There cannot be much doubt that the plan of the Central Powers originally was to take Poland without having to overcome these very formidable obstacles. If Von Hindenburg had succeeded after the battle of Tannenberg in crossing the Niemen, and if, at about the same time the Austro-Hungarians had also succeeded in defeating their Russian adversaries in Galicia, described in another chapter, this object could have been accomplished very easily by a concerted advance of both along the east bank of the Bug, with Brest-Litovsk as the most likely point of junction. The result would have been twofold: in the first place all of Poland would have been in the hands of the Central Powers; for Russia either would have had to withdraw its forces from there before their three main lines of retreat—the railroads from Warsaw to Petrograd, Moscow, Kiev—had been cut by the invaders, or else the latter would have been in a position to destroy them leisurely, having surrounded them completely. In the second place it would have meant the shortening of the eastern front by hundreds of miles, making it practically a straight line from the Baltic Sea to some point on the Russo-Galician frontier.

In the preceding chapters, however, we have seen that up to the beginning of October, 1914, neither the Germans nor the Austrians had accomplished this object. The former had to satisfy themselves with having cleared their own soil in East Prussia of the Russian invaders and with keeping it free from further invasions, while the latter were being pressed harder and harder every day and had to figure with a possible invasion of Hungary. It was then that the Central Powers decided to invade Poland from the west, and thus gradually drove out the Russians. Why they persisted in their efforts to gain possession of Russian Poland is clear enough. For in addition to the above-mentioned advantage of shortening and straightening their front, they would also deprive Russia of one of its most important and populous centers of industry, in which the czar's domain was not overrich, and it would remove forever this dangerous indentation in the back of the German Empire.

Before we consider in detail the first German drive for Warsaw, it is also necessary to consider briefly political conditions in Russian Poland.

Ever since the partition of the old Kingdom of Poland among Germany, Austria, and Russia, the Polish provinces created thereby for these three empires had been a continuous source of trouble and worry to each. The Poles are well known for their intense patriotism, which perhaps is only a particular manifestation of one of their general racial characteristics—temperament. At any rate the true Pole has never forgotten the splendid past of his race, nor has he ever given up hope for a reestablishment of its unity and independence. It is a rather difficult question to answer whether Russia, Germany, or Austria have sinned most against their Polish subjects. The fact remains, however, that all three most ruthlessly suppressed all Polish attempts to realize their national ideals. It is equally true that Russia went further along that line than either Germany or Austria, and on the other hand did less for its Polish subjects than the other two countries. Both in Germany and Austria there existed therefore a more or less well-defined idea that the Russian Poles would welcome German and Austrian troops with open arms as their saviors from the Russian yoke. In Russia a certain amount of anxiety existed about what the Poles would do. The latter, in a way, at the beginning of the war found themselves facing a most difficult alternative. That their country would at some time or other become a battling ground of the contending armies was quite evident. Whether Russia or the Central Powers would emerge as the final victor was at least open to dispute. Whatever side the Poles chose, might be the wrong side and bring to them the most horrible consequences. It was undoubtedly with this danger in view that the "Gazeta Warzawska" printed on August 15, 1914, an editorial which in part read as follows:

"Remain passive, watchful, insensible to temptation.

"During the coming struggle the Kingdom of Poland will be the marching ground of various armies; we shall see temporary victors assuming lordship for a while; but change of authority will follow, and inevitable retaliation; this several times, perhaps, in the course of the campaign. Therefore every improvident step will meet with terrible revenge. By holding firm through the present conflict you best can serve the Polish cause. In the name of the love you bear your country, of your solicitude for the nation's future, we entreat you, fellow countrymen, to remain deaf to evil inspirations, unshakable in your determination not to expose our land to yet greater calamities, and Poland's whole future to incalculable perils."

This, of course, was far from being a rousing appeal to support Russia's cause, but it was even further from being a suggestion to support that of the Central Powers and revolt against Russia. Polish newspapers of the next day printed a proclamation signed by the Commander in Chief Grand Duke Nicholas prophesying the fulfillment of the Polish dream of unity, at least, even if under the Russian scepter, and promising a rebirth of Poland "free in faith, in language, in self-government."

On August 17, 1914, four of the Polish political parties published a manifesto in which they welcomed this proclamation and expressed their belief in the ultimate fulfillment of the promises made. The net result of the sudden three-cornered bid for Polish friendship and support, then, seems to have been that the leaders of Polish nationalism had decided to abstain from embarrassing Russia, even though their resistance against Germany and Austria with both of which other Poles were fighting was not always very deep-seated.

