THE THRILL OF OLD-TIME WAR

The stirrup charge of the Scots Greys at St. Quentin. Holding on to the stirrup leathers of the cavalry the Highlanders crashed like an avalanche upon the German lines, tearing great gaps in their massed formations.

COMPLETE EDITION

HISTORY OF THE
WORLD WAR

An Authentic Narrative of
The World’s Greatest War

By FRANCIS A. MARCH, Ph.D.
In Collaboration with
RICHARD J. BEAMISH
Special War Correspondent
and Military Analyst

With an Introduction
By GENERAL PEYTON C. MARCH
Chief of Staff of the United States Army

With Exclusive Photographs by
JAMES H. HARE and DONALD THOMPSON
World-Famed War Photographers
and with Reproductions from the Official Photographs
of the United States, Canadian, British,
French and Italian Governments

MCMXIX
LESLIE-JUDGE COMPANY
New York

Copyright, 1918
Francis A. March

This history is an original work and is fully
protected by the copyright laws, including the
right of translation. All persons are warned
against reproducing the text in whole or in
part without the permission of the publishers.

CONTENTS
VOLUME III

ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME III

THE WORLD WAR

CHAPTER I
Neuve Chapelle and War in Blood-Soaked Trenches

AFTER the immortal stand of Joffre at the first battle of the Marne and the sudden savage thrust at the German center which sent von Kluck and his men reeling back in retreat to the prepared defenses along the line of the Aisne, the war in the western theater resolved itself into a play for position from deep intrenchments. Occasionally would come a sudden big push by one side or the other in which artillery was massed until hub touched hub and infantry swept to glory and death in waves of gray, or blue or khaki as the case might be. But these tremendous efforts and consequent slaughters did not change the long battle line from the Alps to the North Sea materially. Here and there a bulge would be made by the terrific pressure of men and material in some great assault like that first push of the British at Neuve Chapelle, like the German attack at Verdun or like the tremendous efforts by both sides on that bloodiest of all battlefields, the Somme.

Neuve Chapelle deserves particular mention as the test in which the British soldiers demonstrated their might in equal contest against the enemy. There had been a disposition in England as elsewhere up to that time to rate the Germans as supermen, to exalt the potency of the scientific equipment with which the German army had taken the field. When the battle of Neuve Chapelle had been fought, although its losses were heavy, there was no longer any doubt in the British nation that victory was only a question of time.

The action came as a pendant to the attack by General de Langle de Cary’s French army during February, 1915, at Perthes, that had been a steady relentless pressure by artillery and infantry upon a strong German position. To meet it heavy reinforcements had been shifted by the Germans from the trenches between La Bassée and Lille. The earthworks at Neuve Chapelle had been particularly depleted and only a comparatively small body of Saxons and Bavarians defended them. Opposite this body was the first British army. The German intrenchments at Neuve Chapelle surrounded and defended the highlands upon which were placed the German batteries and in their turn defended the road towards Lille, Roubaix and Turcoing.

The Battle-Ground of Neuve Chapelle

The task assigned to Sir John French was to make an assault with only forty-eight thousand men on a comparatively narrow front. There was only one practicable method for effective preparation, and this was chosen by the British general. An artillery concentration absolutely unprecedented up to that time was employed by him. Field pieces firing at point-blank range were used to cut the barbed wire entanglements defending the enemy intrenchments, while howitzers and bombing airplanes were used to drop high explosives into the defenseless earthworks.

Sir Douglas Haig, later to become the commander-in-chief of the British forces, was in command of the first army. Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien commanded the second army. It was the first army that bore the brunt of the attack.

THE GLORIOUS CHARGE OF THE NINTH LANCERS

An incident of the retreat from Mons to Cambrai. A German battery of eleven guns posted in a wood had caused havoc in the British ranks. The Ninth Lancers rode straight at them, across the open, through a hail of shell from the other German batteries, cut down all the gunners, and put every gun out of action.

No engagement during the years on the western front was more sudden and surprising in its onset than that drive of the British against Neuve Chapelle. At seven o’clock on the morning of Wednesday, March 10, 1915, the British artillery was lazily engaged in lobbing over a desultory shell fire upon the German trenches. It was the usual breakfast appetizer, and nobody on the German side took any unusual notice of it. Really, however, the shelling was scientific “bracketing” of the enemy’s important position. The gunners were making sure of their ranges.

At 7.30 range finding ended, and with a roar that shook the earth the most destructive and withering artillery action of the war up to that time was on. Field pieces sending their shells hurtling only a few feet above the earth tore the wire emplacements of the enemy to pieces and made kindling wood of the supports. Howitzers sent high explosive shells, containing lyddite, of 15-inch, 9.2-inch and 6-inch caliber into the doomed trenches and later into the ruined village. It was eight o’clock in the morning, one-half hour after the beginning of the artillery action, that the village was bombarded. During this time British soldiers were enabled to walk about in No Man’s Land behind the curtain of fire with absolute immunity. No German rifleman or machine gunner left cover. The scene on the German side of the line was like that upon the blasted surface of the moon, pock-marked with shell holes, and with no trace of human life to be seen above ground.

An eye-witness describing the scene said:

“The dawn, which broke reluctantly through a veil of clouds on the morning of Wednesday, March 10, 1915, seemed as any other to the Germans behind the white and blue sandbags in their long line of trenches curving in a hemicycle about the battered village of Neuve Chapelle. For five months they had remained undisputed masters of the positions they had here wrested from the British in October. Ensconced in their comfortably-arranged trenches with but a thin outpost in their fire trenches, they had watched day succeed day and night succeed night without the least variation from the monotony of trench warfare, the intermittent bark of the machine guns—rat-tat-tat-tat-tat—and the perpetual rattle of rifle fire, with here and there a bomb, and now and then an exploded mine.

© Illustrated London News.

CHARGING THROUGH BARBED-WIRE ENTANGLEMENTS

In one sector at Givenchy, the wire had not been sufficiently smashed by the artillery preparation and the infantry attack was held up in the face of a murderous German fire.

“For weeks past the German airmen had grown strangely shy. On this Wednesday morning none were aloft to spy out the strange doings which, as dawn broke, might have been descried on the desolate roads behind the British lines.

“From ten o’clock of the preceding evening endless files of men marched silently down the roads leading towards the German positions through Laventie and Richebourg St. Vaast, poor shattered villages of the dead where months of incessant bombardment have driven away the last inhabitants and left roofless houses and rent roadways....

“Two days before, a quiet room, where Nelson’s Prayer stands on the mantel-shelf, saw the ripening of the plans that sent these sturdy sons of Britain’s four kingdoms marching all through the night. Sir John French met the army corps commanders and unfolded to them his plans for the offensive of the British army against the German line at Neuve Chapelle.

“The onslaught was to be a surprise. That was its essence. The Germans were to be battered with artillery, then rushed before they recovered their wits. We had thirty-six clear hours before us. Thus long, it was reckoned (with complete accuracy as afterwards appeared), must elapse before the Germans, whose line before us had been weakened, could rush up reinforcements. To ensure the enemy’s being pinned down right and left of the ‘great push,’ an attack was to be delivered north and south of the main thrust simultaneously with the assault on Neuve Chapelle.”

After describing the impatience of the British soldiers as they awaited the signal to open the attack, and the actual beginning of the engagement, the narrator continues:

“Then hell broke loose. With a mighty, hideous, screeching burst of noise, hundreds of guns spoke. The men in the front trenches were deafened by the sharp reports of the field-guns spitting out their shells at close range to cut through the Germans’ barbed wire entanglements. In some cases the trajectory of these vicious missiles was so flat that they passed only a few feet above the British trenches.

“The din was continuous. An officer who had the curious idea of putting his ear to the ground said it was as though the earth were being smitten great blows with a Titan’s hammer. After the first few shells had plunged screaming amid clouds of earth and dust into the German trenches, a dense pall of smoke hung over the German lines. The sickening fumes of lyddite blew back into the British trenches. In some places the troops were smothered in earth and dust or even spattered with blood from the hideous fragments of human bodies that went hurtling through the air. At one point the upper half of a German officer, his cap crammed on his head, was blown into one of our trenches.

“Words will never convey any adequate idea of the horror of those five and thirty minutes. When the hands of officers’ watches pointed to five minutes past eight, whistles resounded along the British lines. At the same moment the shells began to burst farther ahead, for, by previous arrangement, the gunners, lengthening their fuses, were ‘lifting’ on to the village of Neuve Chapelle so as to leave the road open for our infantry to rush in and finish what the guns had begun.

“The shells were now falling thick among the houses of Neuve Chapelle, a confused mass of buildings seen reddish through the pillars of smoke and flying earth and dust. At the sound of the whistle—alas for the bugle, once the herald of victory, now banished from the fray!—our men scrambled out of the trenches and hurried higgledy-piggledy into the open. Their officers were in front. Many, wearing overcoats and carrying rifles with fixed bayonets, closely resembled their men.

BRITISH INDIAN TROOPS CHARGING THE GERMAN TRENCHES AT NEUVE CHAPELLE

Germany counted on a revolution in India, but the Indian troops proved to be among the most loyal and brilliant fighters in the Imperial forces.

“It was from the center of our attacking line that the assault was pressed home soonest. The guns had done their work well. The trenches were blown to irrecognizable pits dotted with dead. The barbed wire had been cut like so much twine. Starting from the Rue Tilleloy the Lincolns and the Berkshires were off the mark first, with orders to swerve to right and left respectively as soon as they had captured the first line of trenches, in order to let the Royal Irish Rifles and the Rifle Brigade through to the village. The Germans left alive in the trenches, half demented with fright, surrounded by a welter of dead and dying men, mostly surrendered. The Berkshires were opposed with the utmost gallantry by two German officers who had remained alone in a trench serving a machine gun. But the lads from Berkshire made their way into that trench and bayoneted the Germans where they stood, fighting to the last. The Lincolns, against desperate resistance, eventually occupied their section of the trench and then waited for the Irishmen and the Rifle Brigade to come and take the village ahead of them. Meanwhile the second Thirty-ninth Garhwalis on the right had taken their trenches with a rush and were away towards the village and the Biez Wood.

“Things had moved so fast that by the time the troops were ready to advance against the village the artillery had not finished its work. So, while the Lincolns and the Berks assembled the prisoners who were trooping out of the trenches in all directions, the infantry on whom devolved the honor of capturing the village, waited. One saw them standing out in the open, laughing and cracking jokes amid the terrific din made by the huge howitzer shells screeching overhead and bursting in the village, the rattle of machine guns all along the line, and the popping of rifles. Over to the right where the Garhwalis had been working with the bayonet, men were shouting hoarsely and wounded were groaning as the stretcher-bearers, all heedless of bullets, moved swiftly to and fro over the shell-torn ground.

CHARGING ON GERMAN TRENCHES IN GAS MASKS

Each British soldier carried two gas-proof helmets. At the first alarm of gas the helmet was instantly adjusted, for breathing even a whiff of the yellow cloud meant death or serious injury. This picture shows the earlier type before the respirator mask was devised to keep up with Germany’s development of gas warfare.

