artillery continued night and day; it was the relentless, crushing continuity of the fire which exhausted the adversary and made the Battle of Verdun a hell on earth. There was one important difference, however: the infantry attacks now took place over restricted areas, which were rarely more than two kilometres in extent. The struggle was continual, but disconnected. Besides, it was rarely in progress on both sides of the river at once. Until the end of May the Germans did their worst on the left; then the French activities brought them back to the right side, and there they attacked with fury until mid-July.

The end of April was a period of recuperation for the Germans. They were still suffering from the confusion caused by their set-backs of March, and especially of April 9. Only two attempts at an offensive were made—one on the Côte du Poivre (April 18) and one on the front south of Douaumont. Both were repulsed with great losses. The French, in turn, attacked on the 15th of April near Douaumont, on the 28th north of Le Mort Homme. It was not until May that the new German tactics were revealed: vigorous, but partial, attacks, directed now against one point, now against another.

On May 4 there began a terrible artillery preparation, directed against Hill 304. This was followed by attacks of infantry, which surged up the shell-blasted slopes, first to the northwest, then north, and finally northeast. The attack of the 7th was made by three divisions of fresh troops which had not previously been in action before Verdun. No gains were secured. Every foot of ground taken in the first rush was recaptured by French counter-attacks.[22] During the night of the 18th a savage onslaught was made against the woods of Avocourt, without the least success. On the 20th and 21st, three divisions were hurled against Le Mort Homme, which they finally took; but they could go no farther. The 23d and 24th were terrible days. The Germans stormed the village of Cumières; their advance guard penetrated as far as Chattancourt. On the 26th, however, the French were again in possession of Cumières and the slopes of Le Mort Homme; and if the Germans, by means of violent counter-attacks, were able to get a fresh foothold in the ruins of Cumières, they made no attempt to progress farther. The battles of the left river-bank were now over; on this side of the Meuse there were to be only unimportant local engagements and the usual artillery fire.

This shift of the German offensive activity from the left side of the Meuse to the right is explained by the activity shown at the same time in this sector by the French. The French command was not deceived by the German tactics; they intended to husband their strength for the future Somme offensive. For them Verdun was a sacrificial sector to which they sent, from now on, few men, scant munitions, and only artillery of the older type. Their object was only to hold firm, at all costs. However, the generals in charge of this thankless task, Pétain and Nivelle, decided that the best defensive plan consisted in attacking the enemy. To carry this out, they selected a soldier bronzed on the battlefields of Central Africa, the Soudan, and Morocco, General Mangin, who commanded the 5th Division and had already played a distinguished part in the struggle for Vaux, in March. On May 21 Mangin's division attacked on the right bank of the Meuse and occupied the quarries of Haudromont; on the 22d it stormed the German lines for a length[23] of two kilometres, and took the fort of Douaumont with the exception of one salient.

The Germans replied to this with the greatest energy; for two days and nights the battle raged round the ruins of the fort. Finally, on the night of the 24th, two new Bavarian divisions succeeded in getting a footing in this position, to which the immediate approaches were held by the French. This vigorous effort alarmed the enemy, and from now on, until the middle of July, all their strength was focused on the right bank of the river.

This contest of the right bank began on May 31. It is, perhaps the bloodiest, the most terrible, chapter of all the operations before Verdun; for the Germans had determined to capture methodically, one by one, all the French positions, and get to the city. The first stake of this game was the possession of the fort of Vaux. Access to it was cut off from the French by a barrage-fire of unprecedented intensity; at the same time an assault was made against the trenches flanking the fort, and also against the defenses of the Fumin woods. On June 4 the enemy reached the superstructure of the fort and took possession, showering down hand-grenades and asphyxiating gas on the garrison, which was shut up in the casemates. After a heroic resistance the defenders succumbed to thirst and surrendered on June 7.

Now that Vaux was captured, the German activity was directed against the ruins of the small fort of Thiaumont, which blocks the way to the Côte de Froideterre, and against the village of Fleury, dominating the mouth of a ravine leading to the Meuse. From June 8 to 20, terrible fighting won for the Germans the possession of Thiaumont; on the 23d, six divisions, representing a total of at least 70,000 men, were hurled against Fleury, which they held from the 23d to the 26th. The French,[24] undaunted, returned to the charge. On August 30 they reoccupied Thiaumont, lost it at half-past three of the same day, recaptured it at half-past four, and were again driven out two days later. However, they remained close to the redoubt and the village.

The Germans then turned south, against the fortifications which dominated the ridges and ravines. There, on a hillock, stands the fort of Souville, at approximately the same elevation as Douaumont. On July 3, they captured the battery of Damloup, to the east; on the 12th, after insignificant fighting, they sent forward a huge mass of troops which got as far as the fort and battery of L'Hôpital. A counterattack drove them away again, but they dug themselves in about 800 metres away.

After all, what had they accomplished? For twelve days they had been confronted with the uselessness of these bloody sacrifices. Verdun was out of reach; the offensive of the Somme was under way, and the French stood before the gates of Péronne. Decidedly, the Battle of Verdun was lost. Neither the onslaught of the first period nor the battles of fixation had brought about the desired end. It now became impossible to squander on this field of death the munitions and troops which the German army needed desperately at Péronne and Bapaume. The leaders of the German General Staff accepted the situation. Verdun held no further interest for them.

Verdun, however, continued to be of great interest to the French. In the first place, they could not endure seeing the enemy intrenched five kilometres away from the coveted city. Moreover, it was most important for them to prevent the Germans from weakening the Verdun front and transferring their men and guns to the Somme. The French troops, therefore, were to take the initiative out of the hands of[25] the Germans and inaugurate, in their turn, a battle of fixation. This new situation presented two phases: in July and August the French were satisfied to worry the enemy with small forces and to oblige them to fight; in October and December General Nivelle, well supplied with troops and material, was able to strike two vigorous blows which took back from the Germans the larger part of all the territory they had won since February 21.

From July 15 to September 15, furious fighting was in progress on the slopes of the plateau stretching from Thiaumont to Damloup. This time, however, it was the French who attacked savagely, who captured ground, and who took prisoners. So impetuous were they that their adversaries, who asked for nothing but quiet, were obliged to be constantly on their guard and deliver costly counter-attacks.

The contest raged most bitterly over the ruins of Thiaumont and Fleury. On the 15th of July the Zouaves broke into the southern part of the village, only to be driven out again. However, on the 19th and 20th the French freed Souville, and drew near to Fleury; from the 20th to the 26th they forged ahead step by step, taking 800 prisoners. A general attack, delivered on August 3, carried the fort of Thiaumont and the village of Fleury, with 1500 prisoners. The Germans reacted violently; the 4th of August they reoccupied Fleury, a part of which was taken back by the French that same evening. From the 5th to the 9th the struggle went on ceaselessly, night and day, in the ruins of the village. During this time the adversaries took and retook Thiaumont, which the Germans held after the 8th. But on the 10th the Colonial regiment from Morocco reached Fleury, carefully prepared the assault, delivered it on the 17th, and captured the northern and southern portions of the village,[26] encircling the central part, which they occupied on the 18th. From this day Fleury remained in French hands. The German counter-assaults of the 18th, 19th, and 20th of August were fruitless; the Moroccan Colonials held their conquest firmly.

On the 24th the French began to advance east of Fleury, in spite of incessant attacks which grew more intense on the 28th. Three hundred prisoners were taken between Fleury and Thiaumont on September 3, and 300 more fell into their hands in the woods of Vaux-Chapître. On the 9th they took 300 more before Fleury.

It may be seen that the French troops had thoroughly carried out the programme assigned to them of attacking the enemy relentlessly, obliging him to counter-attack, and holding him at Verdun. But the High Command was to surpass itself. By means of sharp attacks, it proposed to carry the strong positions which the Germans had dearly bought, from February to July, at the price of five months of terrible effort. This new plan was destined to be accomplished on October 24 and December 15.

Verdun was no longer looked on by the French as a "sacrificial sector." To this attack of October 24, destined to establish once for all the superiority of the soldier of France, it was determined to consecrate all the time and all the energy that were found necessary. A force of artillery which General Nivelle himself declared to be of exceptional strength was brought into position—no old-fashioned ordnance this time, but magnificent new pieces, among them long-range guns of 400 millimetres calibre. The Germans had fifteen divisions on the Verdun front, but the French command judged it sufficient to make the attack with three divisions, which advanced along a front of seven kilometres. These, however, were[27] made up of excellent troops, withdrawn from service in the first lines and trained for several weeks, who knew every inch of the ground. General Mangin was their commander.

The French artillery opened fire on October 21, by hammering away at the enemy's positions. A feint attack forced the Germans to reveal the location of their batteries, more than 130 of which were discovered and silenced. At 11.40 a.m., October 24, the assault started in the fog. The troops advanced on the run, preceded by a barrage-fire. On the left, the objective points were reached at 2.45 p.m., and the village of Douaumont captured. The fort was stormed at 3 o'clock by the Moroccan Colonials, and the few Germans who held out there surrendered when night came on. On the right, the woods surrounding Vaux were rushed with lightning speed. The battery of Damloup was taken by assault. Vaux alone resisted. In order to reduce it, the artillery preparation was renewed from October 28 to November 2, and the Germans evacuated the fort without fighting on the morning of the 2d. As they retreated, the French occupied the villages of Vaux and Damloup, at the foot of the côtes.

Thus the attack on Douaumont and Vaux resulted in a real victory, attested to by the reoccupation of all the ground lost since the 25th of February, the capture of 15 cannon and more than 6000 prisoners. This, too, despite the orders found on German prisoners bidding them to "hold out at all cost" (25th Division), and to "make a desperate defense" (von Lochow). The French command, encouraged by this success, decided to do still better and to push on farther to the northeast.

The operations of December 15 were more difficult. They were directed against a zone occupied by the enemy for more than nine[28] months, during which time he had constructed a great network of communication trenches, field-railways, dug-outs built into the hillsides, forts, and redoubts. Moreover, the French attacks had to start from unfavorable ground, where ceaseless fighting had been in progress since the end of February, where the soil, pounded by millions of projectiles, had been reduced to a sort of volcanic ash, transformed by the rain into a mass of sticky mud in which men had been swallowed up bodily. Two whole divisions were needed to construct twenty-five kilometres of roads and ten kilometres of railway, make dug-outs and trenches, and bring the artillery up into position. All was ready in five weeks; but the Germans, finding out what was in preparation, had provided formidable means of defense.

The front to be attacked was held by five German divisions. Four others were held in reserve at the rear. On the French side, General Mangin had four divisions, three of which were composed of picked men, veterans of Verdun. The artillery preparation, made chiefly by pieces of 220, 274, and 370 mm., lasted for three full days. The assault was let loose on December 15, at 10 a.m.; on the left the French objectives were reached by noon; the whole spur of Hardaumont on the right was swiftly captured, and only a part of the German centre still resisted, east of Bezonvaux. This was reduced the next day. The Côte du Poivre was taken entire; Vacherauville, Louvemont, Bezonvaux as well. The front was now three kilometres from the fort of Douaumont. Over 11,000 prisoners were taken by the French, and 115 cannon. For a whole day their reconnoitring parties were able to advance in front of the new lines, destroying batteries and bringing in prisoners, without encountering any serious resistance.[29]

The success was undeniable. As a reply to the German peace proposals of December 12, the Battle of Verdun ended as a real victory; and this magnificent operation, in which the French had shown such superiority in infantry and artillery, seemed to be a pledge of future triumphs.

The conclusion is easily reached. In February and March Germany wished to end the war by crushing the French army at Verdun. She failed utterly. Then, from April to July, she wished to exhaust French military resources by a battle of fixation. Again she failed. The Somme offensive was the offspring of Verdun. Later on, from July to December, she was not able to elude the grasp of the French, and the last engagements, together with the vain struggles of the Germans for six months, showed to what extent General Nivelle's men had won the upper hand.

The Battle of Verdun, beginning as a brilliant German offensive, ended as an offensive victory for the French. And so this terrible drama is an epitome of the whole great war: a brief term of success for the Germans at the start, due to a tremendous preparation which took careless adversaries by surprise—terrible and agonizing first moments, soon offset by energy, heroism, and the spirit of sacrifice; and finally, victory for the Soldiers of Right.

On May 31st, 1916, there was fought in the North Sea off Jutland, the most important naval battle of the Great War. While the battle was undecisive in some of the results attained, it was an English victory, in that the Germans suffered greater losses and were forced to flee. The narrative of this battle which follows is by the Admiral of the British Fleet.

[30]

THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND
BANK

ADMIRAL SIR JOHN JELLICOE'S OFFICIAL DISPATCH

The German High Sea Fleet was brought to action on 31st May, 1916, to the westward of the Jutland Bank, off the coast of Denmark.

The ships of the Grand Fleet, in pursuance of the general policy of periodical sweeps through the North Sea, had left its bases on the previous day, in accordance with instructions issued by me.

In the early afternoon of Wednesday, 31st May, the 1st and 2nd Battle-cruiser Squadrons, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Light-cruiser Squadrons, and destroyers from the 1st, 9th, 10th, and 13th Flotillas, supported by the 5th Battle Squadron, were, in accordance with my directions, scouting to the southward of the Battle Fleet, which was accompanied by the 3rd Battle-cruiser Squadron, 1st and 2nd Cruiser Squadrons, 4th Light-cruiser Squadron, 4th, 11th, and 12th Flotillas.

The junction of the Battle Fleet with the scouting force after the enemy had been sighted was delayed owing to the southerly course steered by our advanced force during the first hour after commencing their action with the enemy battle-cruisers. This was, of course, unavoidable, as had our battle-cruisers not followed the enemy to the southward the main fleets would never have been in contact.

The Battle-cruiser Fleet, gallantly led by[31] Vice-Admiral Sir David Beatty, K.C.B., M.V.O., D.S.O., and admirably supported by the ships of the Fifth Battle Squadron under Rear-Admiral Hugh Evan-Thomas, M.V.O., fought an action under, at times, disadvantageous conditions, especially in regard to light, in a manner that was in keeping with the best traditions of the service.

The following extracts from the report of Sir David Beatty give the course of events before the Battle Fleet came upon the scene:

"At 2.20 p.m. reports were received from Galatea (Commodore Edwyn S. Alexander-Sinclair, M.V.O., A.D.C.), indicating the presence of enemy vessels. The direction of advance was immediately altered to SSE., the course for Horn Reef, so as to place my force between the enemy and his base.

"At 2.35 p.m. a considerable amount of smoke was sighted to the eastward. This made it clear that the enemy was to the northward and eastward, and that it would be impossible for him to round the Horn Reef without being brought to action. Course was accordingly altered to the eastward and subsequently to north-eastward, the enemy being sighted at 3.31 p.m. Their force consisted of five battle-cruisers.

"After the first report of the enemy, the 1st and 3rd Light-cruiser Squadrons changed their direction, and, without waiting for orders, spread to the east, thereby forming a screen in advance of the Battle-cruiser Squadrons and 5th Battle Squadron by the time we had hauled up to the course of approach. They engaged enemy light-cruisers at long range. In the meantime the 2nd Light-cruiser Squadron had come in at high speed, and was able to take station ahead of the battle-cruisers by the time we turned to ESE., the course on which we first engaged the enemy. In this respect the[32] work of the Light-cruiser Squadrons was excellent, and of great value.

"From a report from Galatea at 2.25 p.m. it was evident that the enemy force was considerable, and not merely an isolated unit of light-cruisers, so at 2.45 p.m. I ordered Engadine to send up a seaplane and scout to NNE. This order was carried out very quickly, and by 3.8 p.m. a seaplane was well under way; her first reports of the enemy were received in Engadine about 3.30 p.m. Owing to clouds it was necessary to fly very low, and in order to identify four enemy light-cruisers the seaplane had to fly at a height of 900 feet within 3,000 yards of them, the light-cruisers opening fire on her with every gun that would bear.

"At 3.30 p.m. I increased speed to 25 knots, and formed line of battle, the 2nd Battle-cruiser Squadron forming astern of the 1st Battle-cruiser Squadron, with destroyers of the 13th and 9th Flotillas taking station ahead. I turned to ESE., slightly converging on the enemy, who were now at a range of 23,000 yards, and formed the ships on a line of bearing to clear the smoke. The 5th Battle Squadron, who had conformed to our movements, were now bearing NNW., 10,000 yards. The visibility at this time was good, the sun behind us and the wind SE. Being between the enemy and his base, our situation was both tactically and strategically good.

"At 3.48 p.m. the action commenced at a range of 18,500 yards, both forces opening fire practically simultaneously. Course was altered to the southward, and subsequently the mean direction was SSE., the enemy steering a parallel course distant about 18,000 to 14,500 yards.

"At 4.8 p.m. the 5th Battle Squadron came into action and opened fire at a range of 20,000 yards. The enemy's fire now seemed to slacken. The destroyer Landrail, of 9th Flotilla, who[33] was on our port beam, trying to take station ahead, sighted the periscope of a submarine on her port quarter. Though causing considerable inconvenience from smoke, the presence of Lydiard and Landrail undoubtedly preserved the battle-cruisers from closer submarine attack. Nottingham also reported a submarine on the starboard beam.

"Eight destroyers of the 13th Flotilla, Nestor, Nomad, Nicator, Narborough, Pelican, Petard, Obdurate, Nerissa, with Moorsom and Morris, of 10th Flotilla, Turbulent and Termagant, of the 9th Flotilla, having been ordered to attack the enemy with torpedoes when opportunity offered, moved out at 4.15 p.m., simultaneously with a similar movement on the part of the enemy Destroyers. The attack was carried out in the most gallant manner, and with great determination. Before arriving at a favorable position to fire torpedoes, they intercepted an enemy force consisting of a light-cruiser and fifteen destroyers. A fierce engagement ensued at close quarters, with the result that the enemy were forced to retire on their battle-cruisers, having lost two destroyers sunk, and having their torpedo attack frustrated. Our destroyers sustained no loss in this engagement, but their attack on the enemy battle-cruisers was rendered less effective, owing to some of the destroyers having dropped astern during the fight. Their position was therefore unfavorable for torpedo attack.

"Nestor, Nomad, and Nicator pressed home their attack on the battle-cruisers and fired two torpedoes at them, being subjected to a heavy fire from the enemy's secondary armament. Nomad was badly hit, and apparently remained stopped between the lines. Subsequently Nestor and Nicator altered course to the SE., and in a short time, the opposing battle-cruisers having turned 16 points, found themselves within[34] close range of a number of enemy battleships. Nothing daunted, though under a terrific fire, they stood on, and their position being favorable for torpedo attack fired a torpedo at the second ship of the enemy line at a range of 3,000 yards. Before they could fire their fourth torpedo, Nestor was badly hit and swung to starboard, Nicator altering course inside her to avoid collision, and thereby being prevented from firing the last torpedo. Nicator made good her escape. Nestor remained stopped, but was afloat when last seen. Moorsom also carried out an attack on the enemy's battle fleet.

"Petard, Nerissa, Turbulent, and Termagant also pressed home their attack on the enemy battle cruisers, firing torpedoes after the engagement with enemy destroyers. Petard reports that all her torpedoes must have crossed the enemy's line, while Nerissa states that one torpedo appeared to strike the rear ship. These destroyer attacks were indicative of the spirit pervading His Majesty's Navy, and were worthy of its highest traditions. I propose to bring to your notice a recommendation of Commander Bingham and other Officers for some recognition of their conspicuous gallantry.

"From 4.15 to 4.43 p.m. the conflict between the opposing battle-cruisers was of a very fierce and resolute character. The 5th Battle Squadron was engaging the enemy's rear ships, unfortunately at very long range. Our fire began to tell, the accuracy and rapidity of that of the enemy depreciating considerably. At 4.18 p.m. the third enemy ship was seen to be on fire. The visibility to the north-eastward had become considerably reduced, and the outline of the ships very indistinct.

"At 4.38 p.m. Southampton reported the enemy's Battle Fleet ahead. The destroyers were recalled, and at 4.42 p.m. the enemy's[35] Battle Fleet was sighted SE. Course was altered 16 points in succession to starboard, and I proceeded on a northerly course to lead them towards the Battle Fleet. The enemy battle-cruisers altered course shortly afterwards, and the action continued. Southampton, with the 2nd Light-cruiser Squadron, held on to the southward to observe. They closed to within 13,000 yards of the enemy Battle Fleet, and came under a very heavy but ineffective fire. Southampton's reports were most valuable. The 5th Battle Squadron were now closing on an opposite course and engaging the enemy battle-cruisers with all guns. The position of the enemy Battle Fleet was communicated to them, and I ordered them to alter course 16 points. Led by Rear-Admiral Evan-Thomas, in Barham, this squadron supported us brilliantly and effectively.

"At 4.57 p.m. the 5th Battle Squadron turned up astern of me and came under the fire of the leading ships of the enemy Battle Fleet. Fearless, with the destroyers of 1st Flotilla, joined the battle-cruisers, and, when speed admitted, took station ahead. Champion, with 13th Flotilla, took station on the 5th Battle Squadron. At 5 p.m. the 1st and 3rd Light-cruiser Squadrons, which had been following me on the southerly course, took station on my starboard bow; the 2nd Light-cruiser Squadron took station on my port quarter.

"The weather conditions now became unfavorable, our ships being silhouetted against a clear horizon to the westward, while the enemy were for the most part obscured by mist, only showing up clearly at intervals. These conditions prevailed until we had turned their van at about 6 p.m. Between 5 and 6 p.m. the action continued on a northerly course, the range being about 14,000 yards. During this time the enemy received very severe punishment,[36] and one of their battle-cruisers quitted the line in a considerably damaged condition. This came under my personal observation, and was corroborated by Princess Royal and Tiger. Other enemy ships also showed signs of increasing injury. At 5.5 p.m. Onslow and Moresby, who had been detached to assist Engadine with the seaplane, rejoined the battle-cruiser squadrons and took station on the starboard (engaged) bow of Lion. At 5.10 p.m. Moresby, being 2 points before the beam of the leading enemy ship, fired a torpedo at a ship in their line. Eight minutes later she observed a hit with a torpedo on what was judged to be the sixth ship in the line. Moresby then passed between the lines to clear the range of smoke, and rejoined Champion. In corroboration of this, Fearless reports having seen an enemy heavy ship heavily on fire at about 5.10 p.m., and shortly afterwards a huge cloud of smoke and steam.

"At 5.35 p.m. our course was NNE., and the estimated position of the Battle Fleet was N. 16 W., so we gradually hauled to the north-eastward, keeping the range of the enemy at 14,000 yards. He was gradually hauling to the eastward, receiving severe punishment at the head of his line, and probably acting on information received from his light-cruisers which had sighted and were engaged with the Third Battle-cruiser Squadron. Possibly Zeppelins were present also.

"At 5.50 p.m. British cruisers were sighted on the port bow, and at 5.56 p.m. the leading battleships of the Battle Fleet, bearing north 5 miles. I thereupon altered course to east, and proceeded at utmost speed. This brought the range of the enemy down to 12,000 yards. I made a report to you that the enemy battle-cruisers bore south-east. At this time only three of the enemy battle-cruisers were visible,[37] closely followed by battleships of the Koenig class.

"At about 6.5 p.m. Onslow, being on the engaged bow of Lion, sighted an enemy light-cruiser at a distance of 6,000 yards from us, apparently endeavoring to attack with torpedoes. Onslow at once closed and engaged her, firing 58 rounds at a range of from 4,000 to 2,000 yards, scoring a number of hits. Onslow then closed the enemy battle-cruisers, and orders were given for all torpedoes to be fired. At this moment she was struck amidships by a heavy shell, with the result that only one torpedo was fired. Thinking that all his torpedoes had gone, the Commanding Officer proceeded to retire at slow speed. Being informed that he still had three torpedoes, he closed with the light-cruiser previously engaged and torpedoed her. The enemy's Battle Fleet was then sighted, and the remaining torpedoes were fired at them and must have crossed the enemy's track. Damage then caused Onslow to stop.

On receipt of the information that the enemy had been sighted, the British Battle Fleet, with its accompanying cruiser and destroyer force, proceeded at full speed on a SE. by S. course to close the Battle-cruiser Fleet. During the two hours that elapsed before the arrival of the Battle Fleet on the scene the steaming qualities of the older battleships were severely[38] tested. Great credit is due to the engine-room departments for the manner in which they, as always, responded to the call, the whole Fleet maintaining a speed in excess of the trial speeds of some of the older vessels.

The Third Battle-cruiser Squadron, commanded by Rear-Admiral the Hon. Horace L.A. Hood, C.B., M.V.O., D.S.O., which was in advance of the Battle Fleet, was ordered to reinforce Sir David Beatty. At 5.30 p.m. this squadron observed flashes of gunfire and heard the sound of guns to the south-westward. Rear-Admiral Hood sent the Chester to investigate, and this ship engaged three or four enemy light-cruisers at about 5.45 p.m. The engagement lasted for about twenty minutes, during which period Captain Lawson handled his vessel with great skill against heavy odds, and, although the ship suffered considerably in casualties, her fighting and steaming qualities were unimpaired, and at about 6.5 p.m. she rejoined the Third Battle-cruiser Squadron.

The Third Battle-cruiser Squadron had turned to the north-westward, and at 6.10 p.m. sighted our battle-cruisers, the squadron taking station ahead of the Lion at 6.21 p.m. in accordance with the orders of the Vice-Admiral Commanding Battle-cruiser Fleet. He reports as follows:

"I ordered them to take station ahead, which was carried out magnificently, Rear-Admiral Hood bringing his squadron into action ahead in a most inspiring manner, worthy of his great naval ancestors. At 6.25 p.m. I altered course to the ESE. in support of the Third Battle-cruiser Squadron, who were at this time only 8,000 yards from the enemy's leading ship. They were pouring a hot fire into her and caused her to turn to the westward of south. At the same time I made a report to you of the bearing and distance of the enemy battle-fleet.[39]

"By 6.50 p.m. the battle-cruisers were clear of our leading battle squadron then bearing about NNW. 3 miles, and I ordered the Third Battle-cruiser Squadron to prolong the line astern and reduced to 18 knots. The visibility at this time was very indifferent, not more than 4 miles, and the enemy ships were temporarily lost sight of. It is interesting to note that after 6 p.m., although the visibility became reduced, it was undoubtedly more favorable to us than to the enemy. At intervals their ships showed up clearly, enabling us to punish them very severely and establish a definite superiority over them. From the report of other ships and my own observation it was clear that the enemy suffered considerable damage, battle-cruisers and battleships alike. The head of their line was crumpled up, leaving battleships as targets for the majority of our battle-cruisers. Before leaving us the Fifth Battle Squadron was also engaging battleships. The report of Rear-Admiral Evan-Thomas shows that excellent results were obtained, and it can be safely said that his magnificent squadron wrought great execution.

"From the report of Rear-Admiral T. D. W. Napier, M.V.O., the Third Light-cruiser Squadron, which had maintained its station on our starboard bow well ahead of the enemy, at 6.25 p.m. attacked with the torpedo. Falmouth and Yarmouth both fired torpedoes at the leading enemy battle-cruiser, and it is believed that one torpedo hit, as a heavy underwater explosion was observed. The Third Light-cruiser Squadron then gallantly attacked the heavy ships with gunfire, with impunity to themselves, thereby demonstrating that the fighting efficiency of the enemy had been seriously impaired. Rear-Admiral Napier deserves great credit for his determined and effective attack. Indomitable reports that about this time one of[40] the Derfflinger class fell out of the enemy's line."

Meanwhile, at 5.45 p.m., the report of guns had become audible to me, and at 5.55 p.m. flashes were visible from ahead round to the starboard beam, although in the mist no ships could be distinguished, and the position of the enemy's battle fleet could not be determined. The difference in estimated position by "reckoning" between Iron Duke and Lion, which was inevitable under the circumstances, added to the uncertainty of the general situation.

Shortly after 5.55 p.m. some of the cruisers ahead, under Rear-Admirals Herbert L. Heath, M.V.O., and Sir Robert Arbuthnot, Bt., M.V.O., were seen to be in action, and reports received show that Defence, flagship, and Warrior, of the First Cruiser Squadron, engaged an enemy light-cruiser at this time. She was subsequently observed to sink.

At 6 p.m. Canterbury, which ship was in company with the Third Battle-cruiser Squadron, had engaged enemy light-cruisers which were firing heavily on the torpedo-boat destroyer Shark, Acasta, and Christopher; as a result of this engagement the Shark was sunk.

At 6 p.m. vessels, afterwards seen to be our battle-cruisers, were sighted by Marlborough bearing before the starboard beam of the battle fleet.

At the same time the Vice-Admiral Commanding, Battle-cruiser Fleet, reported to me the position of the enemy battle-cruisers, and at 6.14 p.m. reported the position of the enemy battle fleet.

At this period, when the battle fleet was meeting the battle-cruisers and the Fifth Battle Squadron, great care was necessary to ensure that our own ships were not mistaken for enemy vessels.

I formed the battle fleet in line of battle on[41] receipt of Sir David Beatty's report, and during deployment the fleets became engaged. Sir David Beatty had meanwhile formed the battle-cruisers ahead of the battle-fleet.

The divisions of the battle fleet were led by:

At 6.16 p.m. Defence and Warrior were observed passing down between the British and German Battle Fleets under a very heavy fire. Defence disappeared, and Warrior passed to rear disabled.

It is probable that Sir Robert Arbuthnot, during his engagement with the enemy's light-cruisers and in his desire to complete their destruction, was not aware of the approach of the enemy's heavy ships, owing to the mist, until he found himself in close proximity to the main fleet, and before he could withdraw his ships they were caught under a heavy fire and disabled. It is not known when Black Prince of the same squadron, was sunk, but a wireless signal was received from her between 8 and 9 p.m.

The First Battle Squadron became engaged during deployment, the Vice-Admiral opening fire at 6.17 p.m. on a battleship of the Kaiser class. The other Battle Squadrons, which had previously been firing at an enemy light cruiser, opened fire at 6.30 p.m. on battleships of the Koenig class.

At 6.6 p.m. the Rear-Admiral Commanding Fifth Battle Squadron, then in company with the battle-cruisers, had sighted the starboard[42] wing-division of the battle-fleet on the port bow of Barham, and the first intention of Rear-Admiral Evan-Thomas was to form ahead of the remainder of the battle-fleet, but on realizing the direction of deployment he was compelled to form astern, a manœuvre which was well executed by the squadron under a heavy fire from the enemy battle-fleet. An accident to Warspite's steering gear caused her helm to become jammed temporarily and took the ship in the direction of the enemy's line, during which time she was hit several times. Clever handling enabled Captain Edward M. Phillpotts to extricate his ship from a somewhat awkward situation.

Owing principally to the mist, but partly to the smoke, it was possible to see only a few ships at a time in the enemy's battle line. Towards the van only some four or five ships were ever visible at once. More could be seen from the rear squadron, but never more than eight to twelve.

The action between the battle-fleets lasted intermittently from 6.17 p.m. to 8.20 p.m. at ranges between 9,000 and 12,000 yards, during which time the British Fleet made alterations of course from SE. by E. by W. in the endeavour to close. The enemy constantly turned away and opened the range under cover of destroyer attacks and smoke screens as the effect of the British fire was felt, and the alterations of course had the effect of bringing the British Fleet (which commenced the action in a position of advantage on the bow of the enemy) to a quarterly bearing from the enemy battle line, but at the same time placed us between the enemy and his bases.

At 6.55 p.m. Iron Duke passed the wreck of Invincible, with Badger standing by.

During the somewhat brief periods that the ships of the High Sea Fleet were visible[43] through the mist, the heavy and effective fire kept up by the battleships and battle-cruisers of the Grand Fleet caused me much satisfaction, and the enemy vessels were seen to be constantly hit, some being observed to haul out of the line and at least one to sink. The enemy's return fire at this period was not effective, and the damage caused to our ships was insignificant.

Regarding the battle-cruisers, Sir David Beatty reports:—

"At 7.6 p.m. I received a signal from you that the course of the Fleet was south. Subsequently signals were received up to 8.46 p.m. showing that the course of the Battle Fleet was to the southwestward.

"Between 7 and 7.12 p.m. we hauled round gradually to SW. by S. to regain touch with the enemy, and at 7.14 p.m. again sighted them at a range of about 15,000 yards. The ships sighted at this time were two battle-cruisers and two battleships, apparently of the Koenig class. No doubt more continued the line to the northward, but that was all that could be seen. The visibility having improved considerably as the sun descended below the clouds, we re-engaged at 7.17 p.m. and increased speed to 22 knots. At 7.32 p.m. my course was SW., speed 18 knots, the leading enemy battleship bearing NW. by W. Again, after a very short time, the enemy showed signs of punishment, one ship being on fire, while another appeared to drop right astern. The destroyers at the head of the enemy's line emitted volumes of grey smoke, covering their capital ships as with a pall, under cover of which they turned away, and at 7.45 p.m. we lost sight of them.

"At 7.58 p.m. I ordered the First and Third Light-cruiser Squadrons to sweep to the westward and locate the head of the enemy's line,[44] and at 8.20 p.m. we altered course to west in support. We soon located two battle-cruisers and battleships, and were heavily engaged at a short range of about 10,000 yards. The leading ship was hit repeatedly by Lion, and turned away eight points, emitting very high flames and with a heavy list to port. Princess Royal set fire to a three-funnelled battleship. New Zealand and Indomitable report that the third ship, which they both engaged, hauled out of the line, heeling over and on fire. The mist which now came down enveloped them, and Falmouth reported they were last seen at 8.38 p.m. steaming to the westward.

"At 8.40 p.m. all our battle-cruisers felt a heavy shock as if struck by a mine or torpedo, or possibly sunken wreckage. As however, examination of the bottoms reveals no sign of such an occurrence, it is assumed that it indicated the blowing up of a great vessel.

"I continued on a south-westerly course with my light cruisers spread until 9.24 p.m. Nothing further being sighted, I assumed that the enemy were to the north-westward, and that we had established ourselves well between him and his base. Minotaur (Captain Arthur C. S. H. D'Aeth) was at this time bearing north 5 miles, and I asked her the position of the leading battle squadron of the Battle Fleet. Her reply was that it was in sight, but was last seen bearing NNE. I kept you informed of my position, course, and speed, also of the bearing of the enemy.

"In view of the gathering darkness, and the fact that our strategical position was such as to make it appear certain that we should locate the enemy at daylight under most favorable circumstances, I did not consider it desirable or proper to close the enemy Battle Fleet during the dark hours. I therefore concluded that I should be carrying out your wishes by[45] turning to the course of the Fleet, reporting to you that I had done so."

As was anticipated, the German Fleet appeared to rely very much on torpedo attacks, which were favored by the low visibility and by the fact that we had arrived in the position of a "following" or "chasing" fleet. A large number of torpedoes were apparently fired, but only one took effect (on Marlborough), and even in this case the ship was able to remain in the line and to continue the action. The enemy's efforts to keep out of effective gun range were aided by the weather conditions, which were ideal for the purpose. Two separate destroyer attacks were made by the enemy.

The First Battle Squadron, under Vice-Admiral Sir Cecil Burney, came into action at 6.17 p.m. with the enemy's Third Battle Squadron, at a range of about 11,000 yards, and administered severe punishment, both to the battleships and to the battle-cruisers and light-cruisers, which were also engaged. The fire of Marlborough was particularly rapid and effective. This ship commenced at 6.17 p.m. by firing seven salvoes at a ship of the Kaiser class, then engaged a cruiser, and again a battleship, and at 6.54 she was hit by a torpedo and took up a considerable list to starboard, but we opened at 7.3 p.m. at a cruiser and at 7.12 p.m. fired fourteen rapid salvoes at a ship of the Koenig class, hitting her frequently until she turned out of the line. The manner in which this effective fire was kept up in spite of the disadvantages due to the injury caused by the torpedo was most creditable to the ship and a very fine example to the squadron.

The range decreased during the course of the action to 9,000 yards. The First Battle Squadron received more of the enemy's return fire than the remainder of the battle-fleet, with the[46] exception of the Fifth Battle Squadron. Colossus was hit, but was not seriously damaged, and other ships were straddled with fair frequency.

In the Fourth Battle Squadron—in which squadron my flagship Iron Duke was placed—Vice-Admiral Sir Doveton Sturdee leading one of the divisions—the enemy engaged was the squadron consisting of the Koenig and Kaiser class and some of the battle-cruisers, as well as disabled cruisers and light-cruisers. The mist rendered range-taking a difficult matter, but the fire of the squadron was effective. Iron Duke, having previously fired at a light-cruiser between the lines, opened fire at 6.30 p.m. on a battleship of the Koenig class at a range of 12,000 yards. The latter was very quickly straddled, and hitting commenced at the second salvo and only ceased when the target ship turned away.

The fire of other ships of the squadron was principally directed at enemy battle-cruisers and cruisers as they appeared out of the mist. Hits were observed to take effect on several ships.

The ships of the Second Battle Squadron, under Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas Jerram, were in action with vessels of the Kaiser or Koenig classes between 6.30 and 7.20 p.m., and fired also at an enemy battle-cruiser which had dropped back apparently severely damaged.

During the action between the battle fleets the Second Cruiser Squadron, ably commanded by Rear-Admiral Herbert L. Heath, M.V.O., with the addition of Duke of Edinburgh of the First Cruiser Squadron, occupied a position at the van, and acted as a connecting link between the battle fleet and the battle-cruiser fleet. This squadron, although it carried out useful work, did not have an opportunity of coming into action.[47]

The attached cruisers Boadicea, Active, Blanche and Bellona carried out their duties as repeating-ships with remarkable rapidity and accuracy under difficult conditions.

The Fourth Light-cruiser Squadron, under Commodore Charles E. Le Mesurier, occupied a position in the van until ordered to attack enemy destroyers at 7.20 p.m., and again at 8.18 p.m., when they supported the Eleventh Flotilla, which had moved out under Commodore James R. P. Hawksley, M.V.O., to attack. On each occasion the Fourth Light-cruiser Squadron was very well handled by Commodore Le Mesurier, his captains giving him excellent support, and their object was attained, although with some loss in the second attack, when the ships came under the heavy fire of the enemy battle fleet at between 6,500 and 8,000 yards. The Calliope was hit several times, but did not sustain serious damage, although I regret to say she had several casualties. The light-cruisers attacked the enemy's battleships with torpedoes at this time, and an explosion on board a ship of the Kaiser class was seen at 8.40 p.m.

During these destroyer attacks four enemy torpedo-boat destroyers were sunk by the gunfire of battleships, light-cruisers, and destroyers.

After the arrival of the British Battle Fleet the enemy's tactics were of a nature generally to avoid further action, in which they were favored by the conditions of visibility.

At 9 p.m. the enemy was entirely out of sight, and the threat of torpedo-boat-destroyer attacks during the rapidly approaching darkness made it necessary for me to dispose the fleet for the night, with a view to its safety from such attacks, whilst providing for a renewal of action at daylight. I accordingly manœuvred to remain between the enemy and his[48] bases, placing our flotillas in a position in which they would afford protection to the fleet from destroyer attack, and at the same time be favorably situated for attacking the enemy's heavy ships.

During the night the British heavy ships were not attacked, but the Fourth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Flotillas, under Commodore Hawksley and Captains Charles J. Wintour and Anselan J. B. Stirling, delivered a series of very gallant and successful attacks on the enemy, causing him heavy losses.

It was during these attacks that severe losses in the Fourth Flotilla occurred, including that of Tipperary, with the gallant leader of the Flotilla, Captain Wintour. He had brought his flotilla to a high pitch of perfection, and although suffering severely from the fire of the enemy, a heavy toll of enemy vessels was taken, and many gallant actions were performed by the flotilla.

Two torpedoes were seen to take effect on enemy vessels as the result of the attacks of the Fourth Flotilla, one being from Spitfire, and the other from either Ardent, Ambuscade, or Garland.

The attack carried out by the Twelfth Flotilla was admirably executed. The squadron attacked, which consisted of six large vessels, besides light-cruisers, and comprised vessels of the Kaiser class, was taken by surprise. A large number of torpedoes was fired, including some at the second and third ships in the line; those fired at the third ship took effect, and she was observed to blow up. A second attack, made twenty minutes later by Mænad on the five vessels still remaining, resulted in the fourth ship in the line being also hit.

The destroyers were under a heavy fire from the light-cruisers on reaching the rear of the line, but the Onslaught was the only vessel[49] which received any material injuries. In the Onslaught Sub-Lieutenant Harry W. A. Kemmis, assisted by Midshipman Reginald G. Arnot, R.N.R., the only executive officers not disabled, brought the ship successfully out of action and reached her home port.

During the attack carried out by the Eleventh Flotilla, Castor leading the flotilla, engaged and sank an enemy torpedo-boat-destroyer at point-blank range.

Sir David Beatty reports:—

"The Thirteenth Flotilla, under the command of Captain James U. Farie, in Champion, took station astern of the battle fleet for the night. At 0.30 a.m. on Thursday, 1st June, a large vessel crossed the rear of the flotilla at high speed. She passed close to Petard and Turbulent, switched on searchlights and opened a heavy fire, which disabled Turbulent. At 3.30 a.m. Champion was engaged for a few minutes with four enemy destroyers. Moresby reports four ships of Deutschland class sighted at 2.35 a.m., at whom she fired one torpedo. Two minutes later an explosion was felt by Moresby and Obdurate.

"Fearless and the 1st Flotilla were very usefully employed as a submarine screen during the earlier part of the 31st May. At 6.10 p.m., when joining the Battle Fleet, Fearless was unable to follow the battle cruisers without fouling the battleships, and therefore took station at the rear of the line. She sighted during the night a battleship of the Kaiser class steaming fast and entirely alone. She was not able to engage her, but believes she was attacked by destroyers further astern. A heavy explosion was observed astern not long after."

There were many gallant deeds performed by the destroyer flotillas; they surpassed the very highest expectations that I had formed of them.[50]

Apart from the proceedings of the flotillas, the Second Light-cruiser Squadron in the rear of the battle fleet was in close action for about 15 minutes at 10.20 p.m. with a squadron comprising one enemy cruiser and four light-cruisers, during which period Southampton and Dublin suffered rather heavy casualties, although their steaming and fighting qualities were not impaired. The return fire of the squadron appeared to be very effective.

Abdiel, ably commanded by Commander Berwick Curtis, carried out her duties with the success which has always characterized her work.

At daylight, 1st June, the battle fleet, being then to the southward and westward of the Horn Reef, turned to the northward in search of enemy vessels and for the purpose of collecting our own cruisers and torpedo-boat destroyers. At 2.30 a.m. Vice-Admiral Sir Cecil Burney transferred his flag from Marlborough to Revenge, as the former ship had some difficulty in keeping up the speed of the squadron. Marlborough was detached by my direction to a base, successfully driving off an enemy submarine attack en route. The visibility early on 1st June (three to four miles) was less than on 31st May, and the torpedo-boat destroyers, being out of visual touch, did not rejoin until 9 a.m. The British Fleet remained in the proximity of the battle-field and near the line of approach to German ports until 11 a.m. on 1st June, in spite of the disadvantage of long distances from fleet bases and the danger incurred in waters adjacent to enemy coasts from submarines and torpedo craft. The enemy, however, made no sign, and I was reluctantly compelled to the conclusion that the High Sea Fleet had returned into port. Subsequent events proved this assumption to have been correct. Our position must have[51] been known to the enemy, as at 4 a.m. the Fleet engaged a Zeppelin for about five minutes, during which time she had ample opportunity to note and subsequently report the position and course of the British Fleet.

The waters from the latitude of the Horn Reef to the scene of the action were thoroughly searched, and some survivors from the destroyers Ardent, Fortune, and Tipperary were picked up, and the Sparrowhawk, which had been in collision and was no longer seaworthy, was sunk after her crew had been taken off. A large amount of wreckage was seen, but no enemy ships, and at 1.15 p.m., it being evident that the German Fleet had succeeded in returning to port, course was shaped for our bases, which were reached without further incident on Friday, 2nd June. A cruiser squadron was detached to search for Warrior, which vessel had been abandoned whilst in tow of Engadine on her way to the base owing to bad weather setting in and the vessel becoming unseaworthy, but no trace of her was discovered, and a further subsequent search by a light-cruiser squadron having failed to locate her, it is evident that she foundered.

The conditions of low visibility under which the day action took place and the approach of darkness enhance the difficulty of giving an accurate report of the damage inflicted or the names of the ships sunk by our forces, but after a most careful examination of the evidence of all officers, who testified to seeing enemy vessels actually sink, and personal interviews with a large number of these officers, I am of opinion that the list shown in the enclosure gives the minimum in regard to numbers, though it is possibly not entirely accurate as regards the particular class of vessel, especially those which were sunk during the night attacks. In addition to the vessels sunk, it is[52] unquestionable that many other ships were very seriously damaged by gunfire and by torpedo attack.

I deeply regret to report the loss of H.M. ships:

The enemy fought with the gallantry that was expected of him. We particularly admired the conduct of those on board a disabled German light-cruiser which passed down the[53] British line shortly after deployment, under a heavy fire, which was returned by the only gun left in action.

The conduct of officers and men throughout the day and night actions was entirely beyond praise. No words of mine could do them justice. On all sides it is reported to me that the glorious traditions of the past were most worthily upheld—whether in heavy ships, cruisers, light-cruisers, or destroyers—the same admirable spirit prevailed. Officers and men were cool and determined, with a cheeriness that would have carried them through anything. The heroism of the wounded was the admiration of all.

I cannot adequately express the pride with which the spirit of the Fleet filled me.

Details of the work of the various ships during action have now been given. It must never be forgotten, however, that the prelude to action is the work of the engine-room department, and that during action the officers and men of that department perform their most important duties without the incentive which a knowledge of the course of the action gives to those on deck. The qualities of discipline and endurance are taxed to the utmost under these conditions, and they were, as always, most fully maintained throughout the operations under review. Several ships attained speeds that had never before been reached, thus showing very clearly their high state of steaming efficiency. Failures in material were conspicuous by their absence, and several instances are reported of magnificent work on the part of the engine-room departments of injured ships.

The artisan ratings also carried out much valuable work during and after the action; they could not have done better.

The work of the medical officers of the Fleet, carried out very largely under the most difficult[54] conditions, was entirely admirable and invaluable. Lacking in many cases all the essentials for performing critical operations, and with their staff seriously depleted by casualties, they worked untiringly and with the greatest success. To them we owe a deep debt of gratitude.

It will be seen that the hardest fighting fell to the lot of the Battle-cruiser Fleet (the units of which were less heavily armored than their opponents), the Fifth Battle Squadron, the First Cruiser Squadron, Fourth Light-cruiser Squadron, and the Flotillas. This was inevitable under the conditions and the squadrons and Flotillas mentioned, as well as the individual vessels composing them, were handled with conspicuous ability, as were also the 1st, 2nd, and 4th Squadrons of the Battle Fleet and the 2nd Cruiser Squadron.

I desire to place on record my high appreciation of the manner in which all the vessels were handled. The conditions were such as to call for great skill and ability, quick judgment and decisions, and this was conspicuous throughout the day.

The campaigns carried on by Italy against Austria were, as had been noted in a former chapter, among the most difficult of the war. The Italian troops fighting with the greatest gallantry in a mountainous and, in places, an impassable country, continued to capture Austrian fortified places, along the entire Isonzo front. One of the most daring and most brilliant of their exploits is told in the following pages.

[55]

TAKING THE COL DI LANA

LEWIS R. FREEMAN

Once or twice in every winter a thick, sticky, hot wind from somewhere on the other side of the Mediterranean breathes upon the snow and ice-locked Alpine valleys the breath of a false springtime. The Swiss guides, if I remember correctly, call it by a name which is pronounced as we do the word fun; but the incidence of such a wind means to them anything but what that signifies in English. To them—to all in the Alps, indeed—a spell of fun weather means thaw, and thaw means avalanches; avalanches, too, at a time of the year when there is so much snow that the slides are under constant temptation to abandon their beaten tracks and gouge out new and unexpected channels for themselves. It is only the first-time visitor to the Alps who bridles under the Judas kiss of the wind called fun.

It was on an early January day of one of these treacherous hot winds that I was motored up from the plain of Venezia to a certain sector of the Italian Alpine front, a sector almost as important strategically as it is beautiful scenically. What twelve hours previously had been a flint-hard, ice-paved road had dissolved to a river of soft slush, and one could sense rather than see the ominous premonitory twitchings in the lowering snow-banks as the lapping of the hot moist air relaxed the brake of the frost which had held them on the precipitous mountain sides. Every stretch where the road curved to the embrace of cliff or shelving[56] valley wall was a possible ambush, and we slipped by them with muffled engine and hushed voices.

Toward the middle of the short winter afternoon the gorge we had been following opened out into a narrow valley, and straight over across the little lake which the road skirted, reflected in the shimmering sheet of steaming water that the thaw was throwing out across the ice, was a vivid white triangle of towering mountain. A true granite Alp among the splintered Dolomites—a fortress among cathedrals—it was the outstanding, the dominating feature in a panorama which I knew from my map was made up of the mountain chain along which wriggled the interlocked lines of the Austro-Italian battle front.

"Plainly a peak with a personality," I said to the officer at my side. "What is it called?"

"It's the Col di Lana," was the reply; "the mountain Colonel 'Peppino' Garibaldi took in a first attempt and Gelasio Caetani, the Italo-American mining engineer, afterward blew up and captured completely. It is one of the most important positions on our whole front, for whichever side holds it not only effectually blocks the enemy's advance, but has also an invaluable sally-port from which to launch his own. We simply had to have it, and it was taken in what was probably the only way humanly possible. It's Colonel Garibaldi's headquarters, by the way, where we put up to-night and to-morrow; perhaps you can get him to tell you the story." ...

By the light of a little spirit lamp and to the accompaniment of a steady drip of eaves and the rumble of distant avalanches of falling snow, Colonel Garibaldi, that evening, told me "the story:"

"The fighting that fell to the lot of the Légion Italienne in January, 1915, reduced its numbers[57] to such an extent that it had to be withdrawn to rest and reform. Before it was in condition to take the field again, our country had taken the great decision and we were disbanded to go home and fight for Italy. Here—principally because it was thought best to incorporate the men in the units to which they (by training or residence) really belonged—it was found impracticable to maintain the integrity of the fourteen battalions—about 14,000 men in all—we had formed in France, and, as a consequence, the Légion Italienne ceased to exist except as a glorious memory. We five surviving Garibaldi were given commissions in a brigade of Alpini that is a 'lineal descendant' of the famous Cacciatore formed by my grandfather in 1859, and led by him against the Austrians in the war in which, with the aid of the French, we redeemed Lombardy for Italy.

"In July I was given command of a battalion occupying a position at the foot of the Col di Lana. Perhaps you saw from the lake, as you came up, the commanding position of this mountain. If so, you will understand its supreme importance to us, whether for defensive or offensive purposes. Looking straight down the Cordevole Valley toward the plains of Italy, it not only furnished the Austrians an incomparable observation post, but also stood as an effectual barrier against any advance of our own toward the Livinallongo Valley and the important Pordoi Pass. We needed it imperatively for the safety of any line we established in this region; and just as imperatively would we need it when we were ready to push the Austrians back. Since it was just as important for the Austrians to maintain possession of this great natural fortress as it was for us to take it away from them, you will understand how it came about that the struggle for the Col di Lana was perhaps the bitterest that has yet[58] been waged for any one point on the Alpine front.

"Early in July, under cover of our guns to the south and east, the Alpini streamed down from the Cima di Falzarego and Sasso di Stria, which they had occupied shortly before, and secured what was at first but a precarious foothold on the stony lower eastern slope of the Col di Lana. Indeed, it was little more than a toe-hold at first; but the never-resting Alpini soon dug themselves in and became firmly established. It was to the command of this battalion of Alpini that I came on the 12th of July, after being given to understand that my work was to be the taking of the Col di Lana regardless of cost.

"This was the first time that I—or any other Garibaldi, for that matter (my grandfather, with his 'Thousand,' took Sicily from fifty times that number of Bourbon soldiers) had ever had enough, or even the promise of enough, men to make that 'regardless of cost' formula much more than a hollow mockery. But it is not in a Garibaldi to sacrifice men for any object whatever if there is any possible way of avoiding it. The period of indiscriminate frontal attacks had passed even before I left France, and ways were already being devised—mostly mining and better artillery protection—to make assaults less costly. Scientific 'man-saving,' in which my country has since made so much progress, was then in its infancy on the Italian front.

"I found many difficulties in the way of putting into practice on the Col di Lana the man-saving theories I had seen in process of development in the Argonne. At that time the Austrians—who had appreciated the great importance of that mountain from the outset—had us heavily out-gunned while mining in the hard rock was too slow to make it worth while until some single position of crucial value hung[59] in the balance. So—well, I simply did the best I could under the circumstances. The most I could do was to give my men as complete protection as possible while they were not fighting, and this end was accomplished by establishing them in galleries cut out of the solid rock. This was, I believe, the first time the 'gallery-barracks'—now quite the rule at all exposed points—were used on the Italian front.

"There was no other way in the beginning but to drive the enemy off the Col di Lana trench by trench, and this was the task I set myself to toward the end of July. What made the task an almost prohibitive one was the fact that the Austrian guns from Corte and Cherz—which we were in no position to reduce to silence—were able to rake us unmercifully. Every move we made during the next nine months was carried out under their fire, and there is no use in denying that we suffered heavily. I used no more men than I could possibly help using, and the Higher Command was very generous in the matter of reserves, and even in increasing the strength of the force at my disposal as we gradually got more room to work in. By the end of October my original command of a battalion had been increased largely.

"The Austrians made a brave and skilful defense, but the steady pressure we were bringing to bear on them gradually forced them back up the mountain. By the first week in November we were in possession of three sides of the mountain, while the Austrians held the fourth side and—but most important of all—the summit. The latter presented a sheer wall of rock, more than 200 metres high, to us from any direction we were able to approach it, and on the crest of this cliff—the only point exposed to our artillery fire—the enemy had a cunningly concealed machine-gun post served by fourteen[60] men. Back and behind, under shelter in a rock gallery, was a reserve of 200 men, who were expected to remain safely under cover during a bombardment and then sally forth to any infantry attack that might follow it. The handful in the machine-gun post, it was calculated, would be sufficient, and more than sufficient, to keep us from scaling the cliff before their reserves came up to support them; and so they would have been if there had been only an infantry attack to reckon with. It failed to allow sufficiently, however, for the weight of the artillery we were bringing up, and the skill of our gunners. The apparent impregnability of the position was really its undoing.

"This cunningly conceived plan of defense I had managed to get a pretty accurate idea of—no matter how—and I laid my own plans accordingly. All the guns I could get hold of I had emplaced in positions most favorable for concentrating on the real key to the summit—the exposed machine-gun post on the crown of the cliff—with the idea, if possible, of destroying men and guns completely, or, failing in that, at least to render it untenable for the reserves who would try to rally to its defense.

"We had the position ranged to an inch, and so, fortunately, lost no time in 'feeling' for it. This, with the surprise incident to it, was perhaps the principal element in our success; for the plan—at least so far as taking the summit was concerned—worked out quite as perfectly in action as upon paper. That is the great satisfaction of working with the Alpino, by the way: he is so sure, so dependable, that the 'human fallibility' element in a plan (always the most uncertain quantity) is practically eliminated.

"It is almost certain that our sudden gust of concentrated gunfire snuffed out the lives of all[61] the men in the machine-gun post before they had time to send word of our developing infantry attack to the reserves in the gallery below. At any rate, these latter made no attempt whatever to swarm up to the defense of the crest, even after our artillery fire ceased. The consequence was that the 120 Alpini I sent to scale the cliff reached the top with only three casualties, these probably caused by rolling rocks or flying rock fragments. The Austrians in their big 'funk-hole' were taken completely by surprise, and 130 of them fell prisoners to considerably less than that number of Italians. The rest of the 200 escaped or were killed in their flight.

"So far it was so good; but, unfortunately, taking the summit and holding it were two entirely different matters. No sooner did the Austrians discover what had happened than they opened on the summit with all their available artillery. We have since ascertained that the fire of 120 guns was concentrated upon a space of 100 by 150 metres which offered the only approach to cover that the barren summit afforded. Fifty of my men, finding shelter in the lee of rocky ledges, remained right out on the summit; the others crept over the edge of the cliff and held on by their fingers and toes. Not a man of them sought safety by flight, though a retirement would have been quite justified, considering what a hell the Austrians' guns were making of the summit. The enemy counter-attacked at nightfall, but despite superior numbers and the almost complete exhaustion of that little band of Alpini heroes, they were able to retake only a half of the summit. Here, at a ten-metres-high ridge which roughly bisects the cima, the Alpini held the Austrians, and here, in turn, the latter held the reinforcements which I was finally able to send to the Alpini's aid. There, exposed to the[62] fire of the guns of either side (and so comparatively safe from both), a line was established from which there seemed little probability that one combatant could drive the other, at least without a radical change from the methods so far employed.

"The idea of blowing up positions that cannot be taken otherwise is by no means a new one. Probably it dates back almost as far as the invention of gunpowder itself. Doubtless, if we only knew of them, there have been attempts to mine the Great Wall of China. It was, therefore, only natural that, when the Austrians had us held up before a position it was vitally necessary we should have, we should begin to consider the possibility of mining it as the only alternative. The conception of the plan did not necessarily originate in the mind of any one individual, however many have laid claim to it. It was the inevitable thing if we were not going to abandon striving for our objective.

"But while there was nothing new in the idea of the mine itself, in carrying out an engineering operation of such magnitude at so great an altitude and from a position constantly exposed to intense artillery fire there were presented many problems quite without precedent. It was these problems which gave us pause; but finally, despite the prospect of difficulties which we fully realized might at any time become prohibitive, it was decided to make the attempt to blow up that portion of the summit of the Col di Lana still held by the enemy.