During the first month of the war practically nothing of importance happened in the Polish territory. German detachments occupied some of the towns right across the border, in many instances for a short time only. Mlawa, Kalish, and Czestochowa were the most important places involved.

On August 31, 1914, however, the occupation of Radom, about 130 miles from the German frontier, was reported, and a few days later that of Lodz, next to Warsaw the biggest city of Russian Poland and an important manufacturing center. At about the same time all of the places along two of the railroads running from Germany to Warsaw, Thorn to Warsaw, and Kalish to Warsaw, as far as Lowitz, where they meet, were occupied. In this territory the Germans immediately proceeded to repair the railroad bridges destroyed by the retreating Russians, who, apparently, had decided to fall back to their defenses on the Vistula. The Germans must have felt themselves fairly secure in their possession of this territory, for on September 15, 1914, Count Meerveldt, then governor of the Prussian Province of Muenster, was appointed its civil governor. A day later the commanding general (Von Morgen) published a proclamation, addressed to the inhabitants of the two provinces of Lomza and Warsaw. In it he announced the defeat of the Russian Narew Army and Rennenkampf's retreat and stated that larger forces were following his own army corps, which latter considered them as its friends and had been ordered to treat them accordingly. He called upon them to rise against their Russian oppressors and to assist him in driving them out of beautiful Poland which afterward was to receive at the hands of the German Emperor political and religious liberty.

About ten days later the "additional stronger forces," which General von Morgen had prophesied, put in an appearance. They consisted of four separate armies, one advancing along the Thorn-Warsaw railroad, another along the Kalish-Warsaw line, a third along the Breslau-Czestochowa-Kielce-Radom-Ivangorod railroad, and the fourth from Cracow in the same direction. Just how large these four armies were is not absolutely known. Estimates range all the way from 500,000 to 1,500,000 which makes it most likely that the real strength was about 1,000,000. Of these all but the Fourth Army were made up of German soldiers, whereas the Cracow Army consisted of Austrians, forming the left wing of their main forces which about that time had been rearranged in western Galicia.

By the time all of these armies were ready to advance, the victor of Tannenberg, Von Hindenburg—who meanwhile had been raised to the rank of field marshal—had been put in supreme command of the combined German and Austro-Hungarian armies in Poland. Though he was fighting now on territory concerning which he had at least no superior knowledge than his adversaries, his energy made itself felt immediately. He pushed the advance of his four armies at an overpowering rate of speed and forced the Russians, who apparently were not any too sure, either about the strength of the opposing forces or their ultimate plans, to fall back everywhere. By October 5 the Russians, attempting to make a desperate stand near Radom, had been forced back almost as far as Ivangorod, and within the week following the Austro-German army, still further south, had reached the Vistula between the Galician border and Ivangorod. The advance of the Germans as well as the retreat of the Russians took place under terrific difficulties, caused by torrential rains which poured down incessantly. Some interesting details may be learned from a letter written about that time by a German officer in charge of a heavy munition train: "From Czestochowa we advanced in forced marches. During the first two days roads were passable, but after that they became terrible, as it rained every day. In some places there were no roads left, nothing but mud and swamps. Once it took us a full hour to move one wagon, loaded with munitions and drawn by fifteen horses, a distance of only fifteen yards.... Horses sank into the mud up to their bodies and wagons up to their axles.... One night we reached a spot which was absolutely impassable. The only way to get around it was through a dense forest, but before we could get through there it was necessary to cut an opening through the trees. For the next few hours we felled trees for a distance of over five hundred yards.... For the past eight days we have been on the go almost every night, and once I stayed in my saddle for thirty consecutive hours. During all that time we had no real rest. Either we did not reach our quarters until early in the morning or late at night. What a bed feels like we've forgotten long ago. We consider ourselves lucky if we have one room and straw on the floor for the seven of us. For ten days I have not been out of my clothes. And when we do get a little sleep it is almost invariably necessary to start off again at once.... Even our food supplies have become more scarce day by day. Long ago we saw the last of butter, sausage, or similar delicacies. We are glad if we have bread and some lard. Only once in a great while are we fortunate enough to buy some cattle. But then a great feast is prepared.... Tea is practically all that we have to drink.... The hardships, as you can see, are somewhat plentiful; but in spite of this fact I am in tiptop condition and feeling wonderfully well. Sometimes I am astonished myself what one can stand."