“There was bloody work in the village of Neuve Chapelle. The capture of a place at the bayonet point is generally a grim business, in which instant, unconditional surrender is the only means by which bloodshed, a deal of bloodshed, can be prevented. If there is individual resistance here and there the attacking troops cannot discriminate. They must go through, slaying as they go such as oppose them (the Germans have a monopoly of the finishing-off of wounded men), otherwise the enemy’s resistance would not be broken, and the assailants would be sniped and enfiladed from hastily prepared strongholds at half a dozen different points.

“The village was a sight that the men say they will never forget. It looked as if an earthquake had struck it. The published photographs do not give any idea of the indescribable mass of ruins to which our guns reduced it. The chaos is so utter that the very line of the streets is all but obliterated.

“It was indeed a scene of desolation into which the Rifle Brigade—the first regiment to enter the village, I believe—raced headlong. Of the church only the bare shell remained, the interior lost to view beneath a gigantic mound of débris. The little churchyard was devastated, the very dead plucked from their graves, broken coffins and ancient bones scattered about amid the fresher dead, the slain of that morning—gray-green forms asprawl athwart the tombs. Of all that once fair village but two things remained intact—two great crucifixes reared aloft, one in the churchyard, the other over against the château. From the cross, that is the emblem of our faith, the figure of Christ, yet intact though all pitted with bullet marks, looked down in mute agony on the slain in the village.

“The din and confusion were indescribable. Through the thick pall of shell smoke Germans were seen on all sides, some emerging half dazed from cellars and dugouts, their hands above their heads, others dodging round the shattered houses, others firing from the windows, from behind carts, even from behind the overturned tombstones. Machine guns were firing from the houses on the outskirts, rapping out their nerve-racking note above the noise of the rifles.

“Just outside the village there was a scene of tremendous enthusiasm. The Rifle Brigade, smeared with dust and blood, fell in with the Third Gurkhas with whom they had been brigaded in India. The little brown men were dirty but radiant. Kukri in hand they had very thoroughly gone through some houses at the cross-roads on the Rue du Bois and silenced a party of Germans who were making themselves a nuisance there with some machine guns. Riflemen and Gurkhas cheered themselves hoarse.”

Unfortunately for the complete success of the brilliant attack a great delay was caused by the failure of the artillery that was to have cleared the barbed-wire entanglements for the Twenty-third Brigade, and because of the unlooked for destruction of the British field telephone system by shell and rifle fire. The check of the Twenty-third Brigade banked other commands back of it, and the Twenty-fifth Brigade was obliged to fight at right angles to the line of battle. The Germans quickly rallied at these points, and took a terrific toll in British lives. Particularly was this true at three specially strong German positions. One called Port Arthur by the British, another at Pietre Mill and the third was the fortified bridge over Des Layes Creek.

Because of the lack of telephone communication it was impossible to send reinforcements to the troops that had been held up by barbed wire and other emplacements and upon which German machine guns were pouring a steady stream of death.

As the Twenty-third Brigade had been held up by unbroken barbed wire northwest of Neuve Chapelle, so the Seventh Division of the Fourth Corps was also checked in its action against the ridge of Aubers on the left of Neuve Chapelle. Under the plan of Sir Douglas Haig the Seventh Division was to have waited until the Eighth Division had reached Neuve Chapelle, when it was to charge through Aubers. With the tragic mistake that cost the Twenty-third Brigade so dearly, the plan affecting the Seventh Division went awry. The German artillery, observing the concentration of the Seventh Division opposite Aubers, opened a vigorous fire upon that front. During the afternoon General Haig ordered a charge upon the German positions. The advance was made in short rushes in the face of a fire that seemed to blaze from an inferno. Inch by inch the ground was drenched with British blood. At 5.30 in the afternoon the men dug themselves in under the relentless German fire. Further advance became impossible.

The night was one of horror. Every minute the men were under heavy bombardment. At dawn on March 11th the dauntless British infantry rushed from the trenches in an effort to carry Aubers, but the enemy artillery now greatly reinforced made that task an impossible one. The trenches occupied by the British forces were consolidated and the salient made by the push was held by the British with bulldog tenacity.

The number of men employed in the action on the British side was forty-eight thousand. During the early surprise of the action the loss was slight. Had the wire in front of the Twenty-third Brigade been cut by the artillery assigned to such action, and had the telephone system not been destroyed the success of the thrust would have been complete. The delay of four and a half hours between the first and second phases of the attack caused virtually all the losses sustained by the attacking force. The total casualties were 12,811 men of the British forces. Of these 1,751 officers and privates were taken prisoners and 10,000 officers and men were killed and wounded.

The action continued throughout Thursday, March 11th, with little change in the general situation. The British still held Neuve Chapelle and their intrenchments threatened Aubers. On Friday morning, March 12th, the Crown Prince of Bavaria made a desperate attempt under cover of a heavy fog to recapture the village. The effort was made in characteristic German dense formations. The Westphalian and Bavarian troops came out of Biez Wood in waves of gray-green, only to be blown to pieces by British guns already loaded and laid on the mark. Elsewhere the British waited until the Germans were scarcely more than fifty paces away when they opened with deadly rapid fire before which the German waves melted like snow before steam. It was such slaughter as the British had experienced when held up before Aubers. Slaughter that staggered Germany.

AN INCIDENT OF THE WAR IN FLANDERS

A Bavarian battery caught in British gunfire while limbering up. Only three guns escaped in the hail of bursting shells.

So ended Neuve Chapelle, a battle in which the decision rested with the British, a victory for which a fearful price had been paid but out of which came a confidence that was to hearten the British nation and to put sinews of steel into the British army for the dread days to come.

The story of Neuve Chapelle was repeated in large and in miniature many times during the deadlock of trench warfare on the western front until victory finally came to the Allies. During those years the western battle-front lay like a wounded snake across France and Belgium. It writhed and twisted, now this way, now that, as one side or the other gambled with men and shells and airplanes for some brief advantage. It bent back in a great bulge when von Hindenburg made his famous retreat in the winter of 1916 after the Allies had pressed heavily against the Teutonic front upon the ghastly field of the Somme. The record is one of great value to military strategists, to the layman it is only a succession of artillery barrages, of gas attacks, of aerial reconnaissances and combats.

One day grew to be very much like another in that deadlock of pythons. A play for position here was met by a counter-thrust in another place. German inventions were outmatched and outnumbered by those coming from the Allied side.

Trench warfare became the daily life of the men. They learned to fight and live in the open. The power of human adaptation to abnormal conditions was never better exemplified than in those weary, dreary years on the western front.

SCENE OF THE BLOODY BATTLES OF THE SOMME

The tide of war swept over this terrain with terrific violence. Peronne was taken by the British in their great offensive of 1916-17; in the last desperate effort of the Germans in 1918 they plunged through Peronne, advancing 35 miles, only to be hurled back with awful losses by Marshal Foch.

The fighting-lines consisted generally of one, two, or three lines of shelter-trenches lying parallel, measuring twenty or twenty-five inches in width, and varying in length according to the number they hold; the trenches were joined together by zigzag approaches and by a line of reinforced trenches (armed with machine guns), which were almost completely proof against rifle, machine gun, or gun fire. The ordinary German trenches were almost invisible from 350 yards away, a distance which permitted a very deadly fire. It is easy to realize that if the enemy occupied three successive lines and a line of reinforced intrenchments, the attacking line was likely, at the lowest estimate, to be decimated during an advance of 350 yards—by rifle fire at a range of 350 yards’ distance, and by the extremely quick fire of the machine guns, each of which delivered from 300 to 600 bullets a minute with absolute precision. In the field-trench, a soldier enjoyed far greater security than he would if merely prone behind his knapsack in an excavation barely fifteen inches deep. He had merely to stoop down a little to disappear below the level of the ground and be immune from infantry fire; moreover, his machine guns fired without endangering him. In addition, this stooping position brought the man’s knapsack on a level with his helmet, thus forming some protection against shrapnel and shell-splinters.

At the back of the German trenches shelters were dug for non-commissioned officers and for the commander of the unit.

Ever since the outbreak of the war, the French troops in Lorraine, after severe experiences, realized rapidly the advantages of the German trenches, and began to study those they had taken gloriously. Officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the engineers were straightway detached in every unit to teach the infantry how to construct similar shelters. The education was quick, and very soon they had completed the work necessary for the protection of all. The tools of the enemy “casualties,” the spades and picks left behind in deserted villages, were all gladly piled on to the French soldiers’ knapsacks, to be carried willingly by the very men who used to grumble at being loaded with even the smallest regulation tool. As soon as night had set in on the occasion of a lull in the fighting, the digging of the trenches was begun. Sometimes, in the darkness, the men of each fighting nation—less than 500 yards away from their enemy—would hear the noise of the workers of the foe: the sounds of picks and axes; the officers’ words of encouragement; and tacitly they would agree to an armistice during which to dig shelters from which, in the morning, they would dash out, to fight once more.

Commodious, indeed, were some of the trench barracks. One French soldier wrote:

“In really up-to-date intrenchments you may find kitchens, dining-rooms, bedrooms, and even stables. One regiment has first class cow-sheds. One day a whimsical ‘piou-piou,’ finding a cow wandering about in the danger zone, had the bright idea of finding shelter for it in the trenches. The example was quickly followed, and at this moment the —th Infantry possess an underground farm, in which fat kine, well cared for, give such quantities of milk that regular distributions of butter are being made—and very good butter, too.”

But this is not all. An officer writes home a tale of yet another one of the comforts of home added to the equipment of the trenches:

“We are clean people here. Thanks to the ingenuity of ——, we are able to take a warm bath every day from ten to twelve. We call this teasing the ‘boches,’ for this bathing-establishment of the latest type is fitted up—would you believe it?—in the trenches!”

Describing trenches occupied by the British in their protracted “siege-warfare” in Northern France along and to the north of the Aisne Valley, a British officer wrote: “In the firing-line the men sleep and obtain shelter in the dugouts they have hollowed or ‘undercut’ in the side of the trenches. These refuges are lightly raised above the bottom of the trench, so as to remain dry in wet weather. The floor of the trench is also sloped for purposes of draining. Some trenches are provided with head-cover, and others with overhead cover, the latter, of course, giving protection from the weather as well as from shrapnel balls and splinters of shells.... At all points subject to shell-fire access to the firing-line from behind is provided by communication-trenches. These are now so good that it is possible to cross in safety the fire-swept zone to the advanced trenches from the billets in villages, the bivouacs in quarries, or the other places where the headquarters of units happen to be.”

A cavalry subaltern gave the following account of life in the trenches: “Picnicking in the open air, day and night (you never see a roof now), is the only real method of existence. There are loads of straw to bed down on, and everyone sleeps like a log, in turn, even with shrapnel bursting within fifty yards.”

One English officer described the ravages of modern artillery fire, not only upon all men, animals and buildings within its zone, but upon the very face of nature itself: “In the trenches crouch lines of men, in brown or gray or blue, coated with mud, unshaven, hollow-eyed with the continual strain.”

“The fighting is now taking place over ground where both sides have for weeks past been excavating in all directions,” said another letter from the front, “until it has become a perfect labyrinth. A trench runs straight for a considerable distance, then it suddenly forks in three or four directions. One branch merely leads into a ditch full of water, used in drier weather as a means of communication; another ends abruptly in a cul-de-sac, probably an abandoned sap-head; the third winds on, leading into galleries and passages further forward.