"The choice of the engineer for the work was a singularly fortunate one. Gelasio Caetani—he is a son of the Duke of Sermoneta—had operated as a mining engineer in the American West for a number of years previous to the war, and the practical experience gained in California and Alaska was invaluable preparation[63] for the great task now set for him. His ready resource and great personal courage were also incalculable assets.

"Well, the tunnel was started about the middle of January, 1916. Some of my men—Italians who had hurried home to fight for their country when the war started—had had some previous experience with hand and machine drills in the mines of Colorado and British Columbia, but the most of our labor had to gain its experience as the work progressed. Considering this, as well as the difficulty of bringing up material (to say nothing of food and munitions), we made very good progress.

"The worst thing about it all was the fact that it had to be done under the incessant fire of the Austrian artillery. I provided for the men as best as I could by putting them in galleries, where they were at least able to get their rest. When the enemy finally found out what we were up to they celebrated their discovery by a steady bombardment which lasted for fourteen days without interruption. During a certain forty-two hours of that fortnight there was, by actual count, an average of thirty-eight shells a minute exploding on our little position.

"We were constantly confronted with new and perplexing problems—things which no one had ever been called upon to solve before—most of them in connection with transportation. How we contrived to surmount one of these I shall never forget. The Austrians had performed a brave and audacious feat in emplacing one of their batteries at a certain point, the fire from which threatened to make our position absolutely untenable. The location of this battery was so cunningly chosen that not one of our guns could reach it; and yet we had to silence it—and for good—if we were going to go on with our work. The only point from[64] which we could fire upon these destructive guns was so exposed that any artillery we might be able to mount there could only count on the shortest shrift under the fire of the hundred or more 'heavies' that the Austrians would be able to concentrate upon it. And yet (I figured), well employed, these few minutes might prove enough to do the work in.

"And then there arose another difficulty. The smallest gun that would stand a chance of doing the job cut out for it weighed 120 kilos—about 265 pounds; this just for the gun alone, with all detachable parts removed. But the point where the gun was to be mounted was so exposed that there was no chance of rigging up a cable-way, while the incline was so steep and rough that it was out of the question to try to drag it up with ropes. Just as we were on the verge of giving up in despair, one of the Alpini—a man of Herculean frame who had made his living in peace-time by breaking chains on his chest and performing other feats of strength—came and suggested that he be allowed to carry the gun up on his shoulders. Grasping at a straw, I let him indulge in a few 'practice manœuvres'; but these only showed that, while the young Samson could shoulder and trot off with the gun without great effort, the task of lifting himself and his burden from foothold to foothold in the crumbling rock of the seventy-degree slope was too much for him.

"But out of this failure there came a new idea. Why not let my strong man simply support the weight of the gun on his shoulder—acting as a sort of ambulant gun-carriage, so to speak—while a line of men pulled him along with a rope?

We rigged up a harness to equalize the pull on the broad back, and, with the aid of sixteen ordinary men, the feat was accomplished without a hitch. I am sorry to say, however,[65] that poor Samson was laid up for a spell with racked muscles.

"The gun—with the necessary parts and munition—was taken up in the night, and at daybreak it was set up and ready for action. It fired just forty shots before the Austrian 'heavies' blew it—and all but one or two of its brave crew—to pieces with a rain of high-explosive. But the troublesome Austrian battery was put so completely out of action that the enemy never thought it worth while to re-emplace it.

"That is just a sample of the fantastic things we were doing all of the three months that we drove the tunnel under the summit of the Col di Lana. The last few weeks were further enlivened by the knowledge that the Austrians were countermining against us. Once they drove so near that we could feel the jar of their drills, but they exploded their mine just a few metres short of where it would have upset us for good and for all. All the time work went on until, on the 17th of April, the mine was finished, charged, and 'tamped.' That night, while every gun we could bring to bear rained shell upon the Austrian position, it was exploded. A crater 150 feet in diameter and sixty feet deep engulfed the ridge the enemy had occupied, and this our waiting Alpini rushed and firmly held. Austrian counterattacks were easily repulsed, and the Col di Lana was at last completely in Italian hands."

During the late spring and summer of 1916, there was waged in France that great series of battles participated in by both British and French armies known as the battles of the Somme. Next to the defense of Verdun, they formed the most important military operations on the western front during that year. These battles are described in the narrative which follows.[66]

WESTERN BATTLE FRONT, AUGUST, 1916

[67]

THE BATTLE OF THE SOMME

SIR DOUGLAS HAIG

The principle of an offensive campaign during the Summer of 1916 had already been decided on by all the Allies. The various possible alternatives on the western front had been studied and discussed by General Joffre and myself, and we were in complete agreement as to the front to be attacked by the combined French and British armies. Preparations for our offensive had made considerable progress; but as the date on which the attack should begin was dependent on many doubtful factors, a final decision on that point was deferred until the general situation should become clearer.

Subject to the necessity of commencing operations before the Summer was too far advanced, and with due regard to the general situation, I desired to postpone my attack as long as possible. The British armies were growing in numbers and the supply of munitions was steadily increasing. Moreover, a very large proportion of the officers and men under my command were still far from being fully trained, and the longer the attack could be deferred the more efficient they would become. On the other hand, the Germans were continuing to press their attacks at Verdun, and both there and on the Italian front, where the Austrian offensive was gaining ground, it was evident that the strain might become too great to be borne unless timely action were taken to relieve it. Accordingly, while maintaining constant touch with General[68] Joffre in regard to all these considerations, my preparations were pushed on, and I agreed, with the consent of his Majesty's Government, that my attack should be launched, whenever the general situation required it, with as great a force as I might then be able to make available.

By the end of May, 1916, the pressure of the enemy on the Italian front had assumed such serious proportions that the Russian campaign was opened early in June, and the brilliant successes gained by our allies against the Austrians at once caused a movement of German troops from the western to the eastern front. This, however, did not lessen the pressure on Verdun. The heroic defense of our French allies had already gained many weeks of inestimable value and had caused the enemy very heavy losses; but the strain continued to increase. In view, therefore, of the situation in the various theatres of war, it was eventually agreed between General Joffre and myself that the combined French and British offensive should not be postponed beyond the end of June.

The object of that offensive was threefold:

(i.) To relieve the pressure on Verdun.

(ii.) To assist our allies in the other theatres of war by stopping any further transfer of German troops from the western front.

(iii.) To wear down the strength of the forces opposed to us.

While my final preparations were in progress the enemy made two unsuccessful attempts to interfere with my arrangements. The first, directed on May 21, 1916, against our positions on the Vimy Ridge, south and southeast of Souchez, resulted in a small enemy gain of no strategic or tactical importance; and rather than weaken my offensive by involving additional troops in the task of recovering the lost[69] ground, I decided to consolidate a position in rear of our original line.

The second enemy attack was delivered on June 2, 1916, on a front of over one and a half miles from Mount Sorrell to Hooge, and succeeded in penetrating to a maximum depth of 700 yards. As the southern part of the lost position commanded our trenches, I judged it necessary to recover it, and by an attack launched on June 13, 1916, carefully prepared and well executed, this was successfully accomplished by the troops on the spot.

Neither of these enemy attacks succeeded in delaying the preparations for the major operations which I had in view.

These preparations were necessarily very elaborate and took considerable time.

Vast stocks of ammunition and stores of all kinds had to be accumulated beforehand within a convenient distance of our front. To deal with these many miles of new railways—both standard and narrow gauge—and trench tramways were laid. All available roads were improved, many others were made, and long causeways were built over marshy valleys. Many additional dugouts had to be provided as shelter for the troops, for use as dressing stations for the wounded, and as magazines for storing ammunition, food, water, and engineering material. Scores of miles of deep communication trenches had to be dug, as well as trenches for telephone wires, assembly and assault trenches, and numerous gun emplacements and observation posts.

Important mining operations were undertaken, and charges were laid at various points beneath the enemy's lines.

Except in the river valleys, the existing supplies of water were hopelessly insufficient to meet the requirements of the numbers of men and horses to be concentrated in this area as[70] the preparations for our offensive proceeded. To meet this difficulty many wells and borings were sunk, and over one hundred pumping plants were installed. More than one hundred and twenty miles of water mains were laid, and everything was got ready to insure an adequate water supply as our troops advanced.

Much of this preparatory work had to be done under very trying conditions, and was liable to constant interruption from the enemy's fire. The weather, on the whole, was bad, and the local accommodations totally insufficient for housing the troops employed, who consequently had to content themselves with such rough shelter as could be provided in the circumstances. All this labor, too, had to be carried out in addition to fighting and to the everyday work of maintaining existing defenses. It threw a very heavy strain on the troops, which was borne by them with a cheerfulness beyond all praise.

The enemy's position to be attacked was of a very formidable character, situated on a high, undulating tract of ground, which rises to more than 500 feet above sea level, and forms the watershed between the Somme on the one side and the rivers of Southwestern Belgium on the other. On the southern face of this watershed, the general trend of which is from east-southeast to west-northwest, the ground falls in a series of long irregular spurs and deep depressions to the valley of the Somme. Well down the forward slopes of this face the enemy's first system of defense, starting from the Somme near Curlu, ran at first northward for 3,000 yards, then westward for 7,000 yards to near Fricourt, where it turned nearly due north, forming a great salient angle in the enemy's lines.

Some 10,000 yards north of Fricourt the trenches crossed the River Ancre, a tributary[71] of the Somme, and, still running northward, passed over the summit of the watershed, about Hébuterne and Gommecourt, and then down its northern spurs to Arras.

On the 20,000-yard front between the Somme and the Ancre the enemy had a strong second system of defense, sited generally on or near the southern crest of the highest part of the watershed, at an average distance of from 3,000 to 5,000 yards behind his first system of trenches.

During nearly two years' preparation he had spared no pains to render these defenses impregnable. The first and second systems each consisted of several lines of deep trenches, well provided with bomb-proof shelters and with numerous communication trenches connecting them. The front of the trenches in each system was protected by wire entanglements, many of them in two belts forty yards broad, built of iron stakes interlaced with barbed wire, often almost as thick as a man's finger.

The numerous woods and villages in and between these systems of defense had been turned into veritable fortresses. The deep cellars, usually to be found in the villages, and the numerous pits and quarries common to a chalk country were used to provide cover for machine guns and trench mortars. The existing cellars were supplemented by elaborate dugouts, sometimes in two stories, and these were connected up by passages as much as thirty feet below the surface of the ground. The salients in the enemy's lines, from which he could bring enfilade fire across his front, were made into self-contained forts, and often protected by mine fields, while strong redoubts and concrete machine-gun emplacements had been constructed in positions from which he could sweep his own trenches should these[72] be taken. The ground lent itself to good artillery observation on the enemy's part, and he had skillfully arranged for cross-fire by his guns.

These various systems of defense, with the fortified localities and other supporting points between them, were cunningly sited to afford each other mutual assistance and to admit of the utmost possible development of enfilade and flanking fire by machine guns and artillery. They formed, in short, not merely a series of successive lines, but one composite system of enormous depth and strength.

Behind this second system of trenches, in addition to woods, villages, and other strong points prepared for defense, the enemy had several other lines already completed; and we had learned from aeroplane reconnoisance that he was hard at work improving and strengthening these and digging fresh ones between them and still further back.

In the area above described, between the Somme and the Ancre, our front-line trenches ran parallel and close to those of the enemy, but below them. We had good direct observation on his front system of trenches and on the various defenses sited on the slopes above us between his first and second systems; but the second system itself, in many places, could not be observed from the ground in our possession, while, except from the air, nothing could be seen of his more distant defenses.

North of the Ancre, where the opposing trenches ran transversely across the main ridge, the enemy's defenses were equally elaborate and formidable. So far as command of ground was concerned we were here practically on level terms, but, partly as a result of this, our direct observation over the ground held by the enemy was not so good as it was further[73] south. On portions of this front the opposing first-line trenches were more widely separated from each other, while in the valleys to the north were many hidden gun positions from which the enemy could develop flanking fire on our troops as they advanced across the open.

The period of active operations dealt with in this dispatch divides itself roughly into three phases. The first phase opened with the attack of July 1, 1916, the success of which evidently came as a surprise to the enemy and caused considerable confusion and disorganization in his ranks.

The advantages gained on that date and developed during the first half of July may be regarded as having been rounded off by the operations of July 14, 1916, and three following days, which gave us possession of the southern crest of the main plateau between Delville Wood and Bazentin-le-Petit.

We then entered upon a contest lasting for many weeks, during which the enemy, having found his strongest defenses unavailing, and now fully alive to his danger, put forth his utmost efforts to keep his hold of the main ridge. This stage of the battle constituted a prolonged and severe struggle for mastery between the contending armies, in which, although progress was slow and difficult, the confidence of our troops in their ability to win was never shaken. Their tenacity and determination proved more than equal to their task, and by the first week in September they had established a fighting superiority that has left its mark on the enemy, of which possession of the ridge was merely the visible proof.

The way was then opened for the third phase, in which our advance was pushed down the forward slopes of the ridge and further[74] extended on both flanks until, from Morval to Thiepval, the whole plateau and a good deal of ground beyond were in our possession. Meanwhile our gallant allies, in addition to great successes south of the Somme, had pushed their advance, against equally determined opposition and under most difficult tactical conditions, up the long slopes on our immediate right, and were now preparing to drive the enemy from the summit of the narrow and difficult portion of the main ridge which lies between the Combles Valley and the River Tortille, a stream flowing from the north into the Somme just below Péronne.

Defenses of the nature described could only be attacked with any prospect of success after careful artillery preparation. It was accordingly decided that our bombardment should begin on June 24, 1916 and a large force of artillery was brought into action for the purpose.

Artillery bombardments were also carried out daily at different points on the rest of our front, and during the period from June 24 to July 1, 1916, gas was discharged with good effect at more than forty places along our line upon a frontage which in total amounted to over fifteen miles. Some seventy raids, too, were undertaken by our infantry between Gommecourt and our extreme left north of Ypres during the week preceding the attack, and these kept me well informed as to the enemy's dispositions, besides serving other useful purposes.

On June 25, 1916, the Royal Flying Corps carried out a general attack on the enemy's observation balloons, destroying nine of them, and depriving the enemy for the time being of this form of observation.

On July 1, 1916, at 7.30 a. m., after a final[75] hour of exceptionally violent bombardment, our infantry assault was launched. Simultaneously the French attacked on both sides of the Somme, co-operating closely with us.

The British main front of attack extended from Maricourt on our right, round the salient at Fricourt, to the Ancre in front of St. Pierre Divion. To assist this main attack by holding the enemy's reserves and occupying his artillery, the enemy's trenches north of the Ancre, as far as Serre, inclusive, were to be assaulted simultaneously, while further north a subsidiary attack was to be made on both sides of the salient at Gommecourt.

I had intrusted the attack on the front from Maricourt to Serre to the Fourth Army, under the command of General Sir Henry S. Rawlinson, Bart., K. C. B., K. C. V. O., with five army corps at his disposal. The subsidiary attack at Gommecourt was carried out by troops from the army commanded by General Sir E. H. H. Allenby, K. C. B.

Just prior to the attack the mines which had been prepared under the enemy's lines were exploded, and smoke was discharged at many places along our front. Through this smoke our infantry advanced to the attack with the utmost steadiness in spite of the very heavy barrage of the enemy's guns. On our right our troops met with immediate success, and rapid progress was made. Before midday Montauban had been carried, and shortly afterward the Briqueterie, to the east, and the whole of the ridge to the west of the village were in our hands. Opposite Mametz part of our assembly trenches had been practically leveled by the enemy artillery, making it necessary for our infantry to advance to the attack across 400 yards of open ground. None the less they forced their way into Mametz, and reached their objective in the valley[76] beyond, first throwing out a defensive flank toward Fricourt on their left. At the same time the enemy's trenches were entered north of Fricourt, so that the enemy's garrison in that village was pressed on three sides. Further north, though the village of La Boisselle and Ovillers for the time being resisted our attack, our troops drove deeply into the German lines on the flanks of these strongholds, and so paved the way for their capture later.

On the spur running south from Thiepval the work known as the Leipsic Salient was stormed, and severe fighting took place for the possession of the village and its defenses. Here and north of the valley of the Ancre, as far as Serre, on the left flank of our attack, our initial successes were not sustained. Striking progress was made at many points, and parties of troops penetrated the enemy's positions to the outer defenses of Grandcourt, and also to Pendant Copse and Serre; but the enemy's continued resistance at Thiepval and Beaumont Hamel made it impossible to forward reinforcements and ammunition, and in spite of their gallant efforts our troops were forced to withdraw during the night to their own lines.

The subsidiary attack at Gommecourt also forced its way into the enemy's positions, but there met with such vigorous opposition that as soon as it was considered that the attack had fulfilled its object our troops were withdrawn.

In view of the general situation at the end of the first day's operations I decided that the best course was to press forward on a front extending from our junction with the French to a point half way between La Boisselle and Contalmaison, and to limit the offensive on our left for the present to a slow and[77] methodical advance. North of the Ancre such preparations were to be made as would hold the enemy to his positions and enable the attack to be resumed there later if desirable. In order that General Sir Henry Rawlinson might be left free to concentrate his attention on the portion of the front where the attack was to be pushed home, I also decided to place the operations against the front, La Boisselle to Serre, under the command of General Sir Hubert de la P. Gough, K. C. B., to whom I accordingly allotted the two northern corps of Sir Henry Rawlinson's army. My instructions to Sir Hubert Gough were that his army was to maintain a steady pressure on the front from La Boisselle to the Serre road and to act as a pivot on which our line could swing as our attacks on his right made progress toward the north.

During the succeeding days the attack was continued on these lines. In spite of strong counter-attacks on the Briqueterie and Montauban, by midday on July 2 our troops had captured Fricourt, and in the afternoon and evening stormed Fricourt Wood and the farm to the north. During July 3 and 4 Bernajay and Caterpillar woods were also captured, and our troops pushed forward to the railway north of Mametz. On these days the reduction of La Boisselle was completed after hard fighting, while the outskirts of Contalmaison were reached on July 5. North of La Boisselle also the enemy's forces opposite us were kept constantly engaged, and our holding in the Leipsic Salient was gradually increased.

To sum up the results of the fighting of these five days, on a front of over six miles, from the Briqueterie to La Boisselle, our troops had swept over the whole of the enemy's first and strongest system of defense, which he had done his utmost to render impregnable. They[78] had driven him back over a distance of more than a mile, and had carried four elaborately fortified villages. The number of prisoners passed back at the close of July 5, 1916, had already reached the total of ninety-four officers and 5,724 other ranks.

After the five days' heavy and continuous fighting just described it was essential to carry out certain readjustments and reliefs of the forces engaged. In normal conditions of enemy resistance the amount of progress that can be made at any time without a pause in the general advance is necessarily limited. Apart from the physical exhaustion of the attacking troops and the considerable distance separating the enemy's successive main systems of defense, special artillery preparation was required before a successful assault could be delivered. Meanwhile, however, local operations were continued in spite of much unfavorable weather. The attack on Contalmaison and Mametz Wood was undertaken on July 7, 1916, and after three days' obstinate fighting, in the course of which the enemy delivered several powerful counterattacks, the village and the whole of the wood, except its northern border, were finally secured. On July 7 also a footing was gained in the other defenses of Ovillers, while on July 9, 1916, on our extreme right, Maltz Horn Farm—an important point on the spur north of Hardecourt—was secured.

A thousand yards north of this farm our troops had succeeded at the second attempt in establishing themselves on July 8, 1916, in the southern end of Trones Wood. The enemy's positions in the northern and eastern parts of this wood were very strong, and no less than eight powerful German counterattacks were made here during the next five days. In the course of this struggle portions of the wood changed hands several times; but we were left[79] eventually, on July 13, 1916, in possession of the southern part of it.

Meanwhile Mametz Wood had been entirely cleared of the enemy, and with Trones Wood also practically in our possession we were in a position to undertake an assault upon the enemy's second system of defense. Arrangements were accordingly made for an attack to be delivered at daybreak on the morning of July 14, 1916, against a front extending from Longueval to Bazentin-le-Petit Wood, both inclusive. Contalmaison Villa, on a spur 1,000 yards west of Bazentin-le-Petit Wood, had already been captured to secure the left flank of the attack, and advantage had been taken of the progress made by our infantry to move our artillery forward into new positions. The preliminary bombardment had opened on July 11, 1916. The opportunities offered by the ground for enfilading the enemy's lines were fully utilized, and did much to secure the success of our attack.

In the early hours of July 4, 1916, the attacking troops moved out over the open for a distance of from about 1,000 to 1,400 yards, and lined up in the darkness just below the crest and some 300 to 500 yards from the enemy's trenches. Their advance was covered by strong patrols, and their correct deployment had been insured by careful previous preparations. The whole movement was carried out unobserved and without touch being lost in any case. The decision to attempt a night operation of this magnitude with an army, the bulk of which had been raised since the beginning of the war, was perhaps the highest tribute that could be paid to the quality of our troops. It would not have been possible but for the most careful preparation and forethought, as well as thorough reconnoissance of the ground, which was, in many cases,[80] made personally by divisional, brigade, and battalion commanders and their staffs before framing their detailed orders for the advance.

The actual assault was delivered at 3.25 a.m. on July 14, 1916, when there was just sufficient light to be able to distinguish friend from foe at short ranges, and along the whole front attacked our troops, preceded by a very effective artillery barrage, swept over the enemy's first trenches and on into the defenses beyond.

On our right the enemy was driven from his last foothold in Trones Wood, and by 8 a.m. we had cleared the whole of it, relieving a body of 170 men who had maintained themselves all night in the northern corner of the wood, although completely surrounded by the enemy. Our position in the wood was finally consolidated, and strong patrols were sent out from it in the direction of Guillemont and Longueval. The southern half of this latter village was already in the hands of the troops who had advanced west of Trones Wood. The northern half, with the exception of two strong points, was captured by 4 p.m. after a severe struggle.

In the centre of our attack Bazentin-le-Grand village and wood were also gained, and our troops pushing northward captured Bazentin-le-Petit village and the cemetery to the east. Here the enemy counterattacked twice about midday without success, and again in the afternoon, on the latter occasion momentarily reoccupying the northern half of the village as far as the church. Our troops immediately returned to the attack and drove him out again with heavy losses. To the left of the village Bazentin-le-Petit Wood was cleared, in spite of the considerable resistance of the enemy along its western edge, where we[81] successfully repulsed a counterattack. In the afternoon further ground was gained to the west of the wood, and posts were established immediately south of Pozières.

The enemy's troops, who had been severely handled in these attacks and counterattacks, began to show signs of disorganization, and it was reported early in the afternoon that it was possible to advance to High Wood. General Rawlinson, who had held a force of cavalry in readiness for such an eventuality, decided to employ a part of it. As the fight progressed small bodies of this force had pushed forward gradually, keeping in close touch with the development of the action, and prepared to seize quickly any opportunity that might occur. A squadron now came up on the flanks of our infantry, who entered High Wood at about 8 p.m., and, after some hand-to-hand fighting, cleared the whole of the wood with the exception of the northern apex. Acting mounted in co-operation with the infantry, the cavalry came into action with good effect, killing several of the enemy and capturing some prisoners.

On July 15, 1916, the battle still continued, though on a reduced scale. Arrow Head Copse, between the southern edge of Trones Wood and Guillemont, and Waterlot Farm on the Longueval-Guillemont road, were seized, and Delville Wood was captured and held against several hostile counterattacks. In Longueval fierce fighting continued until dusk for the possession of the two strong points and the orchards to the north of the village. The situation in this area made the position of our troops in High Wood somewhat precarious, and they now began to suffer numerous casualties from the enemy's heavy shelling. Accordingly orders were given for their withdrawal, and this was effected during the night of July 15-16,[82] 1916, without interference by the enemy. All the wounded were brought in.

In spite of repeated enemy counterattacks further progress was made on the night of July 16, 1916, along the enemy's main second-line trenches northwest of Bazentin-le-Petit Wood to within 500 yards of the northeast corner of the village of Pozières, which our troops were already approaching from the south.

Meanwhile the operations further north had also made progress. Since the attack of July 7, 1916, the enemy in and about Ovillers had been pressed relentlessly and gradually driven back by incessant bombing attacks and local assaults, in accordance with the general instructions I had given to General Sir Hubert Gough. On July 16, 1916, a large body of the garrison of Ovillers surrendered, and that night and during the following day, by a direct advance from the west across No Man's Land, our troops carried the remainder of the village and pushed out along the spur to the north and eastward toward Pozières.

The results of the operations of July 4, 1916, and subsequent days were of considerable importance. The enemy's second main system of defense had been captured on a front of over three miles. We had again forced him back more than a mile, and had gained possession of the southern crest of the main ridge on a front of 6,000 yards. Four more of his fortified villages and three woods had been wrested from him by determined fighting, and our advanced troops had penetrated as far as his third line of defense. In spite of a resolute resistance and many counterattacks, in which the enemy had suffered severely, our line was definitely established from Maltz Horn Farm, where we met the French left, northward along the eastern edge[83] of Trones Wood to Longueval, then westward past Bazentin-le-Grand to the northern corner of Bazentin-le-Petit and Bazentin-le-Petit Wood, and then westward again past the southern face of Pozières to the north of Ovillers. Posts were established at Arrow Head Copse and Waterlot Farm, while we had troops thrown forward in Delville Wood and toward High Wood, though their position was not yet secure.

I cannot speak too highly of the skill, daring endurance, and determination by which these results had been achieved. Great credit is due to Sir Henry Rawlinson for the thoroughness and care with which this difficult undertaking was planned; while the advance and deployment made by night without confusion, and the complete success of the subsequent attack, constitute a striking tribute to the discipline and spirit of the troops engaged, as well as to the powers of leadership and organization of their commanders and staffs.

During these operations and their development on the 15th a number of enemy guns were taken, making a total capture since July 1, 1916, of eight heavy howitzers, four heavy guns, forty-two field and light guns and field howitzers, thirty trench mortars, and fifty-two machine guns. Very considerable losses had been inflicted on the enemy, and the prisoners captured amounted to over 2,000, bringing the total since July 1, 1916, to over 10,000.

There was strong evidence that the enemy forces engaged on the battle front had been severely shaken by the repeated successes gained by ourselves and our allies; but the great strength and depth of his defenses had secured for him sufficient time to bring up fresh troops, and he had still many powerful fortifications, both trenches, villages, and woods, to[84] which he could cling in our front and on our flanks.

We had, indeed, secured a footing on the main ridge, but only on a front of 6,000 yards, and desirous though I was to follow up quickly the successes we had won, it was necessary first to widen this front.

West of Bazentin-le-Petit the villages of Pozières and Thiepval, together with the whole elaborate system of trenches around, between and on the main ridge behind them, had still to be carried. An advance further east would, however, eventually turn these defenses, and all that was for the present required on the left flank of our attack was a steady, methodical, step by step advance as already ordered.

On our right flank the situation called for stronger measures. At Delville Wood and Longueval our lines formed a sharp salient, from which our front ran on the one side westward to Pozières, and on the other southward to Maltz Horn Farm. At Maltz Horn Farm our lines joined the French, and the allied front continued still southward to the village of Hem, on the Somme.

This pronounced salient invited counterattacks by the enemy. He possessed direct observation on it all around from Guillemont on the southeast to High Wood on the northwest. He could bring a concentric fire of artillery, to bear not only on the wood and village, but also on the confined space behind, through which ran the French communications as well as ours, where great numbers of guns, besides ammunition and impediments of all sorts, had necessarily to be crowded together. Having been in occupation of this ground for nearly two years, he knew every foot of it, and could not fail to appreciate the possibilities of causing us heavy loss there by indirect artillery fire; while it was evident that, if he could drive[85] in the salient in our line and so gain direct observation on the ground behind, our position in that area would become very uncomfortable.

If there had not been good grounds for confidence that the enemy was not capable of driving from this position troops who had shown themselves able to wrest it from him, the situation would have been an anxious one. In any case it was clear that the first requirement at the moment was that our right flank, and the French troops in extension of it, should swing up into line with our centre. To effect this, however, strong enemy positions had to be captured both by ourselves and by our allies.

From Delville Wood the main plateau extends for 4,000 yards east-northeast to Les Boeufs and Morval, and for about the same distance southeastward to Leuze and Bouleau Woods, which stand above and about 1,000 yards to the west of Combles. To bring my right up into line with the rest of my front it was necessary to capture Guillemont, Falfemont Farm, and Leuze Wood, and then Ginchy and Bouleau Woods. These localities were naturally very strong, and they had been elaborately fortified. The enemy's main second-line system of defense ran in front of them from Waterlot Farm, which was already in our hands, southeastward to Falfemont Farm, and thence southward to the Somme. The importance of holding us back in this area could not escape the enemy's notice, and he had dug and wired many new trenches, both in front of and behind his original lines. He had also brought up fresh troops, and there was no possibility of taking him by surprise.

The task before us was, therefore, a very difficult one and entailed a real trial of strength between the opposing forces. At this juncture its difficulties were increased by unfavorable[86] weather. The nature of the ground limited the possibility of direct observation of our artillery fire, and we were consequently much dependent on observation from the air. As in that element we had attained almost complete superiority, all that we required was a clear atmosphere; but with this we were not favored for several weeks. We had rather more rain than is usual in July and August, and even when no rain fell there was an almost constant haze and frequent low clouds.

In swinging up my own right it was very important that the French line north of the Somme should be advanced at the same time in close combination with the movement of the British troops. The line of demarkation agreed on between the French commander and myself ran from Maltz Horn Farm due eastward to the Combles Valley and then northeastward up that valley to a point midway between Sailly-Saillisel and Morval. These two villages had been fixed upon as objectives, respectively, of the French left and of my right. In order to advance in co-operation with my right, and eventually to reach Sailly-Saillisel, our allies had still to fight their way up that portion of the main ridge which lies between the Combles Valley on the west and the River Tortille on the east. To do so they had to capture, in the first place, the strongly fortified villages of Maurepas, Le Forest, Rancourt, and Frégicourt, besides many woods and strong systems of trenches. As the high ground on each side of the Combles Valley commands the slopes of the ridge on the opposite side, it was essential that the advance of the two armies should be simultaneous and made in the closest co-operation. This was fully recognized by both armies, and our plans were made accordingly.

To carry out the necessary preparations to deal with the difficult situation outlined above[87] a short pause was necessary, to enable tired troops to be relieved and guns to be moved forward; while at the same time old communications had to be improved and new ones made. Intrenchments against probable counterattacks could not be neglected, and fresh dispositions of troops were required for the new attacks to be directed eastward.

It was also necessary to continue such pressure on the rest of our front, not only on the Ancre, but further south, as would make it impossible for the enemy to devote himself entirely to resisting the advance between Delville Wood and the Somme. In addition, it was desirable further to secure our hold on the main ridge west of Delville Wood by gaining more ground to our front in that direction. Orders were therefore issued in accordance with the general considerations explained above, and, without relaxing pressure along the enemy's front from Delville Wood to the west, preparations for an attack on Guillemont were pushed on.

During the afternoon of July 18, 1916, the enemy developed his expected counterattack against Delville Wood, after heavy preliminary shelling. By sheer weight of numbers, and at very heavy cost, he forced his way through the northern and northeastern portion of the wood and into the northern half of Longueval, which our troops had cleared only that morning. In the southeast corner of the wood he was held up by a gallant defense, and further south three attacks on our positions in Waterlot Farm failed.

This enemy attack on Delville Wood marked the commencement of the long, closely contested struggle which was not finally decided in our favor till the fall of Guillemont on September 3, 1916, a decision which was confirmed by the capture of Ginchy six days later.[88] Considerable gains were indeed made during this period, but progress was slow, and bought only by hard fighting. A footing was established in High Wood on July 20, 1916, and our line linked up thence with Longueval. A subsequent advance by the Fourth Army on July 23, 1916, on a wide front from Guillemont to Pozières found the enemy in great strength all along the line, with machine guns and forward troops in shell holes and newly constructed trenches well in front of his main defenses. Although ground was won, the strength of the resistance experienced showed that the hostile troops had recovered from their previous confusion sufficiently to necessitate long and careful preparation before further successes on any great scale could be secured.

An assault delivered simultaneously on this date by General Gough's army against Pozières gained considerable results, and by the morning of July 25, 1916, the whole of that village was carried, including the cemetery, and important progress was made along the enemy's trenches to the northeast. That evening, after heavy artillery preparation, the enemy launched two more powerful counterattacks, the one directed against our new position in and around High Wood and the other delivered from the northwest of Delville Wood. Both attacks were completely broken up with very heavy losses to the enemy.

On July 27, 1916, the remainder of Delville Wood was recovered, and two days later the northern portion of Longueval and the orchards were cleared of the enemy, after severe fighting, in which our own and the enemy's artillery were very active.

On July 30, 1916, the village of Guillemont and Falfemont Farm to the southeast were attacked, in conjunction with a French attack north of the Somme. A battalion entered[89] Guillemont, and part of it passed through to the far side; but as the battalions on either flank did not reach their objectives, it was obliged to fall back, after holding out for some hours on the western edge of the village. In a subsequent local attack on August 7, 1916, our troops again entered Guillemont, but were again compelled to fall back owing to the failure of a simultaneous effort against the enemy's trenches on the flanks of the village.

The ground to the south of Guillemont was dominated by the enemy's positions in and about that village. It was therefore hoped that these positions might be captured first, before an advance to the south of them in the direction of Falfemont Farm was pushed further forward. It had now become evident, however, that Guillemont could not be captured as an isolated enterprise without very heavy loss, and, accordingly, arrangements were made with the French Army on our immediate right for a series of combined attacks, to be delivered in progressive stages, which should embrace Maurepas, Falfemont Farm, Guillemont, Leuze Wood, and Ginchy.

An attempt on August 16, 1916, to carry out the first stage of the prearranged scheme met with only partial success, and two days later, after a preliminary bombardment lasting thirty-six hours, a larger combined attack was undertaken. In spite of a number of enemy counterattacks the most violent of which leveled at the point of junction of the British with the French, succeeded in forcing our allies and ourselves back from a part of the ground won—very valuable progress was made, and our troops established themselves in the outskirts of Guillemont village and occupied Guillemont Station. A violent counterattack on Guillemont Station was repulsed on August 23, 1916, and next day further important progress[90] was made on a wide front north and east of Delville Wood.

Apart from the operations already described, others of a minor character, yet involving much fierce and obstinate fighting, continued during this period on the fronts of both the British armies. Our lines were pushed forward wherever possible by means of local attacks and by bombing and sapping, and the enemy was driven out of various forward positions from which he might hamper our progress. By these means many gains were made which, though small in themselves, in the aggregate represented very considerable advances. In this way our line was brought to the crest of the ridge above Martinpuich, and Pozières Windmill and the high ground north of the village were secured, and with them observation over Martinpuich and Courcelette and the enemy's gun positions in their neighborhood and around Le Sars. At a later date our troops reached the defenses of Mouquet Farm, northwest of Pozières, and made progress in the enemy's trenches south of Thiepval. The enemy's counter-attacks were incessant and frequently of great violence, but they were made in vain and at heavy cost to him. The fierceness of the fighting can be gathered from the fact that one regiment of the German Guards Reserve Corps which had been in the Thiepval salient opposite Mouquet Farm is known to have lost 1,400 men in fifteen days.

The first two days of September, 1916, on both army fronts were spent in preparation for a more general attack, which the gradual progress made during the preceding month had placed us in a position to undertake. Our assault was delivered at 12 noon on September 3, 1916, on a front extending from our extreme right to the third enemy trenches on the right bank of the Ancre, north of Hamel.[91] Our allies attacked simultaneously on our right.

Guillemont was stormed and at once consolidated, and our troops pushed on unchecked to Ginchy and the line of the road running south to Wedge Wood. Ginchy was also seized, but here, in the afternoon, we were very strongly counterattacked. For three days the tide of attack and counterattack swayed backward and forward among the ruined houses of the village, till, in the end, for three days more the greater part of it remained in the enemy's possession. Three counterattacks made on the evening of September 3, 1916, against our troops in Guillemont all failed, with considerable loss to the enemy. We also gained ground north of Delville Wood and in High Wood, though here an enemy counterattack recovered part of the ground won.

On the front of General Gough's army, though the enemy suffered heavy losses in personnel, our gain in ground was slight.

In order to keep touch with the French who were attacking on our right the assault on Falfemont Farm on September 3, 1916, was delivered three hours before the opening of the main assault. In the impetus of their first rush our troops reached the farm, but could not hold it. Nevertheless, they pushed on to the north of it, and on September 4, 1916, delivered a series of fresh assaults upon it from the west and north.

Ultimately this strongly fortified position was occupied piece by piece, and by the morning of September 5, 1916, the whole of it was in our possession. Meanwhile further progress had been made to the northeast of the farm, where considerable initiative was shown by the local commanders. By the evening of the same day our troops were established strongly in[92] Leuze Wood, which on the following day was finally cleared of the enemy.

In spite of the fact that most of Ginchy and of High Wood remained in the enemy's hands, very noteworthy progress had been made in the course of these four days' operations, exceeding anything that had been achieved since July 14, 1916. Our right was advanced on a front of nearly two miles to an average depth of nearly one mile, penetrating the enemy's original second line of defense on this front, and capturing strongly fortified positions at Falfemont Farm, Leuze Wood, Guillemont, and southeast of Delville Wood, where reached the western outskirts of Ginchy. More important than this gain in territory was the fact that the barrier which for seven weeks the enemy had maintained against our further advance had at last been broken. Over 1,000 prisoners were taken and many machine guns captured or destroyed in the course of the fighting.

Preparations for a further attack upon Ginchy continued without intermission, and at 4.45 p.m. on September 9, 1916, the attack was reopened on the whole of the Fourth Army front. At Ginchy and to the north of Leuze Wood it met with almost immediate success. On the right the enemy's line was seized over a front of more than 1,000 yards from the southwest corner of Bouleau Woods, in a northwesterly direction, to a point just south of the Guillemont-Morval tramway. Our troops again forced their way into Ginchy, and passing beyond it carried the line of enemy trenches to the east. Further progress was made east of Delville Wood and south and east of High Wood.

Over 500 prisoners were taken in the operations of September 9, 1916, and following days, making the total since July 1, 1916, over 17,000.[93]

Meanwhile the French had made great progress on our right, bringing their line forward to Louage Wood (just south of Combles)—Le Forest-Clery-sur-Somme, all three inclusive. The weak salient in the allied line had therefore disappeared and we had gained the front required for further operations.

Still more importance, however, lay in the proof afforded by the results described of the ability of our new armies, not only to rush the enemy's strongest defenses, as had been accomplished on July 1 and 14, 1916, but also to wear down and break his power of resistance by a steady, relentless pressure, as they had done during the weeks of this fierce and protracted struggle. As has already been recounted, the preparations made for our assault on July 1, 1916, had been long and elaborate; but though the enemy knew that an attack was coming, it would seem that he considered the troops already on the spot, secure in their apparently impregnable defenses, would suffice to deal with it. The success of that assault, combined with the vigor and determination with which our troops pressed their advantage, and followed by the successful night attack of July 14, 1916, all served to awaken him to a fuller realization of his danger. The great depth of his system of fortification, to which reference has been made, gave him time to reorganize his defeated troops, and to hurry up numerous fresh divisions and more guns. Yet in spite of this, he was still pushed back, steadily and continuously. Trench after trench and strong point after strong point were wrested from him. The great majority of his frequent counterattacks failed completely, with heavy loss; while the few that achieved temporary local success purchased it dearly, and were soon thrown back from the ground they had for the moment regained.[94]

The enemy had, it is true, delayed our advance considerably, but the effort had cost him dear; and the comparative collapse of his resistance during the last few days of the struggle justified the belief that in the long run decisive victory would lie with our troops, who had displayed such fine fighting qualities and such indomitable endurance and resolution.

Practically the whole of the forward crest of the main ridge on a front of some 9,000 yards, from Delville Wood to the road above Mouquet Farm, was now in our hands, and with it the advantage of observation over the slopes beyond. East of Delville Wood, for a further 3,000 yards to Leuze Wood, we were firmly established on the main ridge, while further east, across the Combles Valley, the French were advancing victoriously on our right. But though the centre of our line was well placed, on our flanks there was still difficult ground to be won.

From Ginchy the crest of the high ground runs northward for 2,000 yards, and then eastward, in a long spur, for nearly 4,000 yards. Near the eastern extremity of this spur stands the village of Morval commanding a wide field of view and fire in every direction. At Leuze Wood my right was still 2,000 yards from its objective at this village, and between lay a broad and deep branch of the main Combles Valley, completely commanded by the Morval spur, and flanked, not only from its head northeast of Ginchy, but also from the high ground east of the Combles Valley, which looks directly into it.

Up this high ground beyond the Combles Valley the French were working their way toward their objective at Sailly-Saillisel, situated due east of Morval, and standing at the same level. Between these two villages the ground falls away to the head of the Combles[95] Valley, which runs thence in a southwesterly direction. In the bottom of this valley lies the small town of Combles, then well fortified and strongly held, though dominated by my right at Leuze Wood and by the French left on the opposite heights. It had been agreed between the French and myself that an assault on Combles would not be necessary, as the place could be rendered untenable by pressing forward along the ridges above it on either side.

The capture of Morval from the south presented a very difficult problem, while the capture of Sailly-Saillisel, at that time some 3,000 yards to the north of the French left, was in some respects even more difficult. The line of the French advance was narrowed almost to a defile by the extensive and strongly fortified Wood of St. Pierre Vaast on the one side, and on the other by the Combles Valley, which, with the branches running out from it and the slopes each side, is completely commanded, as has been pointed out, by the heights bounding the valley on the east and west.

On my right flank, therefore, the progress of the French and British forces was still interdependent, and the closest cooperation continued to be necessary in order to gain the further ground required to enable my centre to advance on a sufficiently wide front. To cope with such a situation unity of command is usually essential, but in this case the cordial good feeling between the allied armies, and the earnest desire of each to assist the other, proved equally effective, and removed all difficulties.

On my left flank the front of General Gough's army bent back from the main ridge near Mouquet Farm down a spur descending southwestward, and then crossed a broad valley to the Wonderwork, a strong point situated in[96] the enemy's front-line system near the southern end of the spur on the higher slopes of which Thiepval stands. Opposite this part of our line we had still to carry the enemy's original defenses on the main ridge above Thiepval, and in the village itself, defenses which may fairly be described as being as nearly impregnable as nature, art, and the unstinted labor of nearly two years could make them.

Our advance on Thiepval and on the defenses above it had been carried out up to this date, in accordance with my instructions given on July 3, 1916, by a slow and methodical progression, in which great skill and much patience and endurance had been displayed with entirely satisfactory results. General Gough's army had, in fact, acted most successfully in the required manner as a pivot to the remainder of the attack. The Thiepval defenses were known to be exceptionally strong, and as immediate possession of them was not necessary to the development of my plans after July 1, 1916, there had been no need to incur the heavy casualties to be expected in an attempt to rush them. The time was now approaching, although it had not yet arrived, when their capture would become necessary; but from the positions we had now reached and those which we expected shortly to obtain, I had no doubt that they could be rushed when required without undue loss. An important part of the remaining positions required for my assault on them was now won by a highly successful enterprise carried out on the evening of September 14, 1916, by which the Wonderwork was stormed.

The general plan of the combined allied attack which was opened on September 15 was to pivot on the high ground south of the Ancre and north of the Albert-Bapaume road, while the Fourth Army devoted its whole effort to[97] the rearmost of the enemy's original systems of defense between Morval and Le Sars. Should our success in this direction warrant it I made arrangements to enable me to extend the left of the attack to embrace the villages of Martinpuich and Courcelette. As soon as our advance on this front had reached the Morval line, the time would have arrived to bring forward my left across the Thiepval Ridge. Meanwhile on my right our allies arranged to continue the line of advance in close co-operation with me from the Somme to the slopes above Combles, but directing their main effort northward against the villages of Rancourt and Frégicourt, so as to complete the isolation of Combles and open the way for their attack upon Sailly-Saillisel.

A methodical bombardment was commenced at 6 a.m. on September 12, 1916, and was continued steadily and uninterruptedly till the moment of attack.

At 6.20 a.m. on September 15, 1916 the infantry assault commenced, and at the same moment the bombardment became intense. Our new heavily armored cars, known as "tanks," now brought into action for the first time, successfully co-operated with the infantry, and, coming as a surprise to the enemy rank and file, gave valuable help in breaking down their resistance.

The advance met with immediate success on almost the whole of the front attacked. At 8.40 a.m. "tanks" were seen to be entering Flers, followed by large numbers of troops. Fighting continued in Flers for some time, but by 10 a.m. our troops had reached the north side of the village, and by midday had occupied the enemy's trenches for some distance beyond. On our right our line was advanced to within assaulting distance of the strong line of defense running before Morval,[98] Les Boeufs, and Gueudecourt, and on our left High Wood was at last carried after many hours of very severe fighting, reflecting great credit on the attacking battalions. Our success made it possible to carry out during the afternoon that part of the plan which provided for the capture of Martinpuich and Courcelette, and by the end of the day both these villages were in our hands. On September 18, 1916, the work of this day was completed by the capture of the Quadrilateral, an enemy stronghold which had hitherto blocked the progress of our right toward Morval. Further progress was also made between Flers and Martinpuich.

The result of the fighting of September 15, 1916, and following days was a gain more considerable than any which had attended our arms in the course of a single operation since the commencement of the offensive. In the course of one day's fighting we had broken through two of the enemy's main defensive systems and had advanced on a front of over six miles to an average depth of a mile. In the course of this advance we had taken three large villages, each powerfully organized for prolonged resistance. Two of these villages had been carried by assault with short preparation in the course of a few hours' fighting. All this had been accomplished with a small number of casualties in comparison with the troops employed, and in spite of the fact that, as was afterward discovered, the attack did not come as a complete surprise to the enemy.

The total number of prisoners taken by us in these operations since their commencement on the evening of September 14, 1916, amounted at this date to over 4,000, including 127 officers.

Preparations for our further advance were again hindered by bad weather, but at 12.35 p.m. on September 25, 1916, after a bombardment[99] commenced early in the morning of the 24th, a general attack by the Allies was launched on the whole front between the Somme and Martinpuich. The objectives on the British front included the villages of Morval, Les Boeufs, and Gueudecourt, and a belt of country about 1,000 yards deep curving round the north of Flers to a point midway between that village and Martinpuich. By nightfall the whole of these objectives were in our hands, with the exception of the village of Gueudecourt, before which our troops met with very serious resistance from a party of the enemy in a section of his fourth main system of defense.

On our right our allies carried the village of Rancourt, and advanced their line to the outskirts of Frégicourt, capturing that village also during the night and early morning. Combles was therefore nearly surrounded by the allied forces, and in the early morning of September 26, 1916, the village was occupied simultaneously by the allied forces, the British to the north and the French to the south of the railway. The capture of Combles in this inexpensive fashion represented a not inconsiderable tactical success. Though lying in a hollow, the village was very strongly fortified, and possessed, in addition to the works which the enemy had constructed, exceptionally large cellars and galleries, at a great depth under ground, sufficient to give effectual shelter to troops and material under the heaviest bombardment. Great quantities of stores and ammunition of all sorts were found in these cellars when the village was taken.

On the same day Gueudecourt was carried, after the protecting trench to the west had been captured in a somewhat interesting fashion. In the early morning a "tank" started down the portion of the trench held by the[100] enemy from the northwest, firing its machine guns and followed by bombers. The enemy could not escape, as we held the trench at the southern end. At the same time an aeroplane flew down the length of the trench, also firing a machine gun at the enemy holding it. These then waved white handkerchiefs in token of surrender, and when this was reported by the aeroplane the infantry accepted the surrender of the garrison. By 8.30 a.m. the whole trench had been cleared, great numbers of the enemy had been killed, and 8 officers and 362 of the ranks made prisoners. Our total casualties amounted to five.

The success of the Fourth Army had now brought our advance to the stage at which I judged it advisable that Thiepval should be taken, in order to bring our left flank into line and establish it on the main ridge above that village, the possession of which would be of considerable tactical value in future operations.

Accordingly at 12.25 p.m. on September 26, 1916, before the enemy had been given time to recover from the blow struck by the Fourth Army, a general attack was launched against Thiepval and the Thiepval Ridge. The objective consisted of the whole of the high ground still remaining in enemy hands extending over a front of some 3,000 yards north and east of Thiepval, and including, in addition to that fortress, the Zollern Redoubt, the Stuff Redoubt, and the Schwaben Redoubt, with the connecting lines of trenches.

The attack was a brilliant success. On the right our troops reached the system of enemy trenches which formed their objectives without great difficulty. In Thiepval and the strong works to the north of it the enemy's resistance was more desperate. Three waves of our attacking troops carried the outer defenses of Mouquet Farm, and, pushing on,[101] entered Zollern Redoubt, which they stormed and consolidated. In the strong point formed by the buildings of the farm itself, the enemy garrison, securely posted in deep cellars, held out until 6 p.m., when their last defenses were forced by a working party of a pioneer battalion acting on its own initiative.

On the left of the attack fierce fighting, in which "tanks" again gave valuable assistance to our troops, continued in Thiepval during that day and the following night, but by 8.30 a.m. on September 27, 1916 the whole of the village of Thiepval was in our hands.

Some 2,300 prisoners were taken in the course of the fighting on the Thiepval Ridge on these and the subsequent days, bringing the total number of prisoners taken in the battle area in the operations of September 14-30, 1916, to nearly 10,000. In the same period we had captured 27 guns, over 200 machine guns, and some 40 trench mortars.

On the same date the south and west sides of Stuff Redoubt were carried by our troops, together with the length of trench connecting that strong point with Schwaben Redoubt to the west and also the greater part of the enemy's defensive line eastward along the northern slopes of the ridge. Schwaben Redoubt was assaulted during the afternoon, and in spite of counterattacks, delivered by strong enemy reenforcements, we captured the whole of the southern face of the redoubt and pushed out patrols to the northern face and toward St. Pierre Divion.

Our line was also advanced north of Courcelette, while on the Fourth Army front a further portion of the enemy's fourth-system of defense northwest of Gueudecourt was carried on a front of a mile. Between these two points the enemy fell back upon his defenses running in front of Eaucourt l'Abbaye and Le Sars,[102] and on the afternoon and evening of September 27, 1916, our troops were able to make a very considerable advance in this area without encountering serious opposition until within a few hundred yards of this line. The ground thus occupied extended to a depth of from 500 to 600 yards on a front of nearly two miles between the Bazentin-le-Petit, Lingy, Thilloy, and Albert-Bapaume roads.

Destremont Farm, southwest of Le Sars, was carried by a single company on September 29, 1916, and on the afternoon of October 1, 1916, a successful attack was launched against Eaucourt l'Abbaye and the enemy defenses to the east and west of it, comprising a total front of about 3,000 yards. Our artillery barrage was extremely accurate, and contributed greatly to the success of the attack. Bomb fighting continued among the buildings during the next two days, but by the evening of October 3 the whole of Eaucourt l'Abbaye was in our hands.

At the end of September, 1916, I had handed over Morval to the French, in order to facilitate their attacks on Sailly-Saillisel, and on October 7, 1916, after a postponement rendered necessary by three days' continuous rain, our allies made a considerable advance in the direction of the latter village. On the same day the Fourth Army attacked along the whole front from Les Boeufs to Destremont Farm in support of the operations of our allies.

The village of Le Sars was captured, together with the quarry to the northwest, while considerable progress was made at other points along the front attacked. In particular, to the east of Gueudecourt, the enemy's trenches were carried on a breadth of some 2,000 yards, and a footing gained on the crest of the long spur which screens the defenses of Le Transloy from the southwest. Nearly 1,000 prisoners were[103] secured by the Fourth Army in the course of these operations.

With the exception of his positions in the neighborhood of Sailly-Saillisel, and his scanty foothold on the northern crest of the high ground above Thiepval, the enemy had now been driven from the whole of the ridge lying between the Tortille and the Ancre.

Possession of the northwestern portion of the ridge north of the latter village carried with it observation over the valley of the Ancre between Miraumont and Hamel and the spurs and valleys held by the enemy on the right bank of the river. The Germans, therefore, made desperate efforts to cling to their last remaining trenches in this area, and in the course of the three weeks following our advance made repeated counterattacks at heavy cost in the vain hope of recovering the ground they had lost. During this period our gains in the neighborhood of Stuff and Schwaben Redoubts were gradually increased and secured in readiness for future operations; and I was quite confident of the ability of our troops, not only to repulse the enemy's attacks, but to clear him entirely from his last positions on the ridge whenever it should suit my plans to do so. I was, therefore, well content with the situation on this flank.

Along the centre of our line from Gueudecourt to the west of Le Sars similar considerations applied. As we were already well down the forward slopes of the ridge on his front, it was for the time being inadvisable to make any serious advance. Pending developments elsewhere all that was necessary or indeed desirable was to carry on local operations to improve our positions and to keep the enemy fully employed.

On our eastern flank, on the other hand, it was important to gain ground. Here the enemy[104] still possessed a strong system of trenches covering the villages of Le Transloy and Beaulencourt and the town of Bapaume; but, although he was digging with feverish haste, he had not yet been able to create any very formidable defenses behind this line. In this direction, in fact, we had at last reached a stage at which a successful attack might reasonably be expected to yield much greater results than anything we had yet attained. The resistance of the troops opposed to us had seriously weakened in the course of our recent operations, and there was no reason to suppose that the effort required would not be within our powers.

The last completed system of defense, before Le Transloy, was flanked to the south by the enemy's positions at Sailly-Saillisel, and screened to the west by the spur lying between Le Transloy and Les Boeufs. A necessary preliminary, therefore, to an assault upon it was to secure the spur and the Sailly-Saillisel heights. Possession of the high ground at this latter village would at once give a far better command over the ground to the north and northwest, secure the flank of our operations toward Le Transloy, and deprive the enemy of observation over the allied communications in the Combles Valley. In view of the enemy's efforts to construct new systems of defense behind the Le Transloy spur, was extended and secured time in dealing with the situation.

Unfortunately, at this juncture, very unfavorable weather set in and continued with scarcely a break during the remainder of October and the early part of November. Poor visibility seriously interfered with the work of our artillery, and constant rain turned the mass of hastily dug trenches for which we were fighting into channels of deep mud. The country roads, broken by countless shell craters, that cross the deep stretch of ground we had[105] lately won, rapidly became almost impassable, making the supply of food, stores, and ammunition a serious problem. These conditions multiplied the difficulties of attack to such an extent that it was found impossible to exploit the situation with the rapidity necessary to enable us to reap the full benefits of the advantages we had gained.

None the less, my right flank continued to assist the operations of our allies against Saillisel, and attacks were made to this end, whenever a slight improvement in the weather made the co-operation of artillery and infantry at all possible. The delay in our advance, however, though unavoidable, had given the enemy time to reorganize and rally his troops. His resistance again became stubborn and he seized every favorable opportunity for counterattacks. Trenches changed hands with great frequency, the conditions of ground making it difficult to renew exhausted supplies of bombs and ammunition, or to consolidate the ground won, and so rendering it an easier matter to take a battered trench than to hold it.

On September 12 and 18, 1916, further gains were made to the east of the Les Boeufs-Gueudecourt line and east of Le Sars, and some hundreds of prisoners were taken. On these dates, despite all the difficulties of ground, the French first reached and then captured the villages of Sailly-Saillisel, but the moment for decisive action was rapidly passing away, while the weather showed no signs of improvement. By this time, too, the ground had already become so bad that nothing less than a prolonged period of drying weather, which at that season of the year was most unlikely to occur, would suit our purpose.

In these circumstances, while continuing to do all that was possible to improve my position on my right flank, I determined to press[106] on with preparations for the exploitation of the favorable local situation on my left flank. At midday on October 21, 1916, during a short spell of fine, cold weather, the line of Regina Trench and Stuff Trench, from the west Courcelette-Pys road westward to Schwaben Redoubt, was attacked with complete success. Assisted by an excellent artillery preparation and barrage, our infantry carried the whole of their objectives very quickly and with remarkably little loss, and our new line was firmly established in spite of the enemy's shell fire. Over one thousand prisoners were taken in the course of the day's fighting, a figure only slightly exceeded by our casualties.

On October 23, 1916, and again on November 5, 1916, while awaiting better weather for further operations on the Ancre, our attacks on the enemy's positions to the east of Les Boeufs and Gueudecourt were renewed, in conjunction with French operations against the Sailly-Saillisel heights and St. Pierre Vaast Wood. Considerable further progress was achieved. Our footing at the crest of Le Transloy Spur was extended and secured, and the much-contested tangle of trenches at our junction with the French left at last passed definitely into our possession. Many smaller gains were made in this neighborhood by local assaults during these days, in spite of the difficult conditions of the ground. In particular, on November 10, 1916, after a day of improved weather, the portion of Regina Trench lying to the east of the Courcelette-Pys road was carried on a front of about one thousand yards.

Throughout these operations the enemy's counterattacks were very numerous and determined, succeeding indeed in the evening of October 23, 1916, in regaining a portion of the ground east of Le Sars taken from him by our attack on that day. On all other occasions his[107] attacks were broken by our artillery or infantry and the losses incurred by him in these attempts, made frequently with considerable effectives, were undoubtedly very severe.

On November 9, 1916, the long-continued bad weather took a turn for the better, and thereafter remained dry and cold, with frosty nights and misty mornings, for some days. Final preparations were therefore pushed on for the attack on the Ancre, though, as the ground was still very bad in places, it was necessary to limit the operations to what it would be reasonably possible to consolidate and hold under the existing conditions.

The enemy's defenses in this area were already extremely formidable when they resisted our assault on July 1, 1916, and the succeeding period of four months had been spent in improving and adding to them in the light of the experience he had gained in the course of our attacks further south. The hamlet of St. Pierre Divion and the villages of Beaucourt-sur-Ancre and Beaumont Hamel, like the rest of the villages forming part of the enemy's original front in this district, were evidently intended by him to form a permanent line of fortifications, while he developed his offensive elsewhere. Realizing that his position in them had become a dangerous one, the enemy had multiplied the number of his guns covering this part of his line, and at the end of October introduced an additional division on his front between Grandcourt and Hébuterne.