Early in October, 1914, the Germans came closer and closer to Warsaw. At the end of it they were in the south, within twenty miles of the old Polish capital—at Grojec. At that time only a comparatively small force, not more than three army corps, was available, under General Scheidemann's command, for its defense. These, however—all of them made up of tried Siberian troops—fought heroically for forty-four hours, especially around the strongly fortified little town of Blonie, about ten miles west of Warsaw. The commander in chief of all the Russian armies, Grand Duke Nicholas, had retired with his staff to Grodno, and Warsaw expected as confidently a German occupation as the Germans themselves. But suddenly the Russians, who up to that time seem to have underestimated the strength of the Germans, awoke to the desperate needs of the situation. By a supreme effort they contrived to concentrate vast reenforcements to the east of Warsaw within a few days and to change the proportion of numbers before Warsaw from five to three in favor of the Germans to about three to one in their own favor.

On October 10, 1914, panic reigned supreme in Warsaw. Although the Government tried to dispel the fears of the populace by encouraging proclamations, the thunder of the cannons, which could be heard incessantly, and the very evident lack of strong Russian forces, spoke more loudly. Whoever could afford to flee and was fortunate enough to get official sanction to leave, did so. The panic was still more intensified when German aeroplanes and dirigibles began to appear in the sky. For fully ten days the fighting lasted around the immediate neighborhood of the city. Day and night, bombs thrown by the German air fleet exploded in all parts of the city, doing great damage to property and killing and wounding hundreds of innocent noncombatants. Day and night could be heard the roar of the artillery fire, and nightfall brought the additional terror of the fiery reflection from bursting shrapnel. The peasants from the villages to the west and south streamed into the city in vast numbers. Thousands of wounded coming from all directions added still more to the horror and excitement.

The hardest fighting around Blonie occurred from October 13 to 17, 1914. On the 13th the Germans were forced to evacuate Blonie, and on October 14 Pruszkow, a little farther south and still nearer to Warsaw. On October 15 the Russians made a wonderful and successful bayonet attack on another near-by village, Nadarzyn. The next day, the 16th, saw almost all of this territory again in the hands of the Germans, and on the 17th they succeeded even in crossing the Vistula over a pontoon bridge slightly south of Warsaw. However, even then the arrival of Russian reenforcements made itself felt, for after a short stay on the right bank of the Vistula the Germans were thrown back by superior Russian forces. All that day the fighting went on most furiously and lasted deep into the night. The next day at last the Russian armies had all been assembled.



CHAPTER LXXVIII

GERMAN RETREAT FROM RUSSIAN POLAND

On October 19, 1914, the Germans, who apparently had accurate information concerning the immense numbers which they now faced, gave up the attack and began their retreat. The retreat was carried out with as much speed and success as the advance. By October 20 the Germans had gone back so far that the Russian advance formations could not keep up with them and lost track of them. Without losing a gun, the First German Army managed to escape the pursuing Russians as well as to evade two attempts—one from the south and one from the north—to outflank them and cut off their retreat.

During the fighting before Warsaw the total front on which the Russian armies were battling against the German and Austrian invaders of Poland was about 160 miles long, stretching from Novo Georgievsk in the north, along the Vistula, through Warsaw and Ivangorod to Sandomir at the Galician border in the south. All along this line continuous fighting went on, and the heaviest of it, besides that directly before Warsaw, took place around the fortress of Ivangorod. Two attempts of the Russians to get back to the left side of the Vistula on October 12 and 14, 1914, were frustrated under heavy losses on both sides. A German soldier states in a letter written home during the actual fighting before Ivangorod that at the end of one day, out of his company of 250, only 85 were left—the other 66 per cent having been killed or wounded.

Just as the Russians had succeeded in assembling sufficient reenforcements at Warsaw, to make it inevitable for the German forces to retreat, they had brought equally large numbers to the rescue of Ivangorod. However, these did not make themselves really felt there until October 27, 1914. Previous to that date the Germans and Austrians captured over 50,000 Russians and thirty-five guns. When, on October 23 and 24, 1904, aeroplane scouts discovered the approaching vast reenforcements, and similar reports were received from the First Army fighting around Warsaw, the German and Austrian forces were all withdrawn. The retreat of these groups of armies was accomplished much in the same way as of that in the north, except that it began later and brought with it more frequent and more desperate rear-guard actions. The Russians, who were trying desperately to inflict as much damage as possible to the retreating enemy, showed wonderful courage and heroic disregard of death. In some places, however, the Germans had prepared strong, even if temporary, intrenchments, sometimes three or more lines deep, and the storming of these cost their opponents dearly.