“Sometimes where new ground is broken the spade turns up the long-buried dead, ghastly relics of former fights, and on all sides the surface of the earth is ploughed and furrowed by fragments of shell and bombs and distorted by mines. Seen from a distance, this apparently confused mass of passages, crossing and re-crossing one another, resembles an irregular gridiron.

“The life led by the infantry on both sides at close quarters is a strange, cramped existence, with death always near, either by means of some missile from above or some mine explosion from beneath—a life which has one dull, monotonous background of mud and water. Even when there is but little fighting the troops are kept hard at work strengthening the existing defenses, constructing others, and improvising the shelter imperative in such weather.”

CHAPTER II
Italy Declares War on Austria

FOR many years before the great war began the great powers of Europe were divided into two great alliances, the Triple Entente, composed of Russia, France and England, and the Triple Alliance, composed of Germany, Austria and Italy. When the war began Italy refused to join with Germany and Austria. Why? The answer to this question throws a vivid light on the origin of the war.

Italy was a member of the Triple Alliance; she knew the facts, not only what was given to the public, but the inside facts. According to the terms of the alliance each member was bound to stand by each other only in case of attack. Italy refused to join with Austria and Germany because they were the aggressors. The constant assertions of the German statesmen, and of the Kaiser himself, that war had been forced upon them were declared untrue by their associate Italy in the very beginning, and the verdict of Italy was the verdict of the world. Not much was said in the beginning about Italy’s abstention from war. The Germans, indeed, sneered a little and hinted that some day Italy would be made to regret her course, but now that the Teuton snake is scotched the importance of Italy’s action has been perceived and appraised at its true value.

The Germans from the very beginning understood the real danger that might come to the Central Powers through Italian action. Every effort was made by the foreign office to keep her neutral. First threats were used, later promises were held out of addition to Italian territory if she would send her troops to Germany’s assistance. When this failed the most strenuous efforts were made to keep Italy neutral, and a former German premier, Prince von Bülow, was sent to Italy for this purpose. Socialist leaders, too, were sent from Germany to urge the Italian Socialists to insist upon neutrality.

ITALY’S TITANIC LABOR TO CONQUER THE ALPS

When the Italians were making their first mighty advance against Austria descriptions came through of the almost unbelievable natural obstacles they were conquering. Getting one of the monster guns into position in the mountains, as shown above, over the track that had to be built for every foot of its progress, was one such handicap.

In July, 1914, the Italian Government was not taken by surprise. They had observed the increase year by year of the German army and of the German fleet. At the end of the Balkan wars they had been asked whether they would agree to an Austrian attack upon Serbia. They had consequently long been deliberating as to what their course should be in case of war, and they had made up their minds that under no circumstances would they aid Germany against England.

Quite independently of her long-standing friendship with England it would be suicide to Italy in her geographical position to enter a war which should permit her coast to be attacked by the English and French navies, and her participation in the Triple Alliance always carried the proviso that it did not bind her to fight England. This was well known in the German foreign office, and, indeed, in France where the writers upon war were reckoning confidently on the withdrawing of Italy from the Triple Alliance, and planning to use the entire forces of France against Germany.

A better understanding of the Italian position will result from a consideration of the origin of the Triple Alliance.

After the war of 1870, Bismarck, perceiving the quick recovery of France, considered the advisability of attacking her again, and, to use his own words, “bleeding her white.” He found, however, that if this were attempted France would be joined by Russia and England and he gave up this plan. In order, however, to render France powerless he planned an alliance which should be able to control Europe. A league between Germany, Austria and Russia was his desire, and for some time every opportunity was taken to develop friendship with the Czar. Russia, however, remained cool. Her Pan-Slavonic sympathies were opposed to the interests of Germany. Bismarck, therefore, determined, without losing the friendship of Russia, to persuade Italy to join in the continental combination. Italy, at the time, was the least formidable of the six great powers, but Bismarck foresaw that she could be made good use of in such a combination.

At that time Italy, just after the completion of Italian unity, found herself in great perplexity. Her treatment of the Pope had brought about the hostility of Roman Catholics throughout the world. She feared both France and Austria, who were strong Catholic countries, and hardly knew where to look for friends. The great Italian leader at the time was Francesco Crispi, who, beginning as a Radical and a conspirator, had become a constitutional statesman. Bismarck professed the greatest friendship for Crispi, and gave Crispi to understand that he approved of Italy’s aspirations on the Adriatic and in Tunis.

The next year, however, at the Berlin Congress, Italy’s interests were ignored, and finally, in 1882, France seized Tunis, to the great indignation of the Italians. It has been shown in more recent times that the French seizure of Tunis was directly due to Bismarck’s instigation.

The Italians having been roused to wrath, Bismarck proceeded to offer them a place in the councils of the Triple Alliance. It was an easy argument that such an alliance would protect them against France, and no doubt it was promised that it would free them from the danger of attack by Austria. England, at the time, was isolated, and Italy continued on the best understanding with her.

The immediate result of the alliance was a growth of Italian hostility toward France, which led, in 1889, to a tariff war on France. Meanwhile German commercial and financial enterprises were pushed throughout the Italian peninsula. What did Italy gain by this? Her commerce was weakened, and Austria permitted herself every possible unfriendly act except open war.

As time went on Germany and Austria became more and more arrogant. Italy’s ambitions on the Balkan peninsula were absolutely ignored. In 1908 Austria appropriated Bosnia and Herzegovina, another blow to Italy. By this time Italy understood the situation well, and that same year, seeing no future for herself in Europe, she swooped down on Tripoli. In doing this she forestalled Germany herself, for Germany had determined to seize Tripoli.

How the Powers Divided Northern Africa

Both Germany and Austria were opposed to this action of Italy, but Italy’s eyes were now open. Thirty years of political alliance had created no sympathy among the Italians for the Germans. Moreover, it was not entirely a question of policy. The lordly arrogance of the Prussians caused sharp antagonism. The Italians were lovers of liberty; the Germans pledged toward autocracy. They found greater sympathy in England and in France.

“I am a son of liberty,” said Cavour, “to her I owe all that I am.” That, too, is Italy’s motto. When the war broke out popular sympathy in Italy was therefore strongly in favor of the Allies. The party in power, the Liberals, adopted the policy of neutrality for the time being, but thousands of Italians volunteered for the French and British service, and the anti-German feeling grew greater as time went on.

Finally, on the 23rd of May, 1915, the Italian Government withdrew its ambassador to Austria and declared war. A complete statement of the negotiations between Italy and Austria-Hungary, which led to this declaration, was delivered to the Government of the United States by the Italian Ambassador on May 25th. This statement, of which the following is an extract, lucidly presented the Italian position:

“The Triple Alliance was essentially defensive, and designed solely to preserve the status quo, or in other words equilibrium, in Europe. That these were its only objects and purposes is established by the letter and spirit of the treaty, as well as by the intentions clearly described and set forth in official acts of the ministers who created the alliance and confirmed and renewed it in the interests of peace, which always has inspired Italian policy. The treaty, as long as its intents and purposes had been loyally interpreted and regarded, and as long as it had not been used as a pretext for aggression against others, greatly contributed to the elimination and settlement of causes of conflict, and for many years assured to Europe the inestimable benefits of peace. But Austria-Hungary severed the treaty by her own hands. She rejected the response of Serbia which gave to her all the satisfaction she could legitimately claim. She refused to listen to the conciliatory proposals presented by Italy in conjunction with other powers in the effort to spare Europe from a vast conflict, certain to drench the Continent with blood and to reduce it to ruin beyond the conception of human imagination, and finally she provoked that conflict.

“Article first of the treaty embodied the usual and necessary obligation of such pacts—the pledge to exchange views upon any fact and economic questions of a general nature that might arise pursuant to its terms. None of the contracting parties had the right to undertake without a previous agreement any step the consequence of which might impose a duty upon the other signatories arising under the alliance, or which would in any way whatsoever encroach upon their vital interests. This article was violated by Austria-Hungary, when she sent to Serbia her note dated July 23, 1914, an action taken without the previous assent of Italy. Thus, Austria-Hungary violated beyond doubt one of the fundamental provisions of the treaty. The obligation of Austria-Hungary to come to a previous understanding with Italy was the greater because her obstinate policy against Serbia gave rise to a situation which directly tended toward the provocation of a European war.

Photo by James H. Hare.

WAITING THE ORDER TO ATTACK

Italian shock troops, young picked soldiers, resting before the order came to hurl themselves against the Austrians.

“As far back as the beginning of July, 1914, the Italian Government, preoccupied by the prevailing feeling in Vienna, caused to be laid before the Austro-Hungarian Government a number of suggestions advising moderation, and warning it of the impending danger of a European outbreak. The course adopted by Austria-Hungary against Serbia constituted, moreover, a direct encroachment upon the general interests of Italy both political and economical in the Balkan peninsula. Austria-Hungary could not for a moment imagine that Italy could remain indifferent while Serbian independence was being trodden upon. On a number of occasions theretofore, Italy gave Austria to understand, in friendly but clear terms, that the independence of Serbia was considered by Italy as essential to the Balkan equilibrium. Austria-Hungary was further advised that Italy could never permit that equilibrium to be disturbed through a prejudice. This warning had been conveyed not only by her diplomats in private conversations with responsible Austro-Hungarian officials, but was proclaimed publicly by Italian statesmen on the floors of Parliament.

“Therefore, when Austria-Hungary ignored the usual practices and menaced Serbia by sending her ultimatum, without in any way notifying the Italian Government of what she proposed to do, indeed leaving that government to learn of her action through the press, rather than through the usual channels of diplomacy, when Austria-Hungary took this unprecedented course she not only severed her alliance with Italy but committed an act inimical to Italy’s interests....

“After the European war broke out Italy sought to come to an understanding with Austria-Hungary with a view to a settlement satisfactory to both parties which might avert existing and future trouble. Her efforts were in vain, notwithstanding the efforts of Germany, which for months endeavored to induce Austria-Hungary to comply with Italy’s suggestion thereby recognizing the propriety and legitimacy of the Italian attitude. Therefore Italy found herself compelled by the force of events to seek other solutions.

“Inasmuch as the treaty of alliance with Austria-Hungary had ceased virtually to exist and served only to prolong a state of continual friction and mutual suspicion, the Italian Ambassador at Vienna was instructed to declare to the Austro-Hungarian Government that the Italian Government considered itself free from the ties arising out of the treaty of the Triple Alliance in so far as Austria-Hungary was concerned. This communication was delivered in Vienna on May 4th.

“Subsequently to this declaration, and after we had been obliged to take steps for the protection of our interests, the Austro-Hungarian Government submitted new concessions, which, however, were deemed insufficient and by no means met our minimum demands. These offers could not be considered under the circumstances. The Italian Government taking into consideration what has been stated above, and supported by the vote of Parliament and the solemn manifestation of the country came to the decision that any further delay would be inadvisable. Therefore, on May 23d, it was declared, in the name of the King, to the Austro-Hungarian Ambassador at Rome, that, beginning the following day, May 24th, it would consider itself in a state of war with Austria-Hungary.”

It was a closely reasoned argument that the Italian statesmen presented, but there was something more than reasoned argument in Italy’s course. She had been waiting for years for the opportunity to bring under her flag the men of her own race still held in subjection by hated Austria. Now was the time or never. Her people had become roused. Mobs filled the streets. Great orators, even the great poet, D’Annunzio, proclaimed a holy war. The sinking of the Lusitania poured oil on the flames, and the treatment of Belgium and eastern France added to the fury.