At 5 o'clock on the morning of November 11, 1916, the special bombardment preliminary to the attack was commenced. It continued with bursts of great intensity until 5.45 o'clock on the morning of November 13, 1916, when it developed into a very effective barrage covering the assaulting infantry.

At that hour our troops advanced on the[108] enemy's position through dense fog, and rapidly entered his first-line trenches on almost the whole front attacked, from east of Schwaben Redoubt to the north of Serre. South of the Ancre, where our assault was directed northward against the enemy's trenches on the northern slopes of the Thiepval Ridge, it met with a success altogether remarkable for rapidity of execution and lightness of cost. By 7.20 a.m. our objectives east of St. Pierre Divion had been captured, and the Germans in and about that hamlet were hemmed in between our troops and the river. Many of the enemy were driven into their dugouts and surrendered, and at 9 a.m. the number of prisoners was actually greater than the attacking force. St. Pierre Divion soon fell, and in this area nearly 1,400 prisoners were taken by a single division at the expense of less than 600 casualties. The rest of our forces operating south of the Ancre attained their objectives with equal completeness and success.

North of the river the struggle was more severe, but very satisfactory results were achieved. Though parties of the enemy held out for some hours during the day in strong points at various places along his first line and in Beaumont Hamel, the main attack pushed on. The troops attacking close to the right bank of the Ancre reached their second objectives to the west and northwest of Beaucourt during the morning, and held on there for the remainder of the day and night, though practically isolated from the rest of our attacking troops. Their tenacity was of the utmost value, and contributed very largely to the success of the operations. At nightfall our troops were established on the western outskirts of Beaucourt, in touch with our forces south of the river, and held a line along the station road from the Ancre toward Beaumont[109] Hamel, where we occupied the village. Further north the enemy's first-line system for a distance of about half a mile beyond Beaumont Hamel was also in our hands. Still further north—opposite Serre—the ground was so heavy that it became necessary to abandon the attack at an early stage, although, despite all difficulties, our troops had in places reached the enemy's trenches in the course of their assault.

Next morning, at an early hour, the attack was renewed between Beaucourt and the top of the spur just north of Beaumont Hamel. The whole of Beaumont was carried, and our line extended to the northwest along the Beaucourt road across the southern end of the Beaumont Hamel spur. The number of our prisoners steadily rose, and during this and the succeeding days our front was carried forward eastward and northward up the slopes of the Beaumont Hamel spur.

The results of this attack were very satisfactory, especially as before its completion bad weather had set in again. We had secured the command of the Ancre Valley on both banks of the river at the point where it entered the enemy's lines, and, without great cost to ourselves, losses had been inflicted on the enemy which he himself admitted to be considerable. Our final total of prisoners taken in these operations, and their development during the subsequent days, exceeded 7,200, including 149 officers.

Throughout the period dealt with in this dispatch the rôle of the other armies holding our defensive line from the northern limits of the battle front to beyond Ypres was necessarily a secondary one, but their task was neither light nor unimportant. While required to give precedence in all respects to the needs of the Somme battle, they were responsible for the security of the line held by them and for[110] keeping the enemy on their front constantly on the alert. Their rôle was a very trying one, entailing heavy work on the troops and constant vigilance on the part of commanders and staffs. It was carried out to my entire satisfaction, and in an unfailing spirit of unselfish and broad-minded devotion to the general good, which is deserving of the highest commendation.

Some idea of the thoroughness with which their duties were performed can be gathered from the fact that in the period of four and a half months from July 1, 1916, some 360 raids were carried out, in the course of which the enemy suffered many casualties and some hundreds of prisoners were taken by us. The largest of these operations was undertaken on July 19, 1916, in the neighborhood of Armentières. Our troops penetrated deeply into the enemy's defenses, doing much damage to his works and inflicting severe losses upon him.

The three main objects with which we had commenced our offensive in July had already been achieved at the date when this account closes, in spite of the fact that the heavy Autumn rains had prevented full advantage from being taken of the favorable situation created by our advance, at a time when we had good grounds for hoping to achieve yet more important successes.

Verdun had been relieved, the main German forces had been held on the western front, and the enemy's strength had been very considerably worn down.

Any one of these three results is in itself sufficient to justify the Somme battle. The attainment of all three of them affords ample compensation for the splendid efforts of our troops and for the sacrifices made by ourselves and our allies. They have brought us a long step forward toward the final victory of the allied cause.[111]

The desperate struggle for the possession of Verdun had invested that place with a moral and political importance out of all proportion to its military value. Its fall would undoubtedly have been proclaimed as a great victory for our enemies, and would have shaken the faith of many in our ultimate success. The failure of the enemy to capture it, despite great efforts and very heavy losses, was a severe blow to his prestige, especially in view of the confidence he had openly expressed as to the results of the struggle.

Information obtained both during the progress of the Somme battle and since the suspension of active operations has fully established the effect of our offensive in keeping the enemy's main forces tied to the western front. A movement of German troops eastward, which had commenced in June as a result of the Russian successes, continued for a short time only after the opening of the allied attack. Thereafter the enemy forces that moved east consisted, with one exception, of divisions that had been exhausted in the Somme battle, and these troops were already replaced on the western front by fresh divisions. In November the strength of the enemy in the western theatre of war was greater than in July, notwithstanding the abandonment of his offensive at Verdun.

It is possible that if Verdun had fallen large forces might still have been employed in an endeavor further to exploit that success. It is, however, far more probable, in view of developments in the eastern theatre, that a considerable transfer of troops in that direction would have followed. It is therefore justifiable to conclude that the Somme offensive not only relieved Verdun but held large forces which would otherwise have been employed against our allies in the east.[112]

The third great object of the allied operations on the Somme was the wearing down of the enemy's powers of resistance. Any statement of the extent to which this has been attained must depend in some degree on estimates.

There is, nevertheless, sufficient evidence to place it beyond doubt that the enemy's losses in men and material have been very considerably higher than those of the Allies, while morally the balance of advantage on our side is still greater.

During the period under review a steady deterioration took place in the morale of large numbers of the enemy's troops. Many of them, it is true, fought with the greatest determination, even in the latest encounters, but the resistance of still larger numbers became latterly decidedly feebler than it had been in the earlier stages of the battle. Aided by the great depth of his defenses and by the frequent reliefs which his resources in men enabled him to effect, discipline and training held the machine together sufficiently to enable the enemy to rally and reorganize his troops after each fresh defeat. As our advance progressed, four-fifths of the total number of divisions engaged on the western front were thrown one after another into the Somme battle, some of them twice, and some three times; and toward the end of the operations, when the weather unfortunately broke, there can be no doubt that his power of resistance had been very seriously diminished.

The number of prisoners taken by us in the Somme battle between July 1 and November 18, 1916, is just over 38,000, including over 800 officers. During the same period we captured 29 heavy guns, 96 field guns and field howitzers, 136 trench mortars, and 514 machine guns.[113]

The war fell with special severity upon the people of the poorer classes in Russia, many of whom, upon the advance of the German and Austrian armies, were compelled to flee from their homes in a practically destitute condition. A graphic description of the pitiable plight of these unfortunate people is given in the following pages.

[114]

RUSSIA'S REFUGEES

GREGORY MASON

Near Moscow, on a siding of the railway that runs from Moscow to Warsaw through Smolensk, was a string of thirteen freight cars, the short, chunky Russian kind—barely half as long as the American—looking as flimsy, top-heavy, and unwieldy as houseboats on wheels. No locomotive was tied to the string, and from the windward side, where the cars were whitewashed by the biting blizzard that had already stopped all traffic with its drifted barricades, they had the desolate look of stranded empties. But the leeward door of each car was open a few inches, permitting the egress of odors that told any one who chanced to pass that the big rolling boxes were loaded with human freight, closely packed and long on the journey.

I pushed the door of one car back and looked in. At first in the semi-gloom nothing was visible, but gradually, against a crack in the opposite car wall that let through a streak of gray light with a ribbon of snow that rustled as it fell on the straw-covered floor, there grew the dull silhouette of two old women, who sat facing each other in the straw, laboriously pounding corn into flour in a big earthen bowl between them.

The young Pole who was with me climbed into the car and probed its recesses with a spear of light from a pocket flash-lamp. The old women stopped pounding to lift toward us wrinkled faces that expressed fear and hate[115] when the tiny searchlight was turned on their dim, blinking eyes. Another pair of hags in a far corner, propped against a bale of hay and bound together like Siamese twins in a brown horse-blanket, moved their eyes feebly, but nothing more. They were paralyzed. A score of children that had been huddled here and there in the straw in twos and threes for warmth's sake came slowly to life and crowded around us, lifting a ring of wan, emaciated little faces. Three, too feeble to stand, sat up and stared at the strange light. The bodies of four small babies moved not at all—were, in fact, lifeless.

These people were refugees from a rural part of Poland, made homeless by the Russian military decree which ordered the destruction of all buildings and the removal of all civilians from the rearward path of the Muscovite army as it fell back before the battering attacks of the Germans from Warsaw to Dwinsk. For ten days these four old women and twenty-seven children had been in that car, with no fire, few warm clothes, and only a little dried meat, corn flour, and water to sustain life in them. This the meager fare had failed to do in the case of the four youngest. Since they had been herded into that cold box like cattle by soldiers at the station to which they had driven or walked from their blazing homes, they had been moved eastward daily in the joggling car, which traveled slowly and by fits and starts, unvisited by any one, not knowing their destination, and now too low in mind and body to care.

The two old creatures who were paralyzed when they had been dumped into the car were now apparently dying; several of the children swayed with weakness as they stood, clutching at the biscuits and sweet chocolate which we drew from our pockets. Five of them were[116] grandchildren of one of the paralytics, three designated one of the wrinkled flour-makers by the Polish equivalent of "granny," but none of the others knew where their parents were, and six of them had forgotten their own family names or had never known them.

The other twelve cars were like this one except that all of them had at least two or three—and usually six or seven—feeble, crackly-voiced old men with their complement of women and children, and one contained three young fellows of twenty who had probably smuggled themselves into the car and who cringed when my Polish interpreter lunged on them with his rapier of light and retreated into a corner where two cows stood with necks crossed in affection. These youths knew they had no business in that car, for even in the chaos of retreat the word had been passed among the civilian refugees: "Women, children, and old men first in the cars; young men can walk." But there have not been enough cars even for the weak, the very young, and the very aged, and thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, have found their graves along the slushy, muddy roads they were following toward Petrograd and Moscow from the occupied provinces of Poland and the Baltic. These people in the freight cars at least had had transportation and a crude kind of shelter. But of the two million refugees who are overcrowding Moscow and Petrograd, to the great detriment of the health average of the two Russian capitals, many thousands came there several hundred weary miles on foot. And others, less determined or weaker, are still straggling in or are lingering by the way, some of the latter dying and some finding shelter in small towns between the twin big cities and the front.

Some estimates place the number of Russian refugees at from ten to fifteen million; thirteen[117] million is the estimate of the Tatiana Committee, one of the most influential relief organizations in Russia, named after the second daughter of the Czar, who is its honorary head. By race the refugees are principally Poles, Jews, Letts, and Lithuanians, but they come from all ranks and stations of life, rich and poor alike, now all poor, thrown from their homes with nothing but the clothes on their bodies by the grim chances of war.

In times of peace and prosperity the sudden impoverishment of such a large mass of people would tax the relief and charity of Russia to the limit; but now, when all food prices are from one hundred to three hundred per cent higher than before the war—when even the well-to-do have difficulty to get enough bread, sugar, and coal—it is inevitable that thousands of these homeless ones should starve and freeze to death. Thousands have already suffered this fate, but hundreds of thousands, perhaps a million or more, will die this way before spring unless relief comes quickly and bountifully from abroad, for Russia cannot cope with the emergency alone. Unless Russia's allies or neutrals begin at once to pour into Russia a stream of food to fill the stomachs of these hungry, homeless ones, this will be the bitterest winter in Russian history, a winter whose horrors will far transcend the terrible winter of 1812, when Napoleon ravaged Poland and sacked Moscow.

Great Britain, who is holding up some of her weaker allies in many ways, sweeping mines from the White Sea for Russia, and with France bolstering the remnant of the Belgian army in Flanders, is doing much to alleviate the suffering of Russia's refugees by unofficial action. The Great Britain to Poland Fund, organized and supported by such prominent Britons as Lady Byron, Viscount Bryce, the[118] Duke of Newcastle, the Earl of Rosebery, and the Lord Mayor of London, at the instance of Princess Bariatinsky, who is better known as the famous Russian actress, Madame Yavorska, is feeding between 4,000 and 7,000 refugees daily at Petrograd, Moscow, Minsk, and at several small towns close to the front.

The Petrograd "Feeding Point" is a long, hastily built shed of unfinished lumber a stone's-throw from the Warsaw station. This site was well selected, for the long stone railway station, open at both ends like an aviation hangar, is the center of refugee population in the Czar's city. Not only were several hundred homeless men, women, and children sleeping on the cold stone floors of the draughty station, but other hundreds were lying about in odd corners here and there, in empty trucks and freight cars, lying within a few feet of where the crowded refugee train had left them, with no hope or ambition to make them move on. Still other hundreds, more fortunate than these, were sheltered in three sheds, similar to the "Refugees' Restaurant" in their unfinished board construction, which had been built by the Government. Each of these sheds, about thirty by sixty feet in dimensions, housed between two and three hundred persons. This crowding was made possible by the presence of platforms built one above another in triple or quadruple deck "nests" about the room, where people of both sexes and of all ages slept, cooked and ate such food as they could beg, and lay all day long with expressionless, bulging eyes, half stupefied in the stifling stench of the place.

Twice a day a line formed before the door of the feeding station of such persons as were known to have no private food supply, and when the door opened they surged in, getting brass tickets at the threshold which each one[119] exchanged in the far end of the room for a large square piece of Russian chorny khleb—black bread—and a steaming bowl of good old English porridge served to them by the bustling ladies of the British Colony. Only enough were admitted at a time to fill the double row of board tables, yet every day from 1,000 to 1,400 were fed.

It was interesting to stand at the elbow of the buxom, indefatigably good-natured English lady who wielded the porridge spoon and watch the long, hungry file which melted away toward the tables when it reached the tall, bottomless urn that held the fragrant, steaming cereal. First came a dozen boys and girls who had lost their parents but not the irresistible gayety of hungry youth in the presence of food.

They took their bread and porridge without even a mumbled "Spassiba"—thanks—and shouldered each other for seats at the tables. Then came a blind old man led by his two grandsons. His thanks were pathetically profuse. Next another graybeard, carrying an ivory cane and wearing a handsome fur coat, the only indications of his recent high station in provincial society except the unmistakable reserve and dignity of gentility. After him was a handsome Lett, who had been a station agent in Courland till his station was dynamited in the Russian retreat. None of the children gave any thanks for the food; in fact, hardly any one did except the very old. The attitude of the others seemed to be that of people who were getting only a small part of their just due. Perhaps that was because they may not have realized that they were being fed by England, not by Russia, and toward Russia all of them were bitter even those who lived in the shelters the Government had built. This bitterness was indicated by the refusal of most of them to[120] accept work proffered them by provincial or municipal officials.

Their attitude is that, inasmuch as the Government has deliberately wiped out their homes and destroyed their means of livelihood, it is the Government's duty to support them in comfortable idleness. They seem to feel that it is adding insult to injury to ask them to begin over again in a new environment and work for their living. I asked a young Lettish railway man, living in one of the board barracks near the Warsaw station, why he had refused an offer of employment in the railway yards hard by.

"Why should I work for Russia?" he asked, bitterly. "Russia has taken from me my pretty home, my good job, and my wife and two children, who died on the road in that awful blizzard recently. Why should I work for Russia?"

"But you will starve if you do not," I suggested.

"Nichevo!"—it doesn't matter—he muttered, in gloomy resignation.

The majority of the refugees feel the way this man does. I do not refer to the refugees who left their homes voluntarily through fear of the advancing Germans, but to that greater number who were forced to leave by the compulsion of their own Government, which deliberately destroyed their homes as a military measure. Every Russian, even the military officers who were responsible for this policy of destruction, now realize that the adoption of that policy was one of the greatest mistakes Russia has made during the war. For it has cost her the support of a large and important body of Letts, Poles, Jews, and Lithuanians. The theory was that to leave large masses of civilians behind the forward-pushing German lines would provide Germany with a large number of spies, as well as[121] with sustenance for its armies. To some extent, too, it was believed that buildings left standing in the Russian retreat might serve as protection and cover for German artillery. So everything was destroyed—farm-houses, barns, churches, schools, orchards, even haystacks. Whenever the Russian lines retracted before the unbearable pounding of the terrible German guns, they left only a desert for the Kaiser's men to cross.

War is not a parlor game. A great deal of destruction is inevitable in the nature of war, and sometimes in wars of the past commanders have deliberately laid waste large sections of beautiful country to handicap the enemy, and the results have justified this destruction. A ten per cent social and economic loss is gladly borne by a nation at war for a ninety per cent military gain. Perhaps a commander is even justified in inflicting a forty-nine per cent social and economic loss on his country for a fifty-one per cent military gain. But the deliberate ravaging of Poland and the Baltic provinces was a ninety per cent social and economic loss for a ten per cent military gain—something that is never justifiable.

It is very difficult for a general to remember that there are other factors in war besides the military factors, and we must not be too severe in our criticism of the Russian General Staff because it saw only the ten per cent military gain and overlooked the ninety per cent political and economic loss. The order which made a desert of thousands of square miles of the best territory in Russia was countermanded, anyway, but not until the harm had been done. But now the only concern of Russia and of the friends of Russia should be to confine the damage to the irremediable minimum. To that end it is necessary to handle the great streams of refugees intelligently. The influx into Petrograd[122] and Moscow should be stopped. Relief organization should go out from these cities toward the front, stop the refugees where they meet them, and there make provision for them to spend the winter. To this purpose hundreds and thousands of sleeping barracks and soup kitchens like those in Petrograd must be built along the provincial highways. Thousands of these people will never again see the familiar environment where they have lived all their lives, even if Russia regains her lost provinces. But more of them will be able to return eventually, and there will be less suffering among them this winter, if they are stopped where they are and are not allowed to flow into the two Russian capitals, so terribly overcrowded already, and into the colder country north and east of Petrograd and Moscow.

I understand that this policy has been adopted by the Tatiana Committee. But Russia alone cannot handle the situation; she must have generous aid from outside.

A young American, Mr. Thomas Whittemore, who was in Sofia when Bulgaria went to war, left there declining an invitation of the Queen of Bulgaria to head a branch of the Red Cross, because his sympathies were with the Allies, and is now in Russia working out a programme for the relief of Russia's refugees under the auspices of the Tatiana Committee. He is out on the roads in an automobile constantly, meeting the incoming human flotsam and jetsam of war, and his recommendations will have the weight of authority. America has become a synonym for service in France, Belgium, and Servia, but thus far America has done next to nothing for Russia. Shall America, who responded so splendidly to the appeal of Belgium and Servia, ignore the needs of the stricken people of Poland and the Baltic provinces, whose sufferings are greater than the sufferings[123] of the Belgians, certainly as great as the sufferings of the Servians?

There are many pathetic things in war—soldiers wasted with disease, blasted in arm and leg with explosive shell, withered in eye and lung by the terrible gas; but none of these things is so moving as the sight of little children, homeless, parentless, and with clothing worn and torn by travel, sleeping in empty freight cars, cold railway stations, or on the very blizzard-swept sidewalks of Russian cities, and slowly dying because they have no food.

Rumania hesitated long before entering the war. The sympathies of her people were strongly with the Allies, for military and economic reasons connected with German domination of her resources made her actual military participation with the Allied Armies difficult and dangerous. The decision, however, was made in the late summer of 1916, and an attack was made by the Rumanian army against Austrian forces. This was followed by successes which continued until Bulgaria began hostilities against the Rumanian army. Shortly after, a German army under General Mackensen against Rumania was started which ended in the capture of Bucharest in December, 1916.

[124]

THE TRAGEDY OF RUMANIA

STANLEY WASHBURN

More than a year has now elapsed since Rumania entered the war. What is meant for this little country to abandon neutrality is not generally realized. Here in America we know that so long as the British fleet dominated the seas we were safe, and that we should have ample opportunity to prepare ourselves for the vicissitudes of war and to make the preparations that are now being undertaken and carried out by the administration of President Wilson. Canada and Australia likewise knew that they were in no danger of attack.

But the case of Rumania was far different. She knew with a terrible certainty that the moment she entered the war she would be the target for attack on a frontier over twelve hundred kilometres long. The world criticized her for remaining neutral, and yet one wonders how many countries would have staked their national future as Rumania did when she entered the war. In a short fourteen months she has seen more than one half of her army destroyed, her fertile plains pass into the hands of her enemies, and her great oil industry almost wiped out. To-day her army, supported by Russians, is holding with difficulty hardly twenty per cent of what, before the war, was one of the most fertile and prosperous small kingdoms of Europe.

When America entered the war she assumed, in a large measure, the obligations to which[125] the Allies were already committed. It seems of paramount importance under these circumstances that the case and the cause of Rumania be more thoroughly understood in this country. Other countries entered the war through necessities of various sorts. America committed herself to the conflict for a cause which even the cynical German propaganda, hard as it has tried, has been unable to distort into a selfish or commercial one. We are preparing to share in every way the sacrifices, both in blood and wealth, which our allies have been making these past three years. And as our reward we ask for no selfish or commercial rights, nor do we seek to acquire extension of territory or acquisition of privilege in any part of the world. We have entered the war solely, because of wrongs committed in the past, and with the just determination that similar wrongs shall never again be perpetrated. No country and no people on this globe are more responsive to an obligation, and more determined to fulfill such an obligation when recognized, than are the American people.

For nearly two years prior to the entrance of Rumania into the war I had been attached to the Russian Imperial Staff in the field, as special correspondent of the London "Times." I went to Rumania in September, 1916, directly from the staff of the then Tsar, with a request from the highest authority in Russia to the highest command in Rumania that every opportunity for studying the situation be given me. These letters gave me instant access to the King and Queen of Rumania, to the Rumanian General Staff, and to other persons of importance in the Rumanian administration. I remained in that country until late in the autumn, motoring more than five thousand kilometres, and touching the Rumanian front at many places. My opinion,[126] then, of the Rumanian cause is based on first-hand evidence obtained at the time.

When I arrived in Rumania, in September, the army was still at the high tide of its advance in Transylvania and the world was lauding without stint the bravery and efficiency of Rumanian troops. Two days after my arrival I lunched with the King, and had the first of a series of interviews with him on the status of the case of Rumania. Inasmuch as without the consent of its sovereign the entrance of Rumania into the war would have been impossible, I should first present the King's view of her case as His Majesty, after several conversations, authorized me to present it.

The King himself, as all the world knows, is a Hohenzollern. His personal feelings must, therefore, in a measure, be affected by the fact that most of his relatives and friends are fighting on the German side. There is, however, not the slightest evidence to indicate that he has ever allowed the fact of his German blood to weigh against the true interests of Rumania. A conversation which illustrates the attitude of the King at this time is one which the Princess ——, one of the most clever and best-informed women in Rumania, related to me in Bucharest. The day before the declaration of war the most pro-German of the Rumanian ministers, who had the name of being the leader of the pro-German party in the capital, spent several hours putting forth every effort to prevent the declaration of war by the King. The minister, making no headway, finally said, "The Germans are sure to win. Your Majesty must realize that it is impossible to beat a Hohenzollern." The King replied, "I think it can be done, nevertheless." To this the defender of the German cause answered, "Can you show me a single case where a Hohenzollern has been beaten?" The King[127] replied, "I can. I am a Hohenzollern, and I have beaten my own blood instincts for the sake of Rumania."

One beautiful autumn afternoon, at the royal shooting-box outside of Bucharest, the King talked freely about his motives and the cause of his people. We had finished luncheon and he had dismissed his suite. He and the Crown Prince and myself were left in the unpretentious study. Here, over a map-strewn table, it was the custom of the King to study the problems of the campaign. A tired, harassed-looking man of about sixty, clad in the blue uniform of the Hussars of his Guard, he paced the floor, and with deep emotion emphasized the case of his country and the motives which had induced Rumania to enter the war.

This earnest presentation of his opinion I placed in writing at that time, and the sentences quoted here were a part of the statement published in the London "Times." So far as I know, this is the only occasion on which the King outlined in a definite way his personal view of the Rumania case.

His Majesty began by laying stress on the necessity for interpreting Rumania truthfully to the world, now that her enemies were doing their utmost to misrepresent her; the necessity for understanding the genius of the people and the sacrifices and dangers which the country faced. He urged that Rumania had not been moved by mere policy or expediency, but that her action was based on the highest principles of nationality and national ideals.

"In Rumania as in Russia," said the King, "the tie of race and blood underlies all other considerations, and the appeal of our purest Rumanian blood which lies beyond the Transylvanian Alps has ever been the strongest influence[128] in the public opinion of all Rumania, from the throne to the lowest peasant. Inasmuch as Hungary was the master that held millions of our blood in perpetual bondage, Hungary has been our traditional enemy. The Bulgar, with his efficient and unquestionably courageous army, on a frontier difficult to defend, has logically become our southern menace, and as a latent threat has been accepted secondarily as a potential enemy."

After stating that, although at the beginning of the war Rumanian sympathy had leaped instantly to France and England, the Rumanians had realized that, economically, the friendship of Germany was an asset in the development of Rumanian industries, the King added that, nevertheless, as the Great War progressed, there had developed in Rumania a moral issue in regard to the war. The frightfulness and lawlessness practiced by the Central Powers had a profound effect upon the Rumanian people, and the country began to feel the subtle force of enemy intrigue endeavoring to force her into war against her own real interests. Let us remember, when we would criticize Rumania for her early inactivity, that she was, in the words of her King, "a small power with a small army surrounded by giants"; that she had a western frontier 1,000 kilometres long—greater than the English and French fronts combined—and a Bulgarian frontier, almost undefended and near her capital, stretching for other hundreds of kilometres on the south. With Russia in retreat, Rumania would have been instantly annihilated if she had acted. She had to wait till she could be reasonably sure of protecting herself and of being supported by her allies. She waited not a moment longer.

After pointing out the great risks which Rumania had run, as a small country, and the[129] deterring effect of the fate of Serbia and Belgium, the King continued, "Notwithstanding the savagery with which the enemy is attacking us and the cruelty with which our defenseless women and children are being massacred, this government will endeavor to prevent bitterness from dominating its actions in the way of reprisals on prisoners or defenseless noncombatants; and to this end orders have been issued to our troops that, regardless of previous provocation, those who fall into our hands shall be treated with kindness; for it is not the common soldiers or the innocent people who must be held responsible for the policy adopted by the enemy governments."

The interview ended with the King's assurance that Rumanians would not falter in their allegiance to England the just, to France, their brother in Latin blood, and to Russia, their immediate neighbor.

"With confidence in the justice of our cause, with faith in our allies, and with the knowledge that our people are capable of every fortitude, heroism, sacrifice, which may be demanded of them, we look forward soberly and seriously to the problems that confront us, but with the certainty that our sacrifices will not be in vain, and that ultimate victory must and will be the inevitable outcome. In the achievement of this result the people of Rumania, from the throne to the lowliest peasant, are willing to pay the price."

When it is realized that these conversations took place in September and the first days of October, it must be clear, I think, that neither the King nor the Queen had ever felt that Rumania entered the war in absolute security, but that they always realized the danger of their situation and moved only because their faith in the Allies was such as to lead them to believe that they had at least a fair chance to[130] cooperate with them without the certainty of destruction.

To emphasize further the fact that both realized this danger even before the war started, I would mention one occasion some weeks later, when the fear of the German invasion of Rumania was becoming a tangible one. During a conversation with the King and the Queen together, in regard to this menace, the Queen turned impulsively to the King and said, "This is exactly what we have feared. We, at least, never imagined that Rumania was going to have an easy victory, and we have always felt the danger of our coming into the war."

The King looked very tired and nervous, having spent all that day with the General Staff weighing news from the front which was increasingly adverse. "Yes," he said, as he pulled his beard, "we were never misled as to what might happen."

So much then for the psychology of the sovereigns of Rumania as I received it from their own lips.

Ever since the loss of Bucharest the world has been asking why Rumania entered the war. It seems to be the general opinion that her action at that time was unwarranted and that she had been betrayed. There has even been a widely circulated report that Germany, through the King, has intrigued to bring about this disaster. Again, I have heard that the Russian High Command had purposely sacrificed Rumania. At this time, when much of the evidence is still unattainable, it is impossible for me to make absolutely authoritative statements, but immediately after leaving Rumania I spent three hours with General Brussiloff discussing the situation. A few days later I had the privilege of meeting the former Tsar at Kieff (to whom the Queen had given me a letter), and I know from his own lips his feelings in regard[131] to Rumania. Subsequently, I was at the headquarters of the Russian High Command and there learned at first hand the extraordinary efforts that Alexieff was making to support Rumania. The British efforts to cooperate with Rumania and prevent disaster I knew thoroughly at that time.

I never saw the slightest evidence that either Russia or her allies had any intention whatever of disregarding their duties or their responsibilities to this little country. That there was lack of vision and foresight on all sides is quite apparent. But that there was bad faith on the part of any of the contracting parties I do not believe. It is probably true that the reactionary government in Petrograd was glad to see the Rumanian disaster, but it must be realized that this was a military situation primarily, and that ninety per cent of it in the first three months was in the hands, not of the Petrograd politicians but of the military authorities at the front. Brussiloff and Alexieff are men incapable of intrigue or bad faith. The Emperor, with whom I talked at Kieff, and the Grand Duchess Maria Pavlowna nearly wept at the misfortune of Rumania, and I am certain that the former Tsar was in no way a party to any breach of faith with this little ally.

I have said that there was not bad faith toward Rumania on the part of the Allies when they induced her to enter the war, and that there was not lack of intelligence on the part of Rumania when she followed their advice. In order to understand the point of view of the Allies it is necessary to have clearly in mind the military conditions existing in the whole theatre of operations during the six months prior to Rumania's fatal venture. In February the Germans had assembled a large portion of their mobile reserves for their effort against Verdun. The constant wastage of German[132] human material continued almost without intermission into May, with spasmodic recurrences up to the present time. Hundreds of thousands of Germans were drawn from the visible supply of enemy manhood by these offensives. By early May the failure of the Verdun venture had probably become manifest to the German High Command, and there is evidence that they were commencing to conserve their troops for other purposes.

On the 5th of June there began in Galicia and Volhynia the great offensive of General Brussiloff which lasted, almost without intermission, on one or another part of his front, until October. By the middle of June this drive of the Russians began to divert German troops for the defense of Kovel. In July started the British-French offensive in the West.

With their reservoirs of men already greatly reduced by the Verdun attacks, the Germans, by the middle of July, were compelled to find supports to meet the continuous offensives on both the Eastern and Western fronts. I cannot estimate the number of troops required by them against the French and British, but I do know that between the 5th of June and the 30th of August a total of thirty divisions of enemy troops were diverted from other fronts against Brussiloff alone. This heavy diversion was the only thing that prevented the Russians from taking Kovel in July and forcing the entire German line in the East. So continuous and pressing were the Russian attacks that more than two months elapsed before the enemy could bring this offensive to a final stop on the Kovel sector. Enemy formations arriving were ground up in detail as fast as they came, and by the middle of July it was clear to us, who were on the fighting line in Volhynia, that the Germans were having extraordinary difficulties in filling their losses from day to[133] day. In June their first supports came by army corps; in July they were coming by divisions; and early in August we checked the arrival of single regiments, while the Austrians were often so hard pressed that they sent isolated battalions to fill the holes in their lines.

In the meantime the Russians had cleared the Bukovina of the enemy. It was believed that Rumania could put in the field twenty-two divisions of excellent troops. The enemy losses in prisoners alone, up to the first of September, from Brussiloff's offensive, were above four hundred thousand and over four hundred guns. It seemed then that these extra twenty-two divisions thrown in by Rumania could meet but little resistance.

In order that the Rumanian attempt to cooperate might be safeguarded in the highest degree, a coordinated plan of operations on the part of the Allies was agreed upon with Rumania. The allied force in Saloniki under General Sarrail was to commence a heavy offensive intended to pin down the Bulgarian and Turkish forces to the southern line, thus protecting the Rumanian line of the Danube. Brussiloff's left flank in Galicia was to start a drive through the Bukovina toward the Hungarian plain, thus relieving the Rumanians from any pressure on the south. A Russian force of fifty thousand men in the Dobrudja was to protect the Rumanian left. This, in view of the apparent shortage of enemy reserves, seemed to protect the army of Rumania on both flanks in its advance into Transylvania. In addition Rumania was to receive certain shipments of munitions of war daily from Russia. It was the opinion of the military advisers in Rumania that under no circumstances could the Germans divert against her within three months more than sixteen divisions, while[134] some of the experts advising her placed the number as low as ten.

Now let us see what happened. For some reason, which I do not know, the offensive on the south was delayed, and when it did start it attained no important results nor did it detain sufficient enemy troops in that vicinity to relieve Rumania. On the contrary, heavy forces of Bulgars and Austrians immediately attacked the line of the Danube, taking the Rumanian stronghold of Turtekaia, with the bulk of the Rumanian heavy guns. In order to safeguard Bucharest, then threatened, the Rumanians were obliged to withdraw troops from their Transylvania advance, which up to this time had been highly successful. These withdrawals represented the difference between an offensive and a defensive, and the Transylvania campaign potentially failed when Bucharest was threatened from the south.

The Russian expedition in the Dobrudja, which was supported by a Rumanian division and a mixed division of Serbs and Slavs, partially recruited from prisoners captured by the Russians, failed to work in harmony, and the protection of the Rumanian left became, after the capture of Turtekaia, a negligible factor which ultimately collapsed entirely. Thus we see in the beginning that through no bad faith the southern assets on which Rumania depended proved to be of little or no value to her.

There still remained the Russian agreement to cooperate in Galicia and the Bukovina. I can speak of this situation with authority because I had been on the southwestern front almost without intermission since June, and know that there was every intent on the part of Brussiloff to carry out to the limit of his capacity his end of the programme. The success of this, however, was impaired by a situation,[135] over which he had no control, which developed in Galicia in September. It must not be forgotten that all the Russian troops on the southwestern front had been fighting constantly for nearly three months. When I came through Galicia on my way to Rumania I found Brussiloff's four southern armies engaged in a tremendous action. Early in September they had made substantial advances in the direction of Lemberg, and were in sight of Halicz on the Dniester when they began to encounter terrific and sustained counter-attacks.

That the force of this may be understood I would mention the case of the army attacking Halicz. When I first went to the southwestern front in June, there were facing this army three Austrian divisions, three Austrian cavalry divisions, and one German division. In September, at the very moment when Brussiloff was supposed to be heavily supporting Rumania, there were sent against this same army—on a slightly extended front—three Austrian divisions, two Austrian cavalry divisions, two Turkish divisions, and nine German divisions. The army on the extreme Russian left, whose duty it was to participate in the offensive in the Bukovina, had made important advances toward Lemberg from the south, and just at the time that Rumania entered the war it also was subjected to tremendous enemy counter-attacks. For several weeks it held its position only with the greatest difficulty and by diverting to itself most of the available reserves. Something more than one army corps did endeavor to coöperate with Rumania, but the situation I have described in Galicia made it impossible for sufficient supports to reach the Bukovina offensive to enable it to fulfill its mission.

Thus we see that after the first month of the campaign the coöperative factors which alone had justified Rumania's entering into the war[136] had proved to be failures. The arrival of material from Russia was delayed because, after Turtekaia was taken, a new Russian corps was sent to the Dobrudja to stiffen up that front. The railroad communications were bad and immediately became congested by the movements of troops, thus interfering with the shipping of badly needed material. I have since heard the Russian reactionary government charged with purposely holding up these shipments; but I am inclined to believe that my explanation of the cause of the delays in the arrival of material is the correct one.

The greatest mistake on the part of the Allies was their estimate of the number of troops that the Germans could send to Rumania during the fall of 1916. As I have said, experts placed this number at from ten to sixteen divisions, but, to the best of my judgment, they sent, between the 1st of September and the 1st of January, not less than thirty. The German commitments to the Rumanian front came by express, and the Russian supports, because of the paucity of lines of communication, came by freight. The moment that it became evident what the Germans could do in the way of sending troops, Rumania was doomed.

The move of Alexieff and the Russian High Command in the middle of October, which is one of tangible record and not of opinion, should absolutely eliminate the charges of bad faith on the part of Russia, for he immediately appropriated for the support of Rumania between eight and ten army corps, which were instantly placed in motion, regardless of the adverse condition their absence caused on his own front. It is quite true that these troops arrived too late to save Bucharest; but that they came as quickly as possible, I can assert without reservation, for I was on the various lines of communication for nearly a month and[137] found them blocked with these corps, which represented the cream of the Russian army, to make good the moral obligations of Russia to Rumania. In November I had a talk with Brussiloff, who authorized me to quote him as follows on the Rumanian situation:

It seems to me that the evidence I have submitted above clears the Allies, including Russia, of any wanton breach of faith toward Rumania, though the failure of their intention to relieve her certainly does not diminish their responsibility toward her in the future.

In the final analysis the determining factor in the ruin of Rumania was the failure of the Allies to foresee the number of troops the Germans could send against them. Their reasoning up to a certain point was accurate. In July, August, and for part of September it was, I believe, almost impossible for the Germans to send troops to Transylvania, which accounts[138] for the rapidity of the Rumanian advance at the beginning of their operations. The fallacy in the Allied reasoning seems to me to have been that every one overlooked certain vital factors in the German situation. First, that she would ultimately support any threat against Hungary to the limit of her capacity, even if she had to evacuate Belgium to get troops for this purpose. For with Hungary out of the war it is a mate in five moves for the Central Empires. Second: the Allies failed to analyze correctly the troop situation on the eastern front, apparently failing to grasp one vital point. An army can defend itself in winter, with the heavy cold and snows of Russia sweeping the barren spaces, with perhaps sixty per cent of the number of troops required to hold those identical lines in summer. It should have been obvious that, when the cold weather set in in the north, the Germans would take advantage of this situation, and by going on the defensive in the north release the margin representing the difference in men required to hold their lines in summer and in winter. Possibly the same condition applies to the west, though I cannot speak with any authority on that subject. Apparently this obvious action of the Germans is exactly what happened. When their northern front had been combed, we find forces subtracted piecemeal from the north, reaching an aggregate of thirty divisions, or at least nearly fifteen divisions more than had been anticipated. The doom of Rumania was sealed.

What happened in the Russian effort to support Rumania is exactly what has occurred in nearly all the drives that I have been in during this war. An army once started in retreat in the face of superior forces can hold only when supported en bloc or when it reaches a fortified line. The Germans with all their cleverness[139] and efficiency were not able to stop the Russian offensive of 1916 until they had fallen back on the fortified lines of the Stokhod in front of Kovel. In the Galician drive against the Russians in 1915, the armies of the Tsar were not able to hold until they reached the San River, on which they fought a series of rear-guard actions.

So it was in Rumania. The Russian corps arriving on the installment plan were swept away by the momentum of the advancing enemy, who could not be halted until the fortified line of the Sereth was reached.

Whether one blames the Allies for lack of vision or not, I think one must at least acquit Rumania of any responsibility for her own undoing. Her case as represented by the King seems a just and sufficient reason for her having entered the war. Her action during the war has been straightforward and direct, and I have never heard of any reason to believe that the King or the Rumanian High Command has ever looked back in the furrow since they made the decision to fight on the side of the Allies. They followed the advice given them as to their participation in the war. They have played the game to the limit of their resources and to-day stand in a position almost unparalleled in its pathos and acuteness. In front of them, as they struggle with courage and desperation for the small fragment of their kingdom that remains, are the formations of the Turks, Bulgars, Austrians, Hungarians, and Germans, with Mackensen striving to give them a death-blow. Behind them is Russia in chaos. German agitators and irresponsible revolutionists have striven in vain to destroy the morale of their army and shake their faith in their government and their sovereign. It is estimated that three million Rumanian refugees have taken shelter behind their lines. Their[140] civil population, or that portion of it which remains, will this winter be destitute of almost every necessity of life.

This, then, is the case of Rumania, and if we and the other Allies have not a moral obligation to the King and Queen and the government of that little country, to support them in every way possible, then surely we have no obligation to any one.

Sentiment, however, is not the only factor in the Rumanian case. There is also the problem of sound policy. In spite of all her distress and her discouragements Rumania has been able to save from the wreckage, and to reconstruct, an army which it is said can muster between three and four hundred thousand men.

These soldiers are well drilled by French officers, filled with enthusiasm and fighting daily, and are even now diverting enemy troops toward Rumania which would otherwise be available for fighting British, French, and American troops in the west.

The Rumanians are the matrix of the Russian left flank, and if, through lack of support and the necessities of life, they go out of the war, the solidity of the Russian left is destroyed and the capture of Odessa probably foreordained.

A few hundred million dollars would probably keep Rumania fighting for another year. It is a conservative estimate to state that it will take ten times that amount, and at least six months' delay, to place the equivalent number of trained American troops on any fighting front.

It is, I think, obvious that from the point of view of sound military policy, as well as moral and ethical obligation, every American whose heart is in this war should be behind the President of the United States without reserve, in[141] any effort he may make or recommend, in extending assistance to Rumania in this the hour of her greatest peril.

Prisoners taken by the Germans were overworked and disciplined with much insolence and cruelty. For infractions of their iron rules the Germans inflicted the severest penalties. The food supplied was insufficient and of very poor quality, so that men might actually have starved had it not been for boxes sent from home through the Red Cross. In the following chapter, a Canadian soldier, who finally escaped after three unsuccessful attempts, describes the life of prisoners and other workers in the Westphalian coal mines.

[142]

SIXTEEN MONTHS A WAR
PRISONER

PRIVATE "JACK" EVANS

I was in Germany as prisoner of war from June, 1916, to September, 1917.

My story starts with my capture at the third battle of Ypres. The Fourth Canadian Mounted Rifles were in the front line at Zillebeke. We had been terribly pounded by German artillery, in fact, almost annihilated. After a hideous night, morning, June 2, 1916, dawned beautiful and clear. At 5.30 I turned in for a little sleep with four other fellows who made up the machine-gun crew with me. Lance Corporal Wedgewood, in charge of the gun, remained awake to clean it. I had just got into a sound sleep when it seemed as if the whole crust of the earth were torn asunder in one mammoth explosion, and I found myself buried beneath sandbags and loose earth. I escaped death only by a miracle and managed to dig my way out. A giant shell had blown up our dugout. Two of the boys were killed.

"We're in for it," said Wedgewood. "They'll keep this up for a while and they'll come over. We must get the gun out."

The gun had been buried by the explosion, but we managed to get it out and were cleaning it up again when another trench mortar shell came over. It destroyed all but 300 rounds of ammunition. Then the bombardment started in earnest. Shells rained on us like hailstones. The German artillery started a barrage behind us that looked almost like a[143] wall of flame; so we knew that there was no hope whatever of help reaching us.

Our men dropped off one by one. The walls of our trench were battered to greasy sand heaps. The dead lay everywhere. Soon only Wedgewood, another chap, and myself were left.

"They've cleaned us out now. The whole battalion's gone," he said.

As far as we could see along the line there was nothing left, not even trenches—just churned-up earth and mutilated bodies. The gallant Fourth had stood its ground in the face of probably the worst hell that had yet visited the Canadian lines and had been wiped out!

It was not long before the other fellow was finished by a piece of shrapnel. I was wounded in the back with a splinter from a shell which broke overhead and then another got me in the knee. I bled freely, but luckily neither wound was serious. About 1.30 we saw a star shell go up over the German lines.

"They're coming!" cried Wedgewood, and we jumped to the gun.

The Germans were about seventy-five yards off when we got the gun trained on them. We gave them our 300 rounds and did great damage; the oncoming troops wavered and the front line crumpled up, but the rest came on.

What followed does not remain very clearly in my mind. We tried to retreat. Every move was agony for me. We did not go far, however. Some of the Germans had got around us and we ran right into four of them. We doubled back and found ourselves completely surrounded. A ring of steel and fierce, pitiless eyes! I expected they would butcher us there and then. The worst we got, however, was a series of kicks as we were marching through[144] the lines in the German communication trenches.

We were given quick treatment at a dressing station and escorted with other prisoners back to Menin by Uhlans. The wounded were made to get along as best they could. We passed through several small towns where the Belgian people tried to give us food. The Uhlans rode along and thrust them back with their lances in the most cold-blooded way. We reached Menin about 10 o'clock that night and were given black bread and coffee—or something that passed by that name. The night was spent in a horse stable with guards all around us with fixed bayonets. The next day we were lined up before a group of German officers, who asked us questions about the numbers and disposition of the British forces, and we lied extravagantly. They knew we were lying, and finally gave it up.

During the next day and a half, traveling in cattle trucks, we had one meal, a bowl of soup. It was weak and nauseating. We took it gratefully, however, for we were nearly starved.

Finally we arrived at Dülmen camp, where I was kept two months. The food was bad, and very, very scanty. For breakfast we had black bread and coffee; for dinner, soup (I still shudder at the thought of turnip soup), and sometimes a bit of dog meat for supper, a gritty, tasteless porridge, which we called "sand storm." We used to sit around with our bowls of this concoction and extract a grim comfort from the hope that some day Kaiser Bill would be in captivity and we might be allowed to feed him on "sand storm."

While I was at Dülmen we had quite a number of visitors. One day Mr. Gerard, the American Ambassador, appeared. He looked us over with great concern and asked us a[145] number of questions. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked as he was leaving.

"See if you can get them to give us more food," one of us begged.

"I shall speak to the camp commander about it," promised Mr. Gerard.

I do not doubt that he did so—but there was no change in the menu and no increase in the quantities served.

After two months at Dülmen prison camp we got word that we were to be sent to work on a farm. We conjured up visions of open fields and fresh air and clean straw to sleep in and perhaps even real food to eat. They loaded fifty of us into one car and sent us off, and when we reached our farm we found it was a coal mine!

As we tumbled off the train, stiff, weary, and disappointed, we were regarded curiously by a small group of people who worked in the mines. They were a heavy looking lot—oldish men with beards, and dull, stolid women. They regarded us with sullen hostility, but there was no fire in their antagonism. Some of the men spat and muttered "Schweinhunds!" That was all.

We were marched off to the "Black Hole." It was a large camp with large frame buildings, which had been erected especially for the purpose. There was one building for the French prisoners, one for the Russians, and one for the British and Canadian contingent. Barbed wire entanglements surrounded the camp and there were sentries with drawn bayonets everywhere.

We were greeted with considerable interest by the other prisoners. There were about two hundred of our men there and all of them seemed in bad shape. They had been subjected to the heaviest kind of work on the slenderest rations and were pretty well worn out.[146]

Some of us were selected for the mine and some were told off for coke making, which, as we soon learned, was sheer unadulterated hell. I was selected for the coke mine and put in three days at it—three days of smarting eyes and burning lungs, of aching and weary muscles. Then my chum, Billy Flanagan, was buried under an avalanche of falling coal and killed. There were no safeguards in the mine and the same accident might occur again at any time. So we struck.

The officers took it as a matter of course. We were lined up and ordered to stand rigidly at "attention." No food was served, not even a glass of water was allowed us. We stood there for thirty-six hours. Man after man fainted from sheer exhaustion. When one of us dropped he was dragged out of the ranks to a corner, where a bucket of water was thrown over him, and, as soon as consciousness returned, he was yanked to his feet and forced to return to the line. All this time sentries marched up and down and if one of us moved he got a jab with the butt end of the gun. Every half hour an officer would come along and bark out at us:

"Are you for work ready now?"

Finally, when some of our fellows were on the verge of insanity, we gave in in a body.

After that things settled down into a steady and dull routine. We were routed out at 4 o'clock in the morning. The sentries would come in and beat the butts of their rifles on the wooden floor and roar "Raus!" at the top of their voices. If any sleep-sodden prisoners lingered a second, they were roughly hauled out and kicked into active obedience. Then a cup of black coffee was served out to us and at 5 o'clock we were marched to the mines. There was a dressing room at the mine where we stripped off our prisoners' garb and donned[147] working clothes. We stayed in the mines until 3.30 in the afternoon and the "staggers"—our pet name for the foremen—saw to it that we had a busy time of it. Then we changed back into our prison clothes and marched to barracks, where a bowl of turnip soup was given us and a half pound of bread. We were supposed to save some of the bread to eat with our coffee in the morning. Our hunger was so great, however, that there was rarely any of the bread left in the morning. At 7 o'clock we received another bowl of turnip soup and were then supposed to go to bed.

If it had not been for the parcels of food that we received from friends at home and from the Red Cross we would certainly have starved. We were able to eke out our prison fare by carefully husbanding the food that came from the outside.

The citizens working in the mines when I first arrived were mostly middle-aged. Many were quite venerable in appearance and of little actual use. They were willing enough to work and work hard; but they complained continually about the lack of food.

That was the burden of their conversation, always, food—bread, butter, potatoes, schinken (ham)! They were living on meager rations and the situation grew steadily worse. The people that I worked with were in almost as bad a plight as we prisoners of war. In the course of a few months I could detect sad changes in them.

The German miners were quite as much at the mercy of the officers as we were. Discipline was rigid and they were "strafed" for any infraction of rules; that is, they were subjected to cuts in pay. Lateness, laziness, or insubordination were punished by the deduction of so many marks from their weekly earnings, and all on the say-so of the "stagger" in charge of[148] the squad. At a certain hour each day an official would come around and hand each civilian a slip of paper. I asked one of my companions what it was all about.

"Bread tickets," he explained. "If they don't turn up for work, they don't get their bread tickets and have to go hungry."

The same rule applied to the women who worked around the head of the mine, pushing carts and loading the coal. If they came to work, they received their bread tickets; if they failed to turn up, the little mouths at home would go unfed for a day.

I often used to stop for a moment or so on my way to or from the pit head and watch these poor women at work. Some of them went barefoot, but the most of them wore wooden shoes. They appeared to be pretty much of one class, uneducated, dull, and just about as ruggedly built as their men. They seemed quite capable of handling the heavy work given them. There were exceptions, however. Here and there among the gray-clad groups I could pick out women of a slenderer mold. These were women of refinement and good education who had been compelled to turn to any class of work to feed their children. Their husbands and sons were at the front or already killed.

The food restrictions caused bitterness among all the mine workers. There were angry discussions whenever a group of them got together. For several days this became very marked.

"There's going to be trouble here," my friend, the English Tommy, told me. "These people say their families are starving. They will strike one of these days."

The very next day, as we marched up to work in the dull gray of the early morning, we found noisy crowds of men and women around[149] the buildings at the mine. A ring of sentries had been placed all around.

"Strike's on! There's a bread strike all through the mining country!" was the whispered news that ran down the line of prisoners. We were delighted, because it meant that we would have a holiday. The authorities did not dare let us go into the mines with the civilians out; they were afraid we might wreck it. So we were marched back to camp and stayed there until the strike was over.

The strike ended finally and the people came back to work, jubilant. The authorities had given in for two reasons, as far as we could judge. The first was the dire need of coal, which made any interruption of work at the mines a calamity. The second was the fact that food riots were occurring in many parts and it was deemed wise to placate the people.

But the triumph of the workers was not complete. The very next day we noticed signs plastered up in conspicuous places with the familiar word "Verboten" in bold type at the top. One of our fellows who could read German edged up close enough to see one of the placards.

"There won't be any more strikes," he informed us. "The authorities have made it illegal for more than four civilians to stand together at any time or talk together. Any infringement of the rule will be jail for them. That means no more meetings."

There was much muttering in the mine that day, but it was done in groups of four or less. I learned afterward, when I became sufficiently familiar with the language and with the miners themselves to talk with them, that they bitterly resented this order.

I found that the active leaders in the strike shortly afterward disappeared from the mine. Those who could possibly be passed for military[150] service were drafted into the army. This was intended as an intimation to the rest that they must "be good" in future. The fear of being drafted for the army hung over them all like a thunder cloud. They knew what it meant and they feared it above everything.

When I first arrived at the mine there were quite a few able-bodied men and boys around sixteen and seventeen years of age at work there. Gradually they were weeded out for the army. When I left none were there but the oldest men and those who could not possibly qualify for any branch of the service.

In the latter stages of my experience at the mine I was able to talk more or less freely with my fellow workers. A few of the Germans had picked up a little English. There was one fellow who had a son in the United States and who knew about as much English as I knew German, and we were able to converse. If I did not know the "Deutsch" for what I wanted to say, he generally could understand it in English. He was continually making terrific indictments of the German Government, yet he hated England to such a degree that he would splutter and get purple in the face whenever he mentioned the word. However, he could find it in his heart to be decent to isolated specimens of Englishmen.

I first got talking with Fritz one day when the papers had announced the repulse of a British attack on the western front.

"It's always the same. They are always attacking us," he cursed. "Of course, it's true that we repulse them. They are but English and they can't break the German army. But how are we to win the war if it is always the English who attack?"

"Do you still think Germany can win?" I asked.[151]

"No!" He fairly spat at me. "We can't beat you now. But you can't beat us! This war will go on until your pig-headed Lloyd George gives in."

"Or," I suggested gently, "until your pig-headed Junker Government gives in."

"They never will!" he said, a little proudly, but sadly too. "Every man will be killed in the army—my two sons, all—and we will starve before it is all over!"

The German citizens, in that section at least, had given up hope of being able to score the big victory that was in every mind when the war started. What the outcome would be did not seem to be clear to them. All they knew was that the work meant misery for them, and that, as far as they could see, this misery would continue on and on indefinitely. They had lost confidence in the newspapers. It was plain to be seen that the stereotyped rubber-stamped kind of official news that got into the papers did not satisfy them. Many's the time I heard bitter curses heaped upon the Hohenzollerns by lips that were flabby and colorless from starvation.

There was much excitement among them when, early in 1917, the news spread that unrestricted submarine warfare was to be resumed. Old Fritz came over to me with a newspaper in his hand and his eyes fairly popping with excitement.

"This will end it!" he declared. "We are going to starve you out, you English."

"You'll bring America in," I told him.

"No, no!" he said, quite confidently. "The Yankees won't come in. They are making too much money as it is. They won't fight. See, here it is in the paper. It is stated clearly here that the United States will not fight. It doesn't dare to fight!"

But when the news came that the United States had actually declared war they were a[152] sad lot. I took the first opportunity to pump old Fritz about the views of his companions.

"It's bad, bad," he said, shaking his head dolefully.

"Then you are afraid of the Americans, after all?" I said.

Fritz laughed, with a short, contemptuous note. "No, it is not that," he said. "England will be starved out before the Americans can come in and then it will all be over. But—just between us, you and me—most of us here were intending to go to America, after the war, where we would be free from all this. But—now the United States won't let us in after the war!"

I shall never forget the day that the papers announced the refusal of the English labor delegates to go to Stockholm. One excited miner struck me across the face with the open newspaper in his hand.

"Always, always the same!" he almost screamed. "The English block everything. They will not join and what good can come now of the conference? They will not be content and the war must go on!"

The food shortage reached a crisis about the time that I managed, after three futile attempts, to escape. Frequently, when the people took their bread tickets to the stores they found that supplies had been exhausted and that there was nothing to be obtained. Prices had gone sky-high. Bacon, for instance, $2.50 and more a pound. A cake of soap cost 85 cents. Cleanliness became a luxury. These prices are indicative of the whole range and it is not hard to see the struggle these poor mine people were having to keep alive at all.

At this time our parcels from England were coming along fairly regularly and we were better off for food than the Germans themselves. Owing to the long shift we were compelled to[153] do in the mines we fell into the habit of "hoarding" our food parcels and carrying a small lunch to the mines each day. These lunches had to be carefully secreted or the Germans would steal them. They could not understand how it was that starving England could send food abroad to us. The sight of these lunches helped to undermine their faith in the truth of the official information they read in the newspapers.

Our lot at the mines was almost unendurable. We were supposed to receive four and a half marks (90 cents) a week for our labor, but there was continual "strafing" to reduce the amount. If we looked sideways at a "stagger," we were likely to receive a welt with a pick handle and a strafe of several marks. Sometimes we only received a mark or two for a week's work. Most of this we spent for soap. It was impossible to work in the mine and not become indescribably dirty, and soap became an absolute necessity.

We lived under conditions of great discomfort in the camp, 250 of us in 30 x 30 quarters. There were two stoves in the building in which coke was burned, but the place was terribly cold. The walls at all seasons were so damp that pictures tacked up on them mildewed in a short time. Our bunks contained straw which was never replenished and we all became infested with fleas. Some nights it was impossible to sleep on account of the activity of these pests. On account of the dampness and cold we always slept in our clothes.

Discipline was rigorous and cruel. We were knocked around and given terms of solitary confinement and made to stand at attention for hours at the least provocation. Many of the prisoners were killed—murdered by the cruelty. It became more than flesh and blood could stand. One day seven of us got together[154] and made a solemn compact to escape. We would keep at it, we decided, no matter what happened, until we got away. Six of us are now safely at home. The seventh, my chum, J. W. Nicholson, is still a prisoner.

I made four attempts to escape before I finally succeeded. The first time a group of us made a tunnel out under the barricade, starting beneath the flooring of the barracks. We crawled out at night and had put fifteen miles between us and the camp before we were finally caught. I got seven days' "black" that time, solitary confinement in a narrow stone cell, without a ray of light, on black bread and water.

The second attempt was again by means of a tunnel. A chum of mine, William Raesides, who had come over with the 8th C. M. R.'s, was my companion that time. We were caught by bloodhounds after twenty miles and they gave us ten days' "black."

The third attempt was made in company with my chum Nicholson, and we planned it out very carefully. Friends in England sent through suits of civilian clothes to us.