By October 24, 1914, the invaders had been forced back in the south as far as Radom and in the north to Skierniewice; by October 28 Radom as well as Lodz had been evacuated and were again in Russian hands. The lines of retreat were the same as those of advance had been, namely, the railroads from Warsaw to Thorn, Kalish, and Cracow. Much damage was done to these roads by the Germans in order to delay as much as possible the pursuit of the Russians. Considerable fighting occurred, however, whenever one of the rivers along the line of retreat was reached; so along the Pilitza, the Rawka, the Bzura, and finally the Warta. By the end of the first week of November the German-Austrian armies had been thrown back across their frontiers, and all of Russian Poland was once more in the undisputed possession of Russia.

In a measure Von Hindenburg followed the example of his Russian adversaries when he withdrew his forces from Poland into Upper Silesia in November, 1914, after the unsuccessful first drive against Warsaw, of which we have just read the details. His reasons for taking this step were evident enough. When it had been established definitely that the reenforcements which Russia had been able to gather made futile any further hope of taking Warsaw with the forces at his command, only two possibilities remained to the German general: To make a stand to the west of the Vistula until reenforcements could be brought up, or to fall back to his bases and there concentrate enough additional forces to make a new drive for Poland. He chose the latter, undoubtedly because it was the safer and less costly in lives.

How quickly the German retreat was accomplished we have already seen. In spite of their rapidity, however, the Germans found time to hold up the Russians, not only by severe rear-guard actions, but also by destroying in the most thorough manner the few railroad lines that led out of Poland. In this connection they proved themselves to be as much past masters in the art of disorganization as they had hitherto shown themselves to be capable of the highest forms of organization.

About November 10, 1914, Von Hindenburg had completed his regrouping. The line along which the Russians were massed against him stretched from the point where the Niemen enters East Prussia, slightly east of Tilsit, along the eastern and southern border of East Prussia to the Vistula at Wloclawek, from there to the Warta at Kola, where it turns to the west, along and slightly to the east of this river through Uniejow-Zdouska-Wola to Novo Radowsk. From there it passed to the north of Cracow in a curve toward Galicia, where strong Russian armies were forcing back the Austrians on and beyond the Carpathians. Along this vast front—considerably over 500 miles long—the Russians had drawn up forces which must have amounted very nearly to forty-five army corps, or over 2,000,000 men. These were distributed as follows: The Tenth Army faced the eastern border of East Prussia west of the Niemen; the First Army the southern border of this province, north of the Narew and both north and south of the Vistula; the Second, Fourth, Fifth, and Ninth Armies, forming the main forces of the Russians, fronted along the Warta against lower Posen and Upper Silesia, while the balance of the Russian armies had been thrown against the Austro-Hungarian forces in Galicia.

Against these Von Hindenburg had three distinct armies which were available for offensive purposes. The central army under General von Mackensen was concentrated between Thorn and the Warta River; a southern army had been formed north of Cracow and along the Upper Silesian border, and was made up chiefly of Austro-Hungarian forces with a comparatively slight mingling of German troops. North of the Vistula, between Thorn and Soldau, a third and weaker army had been collected for the protection of West Prussia. In Galicia, of course, stood the main body of the Austro-Hungarian forces, and in East Prussia defenses had been prepared which made it possible to leave there weaker formations for defensive purposes only.

The Germans fully appreciated the danger of the Russian numerical superiority. If these mighty forces were once allowed to get fully under way and develop a general offensive along the entire front, the German cause would be as good as lost. The main object of Von Hindenburg, therefore, was to break this vast offensive power, and he decided to do so by an offensive of his own which, if possible, was to set in ahead of that of the Russians. Though the latter most likely had at least one-third more men at their disposal than he, he had one advantage over them, a wonderfully developed network of railroads, running practically parallel to this entire line. The Russians, on the other hand, had nothing but roads running from east to west or from north to south, which could be used as feeders only from a central point to a number of points along their semicircular line. Troops having once been concentrated could be thrown to another point if it was at any distance at all only by sending them back to the central point and then sending them out again on another feeder, or else by long and difficult marches which practically almost took too much time to be of any value. Von Hindenburg could, if need be, concentrate any number of his forces at a given point, deliver there an attack in force and then concentrate again at another point for a similar purpose, almost before his adversary could suspect his purpose. His plan was to attack with his strongest forces under Von Mackensen the weakest point of the Russian line between the Vistula and the Warta, beat them there and then march from the north against the right wing of the main forces of the Russians, which latter was to be kept from advancing too far by the mixed Austrian and German army. On his two outmost flanks, in East Prussia and East Galicia, nothing but defensive actions were contemplated.