Photo by International Film Service.

TRANSPORTING WOUNDED AMID THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE ITALIAN MOUNTAIN FRONT

The isolated mountain positions were only accessible to the bases of operations by these aerial cable cars. This picture, taken during the Austrian retreat, shows a wounded soldier being taken down the mountain by this means.

Italian statesmen, even if they had so desired, could not have withstood the pressure. It was a crusade for Italia Irredenta, for civilization, for humanity. The country had been flooded by representatives of German propaganda, papers had been hired and, by all report, money in large amounts distributed. But every German effort was swept away in the flood of feeling. It was the people’s war.

Amid tremendous enthusiasm the Chamber of Deputies adopted by vote of 407 to 74 the bill conferring upon the government full power to make war. All members of the Cabinet maintained absolute silence regarding what step should follow the action of the chamber. When the chamber reassembled on May 20th, after its long recess, there were present 482 Deputies out of 500, the absentees remaining away on account of illness. The Deputies especially applauded were those who wore military uniforms and who had asked permission for leave from their military duties to be present at the sitting. All the tribunes were filled to overflowing. No representatives of Germany, Austria or Turkey were to be seen in the diplomatic tribune. The first envoy to arrive was Thomas Nelson Page, the American Ambassador, who was accompanied by his staff. M. Barrere, Sir J. Bennell Rodd, and Michel de Giers, the French, British and Russian Ambassadors, respectively, appeared a few minutes later and all were greeted with applause, which was shared by the Belgian, Greek and Roumanian ministers. George B. McClellan, one-time mayor of New York, occupied a seat in the President’s tribune.

A few minutes before the session began the poet, Gabrielle D’Annunzio, one of the strongest advocates of war, appeared in the rear of the public tribune which was so crowded that it seemed impossible to squeeze in anybody else. But the moment the people saw him they lifted him shoulder high and passed him over their heads to the first row.

The entire chamber, and all those occupying the other tribunes, rose and applauded for five minutes, crying “Viva D’Annunzio!” Later thousands sent him their cards and in return received his autograph bearing the date of this eventful day. Señor Marcora, President of the Chamber, took his place at three o’clock. All the members of the House, and everybody in the galleries, stood up to acclaim the old follower of Garibaldi. Premier Salandra, followed by all the members of the Cabinet, entered shortly afterward. It was a solemn moment. Then a delirium of cries broke out.

“Viva Salandra!” roared the Deputies, and the cheering lasted for a long time. After the formalities of the opening, Premier Salandra, deeply moved by the demonstration, arose and said:

“Gentlemen, I have the honor to present to you a bill to meet the eventual expenditures of a national war.”

The announcement was greeted by further prolonged applause. The Premier’s speech was continually interrupted by enthusiasm, and at times he could hardly continue on account of the wild cheering. The climax was reached when he made a reference to the army and navy. Then the cries seemed interminable, and those on the floor of the House and in the galleries turned to the military tribune from which the officers answered by waving their hands and handkerchiefs.

At the end of the Premier’s speech there were deafening vivas for the King, war and Italy. Thirty-four Socialists refused to join the cheers, even in the cry “Viva Italia!” and they were hooted and hissed.

The action of the Italian Government created intense feeling. A newspaper man in Vienna, describing the Austrian indignation, said:

“The exasperation and contempt which Italy’s treacherous surprise attack and her hypocritical justification aroused here, are quite indescribable. Neither Serbia nor Russia, despite a long and costly war, is hated. Italy, however, or rather those Italian would-be politicians and business men who offer violence to the majority of peaceful Italian people, are unutterably hated.” On the other hand German papers spoke with much more moderation and recognized that Italy was acting in an entirely natural manner.

On the very day on which war was declared active operations were begun. Both sides had been making elaborate preparations. Austria had prepared herself by building strong fortifications in which were employed the latest technical improvements in defensive warfare. Upon the Carso and around Gorizia the Austrians had placed innumerable batteries of powerful guns mounted on rails and protected by armor plates. They also had a great number of medium and smaller guns. A net of trenches had been excavated and constructed in cement all along the edge of the hills which dominated the course of the Isonzo River.

These trenches, occupying a position nearly impregnable because so mountainous, were defended by every modern device. They were protected with numerous machine guns, surrounded by wire entanglements through which ran a strong electric current. These lines of trenches followed without interruption from the banks of the Isonzo to the summit of the mountains which dominate it; they formed a kind of formidable staircase which had to be conquered step by step with enormous sacrifice.

During this same period General Cadorna, then head of the Italian army, had been bringing that army up to date, working for high efficiency and piling up munitions.

The Army of Italy was a formidable one. Every man in Italy is liable to military service for a period of nineteen years from the age of twenty to thirty-nine.

At the time of the war the approximate war strength of the army was as follows: Officers, 41,692; active army with the colors, 289,910; reserve, 638,979; mobile militia, 299,956; territorial militia, 1,889,659; total strength, 3,159,836. The above number of total men available included upward of 1,200,000 fully trained soldiers, with perhaps another 800,000 partially trained men, the remaining million being completely untrained men. This army was splendidly armed, its officers well educated, and the men brave and disciplined.

The Italian plan of campaign apparently consisted first, in neutralizing the Trentino by capturing or covering the defenses and cutting the two lines of communication with Austria proper, the railway which ran south from Insbruck, and that which ran southwest from Vienna and joined the former at Fransensfets; and second, in a movement in force on the eastern frontier, with Trieste captured or covered on the right flank in the direction of the Austrian fortress at Klagenfurt and Vienna.

The first blow was struck by Austria on the day that war was declared. On that day bombs were dropped on Venice, and five other Adriatic ports were shelled from air, and some from sea. The Italian armies invaded Austria on the east with great rapidity, and by May 27th a part of the Italian forces had moved across the Isonzo River to Monfalcone, sixteen miles northwest of Trieste. Another force penetrated further to the north in the Crown land of Gorizia, and Gradisca. Reports from Italy were that encounters with the enemy had thus far been merely outpost skirmishes, but had allowed Italy to occupy advantageous positions on Austrian territory. By June 1st, the Italians had occupied the greater part of the west bank of the Isonzo, with little opposition. The left wing was beyond the Isonzo, at Caporetto, fighting among the boulders of Monte Nero, where the Austrian artillery had strong positions. Monfalcone was kept under constant bombardment.

A general Italian advance took place on June 7th across the Isonzo River from Caporetto to the sea, a distance of about forty miles. Monfalcone was taken by the Italians on June the 10th, the first serious blow against Trieste, as Monfalcone was a railway junction, and its electrical works operated the light and power of Trieste.

Next day the center made a great blow against Gradisca and Sagrado, but the river line proved too strong. The only success was won that night at Plava, north of Borrigia, which was carried by a surprise attack. The Isonzo was in flood, and presented a serious obstacle to the onrush of the Italians. By June 14th the Italian eastern army had pushed forward along the gulf of Trieste toward the town of Nebrosina, nine miles from Trieste.

Meanwhile, the Austrian armies were being constantly strengthened. The initial weakness of the Austrian defensive was due to the fact that the armies normally assigned to the invaded region had been sent to defend the Austrian line in Galicia against the Russians. When Italy began her invasion the defenses of the country were chiefly in the hands of hastily mobilized youths below the military age of nineteen, and men above the military age of forty-two. From now on Austrian troops began to arrive from the Galician front, some of these representing the finest fighting material in the Austrian ranks. The chance of an easy victory was slipping from Italy’s hands. The Italian advance was checked.

On the 15th of June the Italians carried an important position on Monte Nero, climbing the rocks by night and attacking by dawn. But this conquest did not help much. No guns of great caliber could be carried on the mountain, and Tolmino, which had been heavily fortified, and contained a garrison of some thirty thousand men, was entirely safe. The following week there were repeated counter-attacks at Plava and on Monte Nero, but the Italians held what they had won.

The position was now that Cadorna’s left wing was in a strong position, but could not do much against Tolmino. His center was facing the great camp of Gorizia, while his right was on the edge of the Carso, and had advanced as far as Dueno, on the Monfalcone-Trieste Railroad. The army was in position to make an attack upon Gorizia. On the 2d of July an attack on a broad front was aimed directly at Gorizia. The left was to swing around against the defenses of Gorizia to the north; the center was directed against the Gorizia bridge head, and the right was to swing around to the northeast through the Doberdo plateau. If it succeeded the Trieste railway would be cut and Gorizia must fall.

AREA OF CADORNA’S OPERATIONS

Showing the Isonzo Valley and the town of Gorizia which fell to the Italians August 9, 1916.

Long and confused fighting followed. The center and the right of the Italian army slowly advanced their line, taking over one thousand prisoners. For days there was continuous bombardment and counter-bombardment. The fighting on the left was terrific. In the neighborhood of Plava the Italian forces found themselves opposed by Hungarian troops, unaccustomed to mountain warfare, who at first fell back. Austrian reserves came to their aid, and flung back three times the Italian charge.

Three new Italian brigades were brought up, and King Victor Emanuel himself came to encourage his troops. The final assault carried the heights. On the 22d of July the Italian right captured the crest of San Michele, which dominates the Doberdo plateau.

Meanwhile the Austrian armies were being heavily reinforced, and General Cadorna found himself unable to make progress. Much ground had been won but Gorizia was still unredeemed. Many important vantage points were in Italian hands, but it was difficult to advance. The result of the three months’ campaign was a stalemate. In the high mountains to the north Italy’s campaign was a war of defense. To undertake her offensive on the Isonzo it was necessary that she guard her flanks and rear. The Tyrolese battle-ground contained three distinct points where it was necessary to operate; the Trentino Salient, the passes of the Dolomites, and the passes of the Carnic Alps.

Early in June Italy had won control of the ridges of the mountains in the two latter points, but the problem in the Trentino was more difficult. It was necessary, because of the converging valleys, to push her front well inland. On the Carnic Alps the fighting consisted of unimportant skirmishes. The main struggle centered around the pass of Monte Croce Carnico.

In two weeks the Alpini had seized dominating positions to the west of the pass, but the Austrians clung to the farther slopes. A great deal of picturesque fighting went on, but not much progress was made. Further west in the Dolomite region there was more fighting. On the 30th of May Cartina had been captured, and the Italians moved north toward the Pusterthal Railway. Progress was slow, as the main routes to the railway were difficult.

By the middle of August they were only a few miles from the railway, but all the routes led through defiles, and the neighboring heights were in the possession of the Austrians. To capture these heights was a most difficult feat, which the Italians performed in the most brilliant way; but even after they had passed these defiles success was not yet won. Each Italian column was in its own grove, with no lateral communication. The Austrians could mass themselves where they pleased. As a result the Italian forces were compelled to halt.

In the Trentino campaign the Italians soon captured the passes, and moved against Trente and Roverito. These towns were heavily fortified, as were their surrounding heights. The campaign became a series of small fights on mountain peaks and mountain ridges. Only small bodies of troops could maneuver, and the raising of guns up steep precipices was extremely difficult. The Italians slowly succeeded in gaining ground, and established a chain of posts around the heights so that often one would see guns and barbed wire entrenchments at a height of more than ten thousand feet among the crevasses of the glaciers. The Alpini performed wonderful feats of physical endurance, but the plains of Lombardy were still safe.