The next day we dressed up for the attempt by putting on our "civies" first and then drawing our prisoner's uniform over them. When we got to the mine we took off the uniform and slipped the mining clothes on over the others. We worked all day. Coming up from work in the late afternoon, Nick and I held back until everyone else had gone. We went up alone in the hoist and tore off our mining clothes as we ascended, dropping each piece back into the pit as we discarded it.

It was fairly dark when we got out of the hoist and the guards did not pay much attention to us. There was a small building at the mine head where we prisoners washed and dressed after work and a separate exit for the[155] civilians. Nick and I took the civilian exit and walked out into the street without any interference.

We could both speak enough German to pass, so we boldly struck out for the Dutch border, which was about 85 miles away, traveling only during the night. We had a map that a miner had sold to us for a cake of soap and we guided our course by that. We got to the border line without any trouble whatever, but were caught through overconfidence, due to a mistake in the map. Close to the line was a milepost indicating that a certain Dutch town was two miles west. The map indicated that this town was four miles within the Dutch border.

"We're over!" we shouted when we saw that welcome milepost. Throwing caution aside, we marched boldly forward, right into a couple of sentries with fixed bayonets!

It was two weeks' "black" they meted out to us that time. The Kommandant's eyes snapped as he passed sentence. I knew he would have been much more strict on me as the three-time offender had it not been that the need for coal was so dire that labor, even the labor of a recalcitrant prisoner, was valuable.

"No prisoner has yet escaped from this Kommando!" he shouted, "and none shall. Any further attempts will be punished with the utmost severity."

Nevertheless they took the precaution to break up my partnership with Nicholson, putting him on the night shift. I immediately went into partnership with Private W. M. Masters, of Toronto, and we planned to make our getaway by an entirely new method.

The building at the mine where we changed clothes before and after work was equipped with a bathroom in one corner, with a window with one iron bar intersecting. Outside the window was a bush and beyond that open country.[156] A sentry was always posted outside the building, but he had three sides to watch and we knew that, if we could only move that bar, we could manage to elude the sentry. So we started to work on the bar.

I had found a bit of wire which I kept secreted about me and every night, after washing up, we would dig for a few minutes at the brickwork around the bar. It was slow, tedious and disappointing work. Gradually, however, we scooped the brick out around the bar and after nearly four months' application we had it so loosened that a tug would pull it out.

The next day Masters and I were the last in the bathroom, and when the sentry's round had taken him to the other side of the building, we wrenched out the bar, raised the window and wriggled through head first, breaking our fall in the bush outside. We got through without attracting attention and ran across the country into a swamp, where we soon lost our way and wallowed around all night up to our knees in the bog, suffering severely from the cold and damp. Early in our flight the report of a gun from the camp warned us that our absence had been discovered. Our adventure in the swamp saved us from capture, for the roads were patrolled by cavalry that night.

We found our way out of the swamp near morning, emerging on the western side. By the sale of more soap to miners we had acquired another map and a compass, so we had little difficulty in determining our whereabouts and settling our course for the border. For food we had each brought along ten biscuits, the result of several weeks' hoarding.

That day we stayed on the edge of the swamp, never stirring for a moment from the shelter of a clump of bushes. One slept while the other watched. No one came near us and we heard no signs of our pursuers. Night came[157] on most mercifully dark and we struck out along the roads at a smart clip.

We traveled all night, making probably twenty-five miles. It was necessary, we knew, to make the most of our strength in the earlier stages of the dash. As our food gave out we would be less capable of covering the ground. So we spurred ourselves on to renewed effort and ate the miles up in a sort of frenzy.

This kept up for four days and nights. We kept going as hard as our waning strength would permit and we were cautious in the extreme. Even at that we had many narrow escapes.

Our greatest difficulty was when we struck the Lippe River. Our first plan was to swim across, but we found that we had not the strength left for this feat. We lost a day as a result. The second night we found a scow tied up along the bank and got across that way.

By this time we were slowly starving on our feet, we were wet through continuously, and such sleep as we got was broken and fitful. Before we had been four days out we were reduced to gaunt, tattered, dirty scarecrows. We staggered as we walked and sometimes one of us would drop on the road through sheer weakness. Through it all we kept up our frenzy for speed and it was surprising how much ground we forced ourselves to cover in a night. And, no matter how much the pangs of hunger gnawed at us, we conserved our fast dwindling supply of biscuit. Less than two biscuits a day was our limit!

Finally we reached a point that I recognized from my previous attempt to escape. It was about four miles from the border. We had two biscuits left between us. The next day we feasted royally and extravagantly on those two biscuits. No longer did we need to hoard our supplies, for the next night would tell the tale.[158]

By the greatest good fortune night came on dark and cloudy. Not a star showed in the sky. We crawled cautiously and painfully toward the border. At every sound we stopped and flattened out. Twice we saw sentries close at hand, but both times we got by safely. Finally we reached what we judged must be the last line of sentries. We had crawled across a ploughed field and reached a road lined on both sides with trees where sentries were passing up and down.

"It's the border!" we whispered.

When the nearest sentry had reached the far end of his beat we doubled up like jack-knives and dashed across that road, plunging through the trees on the other side. Not a sound came from the sentries. We struck across fields with delirious speed, we reeled along like drunken men, laughing and gasping and sometimes reaching out for a mutual handshake.

Then we got a final scare. Marching up the road toward us was what looked like a white sheet. Our nerves were badly shattered, and that moving thing froze my blood, but it was a scare of brief duration. The sheet soon resolved itself into two girls in white dresses, walking up the road with a man. We scurried to the side of the road as soon as we made them out. Then I decided to test the matter of our whereabouts and stepped out to accost them.

"Have you a match?" I asked in German.

The man did not understand me!

We were in Holland—and free!

Little was heard from the Belgians themselves of the hardships and suffering endured by them under the rule of the Germans. Occasionally, however, an eye-witness from the outside was able to present some aspects of the terrible picture. The narrative of such an eye-witness is given in the following pages.

[159]

UNDER GERMAN RULE IN
FRANCE AND BELGIUM

J. P. WHITAKER

Toward the end of March, 1915, a distinct change became noticeable in the policy of the German military authorities, and for the first time the people of Roubaix began to feel the iron heel. The allied Governments had formally declared their intention of blockading Germany and the German Army had been given a sharp lesson at Neuve Chapelle. Whether these two events had anything to do with the change, or whether it was merely a coincidence, I do not know; the fact remains that our German governors who had hitherto treated us with tolerable leniency chose about this time to initiate a régime of stringent regulation and repression.

The first sign of the new policy was the issue of posters calling on all men, women, and children over the age of 14 to go to the Town Hall and take out identification papers, while all men between 17 and 50 were required also to obtain a control card.

Up to this time I had escaped any interference from the Germans, perhaps because I scarcely ventured into the streets for the first two months of the German occupation, and possibly also because, from a previous long residence in Roubaix, I spoke French fluently. Strangely enough, though I went to the Town Hall with the rest and supplied true particulars of my age and nationality, papers were issued to me as a matter of course, and never[160] during the whole two years and more of my presence in their midst did the enemy molest me in any way.

The only incident which throws any light on this curious immunity occurred about the middle of 1915. Like all other men of military age, I was required to present myself once a month at a public hall, in order to have my control card, which was divided into squares for the months of the year, marked in the proper space with an official stamp "Kontrol, July," or "August," or whatever the month might be. We were summoned for this process by groups, first those from 17 to 25, then those from 25 to 35, and so on. Hundreds of young fellows would gather in a room, and one by one, as their names were called, would take their cards to be stamped by a noncommissioned officer sitting at a table on the far side of the room. On the occasion I have in mind, the noncommissioned officer said to me, "You are French, aren't you?" I answered, "No." "Are you Belgian?" "No," again. "You are Dutch, then?" A third time I replied "No."

At this stage an officer who had been sauntering up and down the room smoking a cigarette came to the table, took up my card, and turning to the man behind the table, remarked, "It's all right. He's an American." I did not trouble to enlighten him. That is probably why I enjoyed comparative liberty.

Enslavement is part of the deliberate policy of the Germans in France. It began by the taking of hostages at the very outset of their possession of Roubaix. A number of the leading men in the civic and business life of the town were marked out and compelled to attend by turns at the Town Hall, to be shot on the spot at the least sign of revolt among the townspeople.[161]

Not a few of the mill owners were ordered to weave cloth for the invaders, and on their refusal were sent to Germany and held to ransom. Many of the mill operatives, quite young girls, were directed to sew sandbags for the German trenches. They, too, refused, but the Germans had their own ways of dealing with what they regarded as juvenile obstinacy. They dragged the girls to a disused cinema hall, and kept them there without food or water until their will was broken.

Barbarity reached its climax in the so-called "deportations." They were just slave raids, brutal and undisguised.

The procedure was this: The town was divided into districts. At 3 o'clock in the morning a cordon of troops would be drawn round a district—the Prussian Guard and especially, I believe, the Sixty-ninth Regiment, played a great part in this diabolical crime—and officers and noncommissioned officers would knock at every door until the household was roused. A handbill, about octavo size, was handed in, and the officer passed on to the next house. The handbill contained printed orders that every member of the household must rise and dress immediately, pack up a couple of blankets, a change of linen, a pair of stout boots, a spoon and fork, and a few other small articles, and be ready for the second visit in half an hour. When the officer returned, the family were marshaled before him, and he picked out those whom he wanted with a curt "You will come," "And you," "And you." Without even time for leave-taking, the selected victims were paraded in the street and marched to a mill on the outskirts of the town. There they were imprisoned for three days, without any means of communication with friends or relatives, all herded together indiscriminately and given but the barest modicum of food. Then, like[162] so many cattle, they were sent away to an unknown fate.

Months afterward some of them came back, emaciated and utterly worn out, ragged and verminous, broken in all but spirit. I spoke with numbers of the men. They had been told by the Germans, they said, that they were going to work on the land. They found that only the women and girls were put to farm labor.

The men were taken to the French Ardennes and compelled to mend roads, man sawmills and forges, build masonry, and toil at other manual tasks. Rough hutments formed their barracks. They were under constant guard both there and at their work, and they were marched under escort from the huts to work and from work to the huts. For food each man was given a two-pound loaf of German bread every five days, a little boiled rice, and a pint of coffee a day. At 8 o'clock in the morning, after a breakfast consisting of a slice of bread and a cup of coffee, they went to work. At 4 o'clock in the afternoon they returned for the night and took their second meal—dinner, tea, and supper all in one. Often they were buffeted and generally ill-used by their taskmasters. If they fell ill, cold water, internally or externally, was the invariable remedy. Once a commission came to see them at work, but they had been warned beforehand that any man who complained of his treatment would suffer for it. One of them was bold enough to protest to the visitors against a particularly flagrant case of ill-usage. That man disappeared a few days later.

Long before this the food problem had become acute in Roubaix. Simultaneously with the establishment of the system of personal control over the inhabitants the Germans closed the frontier between France and Belgium and forbade us to approach within half[163] a mile of the border line. The immediate effect of this isolation was to reduce to an insignificant trickle the copious stream of foodstuffs which until then poured in from Belgium—not the starving Belgium of fiction, but the well supplied Belgium of fact.

Butchers and bakers and provision dealers had to shut their shops, and the town became almost wholly dependent on supplies brought in by the American Relief Commission. Fresh meat was soon unobtainable, except by those few people who could afford to pay fabulous prices for joints smuggled across the frontier. Months ago meat cost 32 francs a kilogram (about 13 shillings a pound) and an egg cost 1 franc 25 (a shilling). Obviously such things were beyond the reach of the bulk of the people, and had it not been for the efforts of the Relief Commission we should all have starved.

The commission opened a food depot, a local committee issued tickets for the various articles, and rich and poor alike had to wait their turn at the depot to procure the allotted rations. The chief foodstuffs supplied were: Rice, flaked maize, bacon, lard, coffee, bread, condensed milk (occasionally), haricot beans, lentils, and a very small allowance of sugar. Potatoes could not be bought at any price.

Unfortunately, though I regret that I should have to record it, there is evidence that by some means or other the German Army contrived to intercept for itself a part of the food sent by the American Commission. One who had good reason to know told me that more than once trainloads which, according to a notification sent to him, had left Brussels for Roubaix failed to arrive. I know also that analysis of the bread showed that in some cases German rye flour, including 30 per cent of sawdust, had been substituted for the white[164] American flour, producing an indigestible putty-like substance which brought illness and death to many. Indeed, the mortality from this cause was so heavy at one period that all the grave diggers in the town could not keep pace with it.

One could easily understand how great must have been the temptation to the Germans to tap for themselves the food which friends abroad had sent for their victims. It is a significant fact that soldiers in Roubaix were eager to buy rice from those who had obtained it at the depot at four francs (3s 4d) the pound in order, as they said, "to send it home." I shall describe later how utterly different were the conditions in Belgium as I saw them.

Meagre as were the food supplies for the civilians in Roubaix, those issued to the German soldiers toward the end of my stay were little better.

At first the householders, on whom the soldiers were billeted, were required to feed them and to recover the cost from the municipal authorities.

Of all the things I saw and heard in Roubaix and Lille none impressed me more than the wonderful change which came over the outlook and demeanor of the German soldiery between October, 1914, and October, 1915.

I had many opportunities of mingling with them, more, in fact, than I cared to have, for now and again during this period two or three of them were actually billeted on the good folk with whom I lodged.

I knew just sufficient of the German language to be able to chat with them, and they made no attempt to conceal from me their real feelings. I am merely repeating the statement made to me over and over again by many German soldiers when I say that the men in the ranks are thoroughly tired of the war, that[165] they have abandoned all thought of conquest, and that they fight on only because they believe that their homes and families are at stake.

On that Autumn morning when the first German troops came into Roubaix they came flushed with victory, full of confidence in their strength, marching with their eyes fixed on Paris and London. They sang aloud as they swung through our streets. They sing no more. Instead, as I saw with my own eyes, many of them show in their faces the abject misery which is in their hearts.

Last year scores of them told me, quite independently, that the war would come to an end on November 17, 1916. How that date came to be fixed by the prophets nobody knew, but the belief in the prophecy was universal among the soldiers.

As a rule, the soldiers did not maltreat the civilians in Roubaix, except when they were acting under the orders of their officers; when, for example, they were tearing people from their homes to work as slaves. They had, however, the right of traveling without payment on the tramcars, and they frequently exercised this right to such an extent as to preclude the townsfolk from the use of the cars.

Apart from that annoyance, there was little ground for complaint of the general behavior of the soldiers. The conduct of the officers was very different. For a long time they made a habit of requisitioning from shopkeepers and others supplies of food for which they had no intention of paying. One day an officer drove up in a trap to a shop kept by an acquaintance of mine and "bought" sardines, chocolate, bread, and fancy cakes to the value of about 200 francs (about $40). He produced a piece of paper and borrowed a pair of scissors with which to cut off a slip. On this slip he wrote[166] a few words in German, and then, handing it to the shopkeeper, he went off with his purchases. The shopkeeper, on presenting the paper at the Kommandantur, was informed that the inscription ran, "For the loan of scissors, 200 francs," and that the signature was unknown. Payment was therefore refused. This case, I believe, was by no means an isolated one.

When an officer was billeted on a house, he would insist on turning the family out of the dining room and drawing room and sleeping in the best bedroom; sometimes he would eject people entirely from their home.

By contrast the docile private soldier was almost a welcome guest. I remember well one quite friendly fellow who was lodged for some time in the same house as myself and some English over military age in the suburb of Croix. He came to me in great glee one day with a letter from his wife in which she warned him to beware of "the English cutthroats." She went on to give him a long series of instructions for his safety. He was to barricade his bedroom door every night, to sleep always with his knife under his pillow, and never to take anything we offered him to eat or drink.

Despite the temptations to crime and insubordination which naturally attend an idle manufacturing population of some 125,000 people, there were very few civilian offenses against the law, German or French, among the inhabitants of Roubaix.

Time hung heavily on our hands. Cut off from the outer world except by the occasional arrival of smuggled French and English newspapers, we spent our time reading and playing cards, and at the last I hoped I might never be reduced to this form of amusement again. In the two and a half years cut out of my life and completely wasted I played as many games[167] of cards as will satisfy me for the rest of my existence.

But even if the inhabitants, in their enforced idleness, had any temptation to be insubordinate, they had a far greater inducement to keep the law in the bridled savagery of the German gendarmerie. These creatures, who from the color of their uniform and the brutality of their conduct were known as the "green devils," seemed to revel in sheer cruelty. They scour the towns on bicycles and the outlying districts on horseback, always accompanied by a dog as savage as his master, and at the slightest provocation or without even the slenderest pretext they fall upon civilians with brutish violence.

It was not uncommon for one of these men to chase a woman on his bicycle, and when he had caught her, batter her head and body with the machine. Many times they would strike women with the flat of their sabres. One of them was seen to unleash his dog against an old woman, and laugh when the savage beast tore open the woman's flesh from thigh to knee.

In January Mr. Whitaker crossed the line into Belgium with the aid of smuggler friends, traversed that country, chiefly on foot, and two months later escaped into Holland and so to England. In Belgium he was astonished to find what looked like prosperity when compared with conditions in the occupied provinces of France. After expressing gratitude to Belgian friends and a desire to tell only what is truth, he proceeds:

The first fact I have to declare is that nowhere in my wanderings did I see any sign of starvation. Nowhere did I notice such privation of food as I had known in Northern France. Near the French frontier, it is true, the meals I took in inns and private cottages were far[168] from sumptuous, but as I drew nearer to the Dutch frontier the amount and variety of the food to be obtained changed in an ascending scale, until at Antwerp one could almost forget, so far as the table was concerned, that the world was at war.

Let me give a few comparisons. At Roubaix, in France, at the time when I left in the first week of this year, my daily diet was as follows: Breakfast—coffee, bread and butter (butter was a luxury beyond the reach of the working people, who had to be content with lard); midday meal—vegetable soup, bread, boiled rice, and at rare intervals an egg or a tiny piece of fresh meat; supper—boiled rice and bread. Just over the border, in Belgium, the food conditions were a little better. The ticket system prevailed, and the villagers were dependent on the depots of the American Relief Commission, supplemented by local produce.

A little further, and one passed the line of demarkation between the étape—the part of Belgium which is governed by General von Denk, formerly commanding the troops at Valenciennes—and the governement général, under the command of General von Bissing.

Here a distinct change was noticeable. My first meal in this area included fillet of beef, the first fresh meat I had tasted for weeks. Tickets were still needed to buy bread and other things supplied by the Relief Commission, but other foodstuffs could be bought without restriction.

At Brussels the food supply seems to be nearly normal. My Sunday dinner there consisted of excellent soup, a generous helping of roast leg of mutton, potatoes, haricot beans, white bread, cheese, and jam, and wine or beer, as preferred; while for supper I had cold meat, fried potatoes, and bread.

At Antwerp, with two French friends who[169] accompanied me on my journey through Belgium, I walked into a middle-class café at midday. I ordered a steak with fried potatoes and my friends ordered pork chops. Without any question about tickets we were served. We added bread, cheese, and butter to complete the meal and washed it down with draft light beer. Later in the day we took supper in the same café—an egg omelette, fried potatoes, bread, cheese, and butter. And the cost of both meals together was less than the cost of the steak alone in Roubaix.

The policy of the Germans appears to be to interfere as little as possible with the everyday life of the country. The fruits of this policy are seen in a remarkable degree in Brussels. All day long the main streets of the city are full of bustle and all the outward manifestations of prosperity.

Women in short, fashionable skirts, with high-topped fancy boots, stroll completely at their ease along the pavement, studying the smart things with which the drapers' shop windows are dressed. Jewelers' shops, provision stores, tobacconists, and the rest show every sign of "business as usual." I bought at quite a reasonable price a packet of Egyptian cigarettes, bearing the name of a well-known brand of English manufacture, and I recalled how, not many miles away in harassed France, I had seen rhubarb leaves hanging from upper windows to dry, so that the French smoker might use them instead of the tobacco which he could not buy. Even the sweetstuff shops had well-stocked windows.

The theaters, music halls, cinema palaces, and cafés of Brussels were open and crowded. On the second night of my visit I went with my two French companions to the Théâtre Molière and heard a Belgian company in Paul Hervieu's play, "La Course du Flambeau." The[170] whole building was packed with Belgians, thoroughly enjoying the performance. So far as I could tell, the only reminder that we were in the fallen capital of an occupied country was the presence in the front row of the stalls of two German soldiers, whose business, so I learned, was to see that nothing disrespectful to Germany and her armies was allowed to creep into the play.

At another theater, according to the posters, "Véronique" was produced, and a third bill announced "The Merry Widow." At the Théâtre de la Monnaie, which has been taken over by the Germans, operas and plays are given for the benefit of the soldiers and German civilians. One afternoon I spent a couple of hours in a cinema hall. A continuous performance was provided, and people came and went as they chose, but throughout the program the place was well filled. The films shown had no relation to the war. They were of the ordinary dramatic or comic types, and I fancy they were of pre-war manufacture. Nothing of topical interest was exhibited.

All the scenes which I have described in Brussels were reproduced in Antwerp. There was a slightly closer supervision over the comings and goings of the inhabitants, but there was the same unreal atmosphere of contentment and real appearance of plenty. Though a good number of officers were in evidence, the military arm of Germany was not sufficiently displayed to produce any intimidation. Perhaps the most obvious mark, here and in the capital, that all was not normal was the complete absence of private motor cars and cabs from the streets.

In the country districts two things struck me as unfamiliar after my long months in France. About Roubaix not a single head of cattle was to be seen; in Belgium every farm[171] had its cows. In Belgium the mounted gendarmerie—the "green devils" whose infamous conduct in the Roubaix district I have described—were unknown. Their place was filled by military police, who, by comparison with the gendarmes, were gentleness itself.

I do not profess to know the state of affairs in parts of Belgium which I did not visit, but I do know that my narrative of the conditions of life that came under my personal inspection has come as a great surprise to many people who imagine the whole of Belgium is starving.

We in hungry Roubaix looked out on Belgium as the land of promise. The Flemish workers who came into the town from time to time from Belgium were well fed and prosperous looking, a great contrast to the French of Roubaix and Lille. The Belgian children that I saw were healthy and of good appearance, quite unlike the wasted little ones of France, with hollow blue rings round their eyes.

The people of Roubaix, knowing these facts, are convinced that the Germans are endeavoring to lay the foundations of a vassal State in Belgium. Foiled in their attempts to capture Calais, the Germans believe that Zeebrugge and Ostend are capable of development as harbors for aggressive action against England. The French do not doubt that the enemy will make a desperate struggle before giving up Antwerp.

The picture I have presented of Belgium as I saw it is, of course, vastly different from the outraged Belgium of the first stage of the war.

Lest there should arise any misunderstanding, I complete the picture by stating my conviction, based on intimate talks with Belgian men and women, that the population as a whole are keeping a firm upper lip, and that attempts by the Germans to seduce them from their allegiance by blandishment and bribery will fail as surely as the efforts of frightfulness.[172]

Mr. Whitaker's account of his escape into Holland closes thus:

When we drew near to the wires, just before midnight, we lay on the ground and wriggled along until we were within fifty yards of Holland. There we lay for what seemed to be an interminable time. We saw patrols passing. An officer came along and inspected the sentries. Everything was oppressively quiet.

Each sentry moved to and fro over a distance of a couple of hundred yards. Opposite the place where we lay two of them met. Choosing his opportunity, one of my comrades, who had provided himself with rubber gloves some weeks before for this critical moment, rushed forward to the spot where the two sentries had just met. Scrambling through barbed wire and over an unelectrified wire, he grasped the electrified wires and wriggled between them. We came close on his heels. He held the deadly electrified wires apart with lengths of thick plate glass with which he had come provided while first my other companions and then I crawled through. Before the sentries returned we had run some hundreds of yards into No Man's Land between the electrified wires and the real Dutch frontier.

Only one danger remained. We had no certainty that the Dutch frontier guards would not hand us back to the Germans. We took no risks, though it meant wading through a stream waist deep. Our troubles were now practically over. By rapid stages we proceeded to Rotterdam.

I was without money. My watch I had given to the Belgian villager in whose cottage I had found refuge. My clothes were shabby from frequent soakings and hard wear. I had shaved only once in Belgium, and a stubby growth of beard did not improve my general appearance.[173]

At Rotterdam I reported myself to the British Consul. I was treated with the utmost kindness. My expenses during the next four or five days, while I waited for a boat, were paid and I was given my fare to Hull. There I was searched by two military police and questioned closely by an examining board. My papers were taken and I was told to go to London and apply for them at the Home Office. As I was again practically without means I was given permission to go to my home in Bradford before proceeding to London.

In cooperation with the British forces, a Russian army took part in movements against Bagdad and Turkish cities in Armenia and Persia. These military movements were marked by varying success on the part of the Russian and Turkish forces. Certain phases of this campaign are described in the following chapter.

[174]

THE ANGLO-RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN
IN TURKEY

JAMES B. MACDONALD

It is perhaps not generally realized how important the future of Mesopotamia is to the British, or why they originally sent an expedition there which has since developed into a more ambitious campaign. Ever since the Napoleonic period British influence and interests have been supreme from Bagdad to the Persian Gulf, and this was the one quarter of the globe where they successfully held off the German trader with his political backing.

It will be recalled that early in Queen Victoria's reign Great Britain engaged in a war with Persia, and landed troops at Bushire in assertion of their rights. Ever since they have policed the Persian Gulf, put down piracy, slave and gun-running, and lighted the places dangerous to navigation. These interests having been entrusted to the Government of India, news affecting them seldom finds its way into Western papers. Previous to the war a line of British steamers plied regularly up the River Tigris to Bagdad, the center of the caravan trade with Persia. The foreign trade of this town alone in 1912 amounted to $19,000,000, and it was nearly all in the hands of merchants in Great Britain or India. Germany exported $500,000 worth of goods there annually. Basra, farther down the river, exports annually about 75,000 tons of dates, valued at $2,900,000. It also does a large export trade in wheat.[175]

A large irrigation scheme was partly completed before the war, near the ancient town of Babylon, under the direction of a famous Anglo-Indian engineer, Sir William Willcocks. When finished it was to cost $105,000,000, and was expected to reclaim some 2,800,000 acres of land of great productibility. It will, therefore, be seen that Britain had some considerable stake in the country. In addition to this, the British Government, shortly before the war, invested $10,000,000 in acquiring control of the Anglo-Persian oil fields, which is the principal source of supply for oil fuel for their navy. By this means they avoided the risk of great American corporations cornering the supply of oil fuel and holding up their navy. John Bull upon occasion shows some gleamings of shrewdness. This deal is on a par with their purchase of sufficient shares to control the Suez Canal. The Anglo-Persian oil fields are situated across the border in Persia, and the oil is led in pipes down the Karam River valley, a tributary of the combined Tigris and Euphrates rivers. The native tribes in the neighborhood were subsidized to protect the pipe-line, or, rather, to leave it alone.

During recent years Persia has fallen into decay. Politically she is more sick than "the sick man of the East." The people have a religion of their own and worship the sun, although quite a number of Moslems have settled in their midst. Being cognizant of German designs to create a great Eastern empire in Mesopotamia and Persia, which would threaten India, Egypt, and the Russian East, Britain and Russia came together and formed a kind of Monroe Doctrine of their own. They said, in effect, northern Persia shall be Russia's sphere of influence, and southern Persia shall be Britain's sphere of influence. They both recognized that a great military power, like[176] Germany, permanently established at Bagdad, with aggressive tendencies, would imperil their Eastern dominions, and both were prepared to make it a casus belli—Britain, further, a few years ago informed Germany that the area from Bagdad to the head of the Gulf was her "Garden of Eden," and any attempt to carry German railways south of Bagdad would bring on war. The Emperor William apparently did not mind this opposition by Britain and Russia to his Oriental ambition, provided he could find a passage through the Balkans.

At the time Britain and Russia came to an agreement regarding Persia they were not on so good a footing with each other as they are to-day. In order that neither should get an advantage over the other, it was decided that the Persian gendarmes—about 6,000 in number—should be officered by neutrals, and, unfortunately as it turned out for the Allies, they mutually chose Swedes. On the outbreak of war neither Britain nor Russia desired that Persia should be brought into it. The German ambassador in Persia, however, had other views, and suborned Swedish officers in command of the Persian gendarmes. Partly by this means, and partly by Turkish agents, a rebellion was brought about within the Russian sphere. Religion had nothing to do with the trouble in Persia. Turkish forces entered Persian Kurdistan and announced that they were on their way to conquer India and the Russian East, while their compatriots would overrun Egypt. These were the fairy-tales with which the Germans had originally enticed the Turks into the war. The Turks were willing to believe them, and apparently did believe them. The responsible Germans had no such illusions, but hoped to attain their ends by causing internal disturbances within India and Egypt. These German canards, put about[177] in war time, have been adopted by some writers in this country as the foundation from which to write contemporary history. It may interest them to know that India possesses the strongest natural frontiers in the world.

Strategy nowadays is very largely a matter of geography. Modern armies are circumscribed in their movements by the available means of transportation, whether these be by railroad, river, or roadway, and this means geography applied in giving direction to troop movements.

Before entering into a review of the combined Anglo-Russian campaign a preliminary survey of the strategical geography of the war area will make the position more clear.

In ancient times the only practical way by road and ferry from Europe to Asia or Africa was by way of the Balkan valleys and across the Bosphorus or Dardanelles. Hence arose the importance of the ferryhouse—Constantinople. That city in those days was the center of the known world and the clearing-house for the merchandise of Asia, Africa, and Europe. From Scutari, on the opposite shore, the overland route meandered across Asia Minor to Aleppo in Syria. Here the sign-post to India pointed down the Euphrates Valley, by way of Bagdad, while that to Egypt and Arabia followed the Levant or eastern shore of the Mediterranean. Between each fork lay the Syrian desert. A glance at the map shows the reason why in those days this was the only practical route, as to-day it is the easiest. The wall of the Ural Mountains, the Caspian Sea, the Caucasian Mountains, and the Black Sea shut out direct communication from Europe to Asia, or vice versa, except by the Constantinople ferry or a sea voyage.

In Asia Minor progress was further barred by the watershed of the Euphrates and Tigris[178] rivers to the south, and the Caucasian Mountains to the east. A practical way was found at the lower elevations of the Taurus and Amanus mountains—two parallel spurs which strike the sea at the Gulf of Alexandretta. This narrow neck of the bottle, as it were, is of enormous military importance alike to the Turks and to the British. Through it must pass any army of invasion by land from Europe or Asia Minor to Egypt or India; and, conversely, through it must pass any invading army from Mesopotamia into Asia Minor. If the British should conquer Mesopotamia and should intend to hold it—as they undoubtedly would—they will have no strategical frontiers until they secure the watershed of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers and the Taurus passage. If they secure the latter, Syria, Palestine, and Arabia will fall to them like apples off a tree. It would then be no longer necessary to defend the Suez Canal. The natural frontier of Egypt is the Taurus mountain range. Asia Minor is the real Turkey; the other portions of the empire—MMesopotamia, Syria, Palestine, Arabia, and Turkey in Europe—are only appendages. The eastern door into Asia Minor is Erzerum, and the southern door is the Taurus passage. Turkey can only part with these at the cost of her life. Russia has already captured Erzerum, and the British possess the Island of Cyprus, which commands the head of the Gulf of Alexandretta—twenty miles from the Taurus passage. That is, broadly, the situation.

Near the crossing of the Taurus and Amanus mountains lies the city of Aleppo, the starting-point for the overland caravan routes to Bagdad and India, and also to Damascus, Mecca, and Egypt. Just as surely as pioneer travelers always chose the easiest route, so the railways of to-day follow in their footsteps. The physical[179] features of nature constrained both modern as well as ancient armies to travel the same way. Hence a railway map of the Balkans and of Asiatic Turkey is a first consideration in appreciating the strategical bearings of the Anglo-Russian campaign in Turkey-in-Asia, or the alleged rival Germanic-Turkish schemes for the invasion of Egypt, Persia, and India. Of no less importance is a knowledge of the available sea routes and inland rivers.

The ability of Bulgaria and Turkey to carry on the war depends on aid from Germany in men, munitions, and money. These allies are the weakest members of the Central Group, and may be the first to give in if circumstances are adverse to their adventure.

Their sole communication with the Central Powers is by the Balkan railway from the Danube to Constantinople by way of Sofia. If this line is severed, then these nations are out of the game. The Allies have all winter been organizing the defenses of Salonica as a pied-à-terre for such an attack. Should Rumania join the Allies in the spring, then a further attack may be expected from the north, in which Russian troops would join. Turkey is now too preoccupied with her own troubles to be able to assist Bulgaria.

In Asia Minor the only railway of importance is the trunk line from Scutari, on the Bosphorus, to the Taurus Tunnel, in course of completion near Adana. One branch runs west to Smyrna, and another east to Angora. Beyond the Taurus Tunnel is another in course of completion through the Amanus Mountains. Every person and everything destined for the Bagdad front or for the invasion of Egypt has to be transported over these mountains. So also have rails for the completion of the Aleppo-to-Bagdad railway. These tunnels are expected to be finished this year—when it will be too[180] late. From Aleppo the Syrian railway runs south through Damascus to Medina and Mecca in Arabia. Branches reach the Levant seaports of Tripoli, Beirut, and Haifa. Another railway was started from Aleppo to Bagdad shortly before the war, and construction begun at both ends. We have no reliable information as to how far it has progressed, but the presumption is that there is a large gap between Ras-el-ain and Mosul and between the latter place and Samara.

It is at once apparent how important the city of Aleppo is as the junction for the three main railways of Asiatic Turkey. Napoleon considered that it was the key to India, because it commanded the caravan routes. To-day it would be more correct to say that Aleppo is the key to the outer approaches to India and Egypt, the inner defenses of which are impregnable.

The British maintain a large army in Egypt not so much because it is required there as because it is a most convenient central camp within striking distance of all the battle-fronts in the East. This permits of throwing a large army secretly and unexpectedly where it can be most effective. Similar camps are available at Malta and Cyprus. Any attack on Egypt on a formidable scale would be a veritable trap for the invaders. It will be recalled that when Britain held up the Russian advance on Constantinople, in 1878, she entered into a treaty with Turkey guaranteeing the latter in the possession of Asia Minor (only) against all enemies. The consideration was the lease of the Island of Cyprus, which dominates the Taurus passage. In other words, Britain holds the cork with which she can close the Syrian tube and put the closure on any invasion of India or Egypt from this side. This treaty was abrogated some eighteen months ago, when[181] Turkey declared war on the British Empire. Britain, in consequence, annexed Egypt and Cyprus.

At the outbreak of the war the Indian Government, apparently off their own bat, despatched a small force to the Persian oil fields to seize and hold the pipe-line, which had been tampered with and the supply cut off for a time.

It became necessary to hold in force three triangular points—Basra, Muhammereh, and Awaz. A strong Turkish force, with headquarters at Amara, was equidistant about 100 miles from both Basra and Awaz, and could elect to strike the divided British forces either by coming down the Tigris River to Basra, or by going overland to Awaz. Reinforcements were sent from India, and Amara occupied. The oil fields seemed secure. Then the unexpected happened. A Turkish army came down the Shat-el-Hai—an ancient canal or waterway connecting the Tigris River at Kut-el-Amara with the Euphrates at Nasiriyeh (or Nasdi)—about 100 miles to the west of Basra—and threatened the latter place. (Shat-el-Hai means the river which flows by the village of Hai. Kut-el-Amara means the fort of Amara and is not to be confused with the town of Amara lower down the Tigris River.) This led to the British driving the Turks out of Nasiriyeh and also advancing up the Tigris River from Amara to occupy Kut-el-Amara, where a battle was fought. The Turks were strongly entrenched and expected to hold up the Anglo-Indian troops here, but a turning movement made them retire on Bagdad—about 100 miles to the northwest. It was known that large Turkish reinforcements were on the way to Bagdad and an attempt was made to anticipate them.

General Townshend advanced on Bagdad[182] with less than a division of mixed Anglo-Indian troops—some 16,000 to 20,000 strong. At Ctesiphon he found a Turkish army of four divisions, with two others in reserve, awaiting him. After a two days' indecisive battle, Townshend, recognizing he had insufficient forces, retired on his forward base at Kut-el-Amara. The Arabs in the neighborhood awaited the issue of the battle, ready to take sides, for the time being, with the winner.

It says much for the stamina of this composite division that, although opposed throughout by five or six times their number of Turks and Turkish irregulars, the latter were unable to overwhelm them. To the Western mind, unacquainted with the mentality and moral weakness of the Moslem under certain circumstances, this may appear a most foolhardy adventure. To the Anglo-Indian the most obvious thing to do when in a tight corner is to go for the enemy no matter what their numbers. All Europeans in India develop an extraordinary pride in race, and an inherent contempt for numbers. It is the secret of their success there. Most Moslems fight well when posted behind strong natural defenses. In open country, such as Mesopotamia, they do not show to so much advantage. Another trait is that when their line of retreat is threatened they are more timorous than European troops. This weakness will have important bearings on the future of the campaign on the Tigris Valley, because the communications of the Turks are threatened by the Russians far in their rear and in more than one place.

Townshend's camp at Kut-el-Amara is well supplied with stores and munitions, and will soon be relieved. When his retreat was cut off at the bend of the Tigris River he could still have retired safely by following the Shat-el-Hai to Nasiriyeh. There was no thought, however,[183] of retreat, Kut-el-Amara is geographically of great strategical importance, and the British garrison there has served the useful purpose of detaining large forces of the enemy where it was desired they should remain while important Allied developments were taking place in their flank and rear. Most of these Turkish reinforcements were withdrawn from Armenia when the depth of winter appeared to make it impossible for the Russians to break through the lofty hills of Caucasia.

The rumor, so diligently put about, that the Grand Duke Nicholas had been retired in disgrace, after so ably extricating the Russian armies in Poland, and that he had been sent to Caucasia, served its purpose. The Turks were deceived by it, and sent part of their forces from Armenia to oppose the Anglo-Indian advance on Bagdad and arrived in time to turn the scale after the battle of Ctesiphon. When the Grand Duke fell on the unwary Turks their defeat was complete. Flying from Erzerum, one army made for Trebizond, another for the Lake Van district, and the rest went due west towards Sivas. The Grand Duke's right wing, center, and left are following in the same directions. He has two flying wings further south—one in the Lake Urumia district and the other advancing along the main caravan route from Kermanshah to Bagdad, while the British are furthest south at Kut-el-Amara. It will be observed that the whole of the Allied armies from the Black Sea to Kut-el-Amara are in perfect echelon formation, and it would be a strange coincidence if this just happened—say, by accident. Like the Syrian and Arabian littoral, Mesopotamia is another tube confined within the Syrian desert on the one side and the mountains of Armenia and Persia on the ether. All egress is stopped by the Allies' echelon formation, except by Aleppo.[184]

Petrograd advices at the time of writing (March 9th) state that the Grand Duke's main army is making for the Gulf of Alexandretta with intent to cut the Turkish Empire in two. This is not only possible, but highly probable, and the echelon formation of the Allies, together with the configuration of the country, lends itself to such an operation. The British army in Egypt and the British fleet could in such an eventuality coöperate to advantage.

As a preliminary the Russians must clear their right wing by capturing Trebizond and utilizing it as a sea base. Asia Minor is a high tableland, in shape like the sole of a boot turned upside down, with the highlands of Armenia representing the heel. The Turks, having lost their only base and headquarters at Erzerum, have now to rush troops, guns, and stores from Constantinople to the railhead at Angora and endeavor to rally their defeated forces to the east of Sivas. In the meantime, the Russians will have overrun some 250 miles of Turkish territory before they are held up even temporarily. The Turkish army in Syria will be rushed to Diarbekr to rally their defeated right wing and endeavor to hold the Armenian Taurus Mountains against the Grand Duke's left wing. If the Russians break through here, then all is lost to the Turks in the south. They, however, have a most difficult task before them, because the hills here reach their highest. There is a road of sorts, because we know that Xenophon in ancient times traveled it with his 10,000 Greeks, and the Turks did the same recently, when they sent reinforcements to Bagdad. Both must have traveled light, and the Russians will have to do the same. This means that the Turks on the south will be better supplied with guns than their opponents, who[185] will have to rely once more on their bayonets.

In the extreme south the British have ample force now to carry out their part of the contract. We know that some 80,000 veteran Indian troops have arrived from France, as well as other large reinforcements from India. It is unlikely that these will all proceed up the Tigris River, because sufficient troops are already there who are restricted to a narrow front, owing to the salt marshes between the bend of the river and the Persian mountains. Two other routes are available, the Shat-el-Hai from Nasiriyeh to relieve the garrison at Kut-el-Amara from the south, and the Euphrates River, to attack Bagdad from the southwest, while the Russian flying wing at Kermanshah threatens it from the northeast. The Turkish report of heavy fighting at Nasiriyeh would indicate that one or both of these routes were being taken. Athens reports that Bagdad is about to fall. As it falls, a British flotilla will ascend the Euphrates and make direct for Aleppo. The British army from Kut-el-Amara and the Russians from Kermanshah will, after the fall of Bagdad—which is a foregone conclusion—ascend the Tigris River to Mosul, where they may be expected to get in touch with the other Russian flying wing from the Lake Urumia district. The combined force will then be in a position to force a junction with the Grand Duke's left wing, and then continue their advance on Aleppo.

Should the main army of the Grand Duke, as reported, converge on the Gulf of Alexandretta with intent to destroy the Turkish southern army, then the latter would be in a very dangerous position, because their northern army being, as yet, without a base or organization, is not in a position to take the offensive to assist them. If, on the other hand, the[186] Turkish army of the south declines battle at Aleppo and retires to defend the Taurus passage, after abandoning half their Empire to the Allies, the latter will, if they have not previously anticipated it, have a difficult problem to solve as to how they are going to get their large forces in the south over the Taurus range to assist the Grand Duke in the final struggle. The forcing of the Taurus passage will mean fighting on a narrow front and will take time.

So far this campaign had been conducted as one of India's little wars, which come as regularly as intermittent fever.

When Turkey entered the war she reckoned that Russia was so busy on the German and Austrian frontiers as to be unable to meet an attack in her rear. Turkey thereupon concentrated her main armies at Erzerum and invaded Caucasia. The Russians beat them back and entered Armenia, where the inhabitants assisted them. The same cause which led to the retirement from Poland—shortage of ammunition—compelled the Russians also to withdraw from Armenia.

Contemporary with these events, Britain met with a severe reverse on the Gallipoli peninsula, which likewise injured her prestige in the East.

It became a matter of first importance with both Britain and Russia that they should not only reinstate their prestige in the East in striking fashion, but that they should end once and for all time German intrigue and Turkish weakness in the East. These considerations were contributing factors in bringing about a joint war council and an Allied Grand Staff. The latter immediately took hold of the military situation in Asiatic Turkey, and the isolated operations of Britain and Russia in these parts now changed into a great Anglo-Russian campaign stretching from the junction of the Euphrates and Tigris rivers to the Black Sea.[187]

The drama unfolding before us promises to be one of the most sensational in the great world war. The end of the Ottoman Empire appears in sight. Its heirs and successors may be the other great Moslem powers—Britain, Russia, France, and Italy. The last two have yet to be heard from on the western shores of Asia Minor.

The future may see the British in possession of Turkey's first capital, Mosul; the French in possession of their second capital, Konia; the Russians in possession of their third and last capital, Constantinople, and the Italians occupying Smyrna. Each of these powers is a Mohammedan empire in itself; and the greatest Moslem country in the world is the British Empire.

The Moslems in India not only approve of the idea of removing the Sheik-Ul-Islam, head of the Mohammedan creed, from Constantinople to Delhi or Cairo, under British protection, but the head of their church in India volunteered as a private soldier to fight in France, and is now with the Anglo-Indian army in Mesopotamia. It would seem as if Britain and Russia, at the end of this war, would find themselves stronger than ever in the East.

Great Britain suffered one of her greatest losses during the war on June 7, 1916, when the cruiser Hampshire, on board of which was Earl Kitchener on his way to Russia, was sunk by a German mine or torpedo. Over 300 lives were lost in this disaster. Earl Kitchener had been throughout the war the chief force in raising and training the British army, and to his ability and zeal was due largely the great feats of landing large numbers of British troops in France within a time which in the period of peace would have been considered impossible.

[188]

KITCHENER

LADY ST. HELIER

To the outside world Lord Kitchener was something of a mystery; they knew little of him personally, he shunned publicity, he was not a seeker after popularity. Though he had few personal friends, he was endeared to that chosen few in a way unique and rare. He was shy and reserved about the deep things of life, but a charming companion in ordinary ways—very amusing and agreeable. He had a great sense of humor, and his rapid intuition gave him a wonderful insight into character, and he soon arrived at a just estimate of people, and of the motives of those with whom he came into contact. He did not make many new friends, and the people who knew him well, and with whom his holidays or hours of relaxation were passed, were confined to those he had known for many years. He always impressed one with a deep sense of decency in conversation and conduct; one felt in talking to him how impossible it would be to drift into the easy-going discussion of questions and problems of our modern life, and it seemed impossible to imagine his taking a silent acquiescence in the jokes and insinuations which are not considered now extraordinary or unpleasant.

Lord Kitchener's strength lay in the fact that his views broadened as he went on in life. As long as he was confined to Egypt and had to carry out his task with the minimum of force and expenditure, he was careful even to penuriousness,[189] and his subordinates groaned under his exacting economy; but he was justified in his care by the wonderful development of the country devolving from his unsparing activity. When he went to South Africa with a great staff and unlimited funds, he took a new departure. He worked himself unceasingly, and exacted the same from those around him, but he recognized inevitable limitations and was most considerate.

Ceaseless activity characterized his work in Egypt, when he went there after failing to be appointed Viceroy of India, which most of his friends anticipated, and which he would have accepted. Perhaps Egypt was a disappointment after the wider sphere India presented, but nothing ever prevented him from doing what came to him to do and giving his best to it. When he returned there, the question of infant mortality and the unhygienic condition of Egyptian women during child-bearing, from the neglect and ignorance of the most elementary measures, came under his observation, and he was deeply interested in devising means of providing medical treatment for them, and of training native women in midwifery and all that would conduce to improving the conditions under which they lived. He enlisted the sympathy and interest of the wives of officials, and of Englishwomen in Egypt, and carried out a scheme which in itself was a wonderful example of what his interest and driving power could accomplish. These women whose help he enlisted could tell endless stories of the task he set them to do and his tacit refusal to listen to any difficulties that arose in carrying it out. A number of trained English nurses were despatched to Egypt and sent to different localities, where they gave training to a large number of native women in midwifery and kindred subjects. The scheme was a great success,[190] and the benefit it has been to thousands of native women is indescribable, as regards both their general treatment and the care of themselves and their children at birth. Little was known about the subject in England, and much less about all that was done to mitigate the evil; but it was a wonderful piece of administration, though perhaps not one that appealed specially to him; and when some one, knowing what had been achieved, congratulated him on his success and the boon it was to the women in Egypt, his characteristic reply was: "I am told I have saved the lives of ten thousand babies. I suppose that is something to have done." At that time, only a fortnight before the prospect of war seemed possible, he was talking with the keenest interest of his return to Egypt and of what he had still to do there.

There are incidents in life which leave lasting impressions, and one of a large dinner at Lord French's about the same time, at which Lord K., Lord Haldane, and others were present, comes to my mind; probably no one there but those three men had an idea of the threatening cloud which broke in so short a time over England, and the important part two of them would take in it. Lord K., as the world knows, was on the point of returning to Egypt; in fact, he had started when he was recalled, almost on board the steamer at Dover.

The two questions which moved the soul of the English people to its deepest depth were, undoubtedly, what part the country was going to take when it was realized that war was inevitable, and, after that, who was to preside at the War Office. There might have been hesitation on the one point; on the other there was none, and the silent, deep determination with which the people waited to be told that Lord Kitchener was to be Secretary of State[191] for War can only be realized by those who went through those anxious days. There was never a doubt or hesitation in the mind of the country that Lord K. was the only person who could satisfy its requirements, and the acclamation with which the news flashed through the country when he was appointed Secretary of State for War was overwhelming, while those who were thrown into contact with him give a marvelous account of the cool, rapid, and soldier-like way in which he accepted the great position. He quickly installed himself at the War Office, even to sleeping there, so that he was ever at the call of his office, and lived there till Lady Wantage placed her house in Carlton Gardens, close by, at his disposal. Later on the King offered him St. James's Palace, and those neighbors who rose early enough saw him daily start off on his morning walk to his office, where he remained all day.

The last two crowded years of Lord Kitchener's life, full of their anxieties and responsibilities, had not changed him; but though he had aged, and the constant strain had told on him, he had altered outwardly but little. The office life was irksome, and the want of exercise to a man of his active habits very trying, for he hardly ever left London except for an occasional week-end at Broome. His intended visit to Russia was not known, and, like so many of his visits to France and the army at the front, were only made public after his return. Those who saw him that last week and knew of his going, tell how he longed for the change and how eagerly he looked forward to his holiday.

The last few months, with the controversies over conscription, had harassed him. He was not a keen believer in the conscript principle; he was more than justified in his preference for a voluntary army by the response he had[192] received on his appeal to the manhood of England. There was a wonderful completion of the task he had undertaken in those last few days. He had raised his millions, and the country had accepted the inevitable imposition of compulsion, and with it that chapter of his life was finished. He had met the House of Commons, and, uncertain as the result of that conference was, like all he did, it was one of his greatest successes. He had no indecision when it was proposed to him that he should meet the Commons, and, as was always the case, the result was never in doubt. What passed has never been divulged, but he left an impression on the two hundred members who were present which was perhaps one of the best tributes ever paid him. After his farewell to the King, his last visit to Broome and to Sir John Jellicoe and the Grand Fleet, he set sail for the shore he never reached, and the end had come. It was perhaps the most perfect end of such a life—a life full of high endeavor and completion. The service he had rendered his country by raising her armies and foreseeing the probable duration of the war could not have been performed by any other living man. If, as his critics say, he depended too much on his own individual endeavors, he was not to be blamed when we read day by day of the glorious deeds of the armies he had created.

The country staggered under the blow of his death, and one can never forget the silent grief and dismay of that dreadful day with its horrible tragedy. The grief was universal and personal, and the tributes to his work and memory were spoken from the heart by the great leaders of both parties. No more touching and pathetic tribute was ever said than the speech made by Lord Derby in the House of Lords on the resolution in reference to his death. There is not one word to be altered[193] from beginning to end, but the concluding words must go to every heart and find an echo:

Lord Kitchener said good-by to the nation at a moment when he left the whole of the machinery of the great armies that he had created in running order, and when it only required skilled engineers to keep going his work. It was really as if Providence in its wisdom had given him the rest he never would have given to himself.

With the memory of a great naval battle fresh in our minds we must all realize how rich a harvest of death the sea has reaped. We in these islands from time immemorial had paid a heavy toll to the sea for our insular security, but, speaking as the friend of a friend, I can say that the sea never executed a heavier toll than when Lord Kitchener, coffined in a British man-of-war, passed to the Great Beyond.

How and why America joined with the Allies against Germany in April, 1917, is told in the three articles following. The summaries contained therein are official, and the war message of President Wilson condenses the reasons which impelled the United States, after long delay, to throw the force of its strength and resources against the German Empire.

[194]

WHY AMERICA BROKE WITH
GERMANY

PRESIDENT WOODROW WILSON

The Imperial German Government on the 31st day of January announced to this Government and to the Governments of the other neutral nations that on and after the 1st day of February, the present month, it would adopt a policy with regard to the use of submarines against all shipping seeking to pass through certain designated areas of the high seas, to which it is clearly my duty to call your attention.

Let me remind the Congress that on the 18th of April last, in view of the sinking on the 24th of March of the cross-channel steamship Sussex by a German submarine without summons or warning, and the consequent loss of lives of several citizens of the United States who were passengers aboard her, this Government addressed a note to the Imperial German Government, in which it made the following statement:

"If it is still the purpose of the Imperial German Government to prosecute relentless and indiscriminate warfare against vessels of commerce by the use of submarines without regard to what the Government of the United States must consider the sacred and indisputable rules of international law and the universally recognized dictates of humanity, the Government of the United States is at last forced to the conclusion that there is but one course it can pursue. Unless the Imperial Government[195] should now immediately declare and effect an abandonment of its present methods of submarine warfare against passenger and freight carrying vessels, the Government of the United States can have no choice but to sever diplomatic relations with the German Empire altogether."

In reply to this declaration the Imperial German Government gave this Government the following assurance:

"The German Government is prepared to do its utmost to confine the operations of war for the rest of its duration to the fighting forces of the belligerents, thereby also insuring the freedom of the seas, a principle upon which the German Government believes now, as before, to be in agreement with the Government of the United States.

"The German Government, guided by this idea, notifies the Government of the United States that the German naval forces have received the following orders: In accordance with the general principles of visit and search and destruction of merchant vessels recognized by international law, such vessels, both within and without the area declared a naval war zone, shall not be sunk without warning and without saving human lives, unless these ships attempt to escape or offer resistance.

"But," it added, "neutrals cannot expect that Germany, forced to fight for her existence, shall, for the sake of neutral interest, restrict the use of an effective weapon if her enemy is permitted to continue to apply at will methods of warfare violating the rules of international law. Such a demand would be incompatible with the character of neutrality, and the German Government is convinced that the Government of the United States does not think of making such a demand, knowing that the Government of the United States has repeatedly[196] declared that it is determined to restore the principle of the freedom of the seas, from whatever quarter it has been violated."

To this the Government of the United States replied on the 8th of May, accepting, of course, the assurance given, but adding:

"The Government of the United States feels it necessary to state that it takes it for granted that the Imperial German Government does not intend to imply that the maintenance of its newly announced policy is in any way contingent upon the course or result of diplomatic negotiations between the Government of the United States and any other belligerent Government, notwithstanding the fact that certain passages in the Imperial Government's note of the 4th inst. might appear to be susceptible of that construction. In order, however, to avoid any misunderstanding, the Government of the United States notifies the Imperial Government that it cannot for a moment entertain, much less discuss, a suggestion that respect by German naval authorities for the rights of citizens of the United States upon the high seas should in any way or in the slightest degree be made contingent upon the conduct of any other Government, affecting the rights of neutrals and noncombatants. Responsibility in such matters is single, not joint, absolute, not relative."

To this note of the 8th of May the Imperial German Government made no reply.

On the 31st of January, the Wednesday of the present week, the German Ambassador handed to the Secretary of State, along with a formal note, a memorandum which contained the following statement:

"The Imperial Government therefore does not doubt that the Government of the United States will understand the situation thus forced upon Germany by the Entente Allies' brutal methods of war and by their determination to destroy[197] the Central Powers, and that the Government of the United States will further realize that the now openly disclosed intention of the Entente Allies gives back to Germany the freedom of action which she reserved in her note addressed to the Government of the United States on May 4, 1916.

"Under these circumstances, Germany will meet the illegal measures of her enemies by forcibly preventing, after February 1, 1917, in a zone around Great Britain, France, Italy, and in the Eastern Mediterranean, all navigation, that of neutrals included, from and to England and from and to France, &c. All ships met within the zone will be sunk."

I think that you will agree with me that, in view of this declaration, which suddenly and without prior intimation of any kind deliberately withdraws the solemn assurance given in the Imperial Government's note of the 4th of May, 1916, this Government has no alternative consistent with the dignity and honor of the United States but to take the course which, in its note of the 18th of April, 1916, it announced that it would take in the event that the German Government did not declare and effect an abandonment of the methods of submarine warfare which it was then employing and to which it now purposes again to resort.

I have therefore directed the Secretary of State to announce to his Excellency the German Ambassador that all diplomatic relations between the United States and the German Empire are severed and that the American Ambassador to Berlin will immediately be withdrawn; and, in accordance with this decision, to hand to his Excellency his passports.

Notwithstanding this unexpected action of the German Government, this sudden and deplorable renunciation of its assurances, given[198] this Government at one of the most critical moments of tension in the relations of the two Governments, I refuse to believe that it is the intention of the German authorities to do in fact what they have warned us they will feel at liberty to do. I cannot bring myself to believe that they will indeed pay no regard to the ancient friendship between their people and our own or to the solemn obligations which have been exchanged between them, and destroy American ships and take the lives of American citizens in the willful prosecution of the ruthless naval program they have announced their intention to adopt. Only actual overt acts on their part can make me believe it even now.

If this inveterate confidence on my part in the sobriety and prudent foresight of their purpose should unhappily prove unfounded; if American ships and American lives should in fact be sacrificed by their naval commanders in heedless contravention on the just and reasonable understandings of international law and the obvious dictates of humanity, I shall take the liberty of coming again before the Congress to ask that authority be given me to use any means that may be necessary for the protection of our seamen and our people in the prosecution of their peaceful and legitimate errands on the high seas. I can do nothing less. I take it for granted that all neutral Governments will take the same course.

We do not desire any hostile conflict with the Imperial German Government. We are the sincere friends of the German people, and earnestly desire to remain at peace with the Government which speaks for them. We shall not believe that they are hostile to us unless and until we are obliged to believe it; and we purpose nothing more than the reasonable defense of the undoubted rights of our people.[199] We wish to serve no selfish ends. We seek merely to stand true alike in thought and in action to the immemorial principles of our people, which I have sought to express in my address to the Senate only two weeks ago—seek merely to vindicate our rights to liberty and justice and an unmolested life. These are the bases of peace, not war. God grant that we may not be challenged to defend them by acts of willful injustice on the part of the Government of Germany!

I have again asked the privilege of addressing you because we are moving through critical times during which it seems to me to be my duty to keep in close touch with the houses of Congress, so that neither counsel nor action shall run at cross-purposes between us.

On the 3rd of February I officially informed you of the sudden and unexpected action of the Imperial German Government in declaring its intention to disregard the promises it had made to this Government in April last and undertake immediate submarine operations against all commerce, whether of belligerents or of neutrals, that should seek to approach Great Britain and Ireland, the Atlantic coasts of Europe, or the harbors of the Eastern Mediterranean and to conduct those operations without regard to the established restrictions of international practice, without regard to any considerations of humanity even which might interfere with their object.