The Russian plan was somewhat similar, except that their main attack apparently was to be directed in the south against Cracow, and from there against the immensely important industrial center of Silesia. At the same time, they intended to press as hard as possible their attacks in East Prussia and Galicia in order to force a weakening of the German center.



CHAPTER LXXIX

WINTER BATTLES OF THE POLISH CAMPAIGN

During November and December, 1914, and January, 1915, much of the fighting which took place on this immense front consisted of engagements between comparatively small formations, and is very difficult to follow in detail. For convenience we shall consider first the fighting in Poland, and then separately that in East Prussia, although, of course, they were carried on concurrently.

On November 10, 1914, the Germans had reached Komn on the Warta, where it met a small Russian force, of which it captured 500 men and machine guns. Two days later, November 12, the Russians crossed the Warta, and their advance troops, chiefly cavalry, had almost reached Kalish on the East Prussian border. On that day, however, they were forced back again a short distance. Similar engagements took place at various points along the entire line, chiefly for the purpose of testing their respective strength.

November 14, 1914, however, saw the first more extensive fighting. Von Mackensen's group had reached by that time Wloclawek on the western bank of the Vistula and slightly east of the Thorn-Lowitz railroad, about thirty miles from Thorn. One of the Russian army corps of General Russky's group made a determined stand. However, it was forced to fall back and lost 1,500 prisoners and some ten machine guns. The Germans followed up this gain by pressing with all their power against the right wing of the Russian center army. For two or three days the battle raged along a front running from Wloclawek south to Kutno, a distance of about thirty miles. Both of these country towns are situated on the strategically very important railroad from Thorn to Warsaw by way of Lowitz. The Russians had two or three army corps in this sector, including the one that had been forced back from Wloclawek. The Germans undoubtedly were in superior force at this particular point, and were therefore able to press their attack to great advantage. The final result was a falling back of the entire Russian right to the Bzura River after both sides had lost thousands in killed and wounded, and the Russians were obliged to leave over 20,000 men, 70 machine guns, and some larger guns in the hands of the Germans. Von Mackensen was rewarded for this victory by being raised to the rank of "general oberst," which in the German army is only one remove from field marshal.

In a measure separate battles in this Polish campaign sink, at this time, into insignificance. For the total number of men involved, the extent of the battle ground, the frequency of engagements which under any other circumstances would, without any doubt, have been considered battles of the first magnitude, stamped them at this time as "minor actions." The fighting, however, was as furious as at any time, the hardships as severe as anywhere, and the valor on both sides as great as ever. Again the wonderful mobility of the German army organization was one of the strongest features. A French critic says of the fighting in Poland at this time that "it was the most stirring since Napoleonic times. It forced generals to make movements and to change and improvise plans to an extent which war history never before had registered." Dr. Boehm, the war correspondent of the "Berliner Tageblatt," says that the advance was so fast that the infantry frequently had no time to lay down before firing, but had to do so standing or kneeling. Artillery most of the time moved on to a new position after having fired only a few shots. He also mentions the many cadavers of horses that could be seen everywhere. Some of these, of course, were the victims of rifle or gun fire. But more had a small round hole in their forehead where the shot of mercy out of their own master's revolver had put them out of their misery. For the condition of the roads was such that, chiefly on account of the rapidity of the advance, large numbers of horses would fall down, weakened and often with broken legs.

Among one of the minor results of the battle of Kutno, necessitating the hurried withdrawal of the Russians, was the capture of the governor of Warsaw, General von Korff. He was surprised in his automobile by a troop of German cavalry toward which he was driving apparently in the belief that they were Russians.