CHAPTER III
Glorious Gallipoli

IF ever the true mettle and temper of a people were tried and exemplified in the crucible of battle, that battle was the naval and land engagement embracing Gallipoli and the Dardanelles and the people so tested, the British race. Separated in point of time but united in its general plan, the engagements present a picture of heroism founded upon strategic mistakes; of such perseverance and dogged determination against overwhelming natural and artificial odds as even the pages of supreme British bravery cannot parallel. The immortal charge of the Light Brigade was of a piece with Gallipoli, but it was merely a battle fragment and its glorious record was written in blood within the scope of a comparatively few inspired minutes. In the mine-strewn Dardanelles and upon the sun-baked, blood-drenched rocky slopes of Gallipoli, death always partnered every sailor and soldier. As at Balaklava, virtually everyone knew that some one had blundered, but the army and the navy as one man fought to the bitter end to make the best of a bad bargain, to tear triumph out of impossibilities.

France co-operated with the British in the naval engagement, but the greater sacrifice, the supreme charnel house of the war, the British race reserved for itself. There, the yeomanry of England, the unsung county regiments whose sacrifices and achievements have been neglected in England’s generous desire to honor the men from “down under,” the Australians and New Zealanders grouped under the imperishable title of the Anzacs—there the Scotch, Welsh and Irish knit in one devoted British Army with the great fighters from the self-governing colonies waged a battle so hopeless and so gallant that the word Gallipoli shall always remind the world how man may triumph over the fear of death; how with nothing but defeat and disaster before them, men may go to their deaths as unconcernedly as in other days they go to their nightly sleep.

On November 5, 1914, Great Britain declared war upon Turkey. Hostilities, however, had preceded the declaration. On November 3d the combined French and British squadrons had bombarded the entrance forts. This was merely intended to draw the fire of the forts and make an estimate of their power. From that time on a blockade was maintained, and on the 13th of December a submarine, commanded by Lieutenant Holbrook, entered the straits and torpedoed the Turkish warship Messoudieh, which was guarding the mine fields.

By the end of January the blockading fleet, through constant reinforcement, had become very strong, and had seized the Island of Tenedos and taken possession of Lemnos, which nominally belonged to Greece, as bases for naval operations. On the 19th of February began the great attack upon the forts at the entrance to the Dardanelles, which attracted the attention of the world for nearly a year.

The expedition against the Dardanelles had been considered with the greatest care, and approved by the naval authorities. That their judgment was correct, however, is another question. The history of naval warfare seems to make very plain that a ship, however powerful, is at a tremendous disadvantage when attacking forts on land. The badly served cannon of Alexandria fell, indeed, before a British fleet, but Gallipoli had been fortified by German engineers, and its guns were the Krupp cannon. The British fleet found itself opposed by unsurmountable obstacles. Looking backward it seems possible, that if at the very start Lord Kitchener had permitted a detachment of troops to accompany the fleet, success might have been attained, but without the army the navy was powerless.

The Peninsula of Gallipoli is a tongue of land about fifty miles long, varying in width from twelve to two or three miles. It is a mass of rocky hills so steep that in many places it is a matter of difficulty to reach their tops. On it are a few villages, but there are no decent roads and little cultivated land. On the southern shore of the Dardanelles conditions are nearly the same. Here, the entrance is a flat and marshy plain, but east of this plain are hills three thousand feet high. The high ground overhangs the sea passage on both sides, and with the exception of narrow bits of beach at their base, presents almost no opportunity for landing.

A strong current continually sifts down the straits from the Sea of Marmora.

MAP OF THE GALLIPOLI PENINSULA

Showing the various landing places, with inset of the Sari-Bair Region.

Forts were placed at the entrance on both the north and south side, but they were not heavily armed and were merely outposts. Fourteen miles from the mouth the straits become quite narrow, making a sharp turn directly north and then resuming their original direction. The channel thus makes a sharp double bend. At the entrance to the strait, known as the Narrows, were powerful fortresses, and the slopes were studded with batteries. Along both sides of the channel the low ground was lined with batteries. It was possible to attack the forts at fairly long range, but there was no room to bring any large number of ships into action at the same time.

At the time of the Gallipoli adventure there were probably nearly half a million of men available for a defense of the straits, men well armed and well trained under German leadership. The first step was comparatively easy. The operations against the other forts began at 8 A. M. on Friday, the 19th of February. The ships engaged were the Inflexible, the Agamemnon, the Cornwallis, the Vengeance and the Triumph from the British fleet, and the Bouvet, Suffren, and the Gaulois from the French, all under the command of Vice-Admiral Sackville Carden. The French squadron was under Rear-Admiral Gueprette. A flotilla of destroyers accompanied the fleet, and airplanes were sent up to guide the fire of the battleships.

At first the fleet was arranged in a semicircle some miles out to sea from the entrance to the strait. It afforded an inspiring spectacle as the ships came along and took up position, and the picture became most awe-inspiring when the guns began to boom. The bombardment at first was slow. Shells from the various ships screaming through the air at the rate of about one every two minutes.

The Turkish batteries, however, were not to be drawn, and, seeing this, the British Admiral sent one British ship and one French ship close in shore toward the Sedd-el-Bahr forts. As they went in they sped right under the guns of the shore batteries, which could no longer resist the temptation to see what they could do. Puffs of white smoke dotted the landscape on the far shore, and dull booms echoed over the placid water. Around the ships fountains of water sprang up into the air. The enemy had been drawn, but his marksmanship was obviously very bad. Not a single shot directed against the ships went within a hundred yards of either.

At sundown on account of the failing light Admiral Carden withdrew the fleet. On account of the bad weather the attack was not renewed until February 25th. It appeared that the outer forts had not been seriously damaged on the 19th, and that what injury had been done had been repaired. In an hour and a half the Cape Helles fort was silenced. The Agamemnon was hit by a shell fired at a range of six miles, which killed three men and wounded five. Early in the afternoon Sedd-el-Bahr was attacked at close range, but not silenced till after 5 P. M. At this time British trawlers began sweeping the entrance for mines, and during the next day the mine field was cleared for a distance of four miles up the straits.

As soon as this clearance was made the Albion, Vengeance and Majestic steamed into the strait and attacked Fort Dardanos, a fortification some distance below the Narrows. The Turks replied vigorously, not only from Dardanos but from batteries scattered along the shore. Believing that the Turks had abandoned the forts at the entrance, landing parties of marines were sent to shore. In a short time, however, they met a detachment of the enemy and were compelled to retreat to their boats. The outer forts, however, were destroyed, and their destruction was extremely encouraging to the Allies.

For a time a series of minor operations was carried on, meeting with much success. Besides attacks on forts inside of the strait, Smyrna was bombarded on March the 5th, and on March the 6th the Queen Elizabeth, the Agamemnon and the Ocean bombarded the forts at Chanak on the Asiatic side of the Narrows, from a position in the gulf of Saros on the outer side of the Gallipoli Peninsula. To all of these attacks the Turks replied vigorously and the attacking ships were repeatedly struck, but with no loss of life. On the 7th of March Fort Dardanos was silenced, and Fort Chanak ceased firing, but, as it turned out, only temporarily.

Preparations were now being made for a serious effort against the Narrows. The date of the attack was fixed for March 17th, weather permitting. On the 16th Admiral Carden was stricken down with illness and was invalided by medical authority. Admiral de Roebeck, second in command, who had been very active in the operations, was appointed to succeed him. Admiral de Roebeck was in cordial sympathy with the purposes of the expedition and determined to attack on the 18th of March. At a quarter to eleven that morning, the Queen Elizabeth, Inflexible, Agamemnon, Lord Nelson, the Triumph and Prince George steamed up the straits towards the Narrows, and bombarded the forts of Chanak. At 12.22 the French squadron, consisting of the Suffren, Gaulois, Charlemagne, and Bouvet, advanced up the Dardanelles to aid their English associates.

Under the combined fire of the two squadrons the Turkish forts, which at first replied strongly, were finally silenced. All of the ships, however, were hit several times during this part of the action. A third squadron, including the Vengeance, Irresistible, Albion, Ocean, Swiftshore and Majestic, then advanced to relieve the six old battleships inside the strait.

THE LOSS OF THE “IRRESISTIBLE”

During an attack on the Dardanelles the British battleship “Irresistible” struck a Turkish mine and sank in a few minutes. Severe losses of similar character demonstrated that it would be impossible to force the strait by naval attack.

As the French squadron, which had engaged the forts in a most brilliant fashion, was passing out the Bouvet was blown up by a drifting mine and sank in less than three minutes, carrying with her most of her crew. At 2.36 P. M. the relief battleships renewed the attack on the forts, which again opened fire. The Turks were now sending mines down with the current. At 4.09 the Irresistible quitted the line, listing heavily, and at 5.50 she sank, having probably struck a drifting mine. At 6.05 the Ocean, also having struck a mine, sank in deep water. Practically the whole of the crews were removed safely. The Gaulois was damaged by gunfire; the Inflexible had her forward control position hit by a heavy shell, which killed and wounded the majority of the men and officers at that station and set her on fire. At sunset the forts were still in action, and during the twilight the Allied fleet slipped out of the Dardanelles.

Meantime, an expeditionary force was being gathered. The largest portion of this force came from Great Britain, but France also provided a considerable number from her marines and from her Colonial army. Both nations avoided, as far as possible, drawing upon the armies destined for service in France.

In the English army there were divisions from Australia and New Zealand and there were a number of Indian troops and Territorials. The whole force was put under the command of General Sir Ian Hamilton. The commander-in-chief on the Turkish side was the German General Liman von Sanders, the former chief of the military mission at Constantinople. The bulk of the expeditionary force, which numbered altogether about a hundred and twenty thousand men, were, therefore, men whose presence in the east did not weaken the Allied strength in the west.

The great difficulty of the new plan was that it was impossible to surprise the enemy. The whole Gallipoli Peninsula was so small that a landing at any point would be promptly observed, and the nature of the ground was of such a character that progress from any point must necessarily be slow. The problem was therefore a simple one.

The expeditionary force gathered in Egypt during the first half of April, and about the middle of the month was being sent to Lemnos. Germany was well aware of the English plans, and was doing all that it could to provide a defense.

On April 23d the movement began, and about five o’clock in the afternoon the first of the transports slowly made its way through the maze of shipping toward the entrance of Mudros Bay.

Immediately the patent apathy, which had gradually overwhelmed everyone, changed to the utmost enthusiasm, and as the huge liners steamed through the fleet, their decks yellow with khaki, the crews of the warships cheered them on to victory while the bands played them out with an unending variety of popular airs. The soldiers in the transports answered this last salutation from the navy with deafening cheers, and no more inspiring spectacle has ever been seen than this great expedition.

The whole of the fleet from the transports had been divided up into five divisions and there were three main landings. The 29th Division disembarked off the point of the Gallipoli Peninsula near Sedd-el-Bahr, where its operations were covered both from the gulf of Saros and from the Dardanelles by the fire of the covering warships. The Australian and New Zealand contingent disembarked north of Gaba Tepe. Further north a naval division made a demonstration.