That policy was forthwith put into practice. It has now been in active exhibition for nearly four weeks. Its practical results are not fully disclosed. The commerce of other neutral nations is suffering severely, but not, perhaps, very much more severely than it was already suffering before the 1st of February, when the new policy of the Imperial Government was put into operation.[200]

We have asked the cooperation of the other neutral Governments to prevent these depredations, but I fear none of them has thought it wise to join us in any common course of action. Our own commerce has suffered, is suffering, rather in apprehension than in fact, rather because so many of our ships are timidly keeping to their home ports than because American ships have been sunk.

Two American vessels have been sunk, the Housatonic and the Lyman M. Law. The case of the Housatonic, which was carrying foodstuffs consigned to a London firm, was essentially like the case of the Frye, in which, it will be recalled, the German Government admitted its liability for damages, and the lives of the crew, as in the case of the Frye, were safeguarded with reasonable care.

The case of the Law, which was carrying lemon-box staves to Palermo, discloses a ruthlessness of method which deserves grave condemnation, but was accompanied by no circumstances which might not have been expected at any time in connection with the use of the submarine against merchantmen as the German Government has used it.

In sum, therefore, the situation we find ourselves in with regard to the actual conduct of the German submarine warfare against commerce and its effects upon our own ships and people is substantially the same that it was when I addressed you on the 3rd of February, except for the tying up of our shipping in our own ports because of the unwillingness of our ship owners to risk their vessels at sea without insurance or adequate protection, and the very serious congestion of our commerce which has resulted—a congestion which is growing rapidly more and more serious every day.

This, in itself, might presently accomplish, in effect, what the new German submarine orders[201] were meant to accomplish, so far as we are concerned. We can only say, therefore, that the overt act which I have ventured to hope the German commanders would in fact avoid has not occurred.

But while this is happily true, it must be admitted that there have been certain additional indications and expressions of purpose on the part of the German press and the German authorities which have increased rather than lessened the impression that, if our ships and our people are spared, it will be because of fortunate circumstances or because the commanders of the German submarines which they may happen to encounter exercise an unexpected discretion and restraint, rather than because of the instructions under which those commanders are acting.

It would be foolish to deny that the situation is fraught with the gravest possibilities and dangers. No thoughtful man can fail to see that the necessity for definite action may come at any time if we are, in fact and not in word merely, to defend our elementary rights as a neutral nation. It would be most imprudent to be unprepared.

I cannot in such circumstances be unmindful of the fact that the expiration of the term of the present Congress is immediately at hand by constitutional limitation and that it would in all likelihood require an unusual length of time to assemble and organize the Congress which is to succeed it.

I feel that I ought, in view of that fact, to obtain from you full and immediate assurance of the authority which I may need at any moment to exercise. No doubt I already possess that authority without special warrant of law, by the plain implication of my constitutional duties and powers; but I prefer in the present circumstances not to act upon[202] general implication. I wish to feel that the authority and the power of the Congress are behind me in whatever it may become necessary for me to do. We are jointly the servants of the people and must act together and in their spirit, so far as we can divine and interpret it.

No one doubts what it is our duty to do. We must defend our commerce and the lives of our people in the midst of the present trying circumstances with discretion but with clear and steadfast purpose. Only the method and the extent remain to be chosen, upon the occasion, if occasion should indeed arise.

Since it has unhappily proved impossible to safeguard our neutral rights by diplomatic means against the unwarranted infringements they are suffering at the hands of Germany, there may be no recourse but to armed neutrality, which we shall know how to maintain and for which there is abundant American precedent.

It is devoutly to be hoped that it will not be necessary to put armed forces anywhere into action. The American people do not desire it, and our desire is not different from theirs. I am sure that they will understand the spirit in which I am now acting, the purpose I hold nearest my heart and would wish to exhibit in everything I do.

I am anxious that the people of the nations at war also should understand and not mistrust us. I hope that I need give no further proofs and assurances than I have already given throughout nearly three years of anxious patience that I am the friend of peace and mean to preserve it for America so long as I am able. I am not now proposing or contemplating war or any steps that need lead to it. I merely request that you will accord me by your own vote and definite bestowal the means[203] and the authority to safeguard in practice the right of a great people, who are at peace and who are desirous of exercising none but the rights of peace, to follow the pursuit of peace in quietness and good-will—rights recognized time out of mind by all the civilized nations of the world.

No course of my choosing or of theirs will lead to war. War can come only by the willful acts and aggressions of others.

You will understand why I can make no definite proposals or forecasts of action now and must ask for your supporting authority in the most general terms. The form in which action may become necessary cannot yet be foreseen.

I believe that the people will be willing to trust me to act with restraint, with prudence, and in the true spirit of amity and good faith that they have themselves displayed throughout these trying months; and it is in that belief that I request that you will authorize me to supply our merchant ships with defensive arms should that become necessary, and with the means of using them, and to employ any other instrumentalities or methods that may be necessary and adequate to protect our ships and our people in their legitimate and peaceful pursuits on the seas. I request also that you will grant me at the same time, along with the powers I ask, a sufficient credit to enable me to provide adequate means of protection where they are lacking, including adequate insurance against the present war risks.

I have spoken of our commerce and of the legitimate errands of our people on the seas, but you will not be misled as to my main thought—the thought that lies beneath these phrases and gives them dignity and weight. It is not of material interest merely that we are thinking. It is, rather, of fundamental[204] human rights, chief of all the rights of life itself.

I am thinking not only of the right of Americans to go and come about their proper business by way of the sea, but also of something much deeper, much more fundamental than that. I am thinking of those rights of humanity without which there is no civilization. My theme is of those great principles of compassion and of protection which mankind has sought to throw about human lives, the lives of noncombatants, the lives of men who are peacefully at work keeping the industrial processes of the world quick and vital, the lives of women and children and of those who supply the labor which ministers to their sustenance. We are speaking of no selfish material rights, but of rights which our hearts support and whose foundation is that righteous passion for justice upon which all law, all structures alike of family, of State, and of mankind must rest, as upon the ultimate base of our existence and our liberty.

I cannot imagine any man with American principles at his heart hesitating to defend these things.

[205]

HOW THE WAR CAME TO
AMERICA

OFFICIAL ACCOUNT

In the years when the Republic was still struggling for existence, in the face of threatened encroachments by hostile monarchies over the sea, in order to make the New World safe for democracy our forefathers established here the policy that soon came to be known as the Monroe Doctrine. Warning the Old World not to interfere in the political life of the New, our Government pledged itself in return to abstain from interference in the political conflicts of Europe; and history has vindicated the wisdom of this course. We were then too weak to influence the destinies of Europe, and it was vital to mankind that this first great experiment in government of and by the people should not be disturbed by foreign attack.

Reenforced by the experience of our expanding national life, this doctrine has been ever since the dominating element in the growth of our foreign policy. Whether or not we could have maintained it in case of concerted attack from abroad, it has seemed of such importance to us that we were at all times ready to go to war in its defense. And though since it was first enunciated our strength has grown by leaps and bounds, although in that time the vast increase in our foreign trade and of travel abroad, modern transport, modern mails, the cables, and the wireless have brought us close to Europe and have made our isolation more[206] and more imaginary, there has been until the outbreak of the present conflict small desire on our part to abrogate, or even amend, the old familiar tradition which has for so long given us peace.

In both conferences at The Hague, in 1899 and 1907, we reaffirmed this policy. As our delegates signed the First Convention in regard to arbitration, they read into the minutes this statement:

"Nothing contained in this convention shall be so construed as to require the United States of America to depart from its traditional policy of not intruding upon, interfering with, or entangling itself in the political questions or policy or internal administration of any foreign State; nor shall anything contained in the said convention be construed to imply a relinquishment by the United States of America of its traditional attitude toward purely American questions."

On the eve of the war our position toward other nations might have been summarized under three heads:

I. The Monroe Doctrine.—We had pledged ourselves to defend the New World from European aggression, and we had by word and deed made it clear that we would not intervene in any European dispute.

II. The Freedom of the Seas.—In every naval conference our influence had been given in support of the principle that sea law to be just and worthy of general respect must be based on the consent of the governed.

III. Arbitration.—As we had secured peace at home by referring interstate disputes to a Federal tribunal, we urged a similar settlement of international controversies. Our ideal was a permanent world court. We had already signed arbitration treaties not only with great powers which might conceivably attack us, but[207] even more freely with weaker neighbors in order to show our good faith in recognizing the equality of all nations both great and small. We had made plain to the nations our purpose to forestall by every means in our power the recurrence of wars in the world.

The outbreak of war in 1914 caught this nation by surprise. The peoples of Europe had had at least some warnings of the coming storm, but to us such a blind, savage onslaught on the ideals of civilization had appeared impossible.

The war was incomprehensible. Either side was championed here by millions living among us who were of European birth. Their contradictory accusations threw our thought into disarray, and in the first chaotic days we could see no clear issue that affected our national policy. There was not direct assault on our rights. It seemed at first to most of us a purely European dispute, and our minds were not prepared to take sides in such a conflict. The President's proclamation of neutrality was received by us as natural and inevitable. It was quickly followed by his appeal to "the citizens of the Republic."

"Every man who really loves America will act and speak in the true spirit of neutrality," he said, "which is the spirit of impartiality and fairness and friendliness to all concerned. * * * It will be easy to excite passion and difficult to allay it." He expressed the fear that our nation might become divided in camps of hostile opinion. "Such divisions among us * * * might seriously stand in the way of the proper performance of our duty as the one great nation at peace, the one people holding itself ready to play a part of impartial mediation and speak counsels of peace and accommodation, not as a partisan, but as a friend."[208]

This purpose—the preservation of a strict neutrality in order that later we might be of use in the great task of mediation—dominated all the President's early speeches.

The spirit of neutrality was not easy to maintain. Public opinion was deeply stirred by the German invasion of Belgium and by reports of atrocities there. The Royal Belgian Commission, which came in September, 1914, to lay their country's cause for complaint before our National Government, was received with sympathy and respect. The President in his reply reserved our decision in the affair. It was the only course he could take without an abrupt departure from our most treasured traditions of non-interference in Old World disputes. But the sympathy of America went out to the Belgians in the heroic tragedy, and from every section of our land money contributions and supplies of food and clothing poured over to the Commission for Relief in Belgium, which was under the able management of our fellow-countrymen abroad.

Still, the thought of taking an active part in this European war was very far from most of our minds. The nation shared with the President the belief that by maintaining a strict neutrality we could best serve Europe at the end as impartial mediators.

But in the very first days of the war our Government foresaw that complications on the seas might put us in grave risk of being drawn into the conflict. No neutral nation could foretell what violations of its vital interests at sea might be attempted by the belligerents. And so, on August 6, 1914, our Secretary of State dispatched an identical note to all the powers then at war, calling attention to the risk of serious trouble arising out of this uncertainty of neutrals as to their maritime rights, and proposing that the Declaration of[209] London be accepted by all nations for the duration of the war.

In the first year of the war the Government of Germany stirred up among its people a feeling of resentment against the United States on account of our insistence upon our right as a neutral nation to trade in munitions with the belligerent powers. Our legal right in the matter was not seriously questioned by Germany. She could not have done so consistently, for as recently as the Balkan wars of 1912 and 1913 both Germany and Austria sold munitions to the belligerents. Their appeals to us in the present war were not to observe international law, but to revise it in their interest. And these appeals they tried to make on moral and humanitarian grounds. But upon "the moral issue" involved, the stand taken by the United States was consistent with its traditional policy and with obvious common sense.

For, if, with all other neutrals, we refused to sell munitions to belligerents, we could never in time of a war of our own obtain munitions from neutrals, and the nation which had accumulated the largest reserves of war supplies in time of peace would be assured of victory.

The militarist State that invested its money in arsenals would be at a fatal advantage over the free people who invested their wealth in schools. To write into international law that neutrals should not trade in munitions would be to hand over the world to the rule of the nation with the largest armament factories. Such a policy the United States of America could not accept.

But our principal controversy with the German Government, and the one which rendered the situation at once acute, rose out of their announcement of a sea zone where their submarines would operate in violation of all accepted[210] principles of international law. Our indignation at such a threat was soon rendered passionate by the sinking of the Lusitania. This attack upon our rights was not only grossly illegal; it defied the fundamental concepts of humanity.

Aggravating restraints on our trade were grievances which could be settled by litigation after the war, but the wanton murder of peaceable men and of innocent women and children, citizens of a nation with which Germany was at peace, was a crime against the civilized world which could never be settled in any court.

Our Government, however, inspired still by a desire to preserve peace if possible, used every resource of diplomacy to force the German Government to abandon such attacks. This diplomatic correspondence, which has already been published, proves beyond doubt that our Government sought by every honorable means to preserve faith in that mutual sincerity between nations which is the only basis of sound diplomatic interchange.

But evidence of the bad faith of the Imperial German Government soon piled up on every hand. Honest efforts on our part to establish a firm basis of good neighborliness with the German people were met by their Government with quibbles, misrepresentations, and counter-accusations against their enemies abroad.

And meanwhile in this country official agents of the Central Powers—protected from criminal prosecution by diplomatic immunity—conspired against our internal peace and placed spies and agents provocateurs throughout the length and breadth of our land, and even in high positions of trust in departments of our Government.

While expressing a cordial friendship for the people of the United States, the Government of[211] Germany had its agents at work both in Latin America and Japan. They bought or subsidized papers and supported speakers there to rouse feelings of bitterness and distrust against us in those friendly nations, in order to embroil us in war. They were inciting to insurrection in Cuba, in Haiti, and in Santo Domingo; their hostile hand was stretched out to take the Danish Islands; and everywhere in South America they were abroad sowing the seeds of dissension, trying to stir up one nation against another and all against the United States.

In their sum these various operations amounted to direct assault upon the Monroe Doctrine. And even if we had given up our right to travel on the sea, even if we had surrendered to German threats and abandoned our legitimate trade in munitions, the German offensive in the New World, in our own land and among our neighbors, was becoming too serious to be ignored.

So long as it was possible, the Government of the United States tried to believe that such activities, the evidence of which was already in a large measure at hand, were the work of irresponsible and misguided individuals. It was only reluctantly, in the face of overwhelming proof, that the recall of the Austro-Hungarian Ambassador and of the German Military and Naval Attachés was demanded.

Proof of their criminal violations of our hospitality was presented to their Governments. But these Governments in reply offered no apologies nor did they issue reprimands. It became clear that such intrigue was their settled policy.

In the meantime the attacks of the German submarines upon the lives and property of American citizens had gone on; the protests of our Government were now sharp and ominous,[212] and this nation was rapidly being drawn into a state of war.

The break would have come sooner if our Government had not been restrained by the vain hope that saner counsels might still prevail in Germany. For it was well known to us that the German people had to a very large extent been kept in ignorance of many of the secret crimes of their Government against us.

And the presence of a faction of German public opinion less hostile to this country was shown when their Government acquiesced to some degree in our demands at the time of the Sussex outrage, and for nearly a year maintained at least a pretense of observing the pledge they had made to us. The tension was abated.

While the war spirit was growing in some sections of our nation, there was still no widespread desire to take part in the conflict abroad; for the tradition of non-interference in Europe's political affairs was too deeply rooted in our national life to be easily overthrown.

Moreover, two other considerations strengthened our Government in its efforts to remain neutral in this war. The first was our traditional sense of responsibility toward all the republics of the New World. Throughout the crisis our Government was in constant communication with the countries of Central and South America.

They, too, preferred the ways of peace. And there was a very obvious obligation upon us to safeguard their interests with our own.

The second consideration, which had been so often developed in the President's speeches, was the hope that by keeping aloof from the bitter passions abroad, by preserving untroubled here the holy ideals of civilized intercourse between[213] nations, we might be free at the end of this war to bind up the wounds of the conflict, to be the restorers and rebuilders of the wrecked structure of the world.

All these motives held us back, but it was not long until we were beset by further complications. We soon had reason to believe that the recent compliance of the German Government had not been made to us in good faith, and was only temporary, and by the end of 1916 it was plain that our neutral status had again been made unsafe through the ever-increasing aggressiveness of the German autocracy. There was a general agreement here with the statement of our President on October 26, 1916, that this conflict was the last great war involving the world in which we would remain neutral.

It was in this frame of mind, fearing we might be drawn into the war if it did not soon come to an end, that the President began the preparation of his note, asking the belligerent powers to define their war aims. But before he had completed it the world was surprised by the peace move of the German Government—an identical note on behalf of the German Empire, Austro-Hungary, Bulgaria, and Turkey, sent through neutral powers on December 12, 1916, to the Governments of the Allies proposing negotiations for peace.

While expressing the wish to end this war—"a catastrophe which thousands of years of common civilization was unable to prevent and which injures the most precious achievements of humanity"—the greater portion of the note was couched in terms that gave small hope of a lasting peace.

Boasting of German conquests, "the glorious deeds of our armies," the note implanted in neutral minds the belief that it was the purpose of the Imperial German Government to insist[214] upon such conditions as would leave all Central Europe under German dominance and so build up an empire which would menace the whole liberal world.

Moreover, the German proposal was accompanied by a thinly veiled threat to all neutral nations; and from a thousand sources, official and unofficial, the word came to Washington that unless the neutrals use their influence to bring the war to an end on terms dictated from Berlin, Germany and her allies would consider themselves henceforth free from any obligations to respect the rights of neutrals.

The Kaiser ordered the neutrals to exert pressure on the Entente to bring the war to an abrupt end, or to beware of the consequences. Clear warnings were brought to our Government that if the German peace move should not be successful, the submarines would be unleashed for a more intense and ruthless war upon all commerce.

On the 18th of December the President dispatched his note to all the belligerent powers, asking them to define their war aims. There was still hope in our minds that the mutual suspicions between the warring powers might be decreased, and the menace of future German aggression and dominance be removed, by finding a guaranty of good faith in a league of nations.

There was a chance that by the creation of such a league as part of the peace negotiations the war could now be brought to an end before our nation was involved. Two statements issued to the press by our Secretary of State, upon the day the note was dispatched, threw a clear light on the seriousness with which our Government viewed the crisis.

From this point events moved rapidly. The powers of the Entente replied to the German peace note. Neutral nations took action on the[215] note of the President, and from both belligerents replies to this note were soon in our hands.

The German reply was evasive—in accord with their traditional preference for diplomacy behind closed doors. Refusing to state to the world their terms, Germany and her allies merely proposed a conference. They adjourned all discussion of any plan for a league of peace until after hostilities should end.

The response of the Entente Powers was frank and in harmony with our principal purpose. Many questions raised in the statement of their aims were so purely European in character as to have small interest for us; but our great concern in Europe was the lasting restoration of peace, and it was clear that this was also the chief interest of the Entente nations.

As to the wisdom of some of the measures they proposed toward this end, we might differ in opinion, but the trend of their proposals was the establishment of just frontiers based on the rights of all nations, the small as well as the great, to decide their own destinies.

The aims of the belligerents were now becoming clear. From the outbreak of hostilities the German Government had claimed that it was fighting a war of defense. But the tone of its recent proposals had been that of a conqueror. It sought a peace based on victory.

The Central Empires aspired to extend their domination over other races. They were willing to make liberal terms to any one of their enemies, in a separate peace which would free their hands to crush other opponents. But they were not willing to accept any peace which did not, all fronts considered, leave them victors and the dominating imperial power of Europe.

The war aims of the Entente showed a determination[216] to thwart this ambition of the Imperial German Government. Against the German peace to further German growth and aggression the Entente Powers offered a plan for a European peace that should make the whole Continent secure.

At this juncture the President read his address to the Senate, on January 22, 1917, in which he outlined the kind of peace the United States of America could join in guaranteeing. His words were addressed not only to the Senate and this nation, but to people of all countries:

"May I not add that I hope and believe that I am in effect speaking for liberals and friends of humanity in every nation and of every program of liberty? I would fain believe that I am speaking for the silent mass of mankind everywhere who have as yet had no place or opportunity to speak their real hearts out concerning the death and ruin they see to have come already upon the persons and the homes they hold most dear."

The address was a rebuke to those who still cherished dreams of a world dominated by one nation. For the peace he outlined was not that of a victorious Emperor, it was not the peace of Cæsar. It was in behalf of all the world, and it was a peace of the people:

"No peace can last, or ought to last, which does not recognize and accept the principle that Governments derive all their just powers from the consent of the governed, and that no right anywhere exists to hand people about from sovereignty to sovereignty as if they were property.

"I am proposing, as it were, that the nations should with one accord adopt the doctrine of President Monroe as the doctrine of the world; that no nation should seek to extend its policy over any other nation or people, but that every[217] people should be left free to determine its own polity, its own way of development, unhindered, unthreatened, unafraid, the little along with the great and powerful.

"I am proposing that all nations henceforth avoid entangling alliances which would draw them into competitions of power, catch them in a net of intrigue and selfish rivalry and disturb their own affairs with influences intruded from without. There is no entangling alliance in a concert of power. When all unite to act in the same sense and with the same purpose, all act in the common interest and are free to live their own lives under a common protection.

"I am proposing government by the consent of the governed; that freedom of the seas which in international conference after conference representatives of the United States have urged with the eloquence of those who are convinced disciples of liberty, and that moderation of armaments which makes of armies and navies a power for order merely, not an instrument of aggression or of selfish violence.

"And the paths of the sea must, alike in law and in fact, be free. The freedom of the seas is the sine qua non of peace, equality, and co-operation.

"It is a problem closely connected with the limitation of naval armament and the co-operation of the navies of the world in keeping the seas at once free and safe. And the question of limiting naval armaments opens the wider and perhaps more difficult question of the limitation of armies and of all programs of military preparation. * * * There can be no sense of safety and equality among the nations if great preponderating armaments are henceforth to continue here and there to be built up and maintained.

"Mere agreements may not make peace secure. It will be absolutely necessary that a[218] force be created as a guarantor of the permanency of the settlement so much greater than the force of any nation now engaged or any alliance hitherto formed or projected that no nation, no probable combination of nations, could face or withstand it. If the peace presently to be made is to endure, it must be a peace made secure by the organized major force of mankind."

If there were any doubt in our minds as to which of the great alliances was the more in sympathy with these ideals, it was removed by the popular response abroad to this address of the President. For, while exception was taken to some parts of it in Britain and France, it was plain that so far as the peoples of the Entente were concerned the President had been amply justified in stating that he spoke for all forward-looking, liberal-minded men and women. It was not so in Germany. The people there who could be reached, and whose hearts were stirred by this enunciation of the principles of a people's peace, were too few or too oppressed to make their voices heard in the councils of their nation. Already, on January 16, 1917, unknown to the people of Germany, Herr Zimmermann, their Secretary of Foreign Affairs, had secretly dispatched a note to their Minister in Mexico, informing him of the German intention to repudiate the Sussex pledge and instructing him to offer to the Mexican Government New Mexico and Arizona if Mexico would join with Japan in attacking the United States.

In the new year of 1917, as through our acceptance of world responsibilities so plainly indicated in the President's utterances in regard to a league of nations we felt ourselves now drawing nearer to a full accord with the Powers of the Entente; and, as on the other hand, we found ourselves more and more outraged[219] at the German Government's methods of conducting warfare and their brutal treatment of people in their conquered lands; as we more and more uncovered their hostile intrigues against the peace of the New World; and, above all, as the sinister and anti-democratic ideals of their ruling class became manifest in their manoeuvres for a peace of conquest—the Imperial German Government abruptly threw aside the mask.

On the last day of January, 1917, Count Bernstorff handed to Mr. Lansing a note, in which his Government announced its purpose to intensify and render more ruthless the operations of their submarines at sea, in a manner against which our Government had protested from the beginning. The German Chancellor also stated before the Imperial Diet that the reason this ruthless policy had not been earlier employed was simply because the Imperial Government had not then been ready to act. In brief, under the guise of friendship and the cloak of false promises, it had been preparing this attack.

This was the direct challenge. There was no possible answer except to hand their Ambassador his passports and so have done with a diplomatic correspondence which had been vitiated from the start by the often proved bad faith of the Imperial Government.

On the same day, February 3, 1917, the President addressed both houses of our Congress and announced the complete severance of our relations with Germany. The reluctance with which he took this step was evident in every word. But diplomacy had failed, and it would have been the hollowest pretense to maintain relations. At the same time, however, he made it plain that he did not regard this act as tantamount to a declaration of war. Here for the first time the President made his sharp distinction[220] between government and people in undemocratic lands:

"We are the sincere friends of the German people," he said, "and earnestly desire to remain at peace with the Government which speaks for them. * * * God grant we may not be challenged by acts of willful injustice on the part of the Government of Germany."

In this address of the President, and in its indorsement by the Senate, there was a solemn warning; for we still had hope that the German Government might hesitate to drive us to war. But it was soon evident that our warning had fallen on deaf ears. The tortuous ways and means of German official diplomacy were clearly shown in the negotiations opened by them through the Swiss Legation on the 10th of February. In no word of their proposals did the German Government meet the real issue between us. And our State Department replied that no minor negotiations could be entertained until the main issue had been met by the withdrawal of the submarine order.

By the 1st of March it had become plain that the Imperial Government, unrestrained by the warning in the President's address to Congress on February 3, was determined to make good its threat. The President then again appeared before Congress to report the development of the crisis and to ask the approval of the representatives of the nation for the course of armed neutrality upon which, under his constitutional authority, he had now determined. More than 500 of the 531 members of the two houses of Congress showed themselves ready and anxious to act; and the armed neutrality declaration would have been accepted if it had not been for the legal death of the Sixty-fourth Congress on March 4.

No "overt" act, however, was ordered by our Government until Count Bernstorff had reached[221] Berlin and Mr. Gerard was in Washington. For the German Ambassador on his departure had begged that no irrevocable decision should be taken until he had had the chance to make one final plea for peace to his sovereign. We do not know the nature of his report to the Kaiser; we know only that, even if he kept his pledge and urged an eleventh-hour revocation of the submarine order, he was unable to sway the policy of the Imperial Government.

And so, having exhausted every resource of patience, our Government on the 12th of March finally issued orders to place armed guards on our merchant ships.

With the definite break in diplomatic relations there vanished the last vestige of cordiality toward the Government of Germany. Our attitude was now to change. So long as we had maintained a strict neutrality in the war, for the reason that circumstances might arise in which Europe would have need of an impartial mediator, for us to have given official heed to the accusations of either party would have been to prejudge the case before all the evidence was in.

But now at last, with the breaking of friendly relations with the German Government, we were relieved of the oppressive duty of endeavoring to maintain a judicial detachment from the rights and wrongs involved in the war. We were no longer the outside observers striving to hold an even balance of judgment between disputants. One party by direct attack upon our rights and liberties was forcing us into the conflict. And, much as we had hoped to keep out of the fray, it was no little relief to be free at last from that reserve which is expected of a judge.

Much evidence had been presented to us of things so abhorrent to our ideas of humanity that they had seemed incredible, things we had[222] been loath to believe, and with heavy hearts we had sought to reserve our judgment. But with the breaking of relations with the Government of Germany that duty at last was ended. The perfidy of that Government in its dealings with this nation relieved us of the necessity of striving to give them the benefit of the doubt in regard to their crimes abroad. The Government which under cover of profuse professions of friendship had tried to embroil us in war with Mexico and Japan could not expect us to believe in its good faith in other matters. The men whose paid agents dynamited our factories here were capable of the infamies reported against them over the sea. Their Government's protestations, that their purpose was self-defense and the freeing of small nations, fell like a house of cards before the revelation of their "peace terms."

And judging the German Government now in the light of our own experience through the long and patient years of our honest attempt to keep the peace, we could see the great autocracy and read her record through the war. And we found that record damnable. Beginning long before the war in Prussian opposition to every effort that was made by other nations and our own to do away with warfare, the story of the autocracy has been one of vast preparations for war combined with an attitude of arrogant intolerance toward all other points of view, all other systems of governments, all other hopes and dreams of men.

With a fanatical faith in the destiny of German Kultur as the system that must rule the world, the Imperial Government's actions have through years of boasting, double dealing, and deceit tended toward aggression upon the rights of others. And, if there still be any doubt as to which nation began this war, there[223] can be no uncertainty as to which one was most prepared, most exultant at the chance, and ready instantly to march upon other nations—even those who had given no offense.

The wholesale depredations and hideous atrocities in Belgium and in Serbia were doubtless part and parcel with the Imperial Government's purpose to terrorize small nations into abject submission for generations to come. But in this the autocracy has been blind. For its record in those countries, and in Poland and in Northern France, has given not only to the Allies but to liberal peoples throughout the world the conviction that this menace to human liberties everywhere must be utterly shorn of its power for harm.

For the evil it has effected has ranged far out of Europe—out upon the open seas, where its submarines, in defiance of law and the concepts of humanity, have blown up neutral vessels and covered the waves with the dead and the dying, men and women and children alike. Its agents have conspired against the peace of neutral nations everywhere, sowing the seeds of dissension, ceaselessly endeavoring by tortuous methods of deceit, of bribery, false promises, and intimidation to stir up brother nations one against the other, in order that the liberal world might not be able to unite, in order that the autocracy might emerge triumphant from the war.

All this we know from our own experience with the Imperial Government. As they have dealt with Europe, so they have dealt with us and with all mankind. And so out of these years the conviction has grown that until the German Nation is divested of such rulers democracy cannot be safe.

There remained but one element to confuse the issue. One other great autocracy, the Government of the Russian Czar, had long been[224] hostile to free institutions; it had been a stronghold of tyrannies reaching far back into the past, and its presence among the Allies had seemed to be in disaccord with the great liberal principles they were upholding in this war. Russia had been a source of doubt. Repeatedly during the conflict liberal Europe had been startled by the news of secret accord between the Kaiser and the Czar.

But now at this crucial time for our nation, on the eve of our entrance into the war, the free men of all the world were thrilled and heartened by the news that the people of Russia had risen to throw off their Government and found a new democracy; and the torch of freedom in Russia lit up the last dark phases of the situation abroad. Here, indeed, was a fit partner for the League of Honor. The conviction was finally crystallized in American minds and hearts that this war across the sea was no mere conflict between dynasties, but a stupendous civil war of all the world; a new campaign in the age-old war, the prize of which is liberty. Here, at last, was a struggle in which all who love freedom have a stake. Further neutrality on our part would have been a crime against our ancestors, who had given their lives that we might be free.

"The world must be made safe for democracy."

On the 2d of April, 1917, the President read to the new Congress his message, in which he asked the Representatives of the nation to declare the existence of a state of war, and in the early hours of the 6th of April the House by an overwhelming vote accepted the joint resolution which had already passed the Senate.

"Whereas, The Imperial German Government has committed repeated acts of war[225] against the Government and the people of the United States of America: Therefore be it

"Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That the state of war between the United States and the Imperial German Government which has thus been thrust upon the United States is hereby formally declared; and that the President be, and he is hereby, authorized and directed to employ the entire naval and military forces of the United States and the resources of the Government to carry on the war against the Imperial German Government, and to bring the conflict to a successful termination all the resources of the country are hereby pledged by the Congress of the United States."

Neutrality was a thing of the past. The time had come when the President's proud prophecy was fulfilled:

"There will come that day when the world will say, 'This America that we thought was full of a multitude of contrary counsels now speaks with the great volume of the heart's accord, and that great heart of America has behind it the supreme moral force of righteousness and hope and the liberty of mankind.'"

[226]

THE WAR MESSAGE

PRESIDENT WOODROW WILSON

I have called the Congress into extraordinary session because there are serious, very serious, choices of policy to be made, and made immediately, which it was neither right nor constitutionally permissible that I should assume the responsibility of making.

On the 3d of February last I officially laid before you the extraordinary announcement of the Imperial German Government that on and after the first day of February it was its purpose to put aside all restraints of law or of humanity and use its submarines to sink every vessel that sought to approach either the ports of Great Britain and Ireland or the western coasts of Europe or any of the ports controlled by the enemies of Germany within the Mediterranean.

That had seemed to be the object of the German submarine warfare earlier in the war, but since April of last year the Imperial Government had somewhat restrained the commanders of its undersea craft, in conformity with its promise, then given to us, that passenger boats should not be sunk and that due warning would be given to all other vessels which its submarines might seek to destroy, when no resistance was offered or escape attempted, and care taken that their crews were given at least a fair chance to save their lives in their open boats. The precautions taken were meagre and haphazard enough, as was proved in distressing instance after instance in[227] the progress of the cruel and unmanly business, but a certain degree of restraint was observed.

The new policy has swept every restriction aside. Vessels of every kind, whatever their flag, their character, their cargo, their destination, their errand, have been ruthlessly sent to the bottom without warning and without thought of help or mercy for those on board, the vessels of friendly neutrals along with those of belligerents. Even hospital ships and ships carrying relief to the sorely bereaved and stricken people of Belgium, though the latter were provided with safe conduct through the proscribed areas by the German Government itself and were distinguished by unmistakable marks of identity, have been sunk with the same reckless lack of compassion or of principle.

I was for a little while unable to believe that such things would in fact be done by any Government that had hitherto subscribed to humane practices of civilized nations. International law had its origin in the attempt to set up some law which would be respected and observed upon the seas, where no nation had right of dominion and where lay the free highways of the world. By painful stage after stage has that law been built up, with meagre enough results, indeed, after all was accomplished that could be accomplished, but always with a clear view, at least, of what the heart and conscience of mankind demanded.

This minimum of right the German Government has swept aside, under the plea of retaliation and necessity and because it had no weapons which it could use at sea except these, which it is impossible to employ, as it is employing them, without throwing to the wind all scruples of humanity or of respect for the understandings that were supposed to underlie the intercourse of the world.[228]

I am not now thinking of the loss of property involved, immense and serious as that is, but only of the wanton and wholesale destruction of the lives of noncombatants, men, women, and children, engaged in pursuits which have always, even in the darkest periods of modern history, been deemed innocent and legitimate. Property can be paid for; the lives of peaceful and innocent people cannot be. The present German submarine warfare against commerce is a warfare against mankind.

It is a war against all nations. American ships have been sunk, American lives taken, in ways which it has stirred us very deeply to learn of, but the ships and people of other neutral and friendly nations have been sunk and overwhelmed in the waters in the same way. There has been no discrimination.

The challenge is to all mankind. Each nation must decide for itself how it will meet it. The choice we make for ourselves must be made with a moderation of counsel and a temperateness of judgment befitting our character and our motives as a nation. We must put excited feeling away. Our motive will not be revenge or the victorious assertion of the physical might of the nation, but only the vindication of right, of human right, of which we are only a single champion.

When I addressed the Congress on the 26th of February last I thought that it would suffice to assert our neutral rights with arms, our right to use the seas against unlawful interference, our right to keep our people safe against unlawful violence. But armed neutrality, it now appears, is impracticable. Because submarines are in effect outlaws, when used as the German submarines have been used against merchant shipping, it is impossible to defend ships against their attacks, as[229] the law of nations has assumed that merchantmen would defend themselves against privateers or cruisers, visible craft giving chase upon the open sea. It is common prudence in such circumstances, grim necessity indeed, to endeavor to destroy them before they have shown their own intention. They must be dealt with upon sight, if dealt with at all.

The German Government denies the right of neutrals to use arms at all within the areas of the sea which it has proscribed, even in the defense of rights which no modern publicist has ever before questioned their right to defend. The intimation is conveyed that the armed guards which we have placed on our merchant ships will be treated as beyond the pale of law and subject to be dealt with as pirates would be. Armed neutrality is ineffectual enough at best; in such circumstances and in the face of such pretensions it is worse than ineffectual; it is likely only to produce what it was meant to prevent; it is practically certain to draw us into the war without either the rights or the effectiveness of belligerents. There is one choice we cannot make, we are incapable of making; we will not choose the path of submission and suffer the most sacred rights of our nation and our people to be ignored or violated. The wrongs against which we now array ourselves are no common wrongs; they cut to the very roots of human life.

With a profound sense of the solemn and even tragical character of the step I am taking and of the grave responsibilities which it involves, but in unhesitating obedience to what I deem my constitutional duty, I advise that the Congress declare the recent course of the Imperial German Government to be in fact nothing less than war against the Government and people of the United States; that it formally[230] accept the status of belligerent which has thus been thrust upon it; and that it take immediate steps not only to put the country in a more thorough state of defense, but also to exert all its power and employ all its resources to bring the Government of the German Empire to terms and end the war.

What this will involve is clear. It will involve the utmost practicable co-operation in counsel and action with the Governments now at war with Germany, and, as incident to that, the extension to those Governments of the most liberal financial credits, in order that our resources may so far as possible be added to theirs.

It will involve the organization and mobilization of all the material resources of the country to supply the materials of war and serve the incidental needs of the nation in the most abundant and yet the most economical and efficient way possible.

It will involve the immediate full equipment of the navy in all respects, but particularly in supplying it with the best means of dealing with the enemy's submarines.

It will involve the immediate addition to the armed forces of the United States, already provided for by law in case of war, of at least 500,000 men, who should, in my opinion, be chosen upon the principle of universal liability to service, and also the authorization of subsequent additional increments of equal force so soon as they may be needed and can be handled in training.

It will involve also, of course, the granting of adequate credits to the Government, sustained, I hope, so far as they can equitably be sustained by the present generation, by well-conceived taxation.

I say sustained so far as may be equitable by taxation, because it seems to me that it[231] would be most unwise to base the credits, which will now be necessary, entirely on money borrowed. It is our duty, I most respectfully urge, to protect our people, so far as we may, against the very serious hardships and evils which would be likely to arise out of the inflation which would be produced by vast loans.

In carrying out the measures by which these things are to be accomplished we should keep constantly in mind the wisdom of interfering as little as possible in our own preparation and in the equipment of our own military forces with the duty—for it will be a very practical duty—of supplying the nations already at war with Germany with the materials which they can obtain only from us or by our assistance. They are in the field, and we should help them in every way to be effective there.

I shall take the liberty of suggesting, through the several executive departments of the Government, for the consideration of your committees, measures for the accomplishment of the several objects I have mentioned. I hope that it will be your pleasure to deal with them as having been framed after very careful thought by the branch of the Government upon whom the responsibility of conducting the war and safeguarding the nation will most directly fall.

While we do these things, these deeply momentous things, let us be very clear, and make very clear to all the world, what our motives and our objects are. My own thought has not been driven from its habitual and normal course by the unhappy events of the last two months, and I do not believe that the thought of the nation has been altered or clouded by them. I have exactly the same things in mind now that I had in mind when I addressed the Senate on the 22d of January last; the same that I had in mind when I addressed the[232] Congress on the 3d of February and on the 26th of February. Our object now, as then, is to vindicate the principles of peace and justice in the life of the world as against selfish and autocratic power, and to set up among the really free and self-governed peoples of the world such a concert of purpose and of action as will henceforth insure the observance of those principles.

Neutrality is no longer feasible or desirable where the peace of the world is involved and the freedom of its peoples, and the menace to that peace and freedom lies in the existence of autocratic Governments, backed by organized force which is controlled wholly by their will, not by the will of their people. We have seen the last of neutrality in such circumstances. We are at the beginning of an age in which it will be insisted that the same standards of conduct and of responsibility for wrong done shall be observed among nations and their Governments that are observed among the individual citizens of civilized States.

We have no quarrel with the German people. We have no feeling toward them but one of sympathy and friendship. It was not upon their impulse that their Government acted in entering this war. It was not with their previous knowledge or approval. It was a war determined upon as wars used to be determined upon in the old, unhappy days, when peoples were nowhere consulted by their rulers and wars were provoked and waged in the interest of dynasties or of little groups of ambitious men who were accustomed to use their fellow-men as pawns and tools.

Self-governed nations do not fill their neighbor States with spies or set the course of intrigue to bring about some critical posture of affairs which will give them an opportunity to strike and make conquest. Such designs can[233] be successfully worked out only under cover and where no one has the right to ask questions. Cunningly contrived plans of deception or aggression, carried, it may be, from generation to generation, can be worked out and kept from the light only within the privacy of courts or behind the carefully guarded confidences of a narrow and privileged class. They are happily impossible where public opinion commands and insists upon full information concerning all of the nation's affairs.

A steadfast concert for peace can never be maintained except by a partnership of democratic nations. No autocratic Government could be trusted to keep faith within it or observe its covenants. It must be a league of honor, a partnership of opinion. Intrigue would eat its vitals away; the plottings of inner circles who could plan what they would and render account to no one would be a corruption seated at its very heart. Only free peoples can hold their purpose and their honor steady to a common end and prefer the interests of mankind to any narrow interest of their own.

Does not every American feel that assurance has been added to our hope for the future peace of the world by the wonderful and heartening things that have been happening within the last few weeks in Russia? Russia was known by those who knew her best to have been always in fact democratic at heart in all the vital habits of her thought, in all the intimate relationships of her people that spoke their natural instinct, their habitual attitude toward life. The autocracy that crowned the summit of her political structure, long as it had stood and terrible as was the reality of its power, was not in fact Russian in origin, character, or purpose; and now it has been shaken off[234] and the great, generous Russian people have been added, in all their naive majesty and might, to the forces that are fighting for freedom in the world, for justice, and for peace. Here is a fit partner for a League of Honor.

One of the things that have served to convince us that the Prussian autocracy was not and could never be our friend is that from the very outset of the present war it has filled our unsuspecting communities, and even our offices of government, with spies and set criminal intrigues everywhere afoot against our national unity of counsel, our peace within and without, our industries and our commerce. Indeed, it is now evident that its spies were here even before the war began; and it is unhappily not a matter of conjecture, but a fact proved in our courts of justice, that the intrigues which have more than once come perilously near to disturbing the peace and dislocating the industries of the country, have been carried on at the instigation, with the support, and even under the personal direction of official agents of the Imperial Government accredited to the Government of the United States.

Even in checking these things and trying to extirpate them we have sought to put the most generous interpretation possible upon them because we knew that their source lay, not in any hostile feeling or purpose of the German people toward us, (who were, no doubt, as ignorant of them as we ourselves were,) but only in the selfish designs of a Government that did what it pleased and told its people nothing. But they have played their part in serving to convince us at last that that Government entertains no real friendship for us, and means to act against our peace and security at its convenience. That it means to stir up enemies against us at our very doors the intercepted[235] note to the German Minister at Mexico City is eloquent evidence.

We are accepting this challenge of hostile purpose because we know that in such a Government, following such methods, we can never have a friend; and that in the presence of its organized power, always lying in wait to accomplish we know not what purpose, there can be no assured security for the democratic Governments of the world. We are now about to accept the gage of battle with this natural foe to liberty and shall, if necessary, spend the whole force of the nation to check and nullify its pretensions and its power. We are glad, now that we see the facts with no veil of false pretense about them, to fight thus for the ultimate peace of the world and for the liberation of its peoples, the German peoples included; for the rights of nations, great and small, and the privilege of men everywhere to choose their way of life and of obedience.

The world must be made safe for democracy. Its peace must be planted upon the tested foundations of political liberty. We have no selfish ends to serve. We desire no conquest, no dominion. We seek no indemnities for ourselves, no material compensation for the sacrifices we shall freely make. We are but one of the champions of the rights of mankind. We shall be satisfied when those rights have been made as secure as the faith and the freedom of nations can make them.

Just because we fight without rancor and without selfish object, seeking nothing for ourselves but what we shall wish to share with all free peoples, we shall, I feel confident, conduct our operations as belligerents without passion and ourselves observe with proud punctilio the principles of right and of fair play we profess to be fighting for.

I have said nothing of the Governments allied[236] with the Imperial Government of Germany because they have not made war upon us or challenged us to defend our right and our honor. The Austro-Hungarian Government has, indeed, avowed its unqualified indorsement and acceptance of the reckless and lawless submarine warfare, adopted now without disguise by the Imperial German Government, and it has therefore not been possible for this Government to receive Count Tarnowski, the Ambassador recently accredited to this Government by the Imperial and Royal Government of Austria-Hungary; but that Government has not actually engaged in warfare against citizens of the United States on the seas, and I take the liberty, for the present at least, of postponing a discussion of our relations with the authorities at Vienna. We enter this war only where we are clearly forced into it because there are no other means of defending our rights.

It will be all the easier for us to conduct ourselves as belligerents in a high spirit of right and fairness because we act without animus, not with enmity toward a people or with the desire to bring any injury or disadvantage upon them, but only in armed opposition to an irresponsible Government which has thrown aside all considerations of humanity and of right and is running amuck.

We are, let me say again, the sincere friends of the German people, and shall desire nothing so much as the early re-establishment of intimate relations of mutual advantage between us, however hard it may be for them for the time being to believe that this is spoken from our hearts. We have borne with their present Government through all these bitter months because of that friendship, exercising a patience and forbearance which would otherwise have been impossible.[237]

We shall happily still have an opportunity to prove that friendship in our daily attitude and actions toward the millions of men and women of German birth and native sympathy who live among us and share our life, and we shall be proud to prove it toward all who are in fact loyal to their neighbors and to the Government in the hour of test. They are most of them as true and loyal Americans as if they had never known any other fealty or allegiance. They will be prompt to stand with us in rebuking and restraining the few who may be of a different mind and purpose. If there should be disloyalty, it will be dealt with with a firm hand of stern repression; but, if it lifts its head at all, it will lift it only here and there and without countenance except from a lawless and malignant few.

It is a distressing and oppressive duty, gentlemen of the Congress, which I have performed in thus addressing you. There are, it may be, many months of fiery trial and sacrifice ahead of us. It is a fearful thing to lead this great, peaceful people into war, into the most terrible and disastrous of all wars, civilization itself seeming to be in the balance.

But the right is more precious than peace, and we shall fight for the things which we have always carried nearest our hearts—for democracy, for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own Governments, for the rights and liberties of small nations, for a universal dominion of right by such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace and safety to all nations and make the world itself at last free.

To such a task we can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and[238] her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured.

God helping her, she can do no other.

Whereas, The Imperial German Government has committed repeated acts of war against the Government and the people of the United States of America; therefore, be it

Resolved, by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled. That the state of war between the United States and the Imperial German Government, which has thus been thrust upon the United States, is hereby formally declared; and

That the President be, and he is hereby, authorized and directed to employ the entire naval and military forces of the United States and the resources of the Government to carry on war against the Imperial German Government; and to bring the conflict to a successful termination all the resources of the country are hereby pledged by the Congress of the United States.

Whereas, The Congress of the United States, in the exercise of the constitutional authority vested in them, have resolved by joint resolution of the Senate and House of Representatives, bearing date this day, "that a state of war between the United States and the Imperial German Government which has been thrust upon the United States is hereby formally declared";[239]

Whereas, It is provided by Section 4,067 of the Revised Statutes as follows:

"Whenever there is declared a war between the United States and any foreign nation or Government or any invasion or predatory incursion is perpetrated, attempted, or threatened against the territory of the United States by any foreign nation or Government, and the President makes public proclamation of the event, all native citizens, denizens, or subjects of a hostile nation or Government being male of the age of 14 years and upward, who shall be within the United States and not actually naturalized, shall be liable to be apprehended, restrained, secured, and removed as alien enemies. The President is authorized in any such event by his proclamation thereof, or other public acts, to direct the conduct to be observed on the part of the United States toward the aliens who become so liable; the manner and degree of the restraint to which they shall be subject and in what cases and upon what security their residence shall be permitted, and to provide for the removal of those who, not being permitted to reside within the United States, refuse or neglect to depart therefrom; and to establish any such regulations which are found necessary in the premises and for the public safety."

Whereas, By Sections 4,068, 4,069, and 4,070 of the Revised Statutes, further provision is made relative to alien enemies;

Now, therefore, I, Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim, to all whom it may concern, that a state of war exists between the United States and the Imperial German Government, and I do specially direct all officers, civil or military, of the United States that they exercise vigilance and zeal in the discharge of the duties incident to such a state of war, and I do, moreover,[240] earnestly appeal to all American citizens that they, in loyal devotion to their country, dedicated from its foundation to the principles of liberty and justice, uphold the laws of the land, and give undivided and willing support to those measures which may be adopted by the constitutional authorities in prosecuting the war to a successful issue and in obtaining a secure and just peace;

And, acting under and by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution of the United States and the said sections of the Revised Statutes,

I do hereby further proclaim and direct that the conduct to be observed on the part of the United States toward all natives, citizens, denizens, or subjects of Germany, being male of the age of 14 years and upward, who shall be within the United States and not actually naturalized, who for the purpose of this proclamation and under such sections of the Revised Statutes are termed alien enemies, shall be as follows:

All alien enemies are enjoined to preserve the peace toward the United States and to refrain from crime against the public safety and from violating the laws of the United States and of the States and Territories thereof, and to refrain from actual hostility or giving information, aid, or comfort to the enemies of the United States and to comply strictly with the regulations which are hereby, or which may be from time to time promulgated by the President, and so long as they shall conduct themselves in accordance with law they shall be undisturbed in the peaceful pursuit of their lives and occupations, and be accorded the consideration due to all peaceful and law-abiding persons, except so far as restrictions may be necessary for their own protection and for the safety of the United States, and toward such[241] alien enemies as conduct themselves in accordance with law all citizens of the United States are enjoined to preserve the peace and to treat them with all such friendliness as may be compatible with loyalty and allegiance to the United States.

And all alien enemies who fail to conduct themselves as so enjoined, in addition to all other penalties prescribed by law, shall be liable to restraint or to give security or to remove and depart from the United States, in the manner prescribed by Sections 4,069 and 4,070 of the Revised Statutes and as prescribed in the regulations duly promulgated by the President.

And pursuant to the authority vested in me, I hereby declare and establish the following regulations, which I find necessary in the premises and for the public safety:

1. An alien enemy shall not have in his possession at any time or place any firearms, weapons, or implements of war, or component parts thereof, ammunition, Maxim or other silencer, arms, or explosives or material used in the manufacture of explosives;

2. An alien enemy shall not have in his possession at any time or place, or use or operate, any aircraft or wireless apparatus, or any form of signaling device or any form of cipher code or any paper, document, or book written or printed in cipher or in which there may be invisible writing;

3. All property found in the possession of an alien enemy in violation of the foregoing regulations shall be subject to seizure by the United States;

4. An alien enemy shall not approach or be found within one-half of a mile of any Federal or State fort, camp, arsenal, aircraft station, Government or naval vessel, navy yard, factory, or workshop for the manufacture of munitions[242] of war or of any products for the use of the army or navy;

5. An alien enemy shall not write, print, or publish any attack or threat against the Government or Congress of the United States, or either branch thereof, or against the measures or policy of the United States, or against the persons or property of any person in the military, naval, or civil service of the United States, or of the States or Territories, or of the District of Columbia, or of the municipal governments therein;

6. An alien enemy shall not commit or abet any hostile acts against the United States or give information, aid, or comfort to its enemies;

7. An alien enemy shall not reside in or continue to reside in, to remain in, or enter any locality which the President may from time to time designate by an Executive order as a prohibitive area, in which residence by an alien enemy shall be found by him to constitute a danger to the public peace and safety of the United States, except by permit from the President and except under such limitations or restrictions as the President may prescribe;

8. An alien enemy whom the President shall have reasonable cause to believe to be aiding or about to aid the enemy or to be at large to the danger of the public peace or safety of the United States, or to have violated or to be about to violate any of these regulations, shall remove to any location designated by the President by Executive order, and shall not remove therefrom without permit, or shall depart from the United States if so required by the President;

9. No alien enemy shall depart from the United States until he shall have received such permit as the President shall prescribe, or except under order of a court, Judge, or Justice,[243] under Sections 4,069 and 4,070 of the Revised Statutes;

10. No alien enemy shall land in or enter the United States except under such restrictions and at such places as the President may prescribe;

11. If necessary to prevent violation of the regulations, all alien enemies will be obliged to register;

12. An alien enemy whom there may be reasonable cause to believe to be aiding or about to aid the enemy, or who may be at large to the danger of the public peace or safety, or who violates or who attempts to violate or of whom there is reasonable grounds to believe that he is about to violate, any regulation to be promulgated by the President or any criminal law of the United States, or of the States or Territories thereof, will be subject to summary arrest by the United States Marshal, or his Deputy, or such other officers as the President shall designate, and to confinement in such penitentiary, prison, jail, military camp, or other place of detention as may be directed by the President.

This proclamation and the regulations herein contained shall extend and apply to all land and water, continental or insular, in any way within the jurisdiction of the United States.

Saloniki was one of the mysteries of the war. News from that city was brief and unsatisfying in the main. Great things, however, were done there, and none greater than those accomplished by the British. Some of these accomplishments are told in the pages that follow.

[244]

BRITISH OPERATIONS AT
SALONIKI

OFFICIAL REPORT OF GENERAL MILNE

Since the conference at Rome the situation in Macedonia has been radically changed. The weakness of General Sarrail's position lay in the fact that neither England nor France felt free to send from the critical western front the large reinforcements of men which the situation north of Saloniki called for. Italy had the men, but was unwilling to send them and to incur the heavy additional expense of maintaining them in Macedonia. The conference at Rome, in which Premier Lloyd George was the dominant figure, overcame that reluctance, probably promising Italy parts of the Turkish Empire that had been earlier assigned tentatively to Greece and guaranteeing the cost of the new expedition. The result has been immediate and of the highest importance. Rome dispatches indicate that Italy has sent, or is sending, a force of not less than 300,000 men; that these troops, to avoid the danger of submarines, are being dispatched, not to Saloniki, but to Avlona, which is within forty miles of the Italian coast; and, finally, these Italian forces have not only built an excellent highway through the Albanian mountains but have already joined forces with General Sarrail's right wing at Monastir. All these facts indicate early activity in the Macedonian sector.

This glimpse of present conditions will serve to introduce the following report of General G. F. Milne, commanding the British Saloniki[245] Army in Macedonia, on last Summer's operations in that sector. His report, submitted to the British War Office early in December, 1916, covered the army's operations from May 9, 1916, to October 8, 1916. The official text of the report is here reproduced, with a few minor omissions:

"On May 9, 1916, the greater part of the army was concentrated within the fortified lines of Saloniki, extending from Stavros on the east to near the Galiko River on the west; a mixed force, consisting of a mounted brigade and a division, had been pushed forward to the north of Kukush in order to support the French Army which had advanced and was watching the right bank of the Struma River and the northern frontier of Greece. Further moves in this direction were contemplated, but, in order to keep the army concentrated, I entered into an agreement with General Sarrail by which the British forces should become responsible for that portion of the allied front which covered Saloniki from the east and northeast. By this arrangement a definite and independent area was allotted to the army under my command. On June 8, 1916, the troops commenced to occupy advanced positions along the right bank of the River Struma and its tributary, the River Butkova, from Lake Tachinos to Lozista village. By the end of July, on the demobilization of the Greek Army, this occupation had extended to the sea at Chai Aghizi. Along the whole front the construction of a line of resistance was begun; work on trenches, entanglements, bridgeheads, and supporting points was commenced; for administrative purposes the reconstruction of the Saloniki-Seres road was undertaken and the cutting of wagon tracks through the mountainous country was pushed forward.

"On July 20, 1916, in accordance with the[246] policy laid down in my instructions, and in order to release French troops for employment elsewhere, I began to take over the line south and west of Lake Doiran, and commenced preparations for a joint offensive on this front. This move was completed by August 2, 1916, and on the 10th of that month an offensive was commenced against the Bulgarian defenses south of the line Doiran-Hill 535. The French captured Hills 227 and La Tortue, while the British occupied in succession those features of the main 535 ridge now known as Kidney Hill and Horseshoe Hill, and, pushing forward, established a series of advanced posts on the line Doldzeli-Reselli. The capture of Horseshoe Hill was successfully carried out on the night of August 17-18, 1916, by the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry at the point of the bayonet in the face of stubborn opposition. The enemy's counterattacks were repulsed with heavy loss.

"On August 17, 1916, the Bulgarians, who, at the end of May, had entered Greek territory by the Struma Valley and moved down as far as Demir Hissar, continued their advance into Greek Macedonia. Columns of all arms advanced from seven different points, between Sarisaban, on the Mesta, and Demir Hissar. The four eastern columns converged on the country about Drama and Kavala, while the remainder moved southward on to the line of the Struma from Demir Hissar toward Orfano. On August 19, 1916, a mounted brigade with one battery carried out a strong reconnoissance, and found the enemy in some force on the line Prosenik-Barakli Djuma; on the following day, after being reinforced by a battalion, this brigade again advanced in conjunction with the French detachment. These attacking troops, after encountering the enemy in force on the line Kalendra-Prosenik-Haznatar,[247] withdrew after dark to the right bank of the Struma. The French detachment was subsequently placed under the orders of the General Officer Commanding British troops on this front, and received instructions to cooperate in the defense of the river line.

"On August 21, 1916, the railway bridge near Angista Station was demolished by a detachment from the Neohori garrison, and three days later two road bridges over the Angista River were destroyed. Both these operations were well carried out by yeomanry, engineers, and cyclists in the face of hostile opposition.

"The Bulgarians continued their advance into Eastern Macedonia unopposed by the Greek garrison, and it was estimated that by the end of August the enemy's forces, extending from Demir Hissar southward in the Seres sector of the Struma front, comprised the complete Seventh Bulgarian Division, with two or three regiments of the Eleventh Macedonian Division, which had moved eastward from their positions on the Beles Mountain to act as a reserve to the Seventh Division, and at the same time to occupy the defenses from Vetrina-Pujovo northward. Opposite the Lower Struma was a brigade of the Second Division, with a brigade of the Tenth Division, in occupation of the coast and the zone of country between Orfano and the Drama-Kavala road. This brigade of the Tenth Division was supported by another brigade in the Drama Kavala area. As a result of this advance and of a similar move in the west General Sarrail decided to intrust to the British Army the task of maintaining the greater portion of the right and center of the allied line.