During this period the Russians made an attack against the Germans between Soldau and Thorn. The left wing of this group was advancing along the right bank of the Vistula against Thorn, but was successfully stopped by the Germans at Lipno and thrown back in the direction of Plock. By November 16, 1914, the Russians had lost in that sector a total of about 5,000 prisoners with a proportionate number of machine guns. In general throughout the entire fighting in this territory the Russian losses by capture were astonishingly high. Of course, the Germans, too, lost men in this manner; but being in the offensive they suffered less, while the Russians, continually forced to fall back, often found it impossible to withdraw advanced formations in time. Further to the north the Russians had reached the border along the Warsaw-Danzig railroad. An attempt to cross and take Soldau, however, miscarried, and on November 18 they fell back for the time being on Mlawa.

By this time the Russian defense had stiffened. Von Mackensen was now well fifty miles within Russian territory. But for the next few weeks the Bzura was used with great success as a natural line of defense by the Russians.

From the 18th to the 30th of November, 1914, the fighting continued without pause along the entire line. In the north of the central group it centered around Plock, in the center of the same group around the important railroad junction Lowitz, and in the south once more around Lodz. One day would bring some advantages to the Russians, the next day to the Germans. Much of this fighting assumed the character of trench warfare, though, naturally, not to the extent that this had taken place on the western front. By December 1, 1914, the troops under Von Mackensen fighting around Lodz and Lowitz claimed to have captured a total of 80,000 men, 70 guns, 160 munition wagons, and 150 machine guns. Still further down south the Austro-German group had much the same kind of work to do. The fighting there centered first around Czestechowa, and later around Novo Radowsk.

About the end of November, 1914, it looked for a time as if the Russians were gaining the upper hand. After they had fallen back to the Bzura, Von Hindenburg directed, with part of his left wing, an attack against Lodz from the north. Success of this move would mean grave danger to the entire central group of the Russians, the Warta Army. It threatened not only its right wing, but would also bring German forces in the back of its center and cut off its retreat to Warsaw. The Russian commander recognized the danger, and immediately began to throw strong reenforcements toward Lodz from Warsaw. To meet these Von Hindenburg formed a line from Lowitz through Strykow to Brzeziny. A Russian success would mean immediate withdrawal of these forces from their attack against Lodz, and possibly have even more important results. At the last moment the Russians brought up reenforcements from the south, and with them almost surrounded one of the German army corps which had advanced about ten miles to the southeast of Brzeziny to Karpin. For three days it looked as if this corps would either be annihilated or captured, but at last it succeeded in breaking through by way of Galkow to Brzeziny not only with comparatively small losses of its own, but with a few thousand of captured Russians.

For eighteen days the fighting lasted before Lodz. The Russians resisted this time most stubbornly. They had thrown up strong fortifications around the entire town, which they used as a base for continuous counterattacks.

As late as December 5, 1914, fighting was still going on, but finally that night the Russians made good their withdrawal, and on the 6th the Germans were once more in Lodz. This was partly the result of an unsuccessful attempt on the part of the Russians to relieve Lodz from the south. Between the battle ground around Lodz and that on which the most southern Austro-German group under the Austrian General, Boehm-Ermolli, was fighting there was a slight gap. Through this—just west of Piotrkow—an attack could be made against the right wing of Von Mackensen's army. To meet this stroke a small separate army was formed under the command of the Austrian cavalry general, Von Tersztyansky, consisting of one German brigade, one Austro-Hungarian brigade, and a cavalry division. This shows the close cooperation which existed at that time between the forces of the Central Powers. This new army group took in the first days of December 19, 1914, some of the smaller places west and south of Piotrkow.

From then on until December 15, 1914, fighting went on day and night. One small village—Augustijnow—changed hands three times within one day—December 8, 1914—remaining finally in the possession of the Austro-Germans. In the evening of the 15th Piotrkow was finally taken by storm. This not only prevented any further attack against Von Mackensen's right, but also gave the Austro-Germans possession of the railroad from Cracow to Warsaw as far as Piotrkow, and secured to them the most important crossings over the Pilitza.

This long-continued fighting, lasting almost the entire twenty-four hours of every day and being accompanied by very severe artillery duels, spelled ruin to very many of the towns and villages involved; especially a large number of the latter in the immediate vicinity of Lodz suffered terribly. In many of them not a single house or hut was left standing, and thousands of Polish peasants, who even at the best had no superfluity of riches, were deprived of everything they possessed. Fire added to the terror; for most of the houses were covered with straw, and the destruction of one was usually quickly followed by the burning of all others within reach.