Awaiting the Australians was a party of Turks who had been intrenched almost on the shore and had opened up a terrific fusillade. The Australian volunteers rose, as a man, to the occasion. They waited neither for orders nor for the boats to reach the beach, but springing out into the sea they went in to the shore, and forming some sort of a rough line rushed straight on the flashes of the enemy’s rifles. In less than a quarter of an hour the Turks were in full flight.

While the Australians and New Zealanders, or Anzacs as they are now generally known from the initials of the words Australian-New Zealand Army Corps, were fighting so gallantly at Gaba Tepe, the British troops were landing at the southern end of the Gallipoli Peninsula. The advance was slow and difficult. The Turk was pushed back, little by little, and the ground gained organized. The details of this progress, though full of incidents of the greatest courage and daring, need not be recounted.

On June the 4th a general attack was made, preceded by heavy bombardments by all guns, but after terrific fighting, in which many prisoners were captured and great losses suffered, the net result was an advance of about five hundred yards. As time went on the general impression throughout the Allied countries was that the expedition had failed. On June 30th the losses of the Turks were estimated at not less than seventy thousand, and the British naval and military losses up to June 1st, aggregated 38,635 officers and men. At that time the British and French allies held but a small corner of the area to be conquered. In all of these attacks the part played by the Australian and New Zealand army corps was especially notable. Reinforcements were repeatedly sent to the Allies, who worked more and more feverishly as time went on with the hope of aiding Russia, which was then desperately struggling against the great German advance.

On August 17th it was reported that a landing had been made at Suvla Bay, the extreme western point of the Peninsula. From this point it was hoped to threaten the Turkish communications with their troops at the lower end of the Peninsula. This new enterprise, however, failed to make any impression, and in the first part of September, vigorous Turkish counter offensives gained territory from the Franco-British troops. According to the English reports the Turks paid a terrible price for their success.

It had now become evident that the expedition was a failure. The Germans were already gloating over what they called the “failure of British sea power,” and English publicists were attempting to show that, though the enterprise had failed, the very presence of a strong Allied force at Saloniki had been an enormous gain. The first official announcement of failure was made December 20, 1916, when it was announced that the British forces at Anzac and Suvla Bay had been withdrawn, and that only the minor positions near Sedd-el-Bahr were occupied. Great Britain’s loss of officers and men at the Dardanelles up to December 11th was 112,921, according to an announcement made in the House of Commons by the Parliamentary Under Secretary for War. Besides these casualties the number of sick admitted to hospitals was 96,683. The decision to evacuate Gallipoli was made in the course of November by the British Government as the result of the early expressed opinion of General Monro, who had succeeded General Hamilton on October 28, 1915.

General Monro found himself confronted with a serious problem in the attempt to withdraw an army of such a size from positions not more than three hundred yards from the enemy’s trenches, and to embark on open beaches every part of which was within effective range of Turkish guns. Moreover, the evacuation must be done gradually, as it was impossible to move the whole army at once with such means of transportation as existed. The plan was to remove the munitions, supplies and heavy guns by instalments, working only at night, carrying off at the same time a large portion of the troops, but leaving certain picked battalions to guard the trenches. Every endeavor had to be made for concealment. The plan was splendidly successful, and the Turks apparently completely deceived. On December 20th the embarkation of the last troops at Suvla was accomplished. The operations at Anzac were conducted in the same way. Only picked battalions were left to the end, and these were carried safely off.

THE HISTORIC LANDING FROM THE “RIVER CLYDE” AT SEDDUL BAHR

An incident of the Dardanelles Expedition. Terrible losses were sustained by the Allied troops from the concentrated fire of the Turkish machine guns on shore.

The success of the Suvla and Anzac evacuation made the position at Cape Helles more dangerous. The Turks were on the lookout, and it seemed almost impossible that they could be again deceived. On January 7th an attack was made by the Turks upon the trenches, which was beaten back. That night more than half the troops had left the Peninsula. The next day there was a heavy storm which made embarkation difficult, but it was nevertheless accomplished. The whole evacuation was a clever and successful bit of work.

CHAPTER IV
The Greatest Naval Battle in History

GERMANY’S ambition for conquest at sea had been nursed and carefully fostered for twenty years. During the decade immediately preceding the declaration of war, it had embarked upon a policy of naval up-building that brought it into direct conflict with England’s sea policy. Thereafter it became a race in naval construction, England piling up a huge debt in its determination to construct two tons of naval shipping to every one ton built by Germany.

Notwithstanding Great Britain’s efforts in this direction, Germany’s naval experts, with the ruthless von Tirpitz at their head, maintained that, given a fair seaway with ideal weather conditions favoring the low visibility tactics of the German sea command, a victory for the Teutonic ships would follow. It was this belief that drew the ships of the German cruiser squadron and High Seas Fleet off the coast of Jutland and Horn Reef into the great battle that decided the supremacy of the sea.

The 31st of May, 1916, will go down in history as the date of this titanic conflict. The British light cruiser Galatea on patrol duty near Horn Reef reported at 2.20 o’clock on the afternoon of that day, that it had sighted smoke plumes denoting the advance of enemy vessels from the direction of Helgoland Bight. Fifteen minutes later the smoke plumes were in such number and volume that the advance of a considerable force to the northward and eastward was indicated. It was reasoned by Vice-Admiral Beatty, to whom the Galatea had sent the news by radio, that the enemy in rounding Horn Reef would inevitably be brought into action. The first ships of the enemy were sighted at 3.31 o’clock. These were the battle screen of fast light cruisers. Back of these were five modern battle cruisers of the highest power and armament.

The report of the battle, by an eye-witness, that was issued upon semiofficial authority of the British Government, follows:

First Phase, 3.30 P. M. May 31st. Beatty’s battle cruisers, consisting of the Lion, Princess Royal, Queen Mary, Tiger, Inflexible, Indomitable, Invincible, Indefatigable, and New Zealand, were on a southeasterly course, followed at about two miles distance by the four battleships of the class known as Queen Elizabeths.

Enemy light cruisers were sighted and shortly afterward the head of the German battle cruiser squadron, consisting of the new cruiser Hindenburg, the Seydlitz, Derfflinger, Lützow, Moltke, and possibly the Salamis.

Beatty at once began firing at a range of about 20,000 yards (twelve miles) which shortened to 16,000 yards (nine miles) as the fleets closed. The Germans could see the British distinctly outlined against the light yellow sky. The Germans, covered by a haze, could be very indistinctly made out by the British gunners.

The Queen Elizabeths opened fire on one after another as they came within range. The German battle cruisers turned to port and drew away to about 20,000 yards.

Second Phase, 4.40 P. M. A destroyer screen then appeared beyond the German battle cruisers. The whole German High Seas Fleet could be seen approaching on the northeastern horizon in three divisions, coming to the support of their battle cruisers.

The German battle cruisers now turned right around 16 points and took station in front of the battleships of the High Fleet.

Beatty, with his battle cruisers and supporting battleships, therefore, had before him the whole of the German battle fleet, and Jellicoe was still some distance away.

The opposing fleets were now moving parallel to one another in opposite directions, and but for a master maneuver on the part of Beatty the British advance ships would have been cut off from Jellicoe’s Grand Fleet. In order to avoid this and at the same time prepare the way so that Jellicoe might envelop his adversary, Beatty immediately also turned right around 16 points, so as to bring his ships parallel to the German battle cruisers and facing the same direction.

As soon as he was around he increased to full speed to get ahead of the Germans and take up a tactical position in advance of their line. He was able to do this owing to the superior speed of the British battle cruisers.

Just before the turning point was reached, the Indefatigable sank, and the Queen Mary and the Invincible also were lost at the turning point, where, of course, the High Seas Fleet concentrated their fire.

A little earlier, as the German battle cruisers were turning, the Queen Elizabeths had in similar manner concentrated their fire on the turning point and destroyed a new German battle cruiser, believed to be the Hindenburg.

Beatty had now got around and headed away with the loss of three ships, racing parallel to the German battle cruisers. The Queen Elizabeths followed behind engaging the main High Seas Fleet.

Third Phase, 5 P. M. The Queen Elizabeths now turned short to port 16 points in order to follow Beatty. The Warspite jammed her steering gear, failed to get around, and drew the fire of six of the enemy, who closed in upon her.

The Germans claimed her as a loss, since on paper she ought to have been lost, but, as a matter of act, though repeatedly straddled by shell fire with the water boiling up all around her, she was not seriously hit, and was able to sink one of her opponents. Her captain recovered control of the vessel, brought her around, and followed her consorts.

In the meantime the Barham, Valiant and Malaya turned short so as to avoid the danger spot where the Queen Mary and the Invincible had been lost, and for an hour, until Jellicoe arrived, fought a delaying action against the High Seas Fleet.

The Warspite joined them at about 5.15 o’clock, and all four ships were so successfully maneuvered in order to upset the spotting corrections of their opponents that no hits of a seriously disabling character were suffered. They had the speed over their opponents by fully four knots, and were able to draw away from part of the long line of German battleships, which almost filled up the horizon.

At this time the Queen Elizabeths were steadily firing on at the flashes of German guns at a range which varied between 12,000 and 15,000 yards, especially against those ships which were nearest them. The Germans were enveloped in a mist and only smoke and flashes were visible.

By 5.45 half of the High Seas Fleet had been left out of range, and the Queen Elizabeths were steaming fast to join hands with Jellicoe.

To return to Beatty’s battle cruisers. They had succeeded in outflanking the German battle cruisers, which were, therefore, obliged to turn a full right angle to starboard to avoid being headed.

Heavy fighting was renewed between the opposing battle cruiser squadrons, during which the Derfflinger was sunk; but toward 6 o’clock the German fire slackened very considerably, showing that Beatty’s battle cruisers and the Queen Elizabeths had inflicted serious damage on their immediate opponents.

Fourth Phase, 6 P. M. The Grand Fleet was now in sight, and, coming up fast in three directions, the Queen Elizabeths altered their course four points to the starboard and drew in toward the enemy to allow Jellicoe room to deploy into line.

The Grand Fleet was perfectly maneuvered and the very difficult operation of deploying between the battle cruisers and the Queen Elizabeths was perfectly timed.

Jellicoe came up, fell in behind Beatty’s cruisers, and followed by the damaged but still serviceable Queen Elizabeths, steamed right across the head of the German fleet.

The first of the ships to come into action were the Revenue and the Royal Oak with their fifteen-inch guns, and the Agincourt which fired from her seven turrets with the speed almost of a Maxim gun.

The whole British fleet had now become concentrated. They had been perfectly maneuvered, so as to “cross the T” of the High Seas Fleet, and, indeed, only decent light was necessary to complete their work of destroying the Germans in detail. The light did improve for a few minutes, and the conditions were favorable to the British fleet, which was now in line approximately north and south across the head of the Germans.

During the few minutes of good light Jellicoe smashed up the first three German ships, but the mist came down, visibility suddenly failed, and the defeated High Seas Fleet was able to draw off in ragged divisions.

Fifth Phase, Night. The Germans were followed by the British, who still had them enveloped between Jellicoe on the west, Beatty on the north, and Evan-Thomas with his three Queen Elizabeths on the south. The Warspite had been sent back to her base.

During the night the torpedo-boat destroyers heavily attacked the German ships, and, although they lost seriously themselves, succeeded in sinking two of the enemy.

HOW THE GREAT NAVAL BATTLE OF JUTLAND WAS FOUGHT

This chart must be taken only as a general indication of the courses of the opposing German and British battle fleets.