"On September 10, 1916, detachments crossed the river above Lake Tachinos at five places between Bajraktar Mah and Dragos, while a sixth detachment crossed lower down at Neohori.[248] The villages of Oraoman and Kato Gudeli were occupied, and Northumberland Fusiliers gallantly captured Nevolien, taking thirty prisoners and driving the enemy out of the village. The latter lost heavily during their retirement and in their subsequent counterattack. They also suffered severely from our artillery fire in attempting to follow our prearranged movements to regain the right bank of the river.

"On the 15th similar operations were undertaken, six small columns crossing the river between Lake Tachinos and Orljak bridge. The villages of Kato Gudeli, Dzami Mah, Agomah, and Komarjan were burned and twenty-seven prisoners were taken. The enemy's counterattacks completely broke down under the accurate fire of our guns on the right bank of the river. On the 23d a similar scheme was put into action, but a sudden rise of three feet in the Struma interfered with the bridging operations. Nevertheless, the enemy's trenches at Yenimah were captured, fourteen prisoners taken, and three other villages raided. Considerable help was given on each occasion by the French detachment under Colonel Bescoins, and much information was obtained which proved to be of considerable value during subsequent operations.

"On the Doiran-River Vardar front there remained as before the whole of the Bulgarian Ninth Division, less one regiment; a brigade of the Second Division and at least two-thirds of the German 101st Division, which had intrenched the salient north of Matzikovo on the usual German system. To assist the general offensive by the Allies I ordered this salient to be attacked at the same time as the allied operations in the Florina area commenced. With this object in view the whole of the enemy's intrenched position was[249] subjected to a heavy bombardment from Septem. 11 to 13, 1916, the southwest corner of the salient known as the Piton des Mitrailleuses being specially selected for destruction. The enemy's position was occupied during the night 13th-14th, after a skillfully planned and gallant assault, in which the King's Liverpool Regiment and Lancashire Fusiliers specially distinguished themselves. Over 200 Germans were killed in the work, chiefly by bombing, and seventy-one prisoners were brought in. During the 14th the enemy concentrated from three directions a very heavy artillery fire, and delivered several counterattacks, which were for the most part broken up under the fire of our guns. Some of the enemy, however, succeeded in forcing an entrance into the work, and severe fighting followed. As hostile reinforcements were increasing in numbers, and as the rocky nature of the ground rendered rapid consolidation difficult, the troops were withdrawn in the evening to their original line, the object of the attack having been accomplished. This withdrawal was conducted with little loss, thanks to the very effective fire of the artillery. During the bombardment and subsequent counterattack the enemy's losses must have been considerable. On the same front on the night of the 20th-21st, after bombarding the hostile positions on the Crête des Tentes, a strong detachment raided and bombed the trenches and dugouts, retiring quickly with little loss. A similar raid was carried out northeast of Doldzeli.

"In addition to these operations and raids, constant combats took place between patrols, many prisoners being captured, and several bombing raids were carried out by the Royal Flying Corps.

"In order further to assist the progress of[250] our allies toward Monastir by maintaining such a continuous offensive as would insure no transference of Bulgarian troops from the Struma front to the west, I now issued instructions for operations on a more extensive scale than those already reported. In accordance with these the General Officer Commanding on that front commenced operations by seizing and holding certain villages on the left bank of the river with a view to enlarging the bridgehead opposite Orljak, whence he would be in a position to threaten a further movement either on Seres or on Demir Hissar. The high ground on the right bank of the river enabled full use to be made of our superiority in artillery, which contributed greatly to the success of these operations. The river itself formed a potential danger, owing to the rapidity with which its waters rise after heavy rain in the mountains, but on the night of September 29, 1916, sufficient bridges had been constructed by the Royal Engineers for the passage of all arms. During the night of September 29-30 the attacking infantry crossed below Orljak bridge and formed up on the left bank.

"At dawn on the following morning the Gloucesters and the Cameron Highlanders advanced under cover of an artillery bombardment, and by 8 a.m. had seized the village of Karadjakoi Bala. Shortly after the occupation of the village the enemy opened a heavy and accurate artillery fire, but the remaining two battalions of the brigade, the Royal Scots and Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, though suffering severely from enfilade fire, pushed on against Karadjakoi Zir. By 5.30 p. m. that village also was occupied, in spite of the stubborn resistance of the enemy. Attempts to bring forward hostile reinforcements were frustrated during the day by our artillery,[251] but during the night the Bulgarians launched several strong counterattacks, which were repulsed with heavy loss.

"During the following night determined counterattacks of the enemy were again repulsed, and by the evening of October 2, 1916, the position had been fully consolidated. Preparations were at once made to extend the position by the capture of Yenikoi, an important village on the main Seres road. This operation was successfully carried out by an infantry brigade, composed of the Royal Munster and Royal Dublin Fusiliers, on the morning of October 3, 1916, after bombardment by our artillery. By 7 a. m. the village was in our hands. During the day the enemy launched three heavy counterattacks. The first two were stopped by artillery fire, which caused severe loss. At 4 p. m. the village, the ground in the rear, and the bridges were subjected to an unexpectedly heavy bombardment from several heavy batteries which had hitherto not disclosed their positions. Following on the bombardment was the heaviest counterattack of the day, six or seven battalions advancing from the direction of Homondos, Kalendra, and Topalova with a view to enveloping our positions. This attack was carried forward with great determination, and some detachments succeeded in entering the northern portion of Yenikoi, where hard fighting continued all night, until fresh reinforcements succeeded in clearing out such enemy as survived. During the following day the consolidation of our new line was continued under artillery fire. On the 5th, after a bombardment, the village of Nevolien was occupied, the Bulgarian garrison retiring on the approach of our infantry. By the following evening the front extended from Komarjan on the right via Yenikoi to Elisan on the left. On the 7th a strong reconnoissance[252] by mounted troops located the enemy on the Demir Hissar-Seres railway, with advanced posts approximately on the line of the Belica stream and a strong garrison in Barakli Djuma. On October 8, 1916, our troops had reached the line Agomah-Homondos-Elisan-Ormanli, with the mounted troops on the line Kispeki-Kalendra. The enemy's casualties during these few days were heavy.

"I consider that the success of these operations was due to the skill and decision with which they were conducted by Lieutenant General C. J. Briggs, C. B., and to the excellent cooperation of all arms, which was greatly assisted by the exceptional facilities for observation of artillery fire. The Royal Flying Corps, in spite of the difficulties which they had to overcome and the great strain on their resources, rendered valuable assistance. Armored motor cars were used with effect. * * *

"On the enforcement of martial law the management of the three lines of railway radiating from Saloniki had to be undertaken by the Allies; one line, the Junction-Saloniki-Constantinople, is now entirely administered by the British Army; this, together with the additional railway traffic involved by the arrival of the Serbian Army, as well as the Russian and Italian troops, has thrown a considerable strain on the railway directorate."

Russia, after three years of warfare against Austria and Germany, during which millions of her soldiers were killed and wounded, startled the world suddenly, in February, 1917, by casting out the Czar and establishing a provisional government, which purported to be a government by the people and not by the bureaucracy. The dramatic events of the first days of the revolution are described in the following chapter.

[253]

IN PETROGRAD DURING THE
SEVEN DAYS

ARNO DOSCH-FLEUROT

A crowd of ordinary citizens were passing in front of the Singer Building on the Nevsky in Petrograd at noon February 25th, Russian time (March 10th), stopping occasionally to watch a company of Cossacks amiably roughing some students with a miscellaneous following who insisted on assembling across the street before the wide, sweeping colonnades of Kasan Cathedral. As the Cossacks trotted through, hands empty, rifles slung on shoulders, the crowds cheered, the Cossacks laughed.

A few trolley cars had stopped, though not stalled, and groups of curious on-lookers had crowded in for a grandstand view. The only people who did not seem interested in the spectacle were hundreds of women with shawls over their heads who had been standing in line for many hours before the bread-shops along the Catherine Canal.

People were going about their affairs up and down the Nevsky without being stopped, and sleighs were passing constantly. Cossacks and a few companies of infantrymen were beginning to appear on the side streets in considerable numbers, but, as a demonstration over the lack of bread in the Russian capital had been going on at intervals for two days with very little violence, people were beginning to get used to it. I arrived from the direction of the[254] Moika Canal just as the cannon boomed midday and I felt sufficiently unhurried to correct my watch. Then I hailed a British general in uniform who had arrived, also unimpeded, from the opposite direction, and we had just stopped to comment on the unusual attitude of populace and Cossacks, when there was a sudden rush of people around the corner from the Catherine Canal and before we could even reach the doubtful protection of a doorway a company of mounted police charged around the corner and started up the Nevsky on the sidewalk. We were obviously harmless onlookers, fur-clad bourgeois, but the police plunged through at a hard trot, bare sabres flashing in the cold sunshine. The British general and I were knocked down together and escaped trampling only because the police were splendidly mounted, and a well-bred horse will not step on a man if he can help it.

This was a display of that well-known stupid physical force which used to be the basis of strength of the Russian Empire. Its ruthlessness, its carelessness of life, however innocent, terrorized, and, we used to think, won respect. We know better now, especially those of us who were eye-witnesses of the Russian revolution, and saw how the police provoked a quarrel they could not handle.

I watched the growth of the revolt with wonder. Knowing something of the dissatisfaction in the country, I marveled at the stupidity of the Government in permitting the police to handle its inception as they did. Any hundred New York or London policemen, or any hundred Petrograd policemen, could have prevented the demonstrations by the simple process of closing the streets. But they let people crowd in from the side streets to see what was going on even when the crowds were beginning to be dangerously large, and, having permitted[255] them to come, charged among them at random as if expressly making them angry.

I look back now at the time before the Revolution. The life of Petrograd is much as it was to outward appearances except that the new republican soldiers are now policing the streets, occasional citizens are wearing brassarts showing they are deputies of some sort or members of law-and-order committees, and there is a certain joyous freedom in the walk of every one. Here, in one corner of this vast empire, a revolt lacking all signs of terrorism, growing out of nothing into a sudden burst of indignation, knocked over the most absolute of autocracies. Just to look, it is hard to believe it true. As a Socialist said to me to-day: "The empire was rotten ready. One kick of a soldier's boot, and the throne with all its panoplies disappeared, leaving nothing but dust."

I asked President Rodzianko of the Duma the other day:

"From what date was the revolution inevitable?"

I expected him to name one of the days immediately before the revolt, but he replied:

"When the Duma was dissolved in December without being granted a responsible ministry."

"How late might the Emperor have saved his throne?"

"New Year's. If he had granted a responsible ministry then, it would not have been too late."

The Government was either blind or too arrogant to take precautions. It had fears of an uprising at the reconvening of the Duma and brought 13,000 Cossacks to Petrograd to put fear into the hearts of the people, but it permitted a shortage of flour which had been noticeable for several weeks to become really serious just at this moment. There were large districts of working people practically without[256] bread from the time the Duma reconvened up to the moment of the revolution.

In the palace at Tsarskoe-Selo the seriousness of the situation was not ignored, but the preventive measures were lamentable. The Emperor, also, went to the front. If he had been a big enough man to be an emperor he would certainly never have done so. That left the neurasthenic Empress and the crafty, small-minded Protopopoff to handle a problem that needed a real man as great as Emperor Peter or Alexander III.

When the Duma reconvened without disorders it never occurred to me that the Government would be foolish enough to let the flour situation get worse. I was so used by this time to see the Duma keep a calm front in the face of imperial rebuffs that I thought Russia was going to continue to muddle on to the end of the war and, though I thought I was rather well-posted, I confess I was on the point of leaving Russia to return to the western front, where the spring campaign was about to begin with vigor. As late as the Wednesday before the revolution I was preparing to leave. That day I learned that several small strikes which had occurred in scattered factories could not be settled and that several other factories were forced to close because workmen, having no bread, refused to report. Still I remember I was not too preoccupied by these reports to discuss the possibility of a German offensive against Italy with our military attaché, Lieutenant Francis B. Riggs, as we strolled down the Nevsky in the middle of the afternoon. We had reached the Fontanka Canal when we passed three Cossacks riding abreast at a walk up the street. They were the first Cossacks to make a public appearance, and they brought to the mind of every Petrograd citizen the recollection of the barbarities of the revolution[257] of 1905. Their appearance was a challenge to the people of Petrograd. They seemed to say, "Yes, we are here." If any one had said to me that afternoon, "These Cossacks are going to start a revolution which will set Russia free within a week," I should have regarded him as a lunatic with an original twist.

The life of Petrograd was still normal as late as Thursday morning February 23d, Russian style (March 8th). The bread lines were very long, but Russians are patient and would have submitted to standing four or five hours in the cold if in the end they had always been rewarded, but shops were being closed with long lines still before them, and the disappointed were turning away with bitter remarks.

The open ground before Kasan Cathedral is the historic spot for protests and, true to tradition, the first demonstration against the bread shortage began there Thursday morning toward noon. There were not more than a dozen men speaking to groups of passing citizens. Each gathered a constantly changing audience, like an orator in Union Square, New York. But the Nevsky is always a busy street and it does not take much to give the appearance of a crowd. Examining that crowd, I could see it had not more than a hundred or two intent listeners. A company of Cossacks appeared to disperse it, but they confined themselves to riding up and down the curbs keeping the people on the sidewalks. The wide street was, as usual, full of passing sleighs and automobiles. Even then, at the beginning, it must have occurred to the military commander, General Khabaloff, that the Cossacks were taking it easy, or perhaps the police acted on their own initiative; at any rate the scene did not become exciting until mounted police arrived, riding on the sidewalk and scattering the curious onlookers pell-mell. By one o'clock the Nevsky[258] was calm again, and the street cars, which had been blocked for an hour, started once more.

That afternoon I went to the Duma, where the mismanagement of the food situation throughout Russia was being discussed. I had a glass of tea with a member of the liberal Cadet Party, and he seemed more concerned with the victualing of the country than with the particular situation in Petrograd. Toward evening I drove back along the Nevsky and my 'ishvoshik was blocked for a few minutes while a wave of working people, in unusual numbers for that part of town, passed. They were being urged on by Cossacks, but they were mostly smiling, women were hanging to their husbands' arms, and they were decidedly unhurried. It was not a crowd that could be in any sense called a mob, and was perfectly orderly, but it did not go fast enough to suit the police and a dozen of them came trotting up. Their appearance wiped the smile away, and when they began really roughing I heard the first murmurings of the snarl which only an infuriated mob can produce. I wondered what the police were up to. They were obviously provoking trouble. I felt then we might be in for serious difficulties—and the attitude of the police gave me the fear.

Friday morning only a few street cars were running, but the city was quiet enough until after ten in the morning. Then the agitators, their small following, and the onlookers, sure now of having a spectacle, began gathering in considerable numbers. I was still expecting the rough work to commence with the Cossacks, but after watching them from the colonnades of the cathedral for half an hour I walked out through the crowd and, shifted but slightly out of my route by the sway of the crowd as Cossacks trotted up and down the street, crossed the thick of it. Green student caps[259] were conspicuous, and one of the students told me the universities had gone on strike in sympathy with the bread demonstration. As a company of Cossacks swung by, lances in rest, rifles slung on their shoulders, I scanned their faces without finding anything ferocious there. Some one waved a red flag, the first I had seen, before them, but they passed, unnoticing.

This time the crowd did not break up but began to bunch here and there as far as the Fontanka Canal. All afternoon the Cossacks kept them stirring, and occasionally the police gave them a real roughing. Each time the police appeared, I heard that menacing murmur, but by Friday evening, when the day's crowd disappeared, the increase in discontent and anger had not developed sufficiently in twenty-four hours to be really dangerous. I felt the Government still had plenty of time to remove the discontent, and an announcement pasted up conspicuously everywhere saying there would be no lack of bread seemed like an assurance that the Government would somehow overnight provide all bakers with sufficient flour. That was the one obvious thing to do.

During the afternoon I made a long tour through the Wiborg factory district, which was thickly policed by infantrymen. Occasional street cars were still running, but otherwise the district was ominously silent. The bread-lines were very long here, and on the corners were groups of workmen. Their silent gravity struck me as being something to reckon with. Still the lack of real trouble on the Nevsky as I came back in a measure reassured me.

Saturday morning the crowd on the Nevsky gathered at the early Petrograd hour of ten, but they seemed to be there to encourage the Cossacks. Wherever the Cossacks passed, individuals[260] called out to them cheerfully and, even though they crowded in so close to the trotting horsemen as to be occasionally knocked about, they took it good-humoredly and went on cheering. I went away for an hour or so and when I returned the fraternizing of the crowd and the Cossacks was increasingly evident. By this time all sorts of ordinary citizens, catching the sense of events, were joining in the general acclamation. I was just beginning to get a glimmering of the meaning of all this when I was bowled over by the mounted police in front of the Singer Building.

The more timorous average citizens began to lose interest, but the workmen and students who were in the Nevsky now in considerable numbers, and arriving hourly, accepted the challenge of the police. They began throwing bottles, the police charged afresh, and by the early part of Saturday afternoon there was really a mob on the Nevsky. Liberally mixed through the whole, though, were the ordinary onlookers, many of them young girls. The Nevsky widens for a space before the Gastenidwor (the Russian adaptation of the oriental bazaar), and infantrymen were now detailed to hold the people back at the point of the bayonet. Meanwhile, all the side streets were wide open and the appearance of a large, angry mob was kept up by constant arrivals. The crowd becoming unwieldy, the soldiers fired into it several times, but they did not wound many, indicating that they were extracting many bullets before they fired. The shooting only augmented the crowd, as Russians do not frighten very easily, and though at a few points it was necessary to turn the corner, I found no difficulty in going back and forth all afternoon between Kasan Cathedral and the Nicola Station—the main stretch of the Nevsky. There was general roughing along this mile[261] and a half of street which could have been stopped at any time in fifteen minutes by closing the streets. Instead, the police charged with increasing violence without doing anything to prevent the people coming from other parts of town. The idea was now unescapable that the police were inviting the people to a quarrel.

The Cossacks were sometimes riding pretty fast themselves, but never with the violence of the police, and the cheering was continuous. At any point I could tell by the quality of the howl that went up from the mob whether it was being stirred by Cossacks or police. At the Nicola Station the rioting was the roughest, the police freely using their sabres. The crowd, though unarmed, stood its ground and howled back, and when possible caught an isolated mounted policeman and disarmed him. In one case the mob had already disarmed and was unseating a policeman, and other sections of the mob were rushing up to have a turn at manhandling him, when a single Cossack, with nothing in his hands, forced his way through and rescued the policeman, amid the cheers of the same people who were harassing him. It was quite evident that the people and the Cossacks were on the same side, and only the unbelievable stupid old Russian Government could have ignored it.

At nightfall the crowd had had its fill of roughing, but Sunday was evidently to be the real day. There would have been, of course, nothing on the Nevsky, if properly policed, and I have been unable to understand how the old Government, unless overconfident of its autocratic power and disdainful of the people, could have let things go on. But though half the regiments in Petrograd were on the point of revolt and their sympathy with the people was evident even to a foreigner, Sunday was mismanaged[262] like the days before. It was even worse. The powers that were had, as early as Friday, been so silly as to send armored motor cars screeching up and down the Nevsky. Now they began installing machine guns where they could play on the crowd. Up to this time I had been a neutral, if disgusted, spectator, but now I hoped the police and the whole imperial régime would pay bitterly for their insolence and stupidity. The few corpses I encountered during the day on the Nevsky could not even add to the feeling. They were the mere casualties of a movement that was beginning to attain large proportions.

The late afternoon and evening of Sunday were bloody. The Nevsky was finally closed except for cross traffic, and at the corner of the Sadovia and the Nevsky by the national library there was a machine gun going steadily. But it was in the hands of soldiers and they were firing blanks. The soldiers everywhere seemed to be firing blanks, but there was carnage enough. The way the crowds persisted showed their capacity for revolution. The talk was for the first time seriously revolutionary, and the red flags remained flying by the hour. That evening the air was for the first time electric with danger, but the possibilities of the next morning were not sufficiently evident to prevent me from going to the French theatre. There were a sufficient number of other people, of the same mind, including many officers, to fill half the seats.

As usual, between the acts, the officers stood up, facing the imperial box, which neither the Emperor nor any one else ever occupied. This act of empty homage, which always grated on my democratic nerves in a Russian theatre, was being performed by these officers—though they did not even seem to suspect it—for the last time.[263]

On my way home at midnight I picked up from wayfarers rumors of soldiers attacking the police, soldiers fighting among themselves and rioting in barracks. But outwardly there was calm until three in the morning, when I heard in my room on the Moika Canal side of the Hotel de France some very lively rifle fire from the direction of the Catherine Canal. This sounded more like the real thing than anything so far, so I dressed and tried to get near enough to learn what was going on. But for the first time the streets were really closed. The firing kept up steadily until four. Farther on in the great barracks along the Neva beyond the Litenie it kept up until the revolting soldiers had command.

I regret not having seen the revolt getting under way in that quarter. I regret missing the small incidents, the moments when the revolt hung in the balance, when it was the question of whether a certain company would join, for when I reached there it was still in its inception and the most interesting thing about it was to watch it spread like a prairie fire.

Still not realizing, like most people in Petrograd, that we were within a few hours of a sweeping revolt, I wasted some precious hours that morning trying to learn what could be done with the censor. But toward noon I heard the Duma had been dissolved, and, as there had not been since Sunday any street cars, 'ishvoshiks, or other means of conveyance, I started out afoot with Roger Lewis of the Associated Press to walk the three miles to the Duma.

The hush of impending events hung over the entire city. I remember nothing like that silence since the day the Germans entered Louvain. On every street were the bread lines longer than ever. All along the Catherine[264] Canal, the snow was pounded by many feet and spotted with blood. But there were no soldiers and few police. We hurried along the Nevsky, gathering rumors of the fight that was actually going on down by the arsenal on the Litenie. But many shops were open and there was a semblance of business. All was so quiet we could not make out the meaning of a company of infantry drawn up in a hollow square commanding the four points at the junction of the Litenie and Nevsky, ordinarily one of the busiest corners in the world.

But as soon as we turned down the Litenie we could hear shots farther down, and the pedestrians were mostly knotted in doorways. Scattered cavalry commands were arriving from the side streets, and the Litenie began looking a little too hot. So we chose a parallel street for several blocks until we were within three blocks of the Neva, where we had to cross the Litenie in front of a company drawn up across the street ready to fire toward the arsenal, where there was sporadic rifle fire. Here there were bigger knots of curious citizens projecting themselves farther and farther toward the middle of the street, hoping for a better view, until a nearer shot frightened them closer to the walls. The barricade on the Litenie by the arsenal, the one barricade the revolution produced, was just beginning to be built two hundred feet away as Lewis and I reached the shelter of the Fourshtatzkaya, on the same street as the American Embassy. By crossing the Litenie we had entered the zone of the revolutionists. We did not realize this, however, and were puzzled by the sight of a soldier carrying simply a bayonet, and another with a bare officer's sword. A fourteen-year-old boy stood in the middle of the street with a rifle in his hand, trifling with it. It exploded in his hand, and when he saw the ruin of the[265] breech block he unfixed the bayonet, threw down the gun, and ran around the corner. A student came up the street examining the mechanism of a revolver. There seemed to be rifle-fire in every direction, even in the same street, but haphazard.

If we had not been living in a troubled atmosphere these small indications would have impressed us deeply, but neither of us gathered immediately the significance of events. Before we reached the next corner we passed troops who evidently did not know yet whether or not they were still on the side of the Government. An automobile appeared full of soldiers, an officer standing on the seat. He waved toward him all the soldiers in sight and began haranguing them. There was no red flag in sight, and, until we caught his words, we thought he was urging them to remain loyal. He was really recruiting for the revolution.

As we kept on toward the Duma we encountered other automobiles, many of them, and motor trucks, literally bristling with guns and sabres. Half the men were civilians and the number of young boys with revolvers who looked me over made me feel it was a very easy time in which to be killed. I was wearing an English trench coat and a fur cap, so to prevent any mistake of identity I stopped and presented a full view to each passing motor. Still I knew my continued existence depended on the sanity of any one of thirty or forty very excited men and boys on each truck, and when I reached the protection of the enormous crowd that was storming the entrance to the Duma I felt more comfortable.

The Duma had just been dismissed by imperial decree, an ironical circumstance in view of the thousands of soldiers and civilians massed before its doors under the red flag. Their leaders were within, asking the Duma to[266] form a provisional government. The Duma was not yet convinced, and the mental confusion within was more bewildering than the revolution without. This was early in the afternoon, and the Duma held off for hours. Even when it was known that the Preobarzhenski regiment, which began its career with Peter the Great, had turned revolutionary, the Duma insisted on waiting. But at nine o'clock in the evening, when every police station, every court, was on fire and the revolutionists completely controlled the city, President Rodzianko decided that the Duma must take command.

It is interesting to watch a revolution grow, and even at this time, early Monday afternoon, the revolutionists controlled only a corner of Petrograd. They were working up excitement, and, as often before in the war, the motor trucks played an important part. They thundered back and forth through doubtful streets, students, soldiers, and workmen standing tight and bristling with bayonets like porcupines. They carried conviction of force, and, as each foray met with less resistance, it was not long before they were dashing boldly everywhere. That accounts for the rapid control of the city. It could not have been done afoot.

All day, from the time the arsenal fell into their hands, the revolutionists felt their strength growing, and from noon on no attack was led against them. At first the soldiers simply gave up their guns and mixed in the crowd, but they grew bolder, too, when they saw the workmen forming into regiments and marching up the Fourshtatzkaya, still fumbling with the triggers of their rifles to see how they met the enemy at the next corner. The coolness of these revolutionists, their willingness to die for their cause, won the respect of a small group of us who were standing before the[267] American Embassy. The group was composed chiefly of Embassy attachés who wanted to go over to the old Austrian Embassy, used by us as the headquarters for the relief of German and Austrian prisoners in Russia; but though it was only a five minutes' walk, the hottest corner in the revolution lay between.

When we left the Embassy, Captain McCulley, the American Naval Attaché, said he knew a way to get out of the revolutionary quarter without passing a line of fire. So he edged us off toward the distant Nevsky along several blood-blotched streets in which there were occasional groups of soldiers who did not know which way to turn. Then, as the Bycenie, beyond, suddenly filled with revolutionists coming from some other quarter, we turned to cross the Litenie. Twenty minutes earlier Captain McCulley had passed there and the Government troops controlled for another quarter mile. Now we passed a machine-gun company commanding the street, which dared not fire because there was a line of soldiers between it and a vast crowd pouring through the street toward us. The crowd had already overwhelmed and made revolutionists out of hundreds of soldiers, and the situation for a moment was dramatically tense.

Down the bisecting Litenie another crowd was advancing, filling the wide street. Before it there was also a company of soldiers, and it did not know whether to face the Bycenie or the river. Three immense mobs were overwhelming it, though it knew of but two. Suddenly, just at the moment when we expected a shower of bullets, and flattened ourselves against a doorway, the company grounded arms and in three seconds was in the arms of the revolution.

As we retreated to the Nevsky ahead of the victorious crowd we could see company after[268] company turn, as if suddenly deciding not to shoot, and join.

I walked rapidly back to the Morskaya and down to the cable office, which I found closed, not encountering on the whole two miles a single soldier or policeman until I reached St. Isaac's Cathedral, where a regiment of marines turned up the Morskaya toward the Nevsky, swinging along behind a band. Five minutes later I followed them up the Morskaya, but before I reached the Gorokawaya, half the distance, I could hear the thunder of the revolutionary motor trucks and the glad howls of the revolutionists. They had run the length of the Nevsky, and the city, except this little corner, was theirs. The shooting began at once, and for the next three hours on both the Morskaya and the Moika there was steady firing. This was still going on when, at nine in the evening, I passed around the edge of the fight, crossed Winter Palace Square, deserted except for a company of Cossacks dimly outlined against the Winter Palace across the square. By passing under the arch into the head of Morskaya again I was once more with the revolutionists.

I have since asked Mr. Milukoff, now Minister of Foreign Affairs, at that moment a member of the Duma's Committee of Safety, how much of an organization there was behind the events of that day.

"There was some incipient organization certainly," he replied, "though even now I could not be more definite. But for the most part it was spontaneous growth. The Duma was not revolutionary, and we held off until it became necessary for us to take hold. We were the only government left."

The rapid work was done by the Socialists, who quickly formed the Council of Workmen and Soldiers' Deputies and formulated the programme[269] which has come to be the Russian Declaration of Independence. They consented to support the Duma if it adopted their democratic programme. There was nothing else for the Duma to do, and the main issues of the new Government were worked out before Tuesday morning, within twenty-four hours of the beginning of the revolution. Since then I have been repeatedly impressed with the organizing ability of the men in control, and their ability to take matters rapidly in hand.

Monday night the city was in the hands of the mob. Anybody could have a gun. Public safety lay in the released spirits of the Russian workmen who saw the vision of liberty before them. Tuesday was the most dangerous day, as the crowd was beginning to feel its power, and the amount of shooting going on everywhere must have been out of all proportion to the sniping on the part of cornered police. But the searching of apartments for arms was carried on with some semblance of order, and usually there was a student in command. The individual stories of officers who refused to surrender and fought to the end in their apartments are endless, but these individual fights were lost in the victorious sweep of the day. Tuesday evening the real business of burning police stations and prisons and destroying records went on throughout the city, but the actual burnings, while picturesque, lacked the terrorism one might expect. Still I felt that the large number of irresponsible civilians carrying arms might do what they pleased.

The same idea evidently occurred to the Committee of Safety, as it began at once disarming the irresponsible, and its work was so quick and effective that there were very few civilians not registered as responsible police who still had fire-arms on Wednesday morning.[270]

As late as Wednesday there was a possibility of troops being sent against Petrograd, but all the regiments for miles around joined the revolution before they entered the city. There was obviously no one who wanted to uphold the old monarchy, and it fell without even dramatic incident to mark its end. To us in Petrograd the abdication of the Emperor had just one significance. It brought the army over at a stroke. The country, long saturated with democratic principles, accepted the new Government as naturally as if it had been chosen by a national vote.

The credit of the first shot fired on the American side in the Great War fell to the crew of the American ship, Mongolia. A narrative of this dramatic event is given in the chapter following.

[271]

AMERICA'S FIRST SHOT

J. R. KEEN

April 19 has long been celebrated in Massachusetts because of the battle of Lexington, but henceforth the Bay State can keep with added pride a day which has acquired national interest in this war, for on that date the S. S. Mongolia, bound from New York to London, under command of Captain Emery Rice, while proceeding up the English Channel, fired on an attacking submarine at 5.24 in the morning, smashing its periscope and causing the U-boat to disappear.

The gun crew who made this clean hit at 1,000 yards were under command of Lieutenant Bruce R. Ware, United States Navy, and the fact of special interest in Massachusetts is that both Rice and Ware were born in that State, the Captain receiving his training for the sea in the Massachusetts Nautical School and the Lieutenant being a graduate of Annapolis.

The Mongolia, a merchantman of 13,638 tons, had been carrying munitions to Great Britain since January, 1916, when she reached New York Harbor from San Francisco, coming by way of Cape Horn, and she had already made nine voyages to England. In those voyages her officers and men had faced many of the greatest perils of the war. Her cargoes had consisted of TNT, of ammunition, of powder, of fuses, and of shells. At one time while carrying this dangerous freight Captain Rice saw, as he stood on the bridge during a storm, a lightning bolt strike the ship forward just where[272] a great quantity of powder was stored, and held his breath as he waited to see "whether he was going up or going down."

Captain Rice has since died, and among his papers now in my possession are many of the warnings of the presence of U-boats sent to his ship by the British Admiralty during 1916, when every vessel approaching the British coast was in danger from those assassins of the sea.

After February 1, 1917, when the Huns made their "war zone" declaration, the question with us at home whether the Mongolia would continue to sail in defiance of that edict of ruthless warfare became a matter of acute anxiety. The ship completed her eighth voyage on February 7, when she reached New York and found the whole country discussing the burning question, "Would the United States allow the Imperial German Government to dictate how and where our ships should go?" There was never but one answer in the mind of Captain Rice. At home he simply said, "I shall sail on schedule, armed or unarmed. Does any one suppose I would let those damned Prussians drive me off the ocean?"

In the office of the International Mercantile Marine he expressed himself more politely, but with equal determination, to the President of the company, P. A. S. Franklin, to whom he said, "I am prepared, so are my officers, to sail with or without arms, but of course I would rather have arms."

But the arms were slow to get, and the Mongolia, loaded with her super-dangerous cargo, cleared from New York on February 20, the first one of our boats to reach England after the "war zone" declaration, I believe. Captain Rice arrived in London about the time when Captain Tucker of the S. S. Orleans reached Bordeaux, the latter being the first[273] American to reach France in safety after the same declaration.

Early in February of 1917 we became aware that German spies were making a persistent attempt to get into our home to find out when the Mongolia was sailing, and if the ship was to be armed. The first spy came up the back stairs in the guise of an employe engaged in delivering household supplies. He accomplished nothing, and the incident was dismissed from our minds, but the second spy came up the front stairs and effected an entrance, and this event roused us to the dangers around Captain Rice even in his own country and showed the intense determination of the Germans to prevent, if they could, any more big cargoes of munitions reaching England on the Mongolia. Our second visitor was a man who had been an officer in the German Army years before. After leaving Germany he came to the United States and became a citizen.

In August, 1914, when the Huns invaded Belgium, he became all German again and returned to Europe to serve with the German Army on the French front, from which region he was ordered by the German Government back to the United States, where his command of English and knowledge of the country made him valuable to the propaganda and spy groups here. All this and much more I found out shortly after his visit, but the afternoon he called I (I was alone at the time) received him without suspicion, since he said he came to pay his respects to Captain Rice, whom he had known in China.

It was not until his apparently casual questions about the time of the Mongolia's sailing and whether she was to be armed became annoying that "I woke up," and looking attentively at this over-curious visitor, I encountered a look of such cold hostility that with a shock[274] I realized I was dealing with a spy, one who was probably armed, and who appeared determined to get the information he sought. In a few seconds of swift thinking I decided the best thing to do was to make him believe that Captain Rice himself did not know whether his ship was going out again, and that no one could tell what course of action the ship owners would take. After forty minutes of probing for information he departed, convinced there was no information to be had from me.

It was ascertained that his New York home was in an apartment house on the highest point of land in Manhattan. In this same house there lived another German, who received many young men, all Teutons, as visitors, some of whom spent much time with him on the roof. The possibility of their signaling out to sea from this elevation is too obvious to be dwelt on, and it is beyond doubt that some of the submarines' most effective work at this time and later was due to the activities of these German agents allowed at large by our too-trustful laws of citizenship. So exact and timely was much of the information these spies secured that the Mongolia on one of her voyages to England picked up a wireless message sent in the Mongolia's own secret code, saying that the Montana was sinking, giving her position, and asking the Mongolia to come to her rescue, but it had happened that when the Mongolia left New York Harbor at the beginning of this very voyage one of her officers had noticed the Montana lying in the harbor.

When the Mongolia returned on March 30, 1917, from this unarmed voyage she was given three six-inch guns, two forward and one aft, and a gun crew from the U. S. S. Texas, under Lieutenant Bruce R. Ware, who had already made his mark in gunnery.[275]

The Mongolia left New York on her tenth voyage April 7 with the following officers:

Commander, Emery Rice; in command of armed guard, Lieutenant Bruce R. Ware; Chief officer, Thomas Blau; First Officer, W. E. Wollaston; Second Officer, Charles W. Krieg; Third Officer, Joseph C. Lutz; Fourth Officer, Carroll D. Riley; Cadets, Fred Earl Wilcox and Theodore Forsell; Doctor, Charles Rendell; Assistant Purser, J. T. Wylie; Chief Steward, W. T. Heath; Chief Engineer, James W. Condon; First Assistant Engineer, Clarence Irwin; Second Assistant Engineer, William Hodgkiss; Third Assistant Engineer, L. R. Tinto. Six junior engineers—William Hasenfus, E. Larkin, Perry McComb, Sidney Murray, J. R. Fletcher, Lawrence Paterson, Refrigerator Engineer, H. Johnson, Electrician, E. Powers; Dock Engineer, V. Hansen.

The log of the ship for that voyage contains these entries:

The Captain's report to the London office of the International Mercantile Marine is dated April 21, 1917, and says:

"I beg to report that the S. S. Mongolia under my command, while proceeding up Channel on April 19 at 5.24 a. m. encountered a submarine, presumably German, in Latitude 50·30 degrees North, Longitude 32 degrees West; 9 miles South 37 degrees East true from the Overs Light vessel.

"The weather at the time: calm to light airs, sea smooth, hazy with visibility about 3 miles;[276] speed of the ship fifteen knots, course North 74 degrees East true, to pass close to the Royal Sovereign Light vessel.

"The periscope was first sighted broad on the port bow, distant about one-half mile, by Chief Officer Blau in charge of the bridge watch at the time. His shout of 'submarine on the port bow' brought Lieutenant Ware and myself quickly out of the chart room on to the bridge, where we immediately saw the swirling wake left by the submarine as it submerged.

"The armed guard under Lieutenant Ware, United States Navy, were standing by all guns at the time, which were fully loaded, and while Lieutenant Ware gave the range to the guns I ordered the helm put hard-a-starboard with the object of lessening the broadside angle of the ship to an approaching torpedo.

"Lieutenant Ware's order of 'train on the starboard quarter and report when you bear on a submarine's periscope' was answered almost immediately by the after gun's crew, who were then ordered to commence firing. One shot was fired from the after gun which struck in the centre of the swirl created by the submarine, causing a quantity of light blue smoke to hang over the spot where the submarine disappeared for some time. This was the only shot fired, and the submarine was not seen again, and after zigzagging until the weather became very thick the ship was again put on her course. Passed through the Gateway off Folkestone at 10.45 a. m. and anchored at 11.01 a. m., as I considered the weather too thick to proceed. I feel that the Mongolia's safe arrival at London is due to a large extent to the zeal and ability in the execution of his duties displayed by Lieutenant B. R. Ware, United States Navy, who has been untiring in his efforts to bring the men under his command to a high state of efficiency, and who has kept a[277] continuous watch for the past five days. His co-operation with the ship's officers has been of the closest, and his men and guns were always ready. Also to Mr. Blau, the chief officer, a large measure of credit is due, for had he not seen the periscope at the exact moment of its appearance it is possible that all our precautions would have been useless.

The fame of the first engagement made the Mongolia's officers marked men. When Captain Rice returned home he reported that Consul General Skinner in London had told him that the Germans had set a price of 50,000 marks on his head, and letters expressing hatred and revenge reached us in New York from points as far away as Kansas City. On the other hand, the pride felt in the great ship's exploit brought scores of letters from officers and men who applied for service on her.

German agents were industrious throughout the United States, long before the American Government broke with Germany. Her activities were carried on in the form of propaganda and by more violent deeds. A complete account of these activities as revealed in a congressional investigation follows.

[278]

GERMAN ACTIVITIES IN THE
UNITED STATES

FROM REPORT OF HOUSE COMMITTEE ON FOREIGN AFFAIRS

It is with the deepest sense of responsibility of the momentous results which will follow the passage of this resolution that your committee reports it to the House, with the recommendation that it be passed.

The conduct of the Imperial German Government toward this Government, its citizens, and its interests has been so discourteous, unjust, cruel, barbarous, and so lacking in honesty and fair dealing that it has constituted a violation of the course of conduct which should obtain between friendly nations.

In addition to this, the German Government is actually making war upon the people and the commerce of this country, and leaves no course open to this Government but to accept its gage of battle, declare that a state of war exists, and wage that war vigorously.

On the 31st day of January, 1917, notice was given by the Imperial German Government to this Government that after the following day—"Germany will meet the illegal measures of her enemies by forcibly preventing, in a zone around Great Britain, France, Italy, and in the Eastern Mediterranean, all navigation, that of neutrals included, from and to England and from and to France, &c. All ships met within that zone will be sunk."

Since that day seven American ships flying the American flag have been sunk and between[279] twenty-five and thirty American lives have been lost as a result of the prosecution of the submarine warfare in accordance with the above declaration. This is war. War waged by the Imperial German Government upon this country and its people.

A brief review of some of the hostile and illegal acts of the German Government toward this Government and its officers and its people is herewith given.

In the memorial of the Imperial German Government accompanying its proclamation of February 4, 1915, in regard to submarine warfare, that Government declared: "The German Navy has received instructions to abstain from all violence against neutral vessels recognizable as such." In the note of the German Government dated February 16, 1915, in reply to the American note of February 10, it was declared that "It is very far indeed from the intention of the German Government * * * ever to destroy neutral lives and neutral property. * * * The commanders of German submarines have been instructed, as was already stated in the note of the 4th instant, to abstain from violence to American merchant ships when they are recognizable as such."

Nevertheless, the German Government proceeded to carry out its plans of submarine warfare and torpedoed the British passenger steamer Falaba on March 27, 1915, when one American life was lost, attacked the American steamer Cushing April 28 by airship, and made submarine attacks upon the American tank steamer Gulflight May 1, the British passenger steamer Lusitania May 7, when 114 American lives were lost, and the American steamer Nebraskan on May 25, in all of which over 125 citizens of the United States lost their lives, not to mention hundreds of noncombatants who were lost and hundreds of Americans[280] and noncombatants whose lives were put in jeopardy.

The British mule boat Armenian was torpedoed on June 28, as a result of which twenty Americans are reported missing.

On July 8, 1915, in a note to Ambassador Gerard, arguing in defense of its method of warfare and particularly of its submarine commander in the Lusitania case, it is stated:

"The Imperial Government therefore repeats the assurances that American ships will not be hindered in the prosecution of legitimate shipping and the lives of American citizens on neutral vessels shall not be placed in jeopardy.

"In order to exclude any unforeseen dangers to American passenger steamers * * * the German submarines will be instructed to permit the free and safe passage of such passenger steamers when made recognizable by special markings and notified a reasonable time in advance."

Subsequently the following vessels carrying American citizens were attacked by submarines: British liner Orduna, July 9; Russian steamer Leo, July 9; American steamer Leelanaw, July 25; British passenger liner Arabic, August 19; British mule ship Nicosian, August 19; British steamer Hesperian, September 4. In these attacks twenty-three Americans lost their lives, not to mention the large number whose lives were placed in jeopardy.

Following these events, conspicuous by their wantonness and violation of every rule of humanity and maritime warfare, the German Ambassador, by instructions from his Government, on September 1 gave the following assurances to the Government of the United States:

"Liners will not be sunk by our submarines without warning and without safety of the[281] lives of noncombatants, provided that the liners do not try to escape or offer resistance."

On September 9, in a reply as to the submarine attack on the Orduna, the German Government renewed these assurances in the following language:

"The first attack on the Orduna by a torpedo was not in accordance with the existing instructions, which provide that large passenger steamers are to be torpedoed only after previous warning and after the rescuing of passengers and crew. The failure to observe the instructions was based on an error which is at any rate comprehensible and the repetition of which appears to be out of the question, in view of the more explicit instructions issued in the meantime. Moreover, the commanders of the submarines have been reminded that it is their duty to exercise greater care and to observe carefully the orders issued."

The German Government could not more clearly have stated that liners or large passenger steamers would not be torpedoed except upon previous warning and after the passengers and crew had been put in places of safety.

On November 29 the German Government states, in connection with the case of the American vessel William P. Frye:

"The German naval forces will sink only such American vessels as are loaded with absolute contraband, when the preconditions provided by the Declaration of London are present. In this the German Government quite shares the view of the American Government that all possible care must be taken for the security of the crew and passengers of a vessel to be sunk. Consequently the persons found on board of a vessel may not be ordered into her lifeboats except when the general conditions—that is to say, the weather, the condition of the sea, and the neighborhood of the coasts—afford absolute[282] certainty that the boats will reach the nearest port."

Following this accumulative series of assurances, however, there seems to have been no abatement in the rigor of submarine warfare, for attacks were made in the Mediterranean upon the American steamer Communipaw on December 3, the American steamer Petrolite December 5, the Japanese liner Yasaka Maru December 21, and the passenger liner Persia December 30. In the sinking of the Persia out of a total of some 500 passengers and crew only 165 were saved. Among those lost was an American Consul traveling to his post.

On January 7, eight days after the sinking of the Persia, the German Government notified the Government of the United States through its Ambassador in Washington as follows:

"1. German submarines in the Mediterranean had, from the beginning, orders to conduct cruiser warfare against enemy merchant vessels only in accordance with the general principles of international law, and in particular measures of reprisal, as applied in the war zone around the British Isles, were to be excluded.

"2. German submarines are therefore permitted to destroy enemy merchant vessels in the Mediterranean, i. e., passenger as well as freight ships as far as they do not try to escape or offer resistance—only after passengers and crews have been accorded safety."

Clearly the assurances of the German Government that neutral and enemy merchant vessels, passenger as well as freight ships, should not be destroyed except upon the passengers and crew being accorded safety stood as the official position of the Imperial German Government.

On February 16, 1916, the German Ambassador communicated to the Department of[283] State an expression of regret for the loss of American lives on the Lusitania, and proposed to pay a suitable indemnity. In the course of this note he said:

"Germany has * * * limited her submarine warfare because of her long-standing friendship with the United States and because by the sinking of the Lusitania, which caused the death of citizens of the United States, the German retaliation affected neutrals, which was not the intention, as retaliation should be confined to enemy subjects."

On March 1, 1916, the unarmed French passenger steamer Patria, carrying a number of American citizens, was attacked without warning. On March 9 the Norwegian bark Silius, riding at anchor in Havre Roads, was torpedoed by an unseen submarine and one of the seven Americans on board was injured. On March 16 the Dutch passenger steamer Tubantia was sunk in the North Sea by a torpedo. On March 16 the British steamer Berwindale was torpedoed without warning off Bantry Island with four Americans on board. On March 24 the British unarmed steamer Englishman was, after a chase, torpedoed and sunk by the submarine U-19, as a result of which one American on board perished. On March 24 the unarmed French cross-Channel steamer Sussex was torpedoed without warning, several of the twenty-four American passengers being injured. On March 27 the unarmed British liner Manchester Engineer was sunk by an explosion without prior warning, with Americans on board, and on March 28 the British steamer Eagle Point, carrying a Hotchkiss gun, which she did not use, was chased, overtaken, and sunk by a torpedo after the persons on board had taken to the boats.

The American note of February 10, 1915, stated that should German vessels of war[284] "destroy on the high seas an American vessel or the lives of American citizens it would be difficult for the Government of the United States to view the act in any other light than an indefensible violation of neutral rights which it would be very hard, indeed, to reconcile with the friendly relations so happily subsisting between the two Governments," and that if such a deplorable situation should arise, "the Government of the United States would be constrained to hold the Imperial Government to a strict accountability for such acts of their naval authorities."

In the American note of May 13, 1915, the Government stated:

"The imperial Government will not expect the Government of the United States to omit any word or act necessary to the performance of its sacred duty of maintaining the rights of the United States and its citizens and in safeguarding their free exercise and enjoyment."

In the note of July 21, 1915, the United States Government said that—

"Repetition by the commanders of German naval vessels of acts in contravention of those rights must be regarded by the Government of the United States, when they affect American citizens, as deliberately unfriendly."

In a communication of April 18, 1916, the American Government said:

"If it is still the purpose of the Imperial Government to prosecute relentless and indiscriminate warfare against vessels of commerce by the use of submarines without regard to what the Government of the United States must consider the sacred and indisputable rules of international law and the universally recognized dictates of humanity, the Government of the United States is at last forced to the conclusion that there is but[285] one course it can pursue. Unless the Imperial Government should not immediately declare and effect an abandonment of its present methods of submarine warfare against passenger and freight carrying vessels the Government of the United States can have no choice but to sever diplomatic relations with the German Empire altogether."

The German Government replied to this communication on May 4, 1916, giving definite assurances that new orders had been issued to the German naval forces "in accordance with the general principles of visit and search and the destruction of merchant vessels recognized by international law." And this agreement was substantially complied with for many months, but finally, on January 31, 1917, notice was given that after the following day—

"Germany will meet the illegal measures of her enemies by forcibly preventing in a zone around Great Britain, France, Italy, and in the Eastern Mediterranean all navigation, that of neutrals included, from and to England and from and to France, &c. All ships met within that zone will be sunk."

In view of this Government's warning of April 18, 1916, and the Imperial German Government's pledge of May 4 of the same year, the Government of the United States, on February 3, 1917, stated to the Imperial German Government that—

"In view of this declaration, which withdraws suddenly and without prior intimation the solemn assurance given in the Imperial Government's note of May 4, 1916, this Government has no alternative consistent with the dignity and honor of the United States but to take the course which it explicitly announced in its note of April 18, 1916, it would take in the event that the Imperial Government did not declare and effect an abandonment[286] of the methods of submarine warfare then employed and to which the Imperial Government now purposes again to resort.

"The President has, therefore, directed me to announce to your Excellency that all diplomatic relation between the United States and the German Empire are severed, and that the American Ambassador at Berlin will be immediately withdrawn, and, in accordance with such announcement, to deliver to your Excellency your passports."

On February 3 one American ship was sunk, and since that date six American ships flying the American flag have been torpedoed, with a loss of about thirteen American citizens. In addition, fifty or more foreign vessels of both belligerent and neutral nationality with Americans on board have been torpedoed, in most cases without warning, with a consequent loss of several American citizens.

Since the beginning of the war German officials in the United States have engaged in many improper activities in violation of the laws of the United States and of their obligations as officials in a neutral country. Count von Bernstorff, the German Ambassador, Captain von Papen, Military Attaché of the embassy, Captain Boy-Ed, Naval Attaché, as well as various Consular officers and other officials, were involved in these activities, which were very widespread.

The following instances are chosen at random from the cases which have come to the knowledge of the Government:

I. By direct instruction received from the Foreign Office in Berlin the German Embassy in this country furnished funds and issued orders to the Indian Independence Committee of the Indian Nationalist Party in the United States. These instructions were usually conveyed to the committee by the military information[287] bureau in New York (von Igel), or by the German Consulates in New York and San Francisco.

Dr. Chakrabarty, recently arrested in New York City, received, all in all, according to his own admission, some $60,000 from von Igel. He claims that the greater portion of this money was used for defraying the expenses of the Indian revolutionary propaganda in this country and, as he says, for educational purposes. While this is in itself true, it is not all that was done by the revolutionists. They have sent representatives to the Far East to stir up trouble in India, and they have attempted to ship arms and ammunition to India. These expeditions have failed. The German Embassy also employed Ernest T. Euphrat to carry instructions and information between Berlin and Washington under an American passport.

II. Officers of interned German warships have violated their word of honor and escaped. In one instance the German Consul at Richmond furnished the money to purchase a boat to enable six warrant officers of the steamer Kronprinz Wilhelm to escape after breaking their parole.

III. Under the supervision of Captain von Papen and Wolf von Igel, Hans von Wedell and, subsequently, Carl Ruroede maintained a regular office for the procurement of fraudulent passports for German reservists. These operations were directed and financed in part by Captain von Papen and Wolf von Igel. Indictments were returned, Carl Ruroede sentenced to the penitentiary, and a number of German officers fined. Von Wedell escaped and has apparently been drowned at sea. Von Wedell's operations were also known to high officials in Germany. When von Wedell became suspicious that forgeries committed by him on[288] a passport application had become known, he conferred with Captain von Papen and obtained money from him wherewith to make his escape.

IV. James J. F. Archibald, under cover of an American passport and in the pay of the German Government through Ambassador Bernstorff, carried dispatches for Ambassador Dumba and otherwise engaged in unneutral activities.

V. Albert O. Sander, Charles Wunnenberg, and others, German agents in this country, were engaged, among other activities, in sending spies to England, equipped with American passports, for the purpose of securing military information. Several such men have been sent. Sander and Wunnenberg have pleaded guilty to indictments brought against them in New York City, as has George Voux Bacon, one of the men sent abroad by them.

VI. American passports have been counterfeited and counterfeits found on German agents. Baron von Cupenberg, a German agent, when arrested abroad, bore a counterfeit of an American passport issued to Gustav C. Roeder; Irving Guy Ries received an American passport, went to Germany, where the police retained his passports for twenty-four hours. Later a German spy named Carl Paul Julius Hensel was arrested in London with a counterfeit of the Ries passport in his possession.

VII. Prominent officials of the Hamburg-American Line, who, under the direction of Captain Boy-Ed, endeavored to provide German warships at sea with coal and other supplies in violation of the statutes of the United States, have been tried and convicted and sentenced to the penitentiary. Some twelve or more vessels were involved in this plan.

VIII. Under the direction of Captain Boy-Ed and the German Consulate at San Francisco,[289] and in violation of our law, the steamships Sacramento and Mazatlan carried supplies from San Francisco to German war vessels. The Olsen and Mahoney, which were engaged in a similar enterprise, were detained. The money for these ventures was furnished by Captain Boy-Ed. Indictments have been returned in connection with these matters against a large number of persons.

IX. Werner Horn, a Lieutenant in the German reserve, was furnished funds by Captain Franz von Papen and sent, with dynamite, under orders to blow up the International Bridge at Vanceboro, Maine. He was partially successful. He is now under indictment for the unlawful transportation of dynamite on passenger trains and is in jail awaiting trial following the dismissal of his appeal by the Supreme Court.

X. Captain von Papen furnished funds to Albert Kaltschmidt of Detroit, who is involved in a plot to blow up a factory at Walkerville, Canada, and the armory at Windsor, Canada.

XI. Robert Fay, Walter Scholtz, and Paul Doeche have been convicted and sentenced to the penitentiary and three others are under indictment for conspiracy to prepare bombs and attach them to allied ships leaving New York Harbor. Fay, who was the principal in this scheme, was a German soldier. He testified that he received finances from a German secret agent in Brussels, and told Von Papen of his plans, who advised him that his device was not practicable, but that he should go ahead with it, and if he could make it work he would consider it.

XII. Under the direction of Captain von Papen and Wolf von Igel, Dr. Walter T. Scheele, Captain von Kleist, Captain Wolpert of the Atlas Steamship Company, and Captain[290] Rode of the Hamburg-American Line manufactured incendiary bombs and placed them on board allied vessels. The shells in which the chemicals were placed were made on board the steamship Friedrich der Grosse. Scheele was furnished $1,000 by von Igel wherewith to become a fugitive from justice.

XIII. Captain Franz Rintelen, a reserve officer in the German Navy, came to this country secretly for the purpose of preventing the exportation of munitions of war to the Allies and of getting to Germany needed supplies. He organized and financed Labor's National Peace Council in an effort to bring about an embargo on the shipment of munitions of war, tried to bring about strikes, &c.

XIV. Consul General Bopp, at San Francisco, Vice Consul General von Schaick, Baron George Wilhelm von Brincken (an employe of the consulate), Charles C. Crowley, and Mrs. Margaret W. Cornell (secret agents of the German Consulate at San Francisco) have been convicted of conspiracy to send agents into Canada to blow up railroad tunnels and bridges, and to wreck vessels sailing from Pacific Coast ports with war material for Russia and Japan.

XV. Paul Koenig, head of the secret service work of the Hamburg-American Line, by direction of his superior officers, largely augmented his organization and under the direction of von Papen, Boy-Ed, and Albert carried on secret work for the German Government. He secured and sent spies to Canada to gather information concerning the Welland Canal, the movements of Canadian troops to England, bribed an employe of a bank for information concerning shipments to the Allies, sent spies to Europe on American passports to secure military information, and was involved with Captain von Papen in plans to place bombs on[291] ships of the Allies leaving New York Harbor, &c. Von Papen, Boy-Ed, and Albert had frequent conferences with Koenig in his office, at theirs, and at outside places. Koenig and certain of his associates are under indictment.

XVI. Captain von Papen, Captain Hans Tauscher, Wolf von Igel, and a number of German reservists organized an expedition to go into Canada, destroy the Welland Canal, and endeavor to terrorize Canadians in order to delay the sending of troops from Canada to Europe. Indictments have been returned against these persons. Wolf von Igel furnished Fritzen, one of the conspirators in this case, money on which to flee from New York City, Fritzen is now in jail in New York City.

XVII. With money furnished by official German representatives in this country, a cargo of arms and ammunition was purchased and shipped on board the schooner Annie Larsen. Through the activities of German official representatives in this country and other Germans a number of Indians were procured to form an expedition to go on the steamship Maverick, meet the Annie Larsen, take over her cargo, and endeavor to bring about a revolution in India. This plan involved the sending of a German officer to drill Indian recruits and the entire plan was managed and directed by Captain von Papen, Captain Hans Tauscher, and other official German representatives in this country.

XVIII. Gustav Stahl, a German reservist, made an affidavit which he admitted was false, regarding the armament of the Lusitania, which affidavit was forwarded to the State Department by Ambassador von Bernstorff. He plead guilty to an indictment charging perjury, and was sentenced to the penitentiary. Koenig, herein mentioned, was active in securing this affidavit.[292]

XIX. The German Embassy organized, directed, and financed the Hans Libau Employment Agency, through which extended efforts were made to induce employes of manufacturers engaged in supplying various kinds of material to the Allies to give up their positions in an effort to interfere with the output of such manufacturers. Von Papen indorsed this organization as a military measure, and it was hoped through its propaganda to cripple munition factories.

XX. The German Government has assisted financially a number of newspapers in this country in return for pro-German propaganda.

XXI. Many facts have been secured indicating that Germans have aided and encouraged financially and otherwise the activities of one or the other faction in Mexico, the purpose being to keep the United States occupied along its borders and to prevent the exportation of munitions of war to the Allies; see, in this connection, the activities of Rintelen, Stallforth, Kopf, the German Consul at Chihuahua; Krum-Hellen, Felix Somerfeld (Villa's representative at New York), Carl Heynen, Gustav Steinberg, and many others.

When the Commission for Relief in Belgium began its work in October, 1914, it received from the German authorities, through the various Governments concerned, definite written assurances that ships engaged in carrying cargoes for the relief of the civil population of Belgium and Northern France should be immune from attack. In order that there may be no room for attacks upon these ships through misunderstanding, each ship is given a safe conduct by the German diplomatic representative in the country from which it sails, and, in addition, bears conspicuously upon its sides markings which have been agreed upon with the German authorities; furthermore, similar markings[293] are painted upon the decks of the ships in order that they may be readily recognized by airplanes.