The losses of the Russians were not only very heavy in prisoners, but also in wounded and killed, although in the latter respect the invading armies suffered almost as severely. Generals Scheidemann and Welitschko, both corps commanders, lost their lives, while it was reported that General Rennenkampf, who failed to come to the rescue of Lodz in time, was placed before a court-martial.

After Lodz had been occupied on December 6, 1914, Von Mackensen's army followed the retreating Russians. The latter offered the most stubborn resistance and a great deal of very close fighting took place. In many instances the Russian rear guard dug itself in wherever the ground offered possibilities to do so quickly and then frequently protected its positions with barbed wire. The storming of these of course caused the Germans heavy losses and delayed them sufficiently to allow the Russians to withdraw in good order.

For the possession of Lowitz, one of the most important railroad junctions west of Warsaw, the battle raged more than two weeks. It began as early as November 25, 1914, but it was not until about December 15, 1914, that the Russians gave up this point. They had thrown up very strong fortifications on all sides of the town and the Germans under General von Morgen had to bring up a strong force of artillery before they could reduce the place. The result was that this little town which had been in the thick of the fighting so many times was finally almost entirely destroyed and the outlying countryside became a scene of the most complete and terrible devastation.

Some of the most violent fighting before Warsaw occurred at this time along the upper Bzura and its southern tributary, the Rawka. The Russian line ran now almost straight from the influx of the Bzura into the Vistula, along the east bank of the former through Sochaczev, then along the east bank of Rawka through Skierniewice and Rawa, from there along some hills to the river Pilitza, crossing it at Inovolodz, through Opoczno and along the River Nida to the Vistula and beyond it through Tarnow into Galicia. In spite of their strong intrenchments and their heroic fighting the Russians were gradually, though very slowly, forced back. A great deal of this fighting was trench warfare of the most stubborn type. This necessarily meant that for weeks the line wavered. One day the Germans would force a passage across one, or perhaps all, of the rivers at one or more points, only to be thrown back the next day and to have the Russians follow their example with an offensive excursion on the west bank. These continually changing "victories" and "defeats" make it next to impossible to follow in full all the developments along this line. By December 25, 1914, the Germans held Skierniewice; by December 27, 1914, Inovolodz; by January 3, 1915, Rawa; by January 5, 1915, Bolimow.

Throughout the entire month of January, 1915, the most ferocious fighting continued around all these places, and many of them changed hands two or three times. Both sides very freely used the protecting darkness of night to make attacks, and this naturally added a great deal to the hardships which the troops had to suffer. It must also not be forgotten that by this time winter had set in in earnest. Snow covered the ground and a very low temperature called for the most heroic endurance on the part of everybody.

One of the American war correspondents, who at this time was with the Russian forces before Warsaw, gives a very vivid description of a night cannonade in the neighborhood of Blouie: "The fire of the German cannons is unbearable. Night grows darker and darker. Everywhere, in a great circle, the country is lighted up by camp fires which send their flames toward heaven in a cloud of smoke. These little red spots throw everywhere a fiery glow over the snow, and down upon this wonderful color symphony the moon pours its weak, ghostlike light through a curtain of clouds so that people seem to float away as in a dream. In the foggy twilight three battalions march to the front.... The noise of the gunfire penetrates to us in separate, spasmodic outbreaks. Flashes of fire flare up on the horizon.... Gradually we come closer and closer to the firing line. Now we are only two or three miles away from the firing batteries. We turn toward the west and there a magnificent battle panorama lies before our eyes. The moon sheds just enough light through the clouds to make it possible to recognize the shadows on the snow. The flat, white field is lined with a seam of black trees. Behind these thin woods stand the cannons. They stretch out in a long line, as far as the eye reaches, and their irregular positions are shown by the red tongues of fire which flare up again and again. The noise of the battle, which had sounded all around us, has now swollen into the roaring thunder of cannons. At a short distance, where the sky seems to touch the field, other flashes flare up, these are the German cannons. Sometimes as many as four of these flashes break forth at one time and tear the dull twilight with their glaring brightness. For a moment all the surrounding country with its phantastic shadows and its darting lights is submerged in blinding brilliancy; then another glittering light captures the eye. It is a bursting rocket which breaks up into thousands of little stars and illuminates the vast field of snow everywhere so that it glitters and glares.