Co-ordination of the units of the fleet was practically impossible to keep up, and the Germans discovered by the rays of their search-lights the three Queen Elizabeths, not more than 4,000 yards away. Unfortunately they were then able to escape between the battleships and Jellicoe, since the British gunners were not able to fire, as the destroyers were in the way.

So ended the Jutland battle, which was fought as had been planned and very nearly a great success. It was spoiled by the unfavorable weather conditions, especially at the critical moment, when the whole British fleet was concentrated and engaged in crushing the head of the German line.

Commenting on the engagement, Admiral Jellicoe said: “The battle cruiser fleet, gallantly led by Vice-Admiral Beatty, and admirably supported by the ships of the fifth battle squadron under Rear-Admiral Evan-Thomas, fought the 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.”

His estimate of the German losses was: two battleships of the dreadnought type, one of the Deutschland type, which was seen to sink; the battle cruiser Lützow, admitted by the Germans; one battle cruiser of the dreadnought type, one battle cruiser seen to be so severely damaged that its return was extremely doubtful; five light cruisers, seen to sink—one of them possibly a battleship; six destroyers seen to sink, three destroyers so damaged that it was doubtful if they would be able to reach port, and a submarine sunk. The official German report admitted only eleven ships sunk; the first British report placed the total at eighteen, but Admiral Jellicoe enumerated twenty-one German vessels as probably lost.

The Admiral paid a fine tribute to the German naval men: “The enemy,” he said, “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 British line shortly after the deployment under a heavy fire, which was returned by the only gun left in action. The conduct of the officers and men was entirely beyond praise. On all sides it is reported that the glorious traditions of the past were most worthily upheld; whether in the heavy ships, cruisers, light cruisers, or destroyers, the same admirable spirit prevailed. The 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.”

At daylight on the 1st of June the British battle fleet, being southward of Horn Reef, turned northward in search of the enemy vessels. The visibility early on the first of June was three to four miles less than on May 31st, and the torpedo-boat destroyers, being out of visual touch, did not rejoin the fleet until 9 A. M. The British fleet remained in the proximity of the battlefield and near the line of approach to the German ports until 11 A. M., in spite of the disadvantage of long distances from fleet bases and the danger incurred in waters adjacent to the enemy’s coasts from submarines and torpedo craft.

The enemy, however, made no sign, and the admiral was reluctantly compelled to the conclusion that the High Sea Fleet had returned into port. Subsequent events proved this assumption to have been correct. The British position must have been known to the enemy, as at 4 A. M. the fleet engaged a Zeppelin about five minutes, during which time she had ample opportunity to note and subsequently report the position and course of the British fleet.

The Germans at first claimed a victory for their fleet. The test, of course, was the outcome of the battle. The fact that the German fleet retreated and nevermore ventured forth from beneath the protecting guns and mine fields around Helgoland, demonstrates beyond dispute that the British were entitled to the triumph. The German official report makes the best presentation of the German case. It follows in full:

The High Sea Fleet, consisting of three battleship squadrons, five battle cruisers, and a large number of small cruisers, with several destroyer flotillas, was cruising in the Skagerrak on May 31 for the purpose, as on earlier occasions, of offering battle to the British fleet. The vanguard of the small cruisers at 4.30 o’clock in the afternoon (German time) suddenly encountered ninety miles west of Hanstholm, (a cape on the northwest coast of Jutland), a group of eight of the newest cruisers of the Calliope class and fifteen or twenty of the most modern destroyers.

While the German light forces and the first cruiser squadron under Vice-Admiral Hipper were following the British, who were retiring northwestward, the German battle cruisers sighted to the westward Vice-Admiral Beatty’s battle squadron of six ships, including four of the Lion type and two of the Indefatigable type. Beatty’s squadron developed a battle line on a southeasterly course and Vice-Admiral Hipper formed his line ahead on the same general course and approached for a running fight. He opened fire at 5.49 o’clock in the afternoon with heavy artillery at a range of 13,000 meters against the superior enemy. The weather was clear and light, and the sea was light with a northwest wind.

After about a quarter of an hour a violent explosion occurred on the last cruiser of the Indefatigable type. It was caused by a heavy shell, and destroyed the vessel.

About 6.20 o’clock in the afternoon five warships of the Queen Elizabeth type came from the west and joined the British battle cruiser line, powerfully reinforcing with their fifteen-inch guns the five British battle cruisers remaining after 6.20 o’clock. To equalize this superiority Vice-Admiral Hipper ordered the destroyers to attack the enemy. The British destroyers and small cruisers interposed, and a bitter engagement at close range ensued, in the course of which a light cruiser participated.

The Germans lost two torpedo boats, the crews of which were rescued by sister ships under a heavy fire. Two British destroyers were sunk by artillery, and two others—the Nestor and Nomad—remained on the scene in a crippled condition. These later were destroyed by the main fleet after German torpedo boats had rescued all the survivors.

While this engagement was in progress, a mighty explosion, caused by a big shell, broke the Queen Mary, the third ship in line, asunder, at 6.30 o’clock.

Soon thereafter the German main battleship fleet was sighted to the southward, steering north. The hostile fast squadrons thereupon turned northward, closing the first part of the fight, which lasted about an hour.

The British retired at high speed before the German fleet, which followed closely. The German battle cruisers continued the artillery combat with increasing intensity, particularly with the division of the vessels of the Queen Elizabeth type, and in this the leading German battleship division participated intermittently. The hostile ships showed a desire to run in a flat curve ahead of the point of our line and to cross it.

At 7.45 o’clock in the evening British small cruisers and destroyers launched an attack against our battle cruisers, who avoided the torpedoes by manoeuvring, while the British battle cruisers retired from the engagement, in which they did not participate further as far as can be established. Shortly thereafter a German reconnoitring group, which was parrying the destroyer attack, received an attack from the northeast. The cruiser Wiesbaden was soon put out of action in this attack. The German torpedo flotillas immediately attacked the heavy ships.

Appearing shadow-like from the haze bank to the northeast was made out a long line of at least twenty-five battleships, which at first sought a junction with the British battle cruisers and those of the Queen Elizabeth type on a northwesterly to westerly course, and then turned on an easterly to southeasterly course.

With the advent of the British main fleet, whose centre consisted of three squadrons of eight battleships each, with a fast division of three battle cruisers of the Invincible type on the northern end, and three of the newest vessels of the Royal Sovereign class, armed with fifteen-inch guns, at the southern end, there began about 8 o’clock in the evening the third section of the engagement, embracing the combat between the main fleets.

Vice-Admiral Scheer determined to attack the British main fleet, which he now recognized was completely assembled and about doubly superior. The German battleship squadron, headed by battle cruisers, steered first toward the extensive haze bank to the northeast, where the crippled cruiser Wiesbaden was still receiving a heavy fire. Around the Wiesbaden stubborn individual fights under quickly changing conditions now occurred.

The light enemy forces, supported by an armored cruiser squadron of five ships of the Minotaur, Achilles, and Duke of Edinburgh classes coming from the northeast, were encountered and apparently surprised on account of the decreasing visibility of our battle cruisers and leading battleship division. The squadron came under a violent and heavy fire, by which the small cruisers Defense and Black Prince were sunk. The cruiser Warrior regained its own line a wreck and later sank. Another small cruiser was damaged severely.

Two destroyers already had fallen victims to the attack of German torpedo boats against the leading British battleships and a small cruiser and two destroyers were damaged. The German battle cruisers and leading battleship division had in these engagements come under increased fire of the enemy’s battleship squadron, which, shortly after 8 o’clock, could be made out in the haze turning to the northeastward and finally to the east. Germans observed, amid the artillery combat and shelling of great intensity, signs of the effect of good shooting between 8.20 and 8.30 o’clock particularly. Several officers on German ships observed that a battleship of the Queen Elizabeth class blew up under conditions similar to that of the Queen Mary. The Invincible sank after being hit severely. A ship of the Iron Duke class had earlier received a torpedo hit, and one of the Queen Elizabeth class was running around in a circle, its steering apparatus apparently having been hit.

The Lützow was hit by at least fifteen heavy shells and was unable to maintain its place in line. Vice-Admiral Hipper, therefore, transshipped to the Moltke on a torpedo boat and under a heavy fire. The Derfflinger meantime took the lead temporarily. Parts of the German torpedo flotilla attacked the enemy’s main fleet and heard detonations. In the action the Germans lost a torpedo boat. An enemy destroyer was seen in a sinking condition, having been hit by a torpedo.

After the first violent onslaught into the mass of the superior enemy the opponents lost sight of each other in the smoke by powder clouds. After a short cessation in the artillery combat Vice-Admiral Scheer ordered a new attack by all the available forces.

German battle cruisers, which with several light cruisers and torpedo boats again headed the line, encountered the enemy soon after 9 o’clock and renewed the heavy fire, which was answered by them from the mist, and then by the leading division of the main fleet. Armored cruisers now flung themselves in a reckless onset at extreme speed against the enemy line in order to cover the attack of the torpedo boats. They approached the enemy line, although covered with shot from 6,000 meters distances. Several German torpedo flotillas dashed forward to attack, delivered torpedoes, and returned, despite the most severe counterfire, with the loss of only one boat. The bitter artillery fire was again interrupted, after this second violent onslaught, by the smoke from guns and funnels.

Several torpedo flotillas, which were ordered to attack somewhat later, found, after penetrating the smoke cloud, that the enemy fleet was no longer before them; nor, when the fleet commander again brought the German squadrons upon the southerly and southwesterly course where the enemy was last seen, could our opponents be found. Only once more—shortly before 10.30 o’clock—did the battle flare up. For a short time in the late twilight German battle cruisers sighted four enemy capital ships to seaward and opened fire immediately. As the two German battleship squadrons attacked, the enemy turned and vanished in the darkness. Older German light cruisers of the fourth reconnaissance group also were engaged with the older enemy armored cruisers in a short fight.

This ended the day battle.

The German divisions, which, after losing sight of the enemy, began a night cruise in a southerly direction, were attacked until dawn by enemy light force in rapid succession.

The attacks were favored by the general strategic situation and the particularly dark night.

The cruiser Frauenlob was injured severely during the engagement of the fourth reconnaissance group with a superior cruiser force, and was lost from sight.

One armored cruiser of the Cressy class suddenly appeared close to a German battleship and was shot into fire after forty seconds, and sank in four minutes.

The Florent (?) Destroyer 60, (the names were hard to decipher in the darkness and therefore were uncertainly established) and four destroyers—3, 78, 06, and 27—were destroyed by our fire. One destroyer was cut in two by the ram of a German battleship. Seven destroyers, including the G-30, were hit and severely damaged. These, including the Tipperary and Turbulent, which after saving survivors, were left behind in a sinking condition, drifted past our line, some of them burning at the bow or stern.

The tracks of countless torpedoes were sighted by the German ships, but only the Pommern (a battleship) fell an immediate victim to a torpedo. The cruiser Rostock was hit, but remained afloat. The cruiser Elbing was damaged by a German battleship during an unavoidable maneuver. After vain endeavors to keep the ship afloat the Elbing was blown up, but only after her crew had embarked on torpedo boats. A post torpedo boat was struck by a mine laid by the enemy.