Upon the rupture of relations with Germany the commission was definitely assured by the German Government that its ships would be immune from attack by following certain prescribed courses and conforming to the arrangements previously made.

Despite these solemn assurances there have been several unwarranted attacks upon ships under charter to the commission.

On March 7 or 8 the Norwegian ship Storstad, carrying 10,000 tons of corn from Buenos Aires to Rotterdam for the commission was sunk in broad daylight by a German submarine despite the conspicuous markings of the commission which the submarine could not help observing. The Storstad was repeatedly shelled without warning and finally torpedoed.

On March 19 the steamships Tunisie and Haelen, under charter to the commission, proceeding to the United States under safe conducts and guarantees from the German Minister at The Hague and bearing conspicuous marking of the commission, were attacked without warning by a German submarine outside the danger zone (56 degrees 15 minutes north, 5 degrees 32 minutes east). The ships were not sunk, but on the Haelen seven men were killed, including the first and third officers; a port boat was sunk; a hole was made in the port bunker above the water line; and the ships sustained sundry damages to decks and engines.

Various Consular officers have suffered indignities and humiliation at the hands of German frontier authorities. The following are illustrations:

Mr. Pike, Consul at St. Gall, Switzerland, on proceeding to his post with a passport duly[294] indorsed by German officials in New York and Copenhagen, was on November 26, 1916, subjected to great indignities at Warnemünde on the German frontier. Mr. Pike refused to submit to search of his person, the removal of his clothing, or the seizure of his official reports and papers of a private and confidential nature. He was therefore obliged to return to Copenhagen.

Mr. Murphy, the Consul General at Sofia, and his wife, provided with passports from the German legations at The Hague and Copenhagen, were on two occasions stripped and searched and subjected to great humiliation at the same frontier station. No consideration was given them because of their official position.

Such has been the behavior on the part of German officials notwithstanding that Consular officials hold positions of dignity and responsibility under their Government and that during the present war Germany has been placed under deep obligation to American Consular officers by their efforts in the protection of German interests.

On January 19, Mr. Gerard telegraphed that the evening papers contained a report that the English steamer Yarrowdale had been brought to Swinemünde as prize with 469 prisoners on board taken from ships captured by German auxiliary cruisers; that among these prisoners were 103 neutrals.

After repeated inquiries Mr. Gerard learned that there were among the Yarrowdale prisoners seventy-two men claiming American citizenship.

On February 4 Mr. Gerard was informed by Count Montgelas of the Foreign Office that the Americans taken on the Yarrowdale would be released immediately on the ground that they could not have known at the time of sailing[295] that it was Germany's intention to treat armed merchantmen as ships of war.

Despite this assurance, the prisoners were not released, but some time prior to February 17 the German Minister for Foreign Affairs told the Spanish Ambassador that the American prisoners from the Yarrowdale would be liberated "in a very short time."

Upon receipt of this information a formal demand was made through the Spanish Ambassador at Berlin for the immediate release of these men. The message sent the Spanish Ambassador was as follows:

"If Yarrowdale prisoners have not been released, please make formal demand in the name of the United States for their immediate release. If they are not promptly released and allowed to cross the frontier without further delay, please state to the Foreign Minister that this policy of the Imperial Government, if continued, apparently without the slightest justification, will oblige the Government of the United States to consider what measures it may be necessary to take in order to obtain satisfaction for the continued detention of these innocent American citizens."

On February 25 the American Ambassador at Madrid was informed by the Spanish Foreign Office that the Yarrowdale prisoners had been released on the 16th inst. The foregoing statement appears to have been based on erroneous information. The men finally reached Zurich, Switzerland, on the afternoon of March 11.

Official reports now in the possession of the Department of State indicate that these American sailors were from the moment of their arrival in Germany, on January 3, subjected to the most cruel and heartless treatment. Although the weather was very cold, they were given no suitable clothes, and many of them[296] stood about for hours barefoot in the snow. The food supplied them was utterly inadequate. After one cup of coffee in the morning almost the only article of food given them was boiled frosted cabbage, with mush once a week and beans once a week. One member of the crew states that, without provocation, he was severely kicked in the abdomen by a German officer. He appears still to be suffering severely from this assault. Another sailor is still suffering from a wound caused by shrapnel fired by the Germans at an open boat in which he and his companions had taken refuge after the sinking of the Georgic.

All of the men stated that their treatment had been so inhuman that should a submarine be sighted in the course of their voyage home they would prefer to be drowned rather than have any further experience in German prison camps.

It is significant that the inhuman treatment accorded these American sailors occurred a month before the break in relations and while Germany was on every occasion professing the most cordial friendship for the United States.

After the suspension of diplomatic relations the German authorities cut off the telephone at the embassy at Berlin and suppressed Mr. Gerard's communication by telegraph and post. Mr. Gerard was not even permitted to send to American Consular officers in Germany the instructions he had received for them from the Department of State. Neither was he allowed to receive his mail. Just before he left Berlin the telephonic communication at the embassy was restored and some telegrams and letters were delivered. No apologies were offered, however.

The Government of the United States is in possession of instructions addressed by the German Minister for Foreign Affairs to the[297] German Minister to Mexico concerning a proposed alliance of Germany, Japan, and Mexico to make war on the United States. The text of this document is as follows:

"On the 1st of February we intend to begin submarine warfare unrestricted. In spite of this it is our intention to endeavor to keep neutral the United States of America.

"If this attempt is not successful, we propose an alliance on the following basis with Mexico: That we shall make war together and together make peace. We shall give general financial support, and it is understood that Mexico is to reconquer the lost territory in New Mexico, Texas, and Arizona. The details are left to you for settlement.

"You are instructed to inform the President of Mexico of the above in the greatest confidence as soon as it is certain there will be an outbreak of war with the United States, and suggest that the President of Mexico on his own initiative should communicate with Japan suggesting adherence at once to this plan; at the same time offer to mediate between Germany and Japan.

"Please call to the attention of the President of Mexico that the employment of ruthless submarine warfare now promises to compel England to make peace in a few months.

The United States was, to a large extent, unprepared for war on the outbreak of hostilities with Germany. But when the step finally was taken, all the industrial, economic, and military resources, of the country, were mobilized. An account of how this was accomplished and the results of these efforts are described in the pages following.

[298]

PREPARING FOR WAR

NEWTON D. BAKER

On the 6th day of April Congress declared "That the state of war between the United States and the Imperial German Government which had been thrust upon the United States is hereby formally declared." By this declaration and the proclamation of the President pursuant thereto, the United States entered the great conflict which had raged in Europe from August, 1914, as a belligerent power, and began immediately to prepare to defend the rights of the Nation, which for months had been endangered and denied by high-handed and inhuman acts of the German Government both on land and sea. The peaceful ambitions of our people had long postponed our entrance into the conflict; and adherence to a strict neutrality through long months of delicate situations delayed the beginning of active military preparation. At once, however, upon a declaration of a state of war, Congress began the consideration of the measures necessary for the enlargement of the military forces and the coordination of the industrial strength of the Nation. It was understood at the outset that war under modern conditions involved not only larger armies than the United States had ever assembled, but also more far-reaching modifications of our ordinary industrial processes and wider departures from the peace-time activities of the people. The task of the United States was not only immediately to increase its naval and[299] military forces, not only to order the agricultural and industrial life of the Nation to support these enlarged military establishments, but also to bear an increasing financial, industrial, and agricultural burden for the support of those nations which, since 1914, have been in arms against the Imperial German Government and have borne not only the full force of the attack of its great military machine, but also the continuing drain upon their economic resources and their capacity for production which so titanic and long-continued a struggle necessarily entail.

The first response from the country to the act of Congress in declaring a state of war came in the form of offers of services from the people, and for weeks there poured into the War Department an almost bewildering stream of letters and visitors offering service of every kind. Without distinction of age, sex, or occupation, without distinction of geographical location or sectional difference, the people arose with but one thought in their mind, that of tendering themselves, their talents, and their substance for the best use the country could make of them in the emergency. Organizations and associations sprang up over night in thousands of places, inspired by the hope that collective offers and aggregations of strength and facilities might be more readily assimilated by the Government; and benevolent and philanthropic societies began to form for the purpose of taking up as far as might be the vicarious griefs which follow in the train of military operations. There was at the outset some inevitable crossing of purposes and duplication of effort, and perhaps there may have been some disappointment that a more instantaneous use could not be made of all this wealth of willingness and patriotic spirit; but it was a superb and inspiring spectacle.[300] Out of the body of a nation devoted to productive and peaceful pursuits, and evidencing its collective spirit only upon occasions for the settlement of domestic and institutional questions, there arose the figure of a national spirit which had lain dormant until summoned by a national emergency; but which, when it emerged, was seen to embody loyalty to our institutions, unity of purpose, and willingness to sacrifice on the part of our entire people as their underlying and dominant character.

Those who believed that the obvious and daily exhibition of power which takes place in an autocracy is necessary for national strength, discovered that a finer, and freer, and greater national strength subsists in a free people, and that the silent processes of democracy, with their normal accent on the freedom of individuals, nevertheless afford springs of collective action and inspiration for self-sacrifice as wide and effective as they are spontaneous. The several Government departments, the Council of National Defense, and other agencies of a more or less formal character subdivided the work of organization. Congress rapidly perfected its legislative program, and in a few weeks very definite direction began to appear in the work of preparation.

The act of May 18, 1917, entitled "An act to authorize the President to increase temporarily the Military Establishment of the United States," looked to three sources for the Army which it created:

1. The regular Army, of which the actual strength on June 30, 1917, was 250,157 men and officers. The provisions of the act, however, contemplated an increase of the Regular Army to 18,033 officers and 470,185 enlisted men, the increase being effected by the immediate call of the increments provided in the[301] National Defense Act of 1916, and the raising of all branches of the service to war strength.

2. The National Guard, reorganized under the National Defense Act, and containing on the 30th of June, 1917, approximately 3,803 officers and 107,320 enlisted men. The National Guard, however, by recruiting of its numbers and the raising of all arms to war strength, contemplated a total of 13,377 officers and 456,800 enlisted men.

3. In addition to this, the act provided for a National Army, raised by the process of selective conscription or draft, of which the President was empowered to summon two units of 500,000 men each at such time as he should determine wise.

On the 3d day of July, 1917, the President by proclamation called into the Federal service and drafted the National Guard of the several States and the District of Columbia. And 16 divisional camps were established for their mobilization and training, as follows:

Charlotte, N. C.; Spartanburg, S. C.; Augusta, Ga.; Anniston, Ala.; Greenville, S. C.; Macon, Ga.; Waco, Tex.; Houston, Tex.; Deming, N. Mex.; Fort Sill, Okla.; Forth Worth, Tex.; Montgomery, Ala.; Hattiesburg, Miss.; Alexandria, La.; Buena Vista, Cal.; Palo Alto, Cal.

The principle of voluntary enlistment to fill up the ranks of the Regular Army and the National Guard, and to raise them to war strength was preserved in the act of May 18, 1917, the maximum age for enlistment in both services being fixed at 40 years. Even before the passage of the act, however, very great recruiting activity was shown throughout the country, the total number of enlistments in the Regular Army for the fiscal year 1917 being 160,084. The record of National Guard enlistments has not yet been completely compiled,[302] but the act authorizing a temporary increase in the military establishment provided that any deficiency remaining in either the Regular Army or the National Guard should be made up by selective conscription. The introduction of this new method of enlistment so far affected the whole question of selection for military service that any deductions, either favorable or unfavorable, from the number of voluntary enlistments, would be unwarranted. It is entirely just to say that the States generally showed a most sympathetic spirit of cooperation with the National Government, and the National Guard responded with zeal and enthusiasm to the President's call.

In the preparation of the act providing for the temporary increase in the Military Establishment, very earnest consideration was given by the committees of the two Houses of Congress and by the Department to the principles which would be followed in creating a military establishment under modern conditions adequate for the tremendous emergency facing the Nation. Our own history and experience with the volunteer system afforded little precedent because of the new conditions, and the experience of European nations was neither uniform nor wholly adequate. Our adversary, the German Empire, had for many years followed the practice of universal compulsory military training and service, so that it was a nation of trained soldiers. In France the same situation had existed. In England, on the other hand, the volunteer system had continued, and the British army was relatively a small body. The urgency, however, of the British need at the outbreak of the war, and the unbroken traditions of England, were against even the delay necessary to consider the principle upon which action might best be taken, so that England's first effort was reduced[303] to that volunteer system, and her subsequent resort to the draft was made after a long experience in raising vast numbers of men by volunteer enlistment as a result of campaigns of agitation and patriotic appeal. The war in Europe, however, had lasted long enough to make quite clear the character of the contest. It was obviously no such war as had ever before occurred, both in the vast numbers of men necessary to be engaged in strictly military occupations and in the elaborate and far-reaching organization of industrial and civil society of the Nation back of the Army.

Our military legislation was drafted after very earnest consideration, to accomplish the following objects:

1. To provide in successive bodies adequate numbers of men to be trained and used as combatant forces.

2. To select for these armies men of suitable age and strength.

3. To distribute the burden of the military defense of the Nation in the most equitable and democratic manner, and to that end to recognize the universality of the obligation of service.

4. To reserve to the public authorities power so to control the selection of soldiers as to prevent the absorption of men indispensable to agriculture and industry, and to prevent the loss of national strength involved by the acceptance into military service of men whose greatest usefulness is in scientific pursuits or in production.

5. To select, so far as may be, those men for military service whose families and domestic obligations could best bear their separation from home and dependents, and thus to cause the least possible distress among the families of the Nation which are dependent upon the daily earnings of husbands and fathers for their support.[304]

These considerations, shortly stated, amount to a policy which, recognizing the life of the nation as a whole, and assuming both the obligation and the willingness of the citizen to give the maximum of service, institutes a national process for the expression of our military, industrial, and financial strength, all at their highest, and with the least waste, loss, and distress.

The act of Congress authorizing the President to increase temporarily the Military Establishment of the United States, approved May 18, 1917, provided for the raising and maintaining by selective draft of increments (in addition to the Regular Army and National Guard) of 500,000 men each, together with recruit training units for the maintenance of such increments at the maximum strength, and the raising, organizing, and maintaining of additional auxiliary forces, and also for raising and maintaining at their maximum strength, by selective draft when necessary, the Regular Army and the National Guard drafted into the service of the United States.

It also provided that such draft "shall be based upon liability to military service of all male citizens, or male persons not alien enemies, who have declared their intention to become citizens, between the ages of 21 and 30 years, both inclusive"; that the several States, Territories, and the District of Columbia should furnish their proportionate shares or quotas of the citizen soldiery determined in proportion to the population thereof, with certain credits allowed for volunteer enlistments in branches of the service then organized and existing.

The Nation was confronted with the task of constructing, without delay, an organization by which the selection might be made for the[305] entire country by means of a uniform and regulated system.

A suggestion of administration, incomplete because of entirely different conditions, arose from the precedent of the Civil War draft; and on May 22, 1917, the Judge Advocate General was detailed as "Provost Marshal General" and charged with the execution, under the Secretary of War, of so much of the act of May 18 "as relates to the registration and the selective draft." Plans had already been formulated for the operation of the selective draft, and with the formal designation of the Provost Marshal General the work of organization began.

It was obvious that to build up a new Federal organization would require a greater period of time than was afforded by the military necessity. The existing governmental organizations of the several States presented an available substitute, and the statute authorized their use. This expedient was unprecedented, but its practice has abundantly justified its adoption.

The immediate need was for a comprehensive registration of every male of draft age. To effect this registration each State was divided into districts containing a population of approximately 30,000, in each of which a registration board was appointed by the governor. Usually this board consisted of the sheriff, the county health officer, and the county clerk; and where the county's population, exclusive of cities of more than 30,000 inhabitants, exceeded that number, additional registration boards were appointed. Cities of over 30,000 were treated as separate units. The election district was established as the actual unit for registration in order that the normal election machinery might be utilized, and a registrar for every 800 of population in each voting or election[306] precinct was appointed by the registration board. In cities approximating 30,000 of population, the registration board was made up of city officials, and where the population exceeded the unit number additional registration boards of three members were appointed, one a licensed physician.

Governors and mayors were given considerable latitude in making geographical divisions of the States and cities for the purpose of defining registration jurisdictions; the only limitation being that approximately 30,000 inhabitants should be included within the confines of a district. The general scheme was that the board of three should exercise supervision over the precinct registrars, the governors supervising the work of the registration boards, while the mayors of cities containing 30,000 or more inhabitants acted as intermediaries between governors and registration boards. Each State was constituted a separate unit and each governor was charged with the execution of the law in his State.

By proclamation of the President, dated May 18, 1917, Tuesday, June 5, 1917, was designated as registration day throughout the United States, with the exception of Alaska, Hawaii, and Porto Rico; and, due to the fact that registration organization of the States had been so quickly and thoroughly completed, about 10,000,000 male citizens of the designated ages were registered on the day set, and the first step in the operation of the selective service law was accomplished.

Registration consisted in entering on a card essential facts necessary to a complete identification of the registrant and a preliminary survey of his domestic and economic circumstances.

It is noteworthy that this registration throughout the entire country was carried out[307] in the main by the voluntary and energetic efforts of citizens, and the Government was thereby saved a very great expense through the efficient organization which had been constructed and furnished with all necessary materials during the short period of sixteen days.

With registration completed there followed the operation of examination, selection, and mobilization. The unit jurisdiction of approximately 30,000 of population was maintained as far as possible, and for each district or division a local board of three members was appointed by the President upon the recommendation of the governor. The board members were residents of the districts they served, and the personnel comprised representative and responsible citizens of the community, including usually a licensed physician. In many cases registration boards were reappointed local boards. Such boards exercised original jurisdiction in all cases except claims for discharge on account of engagement in industry or agriculture.

In every Federal judicial district one or more district boards were organized, consisting usually of five but in some cases of a larger number of members, comprising leading citizens of the community and appointed by the President upon the recommendation of the governor. District boards exercised appellate jurisdiction over local boards and original jurisdiction in industrial and agricultural claims.

The initial step in the process of examination and selection was to establish the order of liability of each of the 10,000,000 registrants to be called for service. The cards within the jurisdiction of each local board, taken as a unit, had been serially numbered when completed and filed; and duplicates of the cards so[308] numbered were deposited with the governor and with the district boards. The average number of registrants within the jurisdiction of a local board was about 2,500, the highest being 10,319. In order to establish the order of liability of each registrant in relation to the other registrants within the jurisdiction of the same local board, a drawing was held July 20, 1917, in the Public Hearing Room of the Senate Office Building in Washington, as a result of which every registrant was given an order number and his liability to be called for examination and selection determined by the order number.

The official lists of the numbers drawn by lot were furnished to every local board and from these lists the boards made up the availability order list of all registrants within their respective jurisdictions.

The determination of the order of availability left only the process of physical examination and elimination. The War Department, through the Provost Marshal General's Office, had already determined and given notice of the number of men to be furnished by each State, and at the date of the drawing practically every State had ascertained and notified its local boards of the number required to complete their respective quotas for the first draft. The calculations of the War Department and of the States for the quotas were based upon section 2 of the act of May 18.

Immediately upon the completion of the order of call lists, the local boards began to summon for physical examination, beginning with the man who was No. 1 on the list, and continuing in numerical sequence, a sufficient number of registrants to fill their quotas. The average number summoned for the first examination was about twice the number required—i. e., if a board's quota was 105, the[309] first 210 registrants of that jurisdiction were called for physical examination.

The Selective Service Law required certain persons to be exempted from military service, including Federal and State legislative, executive, and judicial officers, ministers of religion, students of divinity, persons in the military or naval service of the United States, and certain aliens. The law further authorized the discharge from draft, under such regulations as the President might prescribe, of county and municipal officers, customhouse clerks and other persons employed by the United States in certain classes of work, pilots and mariners, and, within prescribed limitations, registrants in a status with respect to persons dependent upon them for support, and persons found physically or morally unfit. Exemption from combatant service only was authorized in the case of persons found to be members of any well-recognized religious sect or organization whose existing creed or principles forbid its members to participate in war in any form, and whose religious convictions are against war or participation therein.

On June 30, 1917, the President promulgated rules and regulations as authorized by the law prescribing the reasons for and manner of granting discharges, and the procedure of local and district boards.

The selective service system required the 4,557 local boards to conduct the physical examination of registrants within their jurisdictions, and to determine and dispose of claims of exemption and discharge in the first instance, excepting industrial and agricultural claims.

The 156 district boards which were established as above stated, proved to be the fulcrum of balance between the local boards and the registrants. In practically every instance[310] their members have been chosen from among the most able and conspicuous representatives of the legal and medical professions, and from the fields of industry, commerce, and labor.

By regulation the case of every person discharged from the operation of the selective service law by a local board on the ground of dependency was automatically taken to the district board for review, the appeal being noted by Government appeal agents appointed by the Provost Marshal General.

Registrants whose claims were disallowed by local boards appealed in large numbers to district boards. Thus was obtained a high degree of uniformity of decisions in dependency cases, which were by far the most difficult of determination and disposition, as well as the most numerous, of the classes of cases throughout the first draft.

Cases involving claims for discharge on agricultural and industrial grounds, of which district boards have original jurisdiction, are appealable to the President, and to date approximately 20,000 of these have been received and indexed, of which about 80 per cent are claims for discharge based on agricultural grounds and 20 per cent on industrial grounds. Of cases already disposed of on appeal from the district boards less than 7 per cent have been reversed. The pending of an appeal to the President does not operate as a stay of induction into military service except where the district board has expressly so directed, and the number of such stays is negligible.

The total cost of the draft can not be estimated accurately at this time, but, based upon the data at hand, the total registration and selection of the first 687,000 men has amounted to an approximate expenditure of $5,600,000, or about $8.11 unit cost.[311]

The unprecedented character of this undertaking is a matter of common knowledge. Congress, in the consideration of the act which authorized it, entertained grave doubts as to whether a plan could be devised which would apply so new a principle of selection for national service without much misunderstanding and unhappiness. But the results have been of a most inspiring kind and have demonstrated the universal willingness of our people to serve in the defense of our liberties and to commit the selection of the Nation's defenders to the Nation itself. The men selected have reported to the camps and are in course of training. They constitute as fine a body of raw material as were ever trained in military science. They are already acquiring the smartness and soldierly bearing characteristic of American troops, and those who once thought that the volunteer spirit was necessary to insure contentment and zeal in soldiers now freely admit that the men selected under this act have these qualities in high degree and that it proceeds out of a patriotic willingness on the part of the men to bear their part of the national burden and to do their duty at the Nation's call.

The success of this great undertaking is, of course, primarily due to the painstaking forethought and the statesmanlike breadth of view with which the Provost Marshal General and his associates organized the machinery for its execution. But other elements have contributed to its success, and first among these was the determination to rely upon the cooperation of the governors of States and State agencies in the assembling of the registration and exemption boards. By reason of this association of State and local agencies with the National Government the law came as no outside mandate enforced by soldiers, but as a working of[312] the home institutions in the hands of neighbors and acquaintances pursuing a clear process of selection, and resulting in a gift by the States to the Nation of a body of men to be trained. The press of the country cooperated in a most helpful way, drawing the obvious distinctions between this mode of selection and those punitive drafts which have sometimes been resorted to after the failure of volunteering, and pointing out the young men of the country that the changed conditions of warfare made necessary a mode of selection which would preserve the industrial life of the Nation as a foundation for successful military operations. Indeed, the country seemed generally to have caught enough of the lessons of the European war to have realized the necessity of this procedure, and from the very beginning criticism was silenced and doubt answered by the obvious wisdom of the law. Moreover, the unquestioned fairness of the arrangements, the absence of all power of substitution, the fact that the processes of the law were worked out publicly, all cooperated to surround the draft with assurances of fairness and equality, so that throughout the whole country the attitude of the people toward the law was one of approval and confidence, and I feel very sure that those who at the beginning had any doubts would now with one accord agree that the selective service act provides not only a necessary mode of selecting the great armies needed under modern conditions, but that it provides a better and more democratic and a fairer method of distributing the burden of national defense than any other system as yet suggested.

This does not mean, of course, that the law is perfect either in its language or in its execution, nor does it mean that improvements may not be made as our experience grows and as the need for more intense national efforts increases;[313] but such amendments as may hereafter be required will proceed with the fundamental questions settled and we have now only to consider changes which may be required to a better ordering of our military strength and a more efficient maintenance of our industrial and agricultural life during the stress of war. The passage and execution of this law may be regarded as a milestone in our progress toward self-consciousness and national strength. Its acceptance shows the unity of spirit of our people, and its operation shows that a democracy has in its institutions the concentrated energy necessary to great national activities however much they may be scattered and dispersed, in the interest of the preservation of individual liberty, in time of peace.

The problem presented involved not merely the selection of forces to be trained into armies but officers to do the training. By the provisions of the national defense act of June 3, 1916, Officers' Reserve Corps had been authorized. Rules and regulations for their organization were promulgated in July, 1916, and amended in March, 1917. Immediately upon the passage of the act, the building up of lists of reserve officers in the various sections of the Military Establishment was undertaken, with the result that at the end of the fiscal year some of the branches of the service had substantial lists of men available for duty in the event of call. The largest number of commissions were issued in the technical services, for which professional nonmilitary training was the principal requisite. The largest reserve corps was that in the Medical Department, in which more than 12,000 physicians were commissioned. The expansion of these technical services proceeded easily upon the basis of the reserve corps beginning, but the number of applicants for commissions in the strictly military[314] or combatant branches of the service was relatively small. They consisted of men who had had military experience either in the Regular Army or the National Guard, and men who were graduates of schools and colleges affording military training, and of the training camps which for several years had been maintained at Plattsburg and throughout the country. Their number, however, was wholly inadequate, and their experience, while it had afforded the elements of military discipline, had not been such as was plainly required to train men for participation in the European war with its changed methods and conditions. The virtue of the law authorizing the Officers' Reserve Corps, however, became instantly apparent upon the declaration of war, as it enabled the department to establish officers' training camps for the rapid production of officers.

Accepting the Plattsburg experiment as the basis and using funds appropriated by Congress for an enlargement of the Plattsburg system of training, the department established a series of training camps, sixteen in number, which were opened on the 15th of May, 1917. The camps were scattered throughout the United States so as to afford the opportunity of entrance and training with the least inconvenience and expense of travel to prepare throughout the entire country. Officers previously commissioned in the reserve corps were required to attend the camps, and, in addition, approximately 30,000 selected candidates were accepted from among the much greater number who applied for admission. These camps were organized and conducted under the supervision of department commanders; applicants were required to state their qualifications and a rough apportionment was attempted among the candidates to the several States. At the conclusion of the camp, 27,341 officers were[315] commissioned and directed to report at the places selected for the training of the new army. By this process, we supplied not only the officers needed for the National Army but filled the roster of the Regular Army, to which substantial additions were necessary by reason of the addition of the full number of increments provided by the National Defense Act of 1916.

The results of the first series of camps were most satisfactory and, anticipating the calling of further increments of the National Army, a second series of camps was authorized, to begin August 27, 1917, under rules for the selection of candidates and their apportionment throughout the country which were much more searching and embodied those improvements which are always possible in the light of experience. Approximately 20,000 candidates are now attending this second series of camps, and those found qualified will shortly be commissioned and absorbed into the Army for the performance of the expanding volume of duties which the progress of preparation daily brings about. It is to be remembered that the need for officers exists not only in connection with the actual training of troops in camp and the leadership of troops in the field, but a vast number of officers must constantly be employed in staff duties, and great numbers must as constantly be engaged in military research and in specialized forms of training associated with the use of newly developed arms and appliances. In other words, we must maintain not merely the special-service schools which are required to perfect the training of officers in the special arms of the service, but we must constantly experiment with new devices and reduce to practical use the discoveries of science and the new applications of mechanical and scientific arts, both for offensive and defensive[316] purposes. It would be out of place here to enumerate or describe in any detail the service of science in this war, but when the history of the struggle comes to be written it will be found that the masters of the chemical and physical sciences have thrown their talents and their ingenuity into the service, that their researches have been at the very basis of military progress, and that the victory rests as much upon a nation's supremacy in the researches and adaptations of science as it does upon the number and valor of its soldiers. Indeed, this is but one of the many evidences of the fact that modern war engages all of the resources of nations and that that nation will emerge victorious which has most completely used and coordinated all the intellectual, moral, and physical forces of its people.

It would be a national loss for me to fail to record in this place a just estimate of the value to the Nation of these training camps for officers. They disclosed an unsuspected source of military strength. Nobody will suppose that, with the growing intricacy of military science and the industrial arts related to it, a country can dispense with trained professional soldiers. The fundamentals of military discipline remain substantially unchanged and, in order that we may assemble rapidly and effectively adequate military forces, there must always be in the country a body of men to whom the life of a soldier is a career and who have acquired from their youth those qualities which have, from the beginning, distinguished the graduates of the Military Academy at West Point: the disciplined honor, the unfaltering courage, the comprehension of sacrifice, and that knowing obedience which proceeds from constant demonstrations of the fact that effective cooperation in war requires instant compliance with[317] the command of authority, the sort of obedience which knows that a battle field is no place for a parliament. Added to these mental and moral qualities, the body of professional soldiers must devote themselves unremittingly to the development of the arts of war, and when the emergency arises must be familiar with the uses of science and the applications of industry in military enterprise. But these training camps have taught us that, given this relatively small body of professional soldiers, the Nation has at hand an apparently inexhaustible body of splendid material which can be rapidly made to supplement the professional soldier.

When the first camp was opened, the colleges, military schools, and high schools of the country poured out a stream of young men whose minds had been trained in the classroom and whose bodies had been made supple and virile on the athletic field. They came with intelligence, energy, and enthusiasm and, under a course of intensive training, rapidly took on the added discipline and capacities necessary to equip them for the duties of officers. They have taken their places in the training camps and are daily demonstrating the value of their education and the adaptability of the spirit of American youth. A more salutary result would be impossible to imagine. The trained professional soldiers of the Army received this great body of youthful enthusiasm and capacity with hospitality and quickly impressed upon it a soldierly character. The young men brought to their training habits which they had formed for success as civilians, but which their patriotic enthusiasm rendered easily available in new lines of endeavor for the service of the country. They brought, too, another element of great value. They were assembled from all parts of the country; they[318] were accustomed to the democracy of the college and high school; they recognized themselves as new and temporary adventurers in a military life; and they, therefore, reflected into our military preparation the fresh and invigorating atmosphere of our industrial and commercial democracy. This has undoubtedly contributed to the establishment of a happy spirit which prevails throughout the Army and has made it easy for the young men chosen under the selective service act to fall in with the training and mode of life which the military training camp requires. An effort was made by the department as far as possible to assign these young officers to the training of troops assembled from their own homes. By this means, a preexisting sympathy was used, and admiration and respect between officer and man was transferred from the home to the camp.

The three divisions of the Army, namely, the Regular Army, the National Guard, and the National Army, were very different organizations as we contemplated them at the time of the passage of the act for the temporary increase of the Military Establishment. The Regular Army was a veteran establishment of professional soldiers; the National Guard a volunteer organization of local origin maintained primarily for the preservation of domestic order in the several States, with an emergency duty toward the national defense; the National Army an unknown quantity, made up of men to be selected arbitrarily by tests and rules as yet to be formulated, unorganized, untrained, existing only in theory and, therefore, problematical as to its spirit and the length of time necessary to fit it for use. Congress, however, most wisely provided as far as possible for an elimination of these differences. Enlistments in the Regular Army and National[319] Guard were authorized to be made for the period of the war rather than for fixed terms; the maximum and minimum ages of enlistment in the Regular Army and National Guard were assimilated; the rights and privileges of members of the three forces were made largely identical. Indeed, the act created but one army, selected by three processes. The wisdom of Congress in this course became instantly apparent. Spirited young men throughout the country began at once to enlist in the Regular Army and National Guard who might have been deterred from such enlistment had their obligation been for a fixed period rather than for the duration of the war. Many men asked themselves but one question: "By which avenue of service will I earliest get to France?" The men in the National Army soon caught this spirit and, while the department is endeavoring to preserve as far as possible in the National Guard and the National Army those intimacies which belong to men who come from the same city or town, and to preserve the honorable traditions of military organizations which have histories of service to the country in other wars, the fact still remains that the army is rapidly becoming the army of the United States, with the sense of origin from a particular State, or association with a particular neighborhood, more and more submerged by the rising sense of national service and national identity.

I have described above the process of the execution of the selective service law. The preparation of places for the training of the recruits thus brought into the service was a task of unparalleled magnitude. On the 7th of May, 1917, the commanding generals of the several departments were directed to select sites for the construction of cantonments for the training of the mobilized National Guard and the National[320] Army. The original intention was the construction of 32 cantonments. The appropriations made by Congress for this purpose were soon seen to be insufficient, and further study of the problem seemed to show that it would be unwise so seriously to engage the resources of the country, particularly in view of the fact that the National Guard was ready to be mobilized, that its training by reason of service on the Mexican border was substantial, and that its early use abroad in conjunction with the Regular Army would render permanent camps less important. The number was, therefore, cut to 16 divisional cantonments, and the National Guard was mobilized in camps for the most part under canvas, with only certain divisional storehouses and quarters for special uses constructed of wood. Because of the open weather during the winter months, the National Guard camps were located in the southern States. The National Army cantonments were located within the lines of the military division. A special division of the Quartermaster General's Department was established, known as the emergency construction division, and to it was given the task of erecting the cantonment buildings and such buildings as should be necessary for the National Guard.

On May 17, 1917, Col. I. W. Littell, of the Regular Army, was detailed to assemble and direct an organization to be known as the cantonment division of the Quartermaster Corps, whose duties were to consist of providing quarters and camps for the training and housing of the New National Army, which was to be selected by conscription as provided in the act of Congress dated May 18, 1917.

Able assistance was rendered by the following members of the committee on emergency construction and contracts, a subcommittee of[321] the Munitions Board of the Council of National Defense:

Major W. A. Starrett, chairman; Major William Kelly; C. M. Lundoff; M. C. Tuttle; F. L. Olmsted; J. B. Talmadge, secretary.

Inquiries were immediately made and all available means used by telegraph, correspondence, and consultation to get in touch with the ablest constructors, engineers, draftsmen, purchasing agents, and other specialists of broad experience in their respective vocations from which an efficient and experienced organization could be selected.

All of those selected who became attached to the organization in an official capacity gave up responsible and remunerative positions to give the Government the benefit of their services. They all being over the draft-age limit and representative technical men of repute and standing in their community, a splendid precedent of patriotism was established.

The assembling of an organization and the planning and execution of the work was undertaken with a view of accomplishing all that human ingenuity, engineering, and constructing skill could devise in the brief time available.

Plans were formulated by engineers, architects, and town planners who had given much thought to the particular problems involved. Camp sites comprising from 2,000 to 11,000 acres each were selected by a board of Army officers under the direction of the department commanders. Names of responsible contracting firms were secured and every effort made to perfect an organization competent to carry out the work of completing the camps at the earliest possible moment. The magnitude of assembling an organization for carrying on the work and securing the labor and materials therefor can in some measure be realized by reference to the following table, showing quantities[322] of the principal materials estimated to be used in the construction of the National Army cantonments.

The approximate quantities of principal materials used in the construction of the various National Army camps are shown in the following tables. This does not include National Guard, embarkation, or training camps.

Sixteen National Army camps were constructed in various parts of the United States at points selected by the War Department. The camps were carefully laid out by experienced town planners and engineers to give best results considering all viewpoints.[323]

A typical cantonment city will house 40,000 men. Each barrack building will house 150 men and provide 500 cubic feet of air space per man. Such a cantonment complete contains between 1,000 and 1,200 buildings and covers about 2,000 acres. In addition, each cantonment has a rifle range, drill, parade, and maneuver grounds of about 2,000 acres. In many cases all or a large part of the entire site had to be cleared of woods and stumps. The various military units were located on principal or primary roads—a regiment being treated as a primary unit. About 25 miles of roads were constructed at each cantonment, and sewers, water supply, lighting facilities, and other improvements installed.

An infantry regiment requires 22 barrack buildings, 6 for officers' quarters, 2 storehouses, 1 infirmary building, 28 lavatories, with hot and cold shower baths, or a total of 59 buildings. In addition to the buildings necessary for the regimental units, each cantonment has buildings for divisional headquarters, quartermaster depots, laundry receiving and distributing stations, base hospitals having 1,000 beds, post exchanges, and other buildings for general use.

At several of the cantonments remount stations have been provided, some of them having a capacity to maintain 12,000 horses.

In addition to the National Army camps, plans were made for the construction of 16 National Guard, two embarkation and one quartermaster training camp, but the construction of these items did not involve so large an expenditure as the National Army camps, as provision was made for fewer units and only tentage quarters for the men in the National Guard camps was provided. Modern storehouses, kitchens, mess shelters, lavatories, shower baths, base hospitals, and remount depots[324] were built, and water, sewerage, heating, and light systems installed at an expenditure of about $1,900,000 for each camp.

With the advent of the United States into the war, there has appeared not only one of the world's greatest builders, but the world's greatest customer for supplies and human necessaries. We have not only to equip, house, and supply our own army, but meet the demands arising from the drainage of the resources of the entente allies. Small shopping and bargaining are out of the question. Enormous savings were, however, effected, due to the fact that materials were purchased in large quantities and consequently at a much reduced price. Standardization of sizes saved from $5 to $6 per thousand feet b. m. on lumber, and a further saving of from $3 to $11 over prevailing prices was effected by the lumber subcommittee of the Council of National Defense. The Raw Materials Committee effected similar savings in prepared roofing, nails, and other construction materials. The lead subcommittee procured 500 tons of lead for caulking pipe at 3 cents less than market price. When it is considered that this construction work is, next to the Panama Canal, the largest ever undertaken by the United States, the country is to be congratulated on having available the men and materials to accomplish the feat of providing for the maintenance of the newly organized army in so short a period.

I have described at length the work of building necessary for the National Army camps, but at the same time extensive building was necessary at the 16 sites selected for the mobilization and training of the National Guard. While the National Guard troops were themselves quartered under canvas, many wooden buildings and storehouses had to be constructed for their use and, of course, the important[325] problems of water supply, sewage, and hospital accommodations required substantially as much provision upon these subjects as upon those selected for the National Army.

At the very outset of this hurried and vast program, it became apparent that labor would have to be assembled from great distances, and in wholly unaccustomed numbers, that the laboring men would be required to separate themselves from home and family and to live under unusual and less comfortable circumstances than was their habit. It was also clear that no interruption or stoppage of the work could be permitted. I therefore took up with Mr. Samuel Gompers, President of the American Federation of Labor, the question of a general agreement which would cover all trades to be employed in assuring continuity of work, provide just conditions of pay, recognize the inequalities which exist throughout the country, and yet avoid controversy as between the contractor and his employees, which, wherever the justice of the dispute might lie, could have only a prejudicial effect upon the interests of the Government, by delaying the progress necessary to be made. Mr. Gompers and those associated with him in the building trades promptly and loyally entered into a consideration of the whole subject, with the result that the following agreement was made:

"For the adjustment and control of wages, hours, and conditions of labor in the construction of cantonments, there shall be created an adjustment commission of three persons, appointed by the Secretary of War; one to represent the Army, one the public, and one labor; the last to be nominated by Samuel Gompers, member of the Advisory Commission of the[326] Council of National Defense, and President of the American Federation of Labor.

"As basic standards with reference to each cantonment, such commission shall use the main scales of wages, hours, and conditions in force on June 1, 1917, in the locality where such cantonment is situated. Consideration shall be given to special circumstances, if any arising after said date which may require particular advances in wages or changes in other standards. Adjustments of wages, hours, or conditions made by such board are to be treated as binding by all parties."

The contractors throughout the country were notified of the existence of this agreement and of the determination of the Government to carry it out faithfully. The scope of the agreement was subsequently enlarged so as to include other emergency construction done by the War Department, and a board of adjustment was appointed which, at the beginning, consisted of General E. A. Garlington, formerly General Inspector of the Army, Mr. Walter Lippmann, and Mr. John R. Alpine, to whom all complaints were referred, and by whom all investigations and determinations in enforcement of the agreement were made. The personnel of this board was subsequently changed, and its activities associated with a similar board appointed by the concurrent action of the Secretary of the Navy and Mr. Gompers, but I need here refer only to the fact that, by the device of this agreement, and through the instrumentality of this board, labor difficulties and disputes were easily adjusted, and the program of building has gone rapidly forward, with here and there incidental delays due sometimes to delay in material, sometimes to difficulties of the site, and doubtless to other incidental failures of coordination, but in the[327] main, the work has been thoroughly successful. When its magnitude is appreciated, the draft it made upon the labor market of the country, the speed with which it was accomplished, and the necessity of assembling not only materials but men from practically all over the country, it seems not too much to say that the work is out of all proportion larger than any similar work ever undertaken in the country, and that its completion substantially on time, is an evidence of efficiency both on the part of those officers of the Government charged with responsibility for the task and the contractors and men of the trades and crafts employed to carry on the work.

This great division of the War Department in times of peace devotes the major part of its energy to works of internal improvements and to the supervision of, improvement, and maintenance of navigable waters; but in time of war it immediately becomes a fundamental part of the Military Establishment. It was, therefore, called upon not only to render assistance of an engineering kind in the establishment of training camps, but had to establish camps for the rapid training in military engineering of large additions to its own personnel, and to undertake the rapid mobilization and training of additional engineer troops, of which at the beginning of the war there were but two regiments.

One of the earliest opportunities for actual assistance to the countries associated with us in this war was presented to this department. In the war against Germany transportation, and particularly railroad transportation, is of the utmost importance. It was easily foreseen that our own army in France would require large railroad facilities both in the operation of permanent railroads for the handling of our equipment and supplies and in the construction[328] and operation of temporary roads behind our Army. In the meantime regiments of engineer troops, if speedily organized and dispatched to Europe, could both render valuable assistance to the British and French Armies and acquire the training and experience which would make them valuable at a later stage to us. Accordingly nine such regiments were organized and have for some months been rendering active and important service along the actual battle front. In addition to these, a tenth regiment, composed of men skilled in forestry and lumbering, was organized and sent abroad, and is now operating in a foreign forest cutting out lumber supplies for the use of our associates and ourselves.

Concurrently with the formation of these special engineer troops the department undertook the collection of material for the establishment and operation of our own lines of supply abroad. The railways of France have been maintained in a state of high efficiency by the French people, and they are performing the tremendous transportation task imposed upon them by the French and English military operations with complete success; but in order not to impose a burden which they were not designed to meet, by asking them to expand to the accommodation of our services, it has been found necessary for us ourselves to undertake the accumulation of railroad material for our own use in the theater of war. This work is on a large and comprehensive scale. Any detailed description of it would be inappropriate at this time, but it involves the creation of entire transportation systems and the actual construction and operation of railroads with the elaborate terminal facilities needed for the rapid unloading and dispatch of supplies, equipment, and troops.

The problem facing the Quartermaster General[329] has been serious. For the small Regular Army of the United States a well-defined and adequate supply system had been created. It was large enough and flexible enough to permit us to make gradual accumulations of reserve as Congress from time to time provided the necessary money; but when the mobilization of the National Guard on the Mexican frontier took place, such reserves as we had were rapidly consumed, and the maintenance of the military establishment on the border required an increase which quite equaled the entire capacity of those industries ordinarily devoting themselves to the production of military supplies. When the present enlarged military establishment was authorized it involved an enlarged Regular Army, an enlarged National Guard and the new National Army, thus bringing upon us the problem of immediate supply with adequate reserves for an Army of 2,000,000 men; and these men were not to be stationed about in Army posts, but mobilized into great camps under conditions which necessarily increased the wear and tear upon clothing and equipment, and correspondingly increased the reserves needed to keep up the supply. In addition to this these troops were assembled for overseas use, and it therefore became necessary to accumulate in France vast stores of clothing and equipment in order to have the Army free from dependence, by too narrow a margin, upon ocean transportation with its inevitable delays. As a consequence the supply needs of the department were vastly greater than the capacity of the industrial organization and facilities normally devoted to their production, and the problem presented was to divert workshops and factories from their peace-time output into the intensive production of clothing and equipment for the Army. Due consideration had to be given to the maintenance[330] of the industrial balance of the country. Industries already devoted to the manufacture of supplies for the nations associated with us in the war had to be conserved to that useful purpose. Perhaps some aid to the imagination can be gotten from the fact that 2,000,000 men constitute about one-fiftieth of the entire population of the United States. Supply departments were, therefore, called upon to provide clothing, equipment, and maintenance for about one-fiftieth of our entire people, and this in articles of uniform and of standardized kinds. The great appropriations made by Congress tell the story from the financial point of view. In 1917 the normal appropriation for the Quartermaster Department was $186,305,000. The emergency appropriation for this department for the year 1918 was $3,000,000,000; a sum greater than the normal annual appropriation for the entire expenses of the Federal Government on all accounts. Another illustration can be drawn from the mere numbers of some familiar articles. Thus of shoes more than 20,000,000 pairs have already been purchased and are in process of delivery; of blankets, 17,000,000; of flannel shirting, more than 33,000,000 yards; of melton cloth, more than 50,000,000 yards; of various kinds of duck for shelter tents and other necessary uses, more than 125,000,000 yards; and other staple and useful articles of Army equipment have been needed in proportion.

To all of this it has been necessary to add supplies not usual in our Army which, in many cases, had to be devised to meet needs growing out of the nature of the present warfare. It was necessary, therefore, to mobilize the resources and industry, first to produce with the greatest rapidity the initial equipment, and to follow that with a steady stream[331] of production for replacement and reserve; second, to organize adequate transportation and storage for these great accumulations, and their distribution throughout the country, and then to establish ports of embarkation for men and supplies, assemble there in orderly fashion for prompt ship-loading the tonnage for overseas; and to set up in France facilities necessary to receive and distribute these efficiently.

The Quartermaster General's Department was called upon to set up rapidly a business greater than that carried on by the most thoroughly organized and efficiently managed industrial organization in the country. It had to consider the supply of raw materials, the diversion of industry, and speed of production, and with its problem pressing for instant solution it had to expand the slender peace-time organization of the Quartermaster Department by the rapid addition of personnel and by the employment and coordination of great civilian agencies which could be helpful.

The Council of National Defense, through the supply committees organized by it, afforded the immediate contact necessary with the world of commerce and industry, while men of various branches of business and production engineers brought their services freely to the assistance of the Department. The dollar-a-year man has been a powerful aid, and when this struggle is over, and the country undertakes to take stock of the assets which it found ready to be used in the mobilization of its powers, a large place will justly be given to these men who, without the distinction of title or rank, and with no thought of compensation, brought experience, knowledge, and trained ability to Washington in order that they might serve with patriotic fervor in an inconspicuous and self-sacrificing, but indispensably helpful way.[332]

The problems of supply are not yet solved; but they are in the course of solution. Sound beginnings have been made, and as the military effort of the country grows the arrangements perfected and organizations created will expand to meet it.

In this general connection it seems appropriate to refer to the effective cooperation between the department and the transportation agencies of the country. For a number of years the Quartermaster General's Department has maintained close relations with the executives of the great railway systems of the country. In February, 1917, a special committee of the American Railway Association was appointed to deal with questions of national defense, and the cooperation between this committee and the department has been most cordial and effective, and but for some such arrangement the great transportation problem would have been insoluble. I am happy, therefore, to join the Quartermaster General in pointing out the extraordinary service rendered by the transportation agencies of the country, and I concur also in his statement that "of those who are now serving the Nation in this time of stress, there are none who are doing so more whole-heartedly, unselfishly, and efficiently than the railroad officials who are engaged in this patriotic work."

One other aspect of the work of the Quartermaster General's Office has engaged my particular attention, and seems to me to have been fruitful of most excellent results. The garment working trades of the United States are largely composed of women and children, and of men of foreign extraction. More than any other industry in the United States it has been menaced by the sweatshop system. The States have enacted codes and established inspection[333] agencies to enforce sanitary conditions for these workers, and to relieve the evils which seem everywhere to spring up about them. To some extent the factory system operated under rigid inspection has replaced home work, and has improved conditions; but garment making is an industry midway in its course of being removed from the home to the factory, and under pressure of intensive production, home work in congested tenements has been difficult to eradicate.

The vice of this system is not merely the invasion of the home of the worker, and the consequent enfeeblement of the family and family life. Work done under such circumstances escapes the inspector, and the crowded workers in the tenement are helpless in their struggle for subsistence under conditions which are unrelieved by an assertion of the Government's interest in the condition under which these workers live. Moreover, wide distribution of garments made under such conditions tends to spread disease, and adds another menace from the public point of view.

The department determined, therefore, to establish minimum standards as to wages, inspection, hours, and sanitation. These standards were inserted in the contracts made for garment production, and a board was appointed to enforce an observance of these standards. The effect of this has been that it is now possible to say that no uniform worn by an American soldier is the product of sweatshop toil, and that so far as the Government is concerned in its purchases of garments it is a model employer.

This action has not delayed the accumulation of necessary supplies, and it has added to our national self-respect. It has distributed national interest between the soldier who wears and the worker who makes the garment,[334] regarding them each as assets, each as elements in our aggregated national strength.

On the 1st day of July, 1916, there was a total of 96 officers in the Ordnance Department. The commissioned strength of this department increased substantially 2,700 per cent, and is still expanding. The appropriations for ordnance in 1917 were $89,697,000; for 1918, in view of the war emergency, the appropriations for that department aggregate $3,209,000,000.

This division of the War Department has had, in some respects, the most difficult of the problems presented by the transition from peace to war. Like the Department of the Quartermaster General, the Ordnance Department has had to deal with various increases of supply, increases far exceeding the organization and available capacity of the country for production. The products needed take longer to produce; for the most part they involved intricate machinery, and highly refined processes of manufacture. In addition to this the industrial agencies of the country have been devoting a large part of their capacity to foreign production which, in the new set of circumstances, it is unwise to interrupt.

Legislation enacted on August 29, 1916, as a part of the National Defense Act provided for the creation of a Council of National Defense. Shortly thereafter the council was organized, its advisory commission appointed, a director chosen, and its activities planned. It appropriately directed its first attention to the industrial situation of the country and, by the creation of committees representative of the principal industries, brought together a great store of information both as to our capacity for manufacture and as to the re-adaptations possible in an emergency for rapid production of supplies of military value.[335] Under the law of its creation, the Council of National Defense is not an executive body, its principal function being to supervise and direct investigations and make recommendations to the President and the heads of the executive departments with regard to a large variety of subjects. The advisory commission is thus advisory to a body which is itself advisory, and the subordinate bodies authorized to be created are collectors of data upon which advice can be formulated. There was no intention on the part of Congress to subdivide the executive function, but rather to strengthen it by equipping it with carefully matured recommendations based upon adequate surveys of conditions. The extent of the council's powers has been sometimes misunderstood, with the result that it has been deemed an inapt instrument, and from time to time suggestions have been made looking to the donation to it of power to execute its conclusions. Whatever determination Congress may hereafter reach with regard to the bestowal of additional executive power and the creation of agencies for its exercise, the advisory function of the Council of National Defense ought not to be impaired, nor ought its usefulness to be left unrecognized. In the first place, the council brings together the heads of the departments ordinarily concerned in the industrial and commercial problems which affect the national defense and undoubtedly prevents duplications of work and overlappings of jurisdiction. It also makes available for the special problems of individual departments the results attained in other departments which have been called upon to examine the same problem from other points of view. In the second place, the council supplements the activities of the Cabinet under the direction of the President by bringing together in a committee, as it were, members of[336] the Cabinet for the consideration of problems which, when maturely studied, can be presented for the President's judgment.

With the declaration of a state of war, however, the usefulness of the Council of National Defense became instantly more obvious. The peace-time activities and interests of our people throughout the country surged toward Washington in an effort to assimilate themselves into the new scheme of things which, it was recognized, would call for widespread changes of occupation and interest. The Council of National Defense was the only national agency at all equipped to receive and direct this aroused spirit seeking appropriate modes of action, and it was admirably adapted to the task because among the members of the council were those Cabinet officers whose normal activities brought them into constant contact with all the varied peace-time activities of the people and who were, therefore, best qualified to judge the most useful opportunities in the new state of things for men and interests of which they respectively knew the normal relations. For the more specialized problems of the national defense, notably those dealing with the production of war materials, the council authorized the organization of subordinate bodies of experts, and the General Munitions Board grew naturally out of the necessities of the War and Navy Departments, which required not only the maximum production of existing munition-making industries in the country, but the creation of new capacity for production and its correlation with similar needs on the part of the foreign governments. The work done by the General Munitions Board was highly effective, but it was soon seen that its problem carried over into the field of transportation, that it was bound up with the question of priorities, and that it was itself divisible[337] into the great and separate fields of raw material supply and the production of finished goods. With the growth of its necessary interests and the constant discovery of new relations it became necessary so to reorganize the General Munitions Board as both to enlarge its view and more definitely recognize its widespread relations.

Upon the advice of the Council of National Defense, the General Munitions Board was replaced by the War Industries Board, which consists of a chairman, a representative of the Army, a representative of the Navy, a representative of labor and the three members of the Allied Purchasing Commission through whom, under arrangements made with foreign Governments by the Secretary of the Treasury, the purchasing of allied goods in the United States is effected. This purchasing commission consists of three chairmen—one of priorities, one of raw materials, and one of finished products. By the presence of Army and Navy representatives, the needs of our own Government are brought to the common council table of the War Industries Board. The board is thus enabled to know all the war needs of our Government and the nations associated with us in war, to measure their effect upon the industry of the country, to assign relative priorities in the order of serviceableness to the common cause, and to forecast both the supply of raw material and our capacity for completing its manufacture in such a way as to coordinate our entire industrial capacity, both with a view to its maximum efficiency and to its permanent effect upon the industrial condition of the country. Under legislation enacted by Congress, the President has committed certain definite problems to special agencies. The food administration, the fuel administration, and the shipping problem being each in[338] the hands of experts specially selected under appropriate enactments. In large part, these activities are separable from the general questions considered by the Council of National Defense and the War Industries Board, but there are necessary relations between them which it has been found quite simple to arrange by conference and consultation, and the Council of National Defense, with the Secretary of the Treasury added as an important councilor, has seemed the natural center around which to group these agencies so far as any common activity among them is desirable.

In the meantime the Advisory Commission of the Council of National Defense and the council itself have continued to perform the original advisory functions committed to them by the National Defense Act. The War Department is glad to acknowledge its debt to the council and the commission. I refrain from specific enumeration of the services which the department has received through these agencies only because their number is infinite and their value obvious. The various supply committees created by the Supply Commission, the scientific resources placed at the disposal of the department, the organization of the medical profession, the cooperation of the transportation interests of the country, the splendid harmony which has been established in the field of labor, are all fruits of the actions of these bodies and notably of the Advisory Commission. It has been especially in connection with the activities of the council and the commission that we have been helped by the unremunerated service of citizens who bore no official relation to the Government but had expert knowledge of and experience with the industries of the country which it was necessary rapidly to summon into new uses. Through their influence, the trade rivalries and commercial[339] competitions, stimulating and helpful in times of peace, have been subordinated to the paramount purpose of national service and the common good. They have not only created helpful relations for the present emergency but have established a new confidence in the Government on the part of business and perhaps have led to clearer judgments on the part of the Government in its dealings with the great organizations, both of labor and of capital, which form the industrial and commercial fabric of our society. The large temporary gain thus manifest is supplemented by permanent good; and in the reorganizations which take place when the war is over there will doubtless be a more conscious national purpose in business and a more conscious helpfulness toward business on the part of the Government.

As a result of the exchanges of views which took place between the military missions to the United States and our own Government, it was determined to begin at once the dispatch of an expeditionary force of the American Army to France. This has been done. General John J. Pershing was selected as commander in chief and with his staff departed for France, to be followed shortly by the full division, consisting entirely of Regular Army troops. Immediately thereafter there was formed the so-called Rainbow Division, made up of National Guard units of many States scattered widely throughout the country. The purpose of its organization was to distribute the honor of early participation in the war over a wide area and thus to satisfy in some part the eagerness of these State forces to be permitted to serve in Europe. The Marines, with their fine traditions and honorable history, were likewise recognized, and regiments of Marines were added to the first forces dispatched. It would, of course, be unwise to attempt any enumeration[340] of the forces at this time overseas, but the Army and the country would not have me do less than express their admiration and appreciation of the splendid cooperation of the Navy, by means of which these expeditionary forces have been safely transported and have been enabled to traverse without loss the so-called danger zone infested by the stealthy and destructive submarine navy of the enemy. The organization and dispatch of the expeditionary force required the preparation of an elaborate transport system, involving not only the procurement of ships and their refitting for service as troop and cargo transports, but also extensive organizations of terminal facilities both in this country and France; and in order to surround the expeditionary force with every safeguard, a large surplus of supplies of every kind were immediately placed at their disposal in France. This placed an added burden upon the supply divisions of the department and explains in part some of the shortages, notably those of clothing, which have temporarily embarrassed mobilization of troops at home, embarrassments now happily passed. In the organization of this transport the constant and helpful cooperation of the Shipping Board, the railroads, and those in control of warehousing, wharfing, lighterage, and other terminal facilities has been invaluable. Our activities in this regard have resulted in the transporting of an army to France fully equipped, with adequate reserves of equipment and subsistence, and with those large quantities of transportation appliances, motor vehicles, railroad construction supplies, and animals, all of which are necessary for the maintenance and effective operations of the force.

The act authorizing the temporary increase of the military establishment empowered the department to create special organizations of[341] technical troops. Under this provision railroad and stevedore regiments have been formed and special organizations of repair men and mechanics, some of which have proceeded to France and rendered service back of the British and French line in anticipation of and training for their later service with the American Army. No complete descriptions of these activities can be permitted at this time, but the purpose of the department has been to provide from the first for the maintenance of our own military operations without adding to the burdens already borne by the British and French, and to render, incidentally, such assistance to the British and French Armies as could be rendered by technical troops in training in the theater of operations. By this means the United States has already rendered service of great value to the common cause, these technical troops having actually carried on operations for which they are designed in effective cooperation with the British and French Armies behind hotly contested battle fronts.