"But again another light appears in the dusky sky. A spray of gold! That is an exploding shrapnel, and almost at the same point three more of these missiles burst into their reddish golden glow. Then the giant arm of a searchlight is thrust out into the midst of the foggy, swelling atmosphere and shows houses, fences and paths with an unsparing clearness. Irresolutely the mighty finger of light wanders across the plain as if it were searching for something and could not find it. At last it throws its coldling, shining ray on a defile and rests there. And suddenly out of the darkness there flares up a multitude of little flashes which look from the distance as if innumerable matches were struck and gave off sparks. The sparks run in a straight line, and these bounding lights show the position of the trenches. Another line of sparks puts in appearance, seemingly only a short distance away. That is formed by the battalions of the advancing, attacking enemy. Then suddenly a ribbon of flame cuts through the shadows, and the sharp echo of machine guns bites into the night air. But so immensely far spreads the battle panorama that the eye is able to fix only small sections at a time...."

Among the many small villages and towns in this small sector between Warsaw and Lowitz, Bolimow saw the most furious fighting. Almost step by step the Russians fought here the German advance, and when finally they gave way for a mile or less after days and nights of grueling fighting, they did so only to throw up immediately new defenses and force the invaders to repeat their onslaught again and again. At any other time of the year this part of the country would have yielded little ground for fighting; for it is covered extensively with swamps. But now the bitter cold of midwinter had covered these with ice solid enough to bear men and even guns. On January 28, 1915, the Germans at last threw the Russians out of their strong intrenchments at Bolimow. But others had already been prepared a short distance to the east, at a small village, Humin.

The attack on this particular position began in the morning of the last day of January, 1915. For three days the battle raged until, late in the afternoon of February 2, 1915, the Germans took Humin by storm. At times it is difficult to decide whether battles involving vast fronts and equally vast numbers, or those fought in a small space and by comparatively small numbers are the more heroic and ferocious. In the latter case, of course, individual valor becomes not only much more noticeable, but also much more important and details that are swallowed up by the great objects for which great battles are usually fought stand out much more clearly. It will, therefore, be interesting to hear from an eyewitness, the war correspondent of one of the greatest German dailies, the "Koelnische Zeitung," what happened during the three days' battle of Humin:

"It was seven o'clock in the morning of January 31, 1915. Punctually, in accordance the orders given out the previous evening, the first shot rang out into the snowy air of the gray morning at this hour from a battery drawn up some distance back. Like a call of awakening it roared along, and fifteen minutes later when it had called everyone to the guns—exactly to the minute the time decided on by general orders—the battle day of January 31, 1915, began with a monstrous tumult. With truly a hellish din the concert of battle started. A huge number of batteries had been drawn up and sent their iron "blessing" into the ranks of the Russians. Field batteries, 15-centimeter howitzers, 10-centimeter guns, 21-centimeter mortars, and, to complete the wealth of variety, 30-centimeter mortars of the allied Austrians joyfully shouted the morning song of artillery. A dull noise roared around Bolimow, for in back of the town, before it, to the right and to the left, stood the various guns in groups of batteries, and through the air passed a shrill whistle. But it was not only their hellish din which made one tremble and start up, but even more so the dismal, powerfully exciting howl of the gigantic missile of the great mortars, chasing up and 'way into the air almost perpendicular. It sounded each time as if a giant risen from out of the very bowels of the earth sent up great sobs. Like a wild chase of unbridled, unchained elements the powerful missile shot up high from the gun barrel.

"A shriek of the most horrible kind, a trembling and shaking started in the wildly torn air, a continual pounding, hissing whirlwind shot up like a hurricane, lasted for seconds and disappeared in the distance like some monstrous mystery. Surrounded by a glare of fire, encircled by blinding light, licked by sheaves of flames, the short barrel of the mortar drew back at the moment of firing. Clouds of dust rose; they mixed gray with brown, with the smoke of gunpowder which hid from sight for a few moments the entire gun, and then it rained down from the air, for whole minutes, the tiny pieces into which the cover of the charge had been torn. After every shot of the big mortars, the heavy howitzers and the 21-centimeter mortars—which usually are the loud talkers in an artillery battle—could hardly make themselves heard. An entire battery of them could not drown the noise of one shot from an Austrian mortar. It sounded like a hoarse but weak bark as compared with this gigantic instrument of death and destruction.

"During the morning the sky cleared; this enabled the observers to sight more