ADMITTED LOSSES—BRITISH

[A] These figures are given for what they are worth, but no one outside of Germany doubted but that their losses were very much greater than admitted in the official report.

While the world was still puzzling over the conflicting reports of the Battle of Jutland came the shocking news that Field Marshal Lord Horatio Herbert Kitchener, the British Secretary of State for War, had perished off the West Orkney Islands on June 5th, through the sinking of the British cruiser Hampshire. The entire crew was also lost, except twelve men, a warrant officer and eleven seamen, who escaped on a raft. Earl Kitchener was on his way to Russia, at the request of the Russian Government, for a consultation regarding munitions to be furnished the Russian army. He was intending to go to Archangel and visit Petrograd, and expected to be back in London by June 20th. He was accompanied by Hugh James O’Beirne, former Councillor of the British Embassy at Petrograd, O. A. Fitz-Gerald, his military secretary, Brigadier-General Ellarshaw, and Sir Frederick Donaldson, all of whom were lost.

The cause of the sinking of the Hampshire is not known. It is supposed that it struck a mine, but the tragedy very naturally brought into existence many stories which ascribe his death to more direct German action.

Where Earl Kitchener Met His Death

Seaman Rogerson, one of the survivors, describes Lord Kitchener’s last moments as follows: “Of those who left the ship, and have survived, I was the one who saw Lord Kitchener last. He went down with the ship, he did not leave her. I saw Captain Seville help his boat’s crew to clear away his galley. At the same time the Captain was calling to Lord Kitchener to come to the boat, but owing to the noise made by the wind and sea, Lord Kitchener could not hear him, I think. When the explosion occurred, Kitchener walked calmly from the Captain’s cabin, went up the ladder and on to the quarter deck. There I saw him walking quite collectedly, talking to two of the officers. All three were wearing khaki and had no overcoats on. Kitchener calmly watched the preparations for abandoning the ship, which were going on in a steady and orderly way. The crew just went to their stations, obeyed orders, and did their best to get out the boats. But it was impossible. Owing to the rough weather, no boats could be lowered. Those that were got out were smashed up at once. No boats left the ship. What people on the shore thought to be boats leaving, were rafts. Men did get into the boats as these lay in their cradles, thinking that as the ship went under the boats would float, but the ship sank by the head, and when she went she turned a somersault forward, carrying down with her all the boats and those in them. I do not think Kitchener got into a boat. When I sprang to a raft he was still on the starboard side of the quarter deck, talking with the officers. From the little time that elapsed between my leaving the ship and her sinking I feel certain Kitchener went down with her, and was on deck at the time she sank.”

The British Admiralty, after investigation, gave out a statement declaring that the vessel struck a mine, and sank about fifteen minutes after.

The news of Lord Kitchener’s death shocked the whole Allied world. He was the most important personality in the British Empire. He had built up the British army, and his name was one to conjure by. His efficiency was a proverb, and he had an air of mystery about him that made him a sort of a popular hero. He was great before the World War began; he was the conqueror of the Soudan; the winner of the South African campaign; the reorganizer of Egypt. In his work as Secretary of War he had met with some criticism, but he possessed, more than any other man, the public confidence. At the beginning of the war he was appointed Secretary of War at the demand of an overwhelming public opinion. He realized more than any one else what such a war would mean. When others thought of it as an adventure to be soon concluded, he recognized that there would be years of bitter conflict. He asked England to give up its cherished tradition of a volunteer army; to go through arduous military training; he saw the danger to the Empire, and he alone, perhaps, had the authority to inspire his countrymen with the will to sacrifice. But his work was done. The great British army was in the field.

CHAPTER V
The Russian Campaign

IN the very beginning Russia had marked out one point for attack. This was the city of Cracow. No doubt the Grand Duke Nicholas had not hoped to be able to invest that city early. The slowness of the mobilization of the Russian army made a certain prudence advisable at the beginning of the campaign. But the great success of his armies in Lemberg encouraged more daring aims. He had invested Przemysl, and Galicia lay before him. Accordingly, he set his face toward Cracow.

Cracow, from a military point of view, is the gate both of Vienna and Berlin. A hundred miles west of it is the famous gap of Moravia, between the Carpathian and the Bohemian mountains, which leads down into Austria. Through this gap runs the great railway connecting Silesia with Vienna, and the Grand Duke knew that if he could capture Cracow he would have an easy road before him to the Austrian capital. Cracow also is the key of Germany.

Seventy miles from the city lies the Oder River. An army might enter Germany by this gate and turn the line of Germany’s frontier fortresses. The Oder had been well fortified, but an invader coming from Cracow might move upon the western bank. The Russian plan no doubt was to threaten both enemy capitals. Moreover, an advance of Russia from Cracow would take its armies into Silesia, full of coal and iron mines, and one of the greatest manufacturing districts in the German Empire. This would be a real success, and all Germany would feel the blow.

Another reason for the Russian advance in Galicia was her desire to control the Galician oil wells. To Germany petrol had become one of the foremost munitions of war. Since she could not obtain it from either America or Russia she must get it from Austria, and the Austrian oil fields were all in Galicia. This, in itself, would explain the Galician campaign. Moreover, through the Carpathian Mountains it was possible to make frequent raids into Hungary, and Russia understood well the feeling of Hungary toward her German allies. She hoped that when Hungary perceived her regiments sacrificed and her plains overrun by Russian troops, she would regret that she had allowed herself to be sacrificed to Prussian ambition. The Russians, therefore, suddenly moved toward Cracow.

Then von Hindenburg came to the rescue. The supreme command of the Austrian forces was given to him. The defenses of Cracow were strengthened under the direction of the Germans, and a German army advanced from the Posen frontier toward the northern bank of the Vistula. The advance threatened the Russian right, and, accordingly, within ten days’ march of Cracow, the Russians stopped. The German offensive in Poland had begun. The news of the German advance came about the fifth of October. Von Hindenburg, who had been fighting in East Prussia, had at last perceived that nothing could be gained there. The vulnerable part of Russia was the city of Warsaw. This was the capital of Poland, with a population of about three-quarters of a million. If he could take Warsaw, he would not only have pleasant quarters for the winter but Russia would be so badly injured that no further offensive from her need be anticipated for a long period. Von Hindenburg had with him a large army. In his center he probably had three-quarters of a million men, and on his right the Austrian army in Cracow, which must have reached a million.

Counting the troops operating in East Prussia and along the Carpathians, and the garrison of Przemysl, the Teuton army must have had two and a half million soldiers. Russia, on the other hand, though her mobilization was still continuing, at this time could not have had as many as two million men in the whole nine hundred miles of her battle-front.

The fight for Warsaw began Friday, October 16th, and continued for three days, von Hindenburg being personally in command. On Monday the Germans found themselves in trouble. A Russian attack on their left wing had come with crushing force. Von Hindenburg found his left wing thrown back, and the whole German movement thrown into disorder. Meanwhile an attempt to cross the Vistula at Josefov had also been a failure. The Russians allowed the Germans to pass with slight resistance, waited until they arrived at the village Kazimirjev, a district of low hills and swampy flats, and then suddenly overwhelmed them.

Next day the Russians crossed the river themselves, and advanced along the whole line, driving the enemy before them, through great woods of spruce out into the plains on the west. This forest region was well known to the Russian guides, and the Germans suffered much as the Russians had suffered in East Prussia. Ruzsky, the Russian commander, pursued persistently; the Germans retreating first to Kielce, whence they were driven, on the 3d of November, with great losses, and then being broken into two pieces, with the north retiring westward and the south wing southwest toward Cracow.

Rennenkampf’s attack on the German left wing was equally successful, and von Hindenburg was driven into full retreat. The only success won during this campaign was that in the far south where Austrian troops were sweeping eastward toward the San. This army drove back the Russians under Ivanov, reoccupied Jaroslav and relieved Przemysl. This was a welcome relief to Przemysl, for the garrison was nearly starved, and it was well for the garrison that the relief came, for in a few days the Russians returned, recaptured Jaroslav and reinvested Przemysl. As von Hindenburg retreated he left complete destruction in his wake, roads, bridges, railroad tracks, water towers, railway stations, all were destroyed; even telegraph posts, broken or sawn through, and insulators broken to bits.

It was now the turn of Russia to make a premature advance, and to pay for it. Doubtless the Grand Duke Nicholas, whose strategy up to this point had been so admirable, knew very well the danger of a new advance in Galicia, but he realized the immense political as well as military advantages which were to be obtained by the capture of Cracow. He therefore attempted to move an army through Poland as well as through Galicia, hoping that the army in Poland would keep von Hindenburg busy, while the Galician army would deal with Cracow.

The advance was slow on account of the damaged Polish roads. It was preceded by a cavalry screen which moved with more speed. On November 10th, the vanguard crossed the Posen frontier and cut the railway on the Cracow-Posen line. This reconnaissance convinced the Russian general that the German army did not propose to make a general stand, and it seemed to him that if he struck strongly with his center along the Warta, he might destroy the left flank of the German southern army, while his own left flank was assaulting Cracow. He believed that even if his attack upon the Warta failed, the Russian center could at any rate prevent the enemy from interfering with the attack further south upon Cracow.

GERMAN FRIGHTFULNESS FROM THE AIR

A gas attack on the eastern front photographed by a Russian airman.

The movement therefore began, and by November 12th, the Russian cavalry had taken Miechow on the German frontier, about twenty miles north of Cracow. Its main forces were still eighty miles to the east. About this time Grand Duke Nicholas perceived that von Hindenburg was preparing a counter stroke. He had retreated north, and then, by means of his railways, was gathering a large army at Thorn. Large reinforcements were sent him, some from the western front, giving him a total of about eight hundred thousand men. In his retreat from Warsaw, while he had destroyed all roads and railways in the south and west, he had carefully preserved those of the north already planning to use them in another movement. He now was beginning an advance, once again, against Warsaw. On account of the roads he perceived that it would be difficult for the Russians to obtain reinforcements. Von Hindenburg had with him as Chief of Staff General von Ludendorff, one of the cleverest staff officers in the German army, and General von Mackensen, a commander of almost equal repute.

The Russian army in the north had been pretty well scattered. The Russian forces were now holding a front of nearly a thousand miles, with about two million men. The Russian right center, which now protected Warsaw from the new attack could hardly number more than two hundred thousand men. Von Hindenburg’s aim was Warsaw only, and did not affect directly the Russian advance to Cracow, which was still going on. Indeed, by the end of the first week in December, General Dmitrieff had cavalry in the suburbs of Cracow, and his main force was on the line of the River Rava about twelve miles away. Cracow had been strongly fortified, and much entrenching had been done in a wide circle around the city.

The German plan was to use its field army in Cracow’s defense rather than a garrison. Two separate forces were used; one moving southwest of Cracow along the Carpathian hills, struck directly at Ivanov’s left; the other, operating from Hungary, threatened the Russian rear. These two divisions struck at the same time and the Russians found it necessary to fight rear actions as they moved forward. They were doing this with reasonable success and working their way toward Cracow, when, on the 12th of December, the Austrian forces working from Hungary carried the Dukla Pass. This meant that the Austrians would be able to pour troops down into the rear of the Russian advance, and the Russian army would be cut off. Dmitrieff, therefore, fell rapidly back, until the opening of the Dukla Pass was in front of his line, and the Russian army was once more safe.