Working in close association with the medical committee of the Council of National Defense and the Red Cross and in constant and helpful contact with the medical activities of the British, French, and other belligerents, the Surgeon General has built up the personnel of his department and taken over from the Red Cross completely organized base-hospital units and ambulance units, supplemented them by fresh organizations, procured great quantities of medical supplies and prepared on a generous scale to meet any demands of our Army in action. Incidentally and in the course of this preparation, great numbers of base hospital organizations, ambulance units, and additional doctors and nurses have been placed at the disposal of the British and French armies, and are now in the field of actual war, ministering[342] to the needs of our Allies. Indeed, the honor of first participation by Americans in this war belongs to the Medical Department. In addition to all this preparation and activity, the Surgeon General's department has been charged with the responsibility for the study of defense against gas attack and the preparation of such gas masks and other appliances as can be devised to minimize its effects. The medical profession of the country has rallied around this service. The special laboratories of the great medical institutions have devoted themselves to the study of problems of military medicine. New, effective, and expeditious surgical and medical procedures have been devised and the latest defensive and curative discoveries of medical science have been made available for the protection and restoration of our soldiers. Far-reaching activities have been conducted by the Medical Department here in America, involving the supervision of plans for great base hospitals in the camps and cantonments, the planning of convalescent and reconstruction hospitals for invalided soldiers and anticipatory organization wherever possible to supply relief to distress and sickness as it may arise. Moreover, the task of the Medical Department in connection with the new Army has been exacting. Rigid examinations have been conducted, in the first instance by the physicians connected with the exemption boards, but later at the camps, in order to eliminate from the ranks men whose physical condition did not justify their retention in the military service. Many of the rejections by the Medical Department have caused grief to high-spirited young men not conscious of physical weakness or defect, and perhaps having no weakness or defect which embarrassed their usefulness in civilian occupation; but both the strength of the Army and justice to the men involved require[343] that the test of fitness for military service should be the sole guide, and the judgments of the most expert physicians have been relied upon to give us an army composed of men of the highest possible physical efficiency.

The capture of Jerusalem by the British under Allenby on December 8th, 1917, sent a thrill throughout the civilized world. The deliverance of the Holy City from the Turks marked another great epoch in its history, which includes possession by Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and Turks. The entrance of the British troops into Jerusalem is described in the following narrative.

[344]

THE CAPTURE OF JERUSALEM

GENERAL E. H. H. ALLENBY

When I took over the command of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force at the end of June, 1917, I had received instructions to report on the conditions in which offensive operations against the Turkish Army on the Palestine front might be undertaken in the autumn or winter of 1917.

After visiting the front and consulting with the Commander of the Eastern Force, I submitted my appreciation and proposals in a telegram dispatched in the second week of July.

The main features of the situation on the Palestine front were then as follows:

The Turkish Army in Southern Palestine held a strong position extending from the sea at Gaza, roughly along the main Gaza-Beersheba Road to Beersheba. Gaza had been made into a strong modern fortress, heavily entrenched and wired, offering every facility for protracted defence. The remainder of the enemy's line consisted of a series of strong localities, viz.: the Sihan group of works, the Atawineh group, the Baha group, the Abu Hareira-Arab el Teeaha trench system, and, finally, the works covering Beersheba. These groups of works were generally from 1,500 to 2,000 yards apart, except that the distance from the Hareira group to Beersheba was about 4 1/2 miles.

The enemy's force was on a wide front, the distance from Gaza to Beersheba being about 30 miles; but his lateral communications were[345] good, and any threatened point of the line could be very quickly reinforced.

My force was extended on a front of 22 miles, from the sea, opposite Gaza, to Gamli.

Owing to lack of water I was unable, without preparations which would require some considerable time, to approach within striking distance of the enemy, except in the small sector near the sea coast opposite Gaza.

My proposals received the approval of the War Cabinet, and preparations were undertaken to enable the plan I had formed to be put into execution.

I had decided to strike the main blow against the left flank of the main Turkish position, Hareira and Sheria. The capture of Beersheba was a necessary preliminary to this operation, in order to secure the water supplies at that place and to give room for the deployment of the attacking force on the high ground to the north and north-west of Beersheba, from which direction I intended to attack the Hareira-Sheria line.

This front of attack was chosen for the following reasons. The enemy's works in this sector were less formidable than elsewhere, and they were easier of approach than other parts of the enemy's defences. When Beersheba was in our hands we should have an open flank against which to operate, and I could make full use of our superiority in mounted troops, and a success here offered prospects of pursuing our advantage and forcing the enemy to abandon the rest of his fortified positions, which no other line of attack would afford.

It was important, in order to keep the enemy in doubt up to the last moment as to the real point of attack, that an attack should also be made on the enemy's right at Gaza in conjunction with the main operations. One of my Commanders was therefore ordered to prepare a[346] scheme for operations against Gaza on as large a scale as the force at his disposal would permit. I also asked the Senior Naval Officer of Egypt, Rear-Admiral T. Jackson, C.B., M.V.O., to afford me naval cooperation by bombarding the Gaza defences and the enemy's railway stations and depôts north of Gaza. Rear-Admiral Jackson afforded me cordial assistance, and during the period of preparation Naval Officers worked in the closest cooperation with my staff at General Headquarters and the staff of the G.O.C. troops operating in that region.

The difficulties to be overcome in the operations against Beersheba and the Sheria-Hareira line were considerable, and careful preparations and training were necessary. The chief difficulties were those of water and transport, and arrangements had to be made to ensure that the troops could be kept supplied with water while operating at considerable distances from their original water base for a period which might amount to a week or more; for, though it was known that an ample supply of water existed at Beersheba, it was uncertain how quickly it could be developed or to what extent the enemy would have damaged the wells before we succeeded in occupying the town. Except at Beersheba, no large supply of water would be found till Sheria and Hareira had been captured.

The transport problem was no less difficult; there were no good roads south of the line Gaza-Beersheba, and no reliance could therefore be placed on the use of motor transport. Owing to the steep banks of many of the wadis which intersected the area of operations, the routes passable by wheeled transport were limited, and the going was heavy and difficult in many places. Practically the whole of the transport available in the force, including 30,000 pack camels, had to be allotted to one portion of the[347] eastern force to enable it to be kept supplied with food, water, and ammunition at a distance of 15 to 20 miles in advance of railhead. Arrangements were also made for railhead to be pushed forward as rapidly as possible towards Karm, and for a line to be laid from Gamli toward Beersheba for the transport of ammunition.

A railway line was also laid from Deir el Belah to the Wadi Ghuzze, close behind the sector held by another portion of the eastern force.

Considerable strain was thrown on the military railway from Kantara to the front during the period of preparation. In addition to the normal requirements of the force, a number of siege and heavy batteries, besides other artillery and units, had to be moved to the front, and large depôts of supplies, ammunition, and other stores accumulated at the various railheads. Preparations had also to be made and the necessary material accumulated to push forward the lines from Deir el Belah and Shellal.

During the period from July to October, 1917, the enemy's force on the Palestine front had been increased. It was evident, from the arrival of these reinforcements and the construction of railway extensions from El Tine, on the Ramleh-Beersheba railway, to Deir Sineid and Belt Hanun, north of Gaza, and from Deir Sineid to Huj, and from reports of the transport of large supplies of ammunition and other stores to the Palestine front, that the enemy was determined to make every effort to maintain his position on the Gaza-Beersheba line. He had considerably strengthened his defences on this line; and the strong localities mentioned had, by the end of October, been joined up to form a practically continuous line from the sea to a point south of Sheria, except for a gap between Ali Muntar and the[348] Sihan Group. The defensive works round Beersheba remained a detached system, but had been improved and extended.

The date of the attack on Beersheba, which was to commence the operations, was fixed as October 31, 1917. Work had been begun on the railway from Shellal towards Karm, and on the line from Gamli to El Buggar. The development of water at Ecani, Khalasa, and Asluj proceeded satisfactorily. These last two places were to be the starting point for the mounted force detailed to make a wide flanking movement and attack Beersheba from the east and north-east.

On the morning of October 27 the Turks made a strong reconnaissance towards Karm from the direction of Kauwukah, two regiments of cavalry and two or three thousand infantry, with guns, being employed. They attacked a line of outposts near El Girheir, held by some Yeomanry, covering railway construction. One small post was rushed and cut up, but not before inflicting heavy loss on the enemy; another post, though surrounded, held out all day, and also caused the enemy heavy loss. The gallant resistance made by the Yeomanry enabled the 53rd (Welsh) Division to come up in time, and on their advance the Turks withdrew.

The bombardment of the Gaza defences commenced on October 27, and on October 30 warships of the Royal Navy, assisted by a French battleship, began cooperating in this bombardment.

On the evening of October 30 the portion of the eastern force, which was to make the attack on Beersheba, was concentrated in positions of readiness for the night march to its positions of deployment.

The night march to the positions of deployment was successfully carried out, all units[349] reaching their appointed positions up to time. The plan was to attack the hostile works between the Khalasa road and the Wadi Saba with two divisions, masking the works north of the Wadi Saba with the Imperial Camel Corps and some infantry, while a portion of the 53rd (Welsh) Division further north covered the left of the corps. The right of the attack was covered by a cavalry regiment. Further east, mounted troops took up a line opposite the southern defences of Beersheba.

As a preliminary to the main attack, in order to enable field guns to be brought within effective range for wire-cutting, the enemy's advanced works at 1,070 were to be taken. This was successfully accomplished at 8.45 a.m., after a short preliminary bombardment, by London troops, with small loss, 90 prisoners being taken. The cutting of the wire on the main line then proceeded satisfactorily, though pauses had to be made to allow the dust to clear; and the final assault was ordered for 12.15 p.m. It was successful all along the front attacked, and by about 1 p.m. the whole of the works between the Khalasa road and the Wadi Saba were in our hands.

Some delay occurred in ascertaining whether the enemy still occupied the works north of the road; it was decided, as they were still held by small parties, to attack them from the south. After a preliminary bombardment the works were occupied with little opposition by about 7.30 p.m.

The casualties were light, considering the strength of the works attacked; a large proportion occurred during the advance towards the positions previous to the assault, the hostile guns being very accurate and very difficult to locate.

Meanwhile, the mounted troops, after a night march, for part of the force of 25 and for the[350] remainder of 35 miles, arrived early in the morning of the 31st about Khasim Zanna, in the hills some five miles east of Beersheba. From the hills the advance into Beersheba from the east and north-east lies over an open and almost flat plain, commanded by the rising ground north of the town and flanked by an underfeature in the Wadi Saba called Tel el Saba.

A force was sent north to secure Bir es Sakaty, on the Hebron road, and protect the right flank, this force met with some opposition and was engaged with hostile cavalry at Bir es Sakaty and to the north during the day. Tel el Saba was found strongly held by the enemy, and was not captured till late in the afternoon.

Meanwhile, attempts to advance in small parties across the plain towards the town made slow progress. In the evening, however, a mounted attack by Australian Light Horse, who rode straight at the town from the east, proved completely successful. They galloped over two deep trenches held by the enemy just outside the town, and entered the town at about 7 p. m., capturing numerous prisoners.

The Turks at Beersheba were undoubtedly taken completely by surprise, a surprise from which the dash of London troops and Yeomanry, finely supported by their artillery, never gave them time to recover. The charge of the Australian Light Horse completed their defeat.

A very strong position was thus taken with slight loss, and the Turkish detachment at Beersheba almost completely put out of action. About 2,000 prisoners and 13 guns were taken, and some 500 Turkish corpses were buried on the battlefield. This success laid open the left flank of the main Turkish position for a decisive blow.[351]

The actual date of the attack at Gaza had been left open till the result of the attack at Beersheba was known, as it was intended that the former attack, which was designed to draw hostile reserves towards the Gaza sector, should take place twenty-four to forty-eight hours previous to the attack on the Sheria position. After the complete success of the Beersheba operations, and as the early reports indicated that an ample supply of water would be available at that place, it was hoped that it would be possible to attack Sheria by November 3 or 4. The attack on Gaza was accordingly ordered to take place on the morning of November 2. Later reports showed that the water situation was less favorable than had been hoped, but it was decided not to postpone the attack.

The objective of this attack were the hostile works from Umbrella Hill (2,000 yards south-west of the town) to Sheikh Hasan, on the sea (about 2,500 yards north-west of the town). The front of the attack was about 6,000 yards, and Sheikh Hasan, the furthest objective, was over 3,000 yards from our front line. The ground over which the attack took place consisted of sand dunes, rising in places up to 150 feet in height. This sand is very deep and heavy going. The enemy's defences consisted of several lines of strongly built trenches and redoubts.

As Umbrella Hill flanked the advance against the Turkish works further west, it was decided to capture it by a preliminary operation, to take place four hours previous to the main attack. It was accordingly attacked, and captured at 11 p. m. on November 1 by a portion of the 52nd (Lowland) Division. This attack drew a heavy bombardment of Umbrella Hill itself and our front lines, which lasted for two hours, but ceased in time to allow the main[352] attack, which was timed for 3 a. m., to form up without interference.

It had been decided to make the attack before daylight owing to the distance to be covered between our front trenches and the enemy's position.

The attack was successful in reaching all objectives, except for a section of trench on the left and some of the final objectives in the centre. Four hundred and fifty prisoners were taken and many Turks killed. The enemy also suffered heavily from the preliminary bombardment, and subsequent reports from prisoners stated that one of the divisions holding the Gaza sector was withdrawn after losing 33 per cent of its effectives, one of the divisions in general reserve being drawn into the Gaza sector to replace it. The attack thus succeeded in its primary object, which was to prevent any units being drawn from the Gaza defences to meet the threat to the Turkish left flank, and to draw into Gaza as large a proportion as possible of the available Turkish reserves. Further, the capture of Sheikh Hasan and the south-western defences constituted a very distinct threat to the whole of the Gaza position, which could be developed on any sign of a withdrawal on the part of the enemy.

Our losses, though considerable, were not in any way disproportionate to the results obtained.

Meanwhile on our right flank the water and transport difficulties were found to be greater than anticipated, and the preparations for the second phase of the attack were somewhat delayed in consequence.

On the early morning of November 1 the 53rd (Welsh) Division, with the Imperial Camel Corps on its right, had moved out into the hills north of Beersheba, with the object of securing the flank of the attack on Sheria. Mounted[353] troops were also sent north along the Hebron Road to secure Dhaheriyeh if possible, as it was hoped that a good supply of water would be found in this area, and that a motor road which the Turks were reported to have constructed from Dhaheriyeh to Sheria could be secured for our use.

The 53rd (Welsh) Division, after a long march, took up a position from Towal Abu Jerwal (six miles north of Beersheba) to Muweileh (four miles north-east of Abu Irgeig). Irish troops occupied Abu Irgeig the same day.

On November 3 we advanced north on Ain Kohleh and Tel Khuweilfeh, near which place the mounted troops had engaged considerable enemy forces on the previous day. This advance was strongly opposed, but was pushed on through difficult hill country to within a short distance of Ain Kohleh and Khuweilfeh. At these places the enemy was found holding a strong position with considerable and increasing forces. He was obviously determined not only to bar any further progress in this direction, but, if possible, to drive our flankguard back on Beersheba. During the 4th and 5th he made several determined attacks on the mounted troops. These attacks were repulsed.

By the evening of November 5 the 19th Turkish Division, the remains of the 27th and certain units of the 16th Division had been identified in the fighting round Tel el Khuweilfeh, and it was also fairly clear that the greater part of the hostile cavalry, supported apparently by some infantry ("depôt" troops) from Hebron, were engaged between Khuweilfeh and the Hebron Road.

The action of the enemy in thus employing the whole of his available reserves in an immediate counter-stroke so far to the east was apparently a bold effort to induce me to make essential alterations in my offensive plan, thereby[354] gaining time and disorganizing my arrangements. The country north of Beersheba was exceedingly rough and hilly, and very little water was to be found there. Had the enemy succeeded in drawing considerable forces against him in that area the result might easily have been an indecisive fight (for the terrain was very suitable to his methods of defence) and my own main striking force would probably have been made too weak effectively to break the enemy's centre in the neighborhood of Sheria Hareira. This might have resulted in our gaining Beersheba, but failing to do more—in which case Beersheba would only have been an incubus of a most inconvenient kind. However, the enemy's action was not allowed to make any essential modification to the original plan, which it had been decided to carry out at dawn on November 6.

By the evening of November 5, all preparations had been made to attack in the Kauwukah and Rushdi systems and to make every effort to reach Sheria before nightfall.

The mounted troops were to be prepared in the event of a success by the main force to collect, as they were somewhat widely scattered owing to water difficulties, and push north in pursuit of the enemy. Tel el Khuweilfeh was to be attacked at dawn on the 6th, and the troops were to endeavor to reach line Tel el Khuweilfeh-Rijm el Dhib.

At dawn on the 6th the attacking force had taken up positions of readiness to the S.E. of the Kauwukah system of trenches. The attack was to be commenced by an assault on the group of works forming the extreme left of the enemy's defensive system, followed by an advance due west up the railway, capturing the line of detached works which lay east of the railway. During this attack London and Irish troops were to advance towards the Kauwukah[355] system, bringing forward their guns to within wire-cutting range. They were to assault the southeastern face of the Kauwukah system as soon as the bombardment had proved effective, and thence take the remainder of the system in enfilade.

The attack progressed rapidly, the Yeomanry storming the works on the enemy's extreme left with great dash; and soon after noon the London and Irish troops commenced their attack. It was completely successful in capturing all its objectives, and the whole of the Rushdi system in addition. Sheria Station was also captured before dark. The Yeomanry reached the line of the Wadi Sheria to Wadi Union; and the troops on the left were close to Hareira Redoubt, which was still occupied by the enemy. This attack was a fine performance, the troops advancing 8 or 9 miles during the day and capturing a series of very strong works covering a front of about 7 miles, the greater part of which had been had and strengthened by the enemy for over six months. Some 600 prisoners were taken and some guns and machine-guns captured. Our casualties were comparatively slight. The greatest opposition was encountered by the Yeomanry in the early morning, the works covering the left of the enemy's line being strong and stubbornly defended.

During the afternoon, as soon as it was seen that the attack had succeeded, mounted troops were ordered to take up the pursuit and to occupy Huj and Jemmamah.

The 53rd (Welsh) Division had again had very severe fighting on the 6th. Their attack at dawn on Tel el Khuweilfeh was successful, and, though they were driven off a hill by a counterattack, they retook it and captured another hill, which much improved their position. The Turkish losses in this area were very heavy[356] indeed, and the stubborn fighting of the 53rd (Welsh) Division, Imperial Camel Corps, and part of the mounted troops during November 2 to 6 drew in and exhausted the Turkish reserves and paved the way for the success of the attack on Sheria. The 53rd (Welsh) Division took several hundred prisoners and some guns during this fighting.

The bombardment of Gaza had meanwhile continued, and another attack was ordered to take place on the night of the 6th-7th.

The objectives were, on the right, Outpost Hill and Middlesex Hill (to be attacked at 11.30 p. m. on the 6th), and on the left the line Belah Trench-Turtle Hill (to be attacked at dawn on the 7th).

During the 6th a certain amount of movement on the roads north of Gaza was observed by our airmen and fired on by our heavy artillery, but nothing indicating a general retirement from Gaza.

The attack on Outpost Hill and Middlesex Hill met with little opposition, and as soon, after they had been taken, as patrols could be pushed forward, the enemy was found to be gone. East Anglian troops on the left also found at dawn that the enemy had retired during the night, and early in the morning the main force occupied the northern and eastern defences of Gaza. Rearguards were still occupying Beit Hanun and the Atawineh and Tank systems, from whence Turkish artillery continued to fire on Gaza and Ali Muntar till dusk.

As soon as it was seen that the Turks had evacuated Gaza a part of the force pushed along the coast to the mouth of the Wadi Hesi, so as to turn the Wadi Hesi line and prevent the enemy making any stand there. Cavalry had already pushed on round the north of Gaza, and became engaged with an enemy rearguard[357] at Beit Hanun, which maintained its position till nightfall. The force advancing along the coast reached the Wadi Hesi by evening, and succeeded in establishing itself on the north bank in the face of considerable opposition, a Turkish rearguard making several determined counterattacks.

On our extreme right the situation remained practically unchanged during the 7th; the enemy made no further attempt to counterattack, but maintained his positions opposite our right flank guard.

In the centre the Hareira Tepe Redoubt was captured at dawn; some prisoners and guns were taken. The London troops, after a severe engagement at Tel el Sheria, which they captured by a bayonet charge at 4 a. m. on the 7th subsequently repulsing several counterattacks, pushed forward their line about a mile to the north of Tel el Sheria; the mounted troops on the right moved towards Jemmamah and Huj, but met with considerable opposition from hostile rearguards.

During the 8th the advance was continued, and interest was chiefly centred in an attempt to cut off, if possible, the Turkish rearguard which had held the Tank and Atawineh systems. The enemy had, however, retreated during the night 7th-8th, and though considerable captures of prisoners, guns, ammunition, and other stores were made during the day, chiefly in the vicinity of Huj, no large formed body of the enemy was cut off. The Turkish rearguards fought stubbornly and offered considerable opposition. Near Huj a fine charge by some squadrons of the Worcester and Warwick Yeomanry captured 12 guns, and broke the resistance of a hostile rearguard. It soon became obvious from the reports of the Royal Flying Corps, who throughout the 7th and 8th attacked the retreating columns with bombs[358] and machine-gun fire, and from other evidence, that the enemy was retiring in considerable disorganization, and could offer no very serious resistance if pressed with determination.

Instructions were accordingly issued on the morning of the 9th to the mounted troops, directing them on the line El Tine-Beit Duras, with orders to press the enemy relentlessly. They were to be supported by a portion of the force, which was ordered to push forward to Julis and Mejdel.

The enemy opposite our right flank guard had commenced to retreat towards Hebron on the morning of the 8th. He was pursued for a short distance by the Yeomanry, and some prisoners and camels were captured, but the Yeomanry were then recalled to rejoin the main body of the mounted troops for the more important task of the pursuit of the enemy's main body.

By the 9th, therefore, operations had reached the stage of a direct pursuit by as many troops as could be supplied so far in front of railhead. The problem, in fact, became one of supply rather than manœuvre. The question of water and forage was a very difficult one. Even where water was found in sufficient quantities, it was usually in wells and not on the surface, and consequently if the machinery for working the wells was damaged, or a sufficient supply of troughs was not available, the process of watering a large quantity of animals was slow and difficult.

On the evening of November 9 there were indications that the enemy was organizing a counterattack towards Arak el Menshiye by all available units of the force which had retired towards Hebron, with the object of taking pressure off the main force, which was retiring along the coastal plain. It was obvious that the Hebron force, which was believed to be[359] short of transport and ammunition, to have lost heavily and to be in a generally disorganized state, could make no effective diversion, and that this threat could practically be disregarded. Other information showed the seriousness of the enemy's losses and the disorganization of his forces.

Orders were accordingly issued to press the pursuit and to reach the Junction Station as early as possible, thus cutting off the Jerusalem Army, while the Imperial Camel Corps was ordered to move to the neighborhood of Tel de Nejile, where it would be on the flank of any counter-stroke from the hills.

Operations on the 10th and 11th showed a stiffening of the enemy's resistance on the general line of the Wadi Sukereir, with centre about El Kustineh; the Hebron group, after an ineffective demonstration in the direction of Arak el Menshiye on the 10th, retired north-east and prolonged the enemy's line towards Beit Jibrin. Royal Flying Corps reports indicated the total hostile forces opposed to us on this line at about 15,000; and this increased resistance, coupled with the capture of prisoners from almost every unit of the Turkish force, tended to show that we were no longer opposed to rearguards, but that all the remainder of the Turkish Army which could be induced to fight was making a last effort to arrest our pursuit south of the important Junction Station.

In these circumstances our progress on the 10th and 11th was slow; the troops suffered considerably from thirst (a hot, exhausting wind blew during these two days), and our supply difficulties were great; but by the evening of the 11th favorable positions had been reached for a combined attack.

The 12th was spent in preparations for the attack, which was ordered to be begun early[360] on the morning of the 13th, on the enemy's position covering Junction Station. Our forces were now operating at a distance of some 35 miles in advance of their railhead, and the bringing up and distribution of supplies and ammunition formed a difficult problem. The routes north of the Wadi Hesi were found to be hard and good going, though there were some difficult Wadi crossings, but the main road through Gaza and as far as Beit Hanun was sandy and difficult. The supply of water in the area of operations, though good and plentiful in most of the villages, lies mainly in wells 100 feet or more below the surface, and in these circumstances a rapid supply and distribution was almost impossible. Great credit is due to all concerned that these difficulties were overcome and that it was found possible not only to supply the troops already in the line, but to bring up two heavy batteries to support the attack.

The situation on the morning of November 13 was that the enemy had strung out his force (amounting probably to no more than 20,000 rifles in all) on a front of 20 miles, from El Kubeibeh on the north to about Beit Jibrin to the south. The right half of his line ran roughly parallel to and only about 5 miles in front of the Ramleh-Junction Station railway, his main line of supply from the north, and his right flank was already almost turned. This position had been dictated to him by the rapidity of our movement along the coast, and the determination with which his rearguards on this flank had been pressed.

The advanced guard of the 52nd (Lowland) Division had forced its way almost to Burkah on the 11th, on which day also some mounted troops pushed across the Nahr Sukereir at Jisr Esdud, where they held a bridge-head. During the 12th the Yeomanry pushed north up the[361] left bank of the Nahr Suhereir, and eventually seized Tel-el-Murreh on the right bank near the mouth.

The enemy's army had now been broken into two separate parts, which retired north and east respectively, and were reported to consist of small scattered groups rather than formed bodies of any size.

In fifteen days our force had advanced sixty miles on its right and about forty on its left. It had driven a Turkish Army of nine Infantry Divisions and one Cavalry Division out of a position in which it had been entrenched for six months, and had pursued it, giving battle whenever it attempted to stand, and inflicting on it losses amounting probably to nearly two-thirds of the enemy's original effectives. Over 9,000 prisoners, about eighty guns, more than 100 machine guns, and very large quantities of ammunition and other stores had been captured.

After the capture of Junction Station on the morning of the 14th, our troops secured a position covering the station, while the Australian mounted troops reached Kezaze that same evening.

The mounted troops pressed on towards Ramleh and Ludd. On the right Naaneh was attacked and captured in the morning, while on the left the New Zealand Mounted Rifles had a smart engagement at Ayun Kara (six miles south of Jaffa). Here the Turks made a determined counter-attack and got to within fifteen yards of our line. A bayonet attack drove them back with heavy loss.

Flanking the advance along the railway to Ramleh and covering the main road from Ramleh to Jerusalem, a ridge stands up prominently out of the low foot hills surrounding it. This is the site of the ancient Gezer, near which the village of Abu Shusheh now stands. A hostile[362] rearguard had established itself on this feature. It was captured on the morning of the 15th in a brilliant attack by mounted troops, who galloped up the ridge from the south. A gun and 360 prisoners were taken in this affair.

By the evening of the 15th the mounted troops had occupied Ramleh and Ludd, and had pushed patrols to within a short distance of Jaffa. At Ludd 300 prisoners were taken, and five destroyed aeroplanes and a quantity of abandoned war material were found at Ramleh and Ludd.

Jaffa was occupied without opposition on the evening of the 16th.

The situation was now as follows:

The enemy's army, cut in two by our capture of Junction Station, had retired partly east into the mountains towards Jerusalem and partly north along the plain. The nearest line on which these two portions could re-unite was the line Tul Keram-Nablus. Reports from the Royal Flying Corps indicated that it was the probable intention of the enemy to evacuate Jerusalem and withdraw to reorganize on this line.

On our side the mounted troops had been marching and fighting continuously since October 31, and had advanced a distance of seventy-five miles, measured in a straight line from Asluj to Jaffa. The troops, after their heavy fighting at Gaza, had advanced in nine days a distance of about forty miles, with two severe engagements and continual advanced guard fighting. The 52nd (Lowland) Division had covered sixty-nine miles in this period.

The railway was being pushed forward as rapidly as possible, and every opportunity was taken of landing stores at points along the coast. The landing of stores was dependent on a continuance of favorable weather, and might[363] at any moment be stopped for several days together.

A pause was therefore necessary to await the progress of railway construction, but before our position in the plain could be considered secure it was essential to obtain a hold of the one good road which traverses the Judæan range from north to south, from Nablus to Jerusalem.

On our intended line of advance only one good road, the main Jaffa-Jerusalem road, traversed the hills from east to west. For nearly four miles, between Bab el Wad (two and one-half miles east of Latron) and Saris, this road passes through a narrow defile, and it had been damaged by the Turks in several places. The other roads were mere tracks on the side of the hill or up the stony beds of wadis, and were impracticable for wheeled transport without improvement. Throughout these hills the water supply was scanty without development.

On November 17 the Yeomanry had commenced to move from Ramleh through the hills direct on Bireh by Annabeh, Berfilya and Beit ur el Tahta (Lower Bethoron). By the evening of November 18 one portion of the Yeomanry had reached the last-named place, while another portion had occupied Shilta. The route had been found impossible for wheels beyond Annabeh.

On the 19th the Infantry commenced its advance. One portion was to advance up the main road as far as Kuryet el Enab, with its right flank protected by Australian mounted troops. From that place, in order to avoid any fighting in the close vicinity of the Holy City, it was to strike north towards Bireh by a track leading through Biddu. The remainder of the infantry was to advance through Berfilya to Beit Likia and Beit Dukka and[364] thence support the movement of the other portion.

After capturing Latron and Amnas on the morning of the 19th, the remainder of the day was spent in clearing the defile up to Saris, which was defended by hostile rearguards.

On the 20th Kuryet el Enab was captured with the bayonet in the face of organized opposition, while Beit Dukka was also captured. On the same day the Yeomanry got to within four miles of the Nablus-Jerusalem road, but were stopped by strong opposition about Beitunia.

On the 21st a body of infantry moved north-east by a track from Kuryet el Enab through Biddu and Kolundia towards Bireh. The track was found impassable for wheels, and was under hostile shell-fire. Progress was slow, but by evening the ridge on which stands Neby Samwil was secured. A further body of troops was left at Kuryet el Enab to cover the flank and demonstrate along the main Jerusalem road. It drove hostile parties from Kostul, two and one-half miles east of Kuryet el Enab, and secured this ridge.

By the afternoon of the 21st advanced parties of Yeomanry were within two miles of the road and an attack was being delivered on Beitunia by other mounted troops.

The positions reached on the evening of the 21st practically marked the limit of progress in this first attempt to gain the Nablus-Jerusalem road. The Yeomanry were heavily counter-attacked and fell back, after bitter fighting, on Beit ur el Foka (Upper Bethoron). During the 22nd the enemy made two counter-attacks on the Neby Samwil ridge, which were repulsed. Determined and gallant attacks were made on the 23rd and on the 24th on the strong positions to the west of the road held by the enemy, who had brought up reinforcements and numerous[365] machine-guns, and could support his infantry by artillery fire from guns placed in positions along the main road. Our artillery, from lack of roads, could not be brought up to give adequate support to our infantry. Both attacks failed, and it was evident that a period of preparation and organization would be necessary before an attack could be delivered in sufficient strength to drive the enemy from his positions west of the road.

Orders were accordingly issued to consolidate the positions gained and prepare for relief.

Though these troops had failed to reach their final objectives, they had achieved invaluable results. The narrow passes from the plain to the plateau of the Judæan range have seldom been forced, and have been fatal to many invading armies. Had the attempt not been made at once, or had it been pressed with less determination, the enemy would have had time to reorganize his defences in the passes lower down, and the conquest of the plateau would then have been slow, costly, and precarious. As it was, positions had been won from which the final attack could be prepared and delivered with good prospects of success.

By December 4 all reliefs were complete, and a line was held from Kustul by the Neby Samwil ridge, Beit Izza, and Beit Dukka, to Beit ur el Tahta.

During this period attacks by the enemy along the whole line led to severe local fighting. On November 25 our advanced posts north of the river Auja were driven back across the river. From the 27th to the 30th the enemy delivered a series of attacks directed especially against the high ground north and north-east of Jaffa, the left flank of our position in the hills from Beit ur el Foka to El Burj, and the Neby Samwil ridge. An attack on the night of the 29th succeeded in penetrating our outpost[366] line north-east of Jaffa, but next morning the whole hostile detachment, numbering 150, was surrounded and captured by Australian Light Horse. On the 30th a similar fate befell a battalion which attacked near El Burj; a counter-attack by Australian Light Horse took 220 prisoners and practically destroyed the attacking battalion. There was particularly heavy fighting between El Burj and Beit ur el Foka, but the Yeomanry and Scottish troops successfully resisted all attacks and inflicted severe losses on the enemy. At Beit ur el Foka one company took 300 prisoners. All efforts by the enemy to drive us off the Neby Samwil ridge were completely repulsed. These attacks cost the Turks very dearly. We took 750 prisoners between November 27 and 30, and the enemy's losses in killed and wounded were undoubtedly heavy. His attacks in no way affected our positions nor impeded the progress of our preparations.

Favored by a continuance of fine weather, preparations for a fresh advance against the Turkish positions west and south of Jerusalem proceeded rapidly. Existing roads and tracks were improved and new ones constructed to enable heavy and field artillery to be placed in position and ammunition and supplies brought up. The water supply was also developed.

The date for the attack was fixed as December 8. Welsh troops, with a Cavalry regiment attached, had advanced from their positions north of Beersheba up the Hebron-Jerusalem road on the 4th. No opposition was met, and by the evening of the 6th the head of this column was ten miles north of Hebron. The Infantry were directed to reach the Bethlehem-Beit Jala area by the 7th, and the line Surbahir-Sherafat (about three miles south of Jerusalem) by dawn on the 8th, and no[367] troops were to enter Jerusalem during this operation.

It was recognized that the troops on the extreme right might be delayed on the 7th and fail to reach the positions assigned to them by dawn on the 8th. Arrangements were therefore made to protect the right flank west of Jerusalem, in case such delay occurred.

On the 7th the weather broke, and for three days rain was almost continuous. The hills were covered with mist at frequent intervals, rendering observation from the air and visual signalling impossible. A more serious effect of the rain was to jeopardize the supply arrangements by rendering the roads almost impassable—quite impassable, indeed, for mechanical transport and camels in many places.

The troops moved into positions of assembly by night, and, assaulting at dawn on the 8th, soon carried their first objectives. They then pressed steadily forward. The mere physical difficulty of climbing the steep and rocky hillsides and crossing the deep valleys would have sufficed to render progress slow, and the opposition encountered was considerable. Artillery support was soon difficult, owing to the length of the advance and the difficulty of moving guns forward. But by about noon London troops had already advanced over two miles, and were swinging north-east to gain the Nablus-Jerusalem road; while the Yeomanry had captured the Beit Iksa spur, and were preparing for a further advance.

As the right column had been delayed and was still some distance south of Jerusalem, it was necessary for the London troops to throw back their right and form a defensive flank facing east towards Jerusalem, from the western outskirts of which considerable rifle and artillery fire was being experienced. This delayed the advance, and early in the afternoon it[368] was decided to consolidate the line gained and resume the advance next day, when the right column would be in a position to exert its pressure. By nightfall our line ran from Neby Samwil to the east of Beit Iksa, through Lifta to a point about one and one-half miles west of Jerusalem, whence it was thrown back facing east. All the enemy's prepared defences west and north-west of Jerusalem had been captured, and our troops were within a short distance of the Nablus-Jerusalem road.

Next morning the advance was resumed. The Turks had withdrawn during the night, and the London troops and Yeomanry, driving back rearguards, occupied a line across the Nablus-Jerusalem road four miles north of Jerusalem, while Welsh troops occupied a position east of Jerusalem across the Jericho road. These operations isolated Jerusalem, and at about noon the enemy sent out a parlementaire and surrendered the city.

At noon on the 11th I made my official entry into Jerusalem.

There were many encounters between American ships and German submarines in the months of 1917, following the Declaration of War. Official accounts of the most important of these encounters are given in the following pages.

[369]

AMERICAN SHIPS AND GERMAN
SUBMARINES

FROM OFFICIAL REPORTS

On October 15, 1917, the U. S. destroyer Cassin was patrolling off the south coast of Ireland; when about 20 miles south of Mine Head, at 1.30 p. m., a submarine was sighted by the lookout aloft four or five miles away, about two points on the port bow. The submarine at this time was awash and was made out by officers of the watch and the quartermaster of the watch, but three minutes later submerged.

The Cassin, which was making 15 knots, continued on its course until near the position where the submarine had disappeared. When last seen the submarine was heading in a south-easterly direction, and when the destroyer reached the point of disappearance the course was changed, as it was thought the vessel would make a decided change of course after submerging. At this time the commanding officer, the executive officer, engineer officer, officer of the watch, and the junior watch officer were all on the bridge searching for the submarine.

At about 1.57 p. m. the commanding officer sighted a torpedo apparently shortly after it had been fired, running near the surface and in a direction that was estimated would make a hit either in the engine or fire room. When first seen the torpedo was between three or four hundred yards from the ship, and the wake could be followed on the other side for about 400 yards. The torpedo was running at[370] high speed, at least 35 knots. The Cassin was maneuvering to dodge the torpedo, double emergency full speed ahead having been signaled from the engine room and the rudder put hard left as soon as the torpedo was sighted. It looked for the moment as though the torpedo would pass astern. When about fifteen or twenty feet away the torpedo porpoised, completely leaving the water and shearing to the left. Before again taking the water the torpedo hit the ship well aft on the port side about frame 163 and above the water line. Almost immediately after the explosion of the torpedo the depth charges, located on the stern and ready for firing, exploded. There were two distinct explosions in quick succession after the torpedo hit.

But one life was lost. Osmond K. Ingram, gunner's mate first class, was cleaning the muzzle of No. 4 gun, target practice being just over when the attack occurred. With rare presence of mind, realizing that the torpedo was about to strike the part of the ship where the depth charges were stored and that the setting off of these explosives might sink the ship, Ingram, immediately seeing the danger, ran aft to strip these charges and throw them overboard. He was blown to pieces when the torpedo struck. Thus Ingram sacrificed his life in performing a duty which he believed would save his ship and the lives of the officers and men on board.

Nine members of the crew received minor injuries.

After the ship was hit, the crew was kept at general quarters.

The executive officer and engineer officer inspected the parts of the ship that were damaged, and those adjacent to the damage. It was found that the engine and fire rooms and after magazine were intact and that the engines[371] could be worked; but that the ship could not be steered, the rudder having been blown off and the stern blown to starboard. The ship continued to turn to starboard in a circle. In an effort to put the ship on a course by the use of the engines, something carried away which put the starboard engine out of commission. The port engine was kept going at slow speed. The ship, being absolutely unmanageable, sometimes turned in a circle and at times held an approximate course for several minutes.

Immediately after the ship was torpedoed the radio was out of commission. The radio officer and radio electrician chief managed to improvise a temporary auxiliary antenna. The generators were out of commission for a short time after the explosion, the ship being in darkness below.

When this vessel was torpedoed, there was another United States destroyer, name unknown, within signal distance. She had acknowledged our call by searchlight before we were torpedoed. After being torpedoed, an attempt was made to signal her by searchlight, flag, and whistle, and the distress signal was hoisted. Apparently through a misunderstanding she steamed away and was lost sight of.

At about 2.30 p. m., when we were in approximately the same position as when torpedoed, a submarine conning tower was sighted on port beam, distant about 1,500 yards, ship still circling under port engine. Opened fire with No. 2 gun, firing four rounds. Submarine submerged and was not seen again. Two shots came very close to submarine.

At 3.50 p. m., U. S. S. Porter stood by. At 4.25 p. m., wreckage which was hanging to stern dropped off. At dark stopped port engine and drifted. At about 9 p. m., H. M. S. Jessamine and H. M. S. Tamarisk stood by. H. M. S.[372] Jessamine signalled she would stand by until morning and then take us in tow. At this time sea was very rough, wind about six or seven and increasing.

H. M. S. Tamarisk prepared to take us in tow and made one attempt after another to get a line to us. Finally, about 2.10 a. m., October 16, the Tamarisk lowered a boat in rough sea and sent grass line by means of which our eight-inch hawser was sent over to her. At about 2.30 a. m. Tamarisk started towing us to Queenstown, speed about four knots, this vessel towing well on starboard quarter of Tamarisk, due to condition of stern described above. At 3.25 hawser parted.

Between this time and 10.37 a. m., when a towing line was received from H. M. S. Snowdrop, various attempts were made by the Tamarisk and two trawlers and a tug to tow the Cassin. An eleven-inch towing hawser from the Tamarisk parted. All ships, except her, lost the Cassin during the night. The Cassin was drifting rapidly on a lee shore, and had it not been for the Tamarisk getting out a line in the early morning, the vessel would have undoubtedly grounded on Hook Point, as it is extremely doubtful if her anchors would have held.

About thirty-five feet of the stern was blown off or completely ruptured. The after living compartments and after storerooms are completely wrecked or gone, and all stores and clothing from these parts of the ship are gone or ruined. About forty-five members of the crew, including the chief petty officers, lost practically everything but the clothes they had on.

At the time of the explosion there were a number of men in the after compartments. How they managed to escape is beyond explanation.[373]

The officers and crew behaved splendidly. There was no excitement. The men went to their stations quietly and remained there all night, except when called away to handle lines.

The work of the executive officer, Lieutenant J. W. McClaran, and of the engineer officer, Lieutenant J. A. Saunders, is deserving of especial commendation. These two officers inspected magazines and spaces below decks and superintended shoring of bulkheads and restaying of masts. Lieutenant (Junior Grade) R. M. Parkinson did excellent work in getting an improvised radio set into commission. W. J. Murphy, chief electrician (radio), and F. R. Fisher, chief machinist's mate, are specifically mentioned in the commanding officer's report for their cool and efficient work.

Twenty-two enlisted men are mentioned by name as conspicuous for their coolness and leadership.

From the statement of all the officers it is evident that luck favored the submarine. The destroyer probably would have escaped being hit had not the torpedo broached twice and turned decidedly to the left both times—in other words, failed to function properly.

The equivalent of 850 pounds of T. N. T. is estimated to have exploded in and upon the Cassin's fantail; this includes the charges of the torpedo and of both depth mines. No. 4 gun, blown overboard, left the ship to port, although that was the side which the torpedo hit. The gun went over at a point well forward of her mount. The mass of the wreckage, however, went to starboard. Explosion of the depth charges, rather than that of the torpedo outward or in throwback, supposedly effected this. About five seconds elapsed between the torpedo's detonation and those of the mines. They probably went off close together, for accounts[374] vary as to whether there were in all two or three explosions.

Of the two after doors, that to port threatened to carry away soon after the seas began to pound in. The main mass of the wreckage which dropped off did so upward of an hour after the explosions. It was at this time that the bulkhead began to buckle and the port door and dogging weaken. It was shored with mattresses under the personal direction of the executive. Up to this time and until the seas began to crumple the bulkhead completely, there was only a few inches of water in the two P. O. compartments; and even when the Cassin reached Queenstown, hardly more than three feet. None of the compartments directly under these three on the deck below—handling room, magazine, and oil tanks—were injured at all. The tanks were farthest aft, and were pumped out after docking.

One piece of metal entered the wash room and before coming to rest completely circled it without touching a man who was standing in the center of the compartment. Another stray piece tore a six-inch hole in one of the stacks.

The destroyer within signal distance at the time of the attack was the U. S. S. Porter. It is believed that she saw the explosion, at least of the two depth charges, and thinking that the Cassin was attacking a submarine, started off scouting before a signal could be sent and after the radio was out of commission.

At 4 p. m., November 4, 1917, the U. S. S. Alcedo proceeded to sea from Quiberon Bay on escort duty to take convoy through the war zone. Following the northbound convoy for Brest, when north of Belle Ile formation was taken with the Alcedo on the starboard flank. At 5.45 p. m. the Alcedo took departure from Point Poulins Light. Darkness had fallen and owing to a haze visibility was poor, at times[375] the convoy not being visible. About 11.30 visibility was such that the convoy was seen on the port bow of the Alcedo, the nearest ship, according to the commanding officer's estimate, being about 1,200 yards distant. Having written his night order, the commanding officer left the bridge and turned in.

The following is his report of the torpedoing:

At or about 1.45 a. m., November 5, while sleeping in emergency cabin, immediately under upper bridge, I was awakened by a commotion and immediately received a report from some man unknown, "Submarine, captain." I jumped out of bed and went to the upper bridge, and the officer of the deck, Lieutenant Paul, stated he had sounded "general quarters," had seen submarine on surface about 300 yards on port bow, and submarine had fired a torpedo, which was approaching. I took station on port wing of upper bridge and saw torpedo approaching about 200 feet distant. Lieutenant Paul had put the rudder full right before I arrived on bridge, hoping to avoid the torpedo. The ship answered slowly to her helm, however, and before any other action could be taken the torpedo I saw struck the ship's side immediately under the port forward chain plates, the detonation occurring instantly. I was thrown down and for a few seconds dazed by falling débris and water.

Upon regaining my feet I sounded the submarine alarm on the siren, to call all hands if they had not heard the general alarm gong, and to direct the attention of the convoy and other escorting vessels. Called to the forward guns' crews to see if at stations, but by this time realized that gallant forecastle was practically awash. The foremast had fallen, carrying away radio aerial. I called out to abandon ship.

I then left the upper bridge and went into[376] the chart house to obtain ship's position from the chart, but, as there was no light, could not see. I then went out of the chart house and met the navigator, Lieutenant Leonard, and asked him if he had sent any radio, and he replied "No." I then directed him and accompanied him to the main deck and told him to take charge of cutting away forward dories and life rafts.

I then proceeded along starboard gangway and found a man lying face down in gangway. I stooped and rolled him over and spoke to him, but received no reply and was unable to learn his identity, owing to the darkness. It is my opinion that this man was dead.

I then continued to the after end of ship, took station on aftergun platform. I then realized that the ship was filling rapidly and her bulwarks amidships were level with the water. I directed the after dories and life rafts to be cut away and thrown overboard and ordered the men in the immediate vicinity to jump over the side, intending to follow them.

Before I could jump, however, the ship listed heavily to port, plunging by the head, and sunk, carrying me down with the suction. I experienced no difficulty, however, in getting clear, and when I came to the surface I swam a few yards to a life raft, to which were clinging three men. We climbed on board this raft and upon looking around observed Doyle, chief boatswain's mate, and one other man in the whaleboat. We paddled to the whaleboat and embarked from the life raft.

The whaleboat was about half full of water, and we immediately started bailing and then to rescue men from wreckage, and quickly filled the whaleboat to more than its maximum capacity, so that no others could be taken aboard. We then picked up two overturned dories which were nested together, separated[377] them and righted them, only to find that their sterns had been broken. We then located another nest of dories, which were separated and righted and found to be seaworthy. Transferred some men from the whaleboat into these dories and proceeded to pick up other men from wreckage. During this time cries were heard from two men in the water some distance away who were holding on to wreckage and calling for assistance. It is believed that these men were Ernest M. Harrison, mess attendant, and John Winne, jr., seaman. As soon as the dories were available we proceeded to where they were last seen, but could find no trace of them.

About this time, which was probably an hour after the ship sank, a German submarine approached the scene of torpedoing and lay to near some of the dories and life rafts. She was in the light condition, and from my observation of her I am of the opinion that she was of the U-27-31 type. This has been confirmed by having a number of men and officers check the silhouette book. The submarine was probably 100 yards distant from my whaleboat, and I heard no remarks from anyone on the submarine, although I observed three persons standing on top of conning tower. After laying on surface about half an hour the submarine steered off and submerged.

I then proceeded with the whaleboat and two dories searching through the wreckage to make sure that no survivors were left in the water. No other people being seen, at 4.30 a. m. we started away from the scene of disaster.

The Alcedo was sunk, as near as I can estimate, 75 miles west true of north end of Belle Ile. The torpedo struck ship at 1.46 by the officer of the deck's watch, and the same watch stopped at 1.54 a. m., November 5, this showing that the ship remained afloat eight minutes.[378]

The flare of Penmark Light was visible, and I headed for it and ascertained the course by Polaris to be approximately northeast. We rowed until 1.15, when Penmark Lighthouse was sighted. Continued rowing until 5.15 p. m. when Penmark Lighthouse was distant about 2½ miles. We were then picked up by French torpedo boat 275, and upon going on board I requested the commanding officer to radio immediately to Brest reporting the fact of torpedoing and that 3 officers and 40 men were proceeding to Brest. The French gave all assistance possible for the comfort of the survivors. We arrived at Brest about 11 p. m. Those requiring medical attention were sent to the hospital and the others were sent off to the Panther to be quartered.

Upon arrival at Brest I was informed that two other dories containing Lieutenant H. R. Leonard, Lieutenant H. A. Peterson, Passed Assistant Surgeon Paul O. M. Andreae, and 25 men had landed at Pen March Point. This was my first intimation that these officers and men had been saved, as they had not been seen by any of my party at the scene of torpedoing.

At 4.21 p. m. on December 6, 1917, in latitude 49·23 north, longitude 6·13 west, clear weather, smooth sea, speed 13 knots zigzagging, the U. S. S. Jacob Jones was struck on the starboard side by a torpedo from an enemy submarine. The ship was one of six of an escorting group which were returning independently from off Brest to Queenstown. All other ships of the group were out of sight ahead.

I was in the chart house and heard some one call out "Torpedo!" I jumped at once to the bridge, and on the way up saw the torpedo about 800 yards from the ship approaching from about one point abaft the starboard beam headed for a point about midships, making a[379] perfectly straight surface run (alternately broaching and submerging to apparently 4 or 5 feet), at an estimated speed of at least 40 knots. No periscope was sighted. When I reached the bridge I found that the officer of the deck had already put the rudder hard left and rung up emergency speed on the engine-room telegraph. The ship had already begun to swing to the left. I personally rang up emergency speed again and then turned to watch the torpedo. The executive officer, Lieutenant Norman Scott, left the chart house just ahead of me, saw the torpedo immediately on getting outside the door, and estimates that the torpedo when he sighted it was 1,000 yards away, approaching from one point, or slightly less, abaft the beam and making exceedingly high speed.

After seeing the torpedo and realizing the straight run, line of approach, and high speed it was making, I was convinced that it was impossible to maneuver to avoid it. Lieutenant (Junior Grade) S. F. Kalk was officer of the deck at the time, and I consider that he took correct and especially prompt measures in maneuvering to avoid the torpedo. Lieutenant Kalk was a very able officer, calm and collected in emergency. He had been attached to the ship for about two months and had shown especial aptitude. His action in this emergency entirely justified my confidence in him. I deeply regret to state that he was lost as a result of the torpedoing of the ship, dying of exposure on one of the rafts.

The torpedo broached and jumped clear of the water at a short distance from the ship, submerged about 50 or 60 feet from the ship, and struck approximately three feet below the water line in the fuel-oil tank between the auxiliary room and the after crew space. The ship settled aft immediately after being torpedoed[380] to a point at which the deck just forward of the after deck house was awash, and then more gradually until the deck abreast the engine-room hatch was awash. A man on watch in the engine room, D. R. Carter, oiler, attempted to close the water-tight door between the auxiliary room and the engine room, but was unable to do so against the pressure of water from the auxiliary room.

The deck over the forward part of the after crew space and over the fuel-oil tank just forward of it was blown clear for a space athwartships of about 20 feet from starboard to port, and the auxiliary room wrecked. The starboard after torpedo tube was blown into the air. No fuel oil ignited and, apparently, no ammunition exploded. The depth charges in the chutes aft were set on ready and exploded after the stern sank. It was impossible to get to them to set them on safe as they were under water. Immediately the ship was torpedoed, Lieutenant J. K. Richards, the gunnery officer, rushed aft to attempt to set the charges on "safe," but was unable to get further aft than the after deck house.

As soon as the torpedo struck I attempted to send out an "S. O. S." message by radio, but the mainmast was carried away, antennae falling, and all electric power had failed. I then tried to have the gun-sight lighting batteries connected up in an effort to send out a low-power message with them, but it was at once evident that this would not be practicable before the ship sank. There was no other vessel in sight, and it was therefore impossible to get through a distress signal of any kind.

Immediately after the ship was torpedoed every effort was made to get rafts and boats launched. Also the circular life belts from the bridge and several splinter mats from the outside of the bridge were cut adrift and afterwards[381] proved very useful in holding men up until they could be got to the rafts. Weighted confidential publications were thrown over the side. There was no time to destroy other confidential matter, but it went down with the ship.

The ship sank about 4.29 p. m. (about eight minutes after being torpedoed). As I saw her settling rapidly, I ran along the deck and ordered everybody I saw to jump overboard. At this time most of those not killed by the explosion had got clear of the ship and were on rafts or wreckage. Some, however, were swimming and a few appeared to be about a ship's length astern of the ship, at some distance from the rafts, probably having jumped overboard very soon after the ship was struck.

Before the ship sank two shots were fired from No. 4 gun with the hope of attracting attention of some nearby ship. As the ship began sinking I jumped overboard. The ship sank stern first and twisted slowly through nearly 180 degrees as she swung upright. From this nearly vertical position, bow in the air to about the forward funnel, she went straight down. Before the ship reached the vertical position the depth charges exploded, and I believe them to have caused the death of a number of men. They also partially paralyzed, stunned, or dazed a number of others, including Lieutenant Kalk and myself and several men, some of whom are still disabled but recovering.

Immediate efforts were made to get all survivors on the rafts and then get rafts and boats together. Three rafts were launched before the ship sank and one floated off when she sank. The motor dory, hull undamaged but engine out of commission, also floated off, and the punt and wherry also floated clear. The punt was wrecked beyond usefulness, and the wherry was damaged and leaking badly, but was of[382] considerable use in getting men to the rafts. The whaleboat was launched but capsized soon afterwards, having been damaged by the explosion of the depth charges. The motor sailor did not float clear, but went down with the ship.

About 15 or 20 minutes after the ship sank the submarine appeared on the surface about two or three miles to the westward of the rafts, and gradually approached until about 800 to 1,000 yards from the ship, where it stopped and was seen to pick up one unidentified man from the water. The submarine then submerged and was not seen again.

I was picked up by the motor dory and at once began to make arrangements to try to reach the Scillys in that boat in order to get assistance to those on the rafts. All the survivors then in sight were collected and I gave orders to Lieutenant Richards to keep them together. Lieutenant Scott, the navigating officer, had fixed the ship's position a few minutes before the explosion and both he and I knew accurately the course to be steered. I kept Lieutenant Scott to assist me and four men who were in good condition in the boat to man the oars, the engine being out of commission. With the exception of some emergency rations and half a bucket of water, all provisions, including medical kit, were taken from the dory and left on the rafts. There was no apparatus of any kind which could be used for night signaling.

After a very trying trip during which it was necessary to steer by stars and by the direction of the wind, the dory was picked up about 1 p. m., December 7, by a small patrol vessel about 6 miles south of St. Marys. Commander Randal, R. N. R., Senior Naval Officer, Scilly Isles, informed me that the other survivors had been rescued.

One small raft (which had been separated[383] from the others from the first) was picked up by the S. S. Catalina at 8 p. m., December 6. After a most trying experience through the night, the remaining survivors were picked up by H. M. S. Camellia, at 8.30 a. m., December 7.

I deeply regret to state that out of a total of 7 officers and 103 men on board at the time of the torpedoing, 2 officers and 64 men died in the performance of duty.

The behavior of officers and men under the exceptionally hard conditions is worthy of the highest praise.

Lieutenant Norman Scott, executive officer, accomplished a great deal toward getting boats and rafts in the water, turning off steam from the fireroom to the engine room, getting life belts and splinter mats from the bridge into the water, in person firing signal guns, encouraging and assisting the men, and in general doing everything possible in the short time available. He was of invaluable assistance during the trip in the dory.

Lieutenant J. K. Richards was left in charge of all the rafts, and his coolness and cheerfulness under exceedingly hard conditions was highly commendable and undoubtedly served to put heart into the men to stand the strain.

Lieutenant (Junior Grade) S. F. Kalk, during the early part of the evening, but already in a weakened condition, swam from one raft to another in the effort to equalize weight on the rafts. The men who were on the raft with him state, in their own words, that "He was game to the last."

Lieutenant (Junior Grade) N. N. Gates was calm and efficient in the performance of duty.

During the night, Charlesworth, C., boatswain's mate first class, removed parts of his own clothing (when all realized that their lives depended on keeping warm) to try to keep alive men more thinly clad than himself. This sacrifice[384] shows his caliber and I recommend that he be commended for his action.

At the risk of almost certain death, Burger, P. J., seaman second class, remained in the motor sailer and endeavored to get it clear for floating from the ship. While he did not succeed in accomplishing this work (which would undoubtedly have saved 20 or 30 lives) I desire to call attention to his sticking to duty until the very last, and recommend him as being most worthy of commendation. He was drawn under the water with the boat, but later came to the surface and was rescued.

Kelly, L. J., chief electrician, and Chase, H. U., quartermaster third class, remained on board until the last, greatly endangering their lives thereby, to cut adrift splinter mats and life preservers. Kelly's stamina and spirit were especially valuable during the motor dory's trip.

Gibson, H. L., chief boatswain's mate, and Meier, E., water tender, were of great assistance to the men on their rafts in advising and cheering them up under most adverse conditions.

The foregoing report is made from my own observations and after questioning all surviving officers and men.

The American naval authorities early recognized that the swift destroyers were the most effective instruments for hunting down German submarines, and the most efficient guardians for the loaded troop and food ships crossing the Atlantic. Life on board one of these swift and powerful boats is described in the following narrative.[1]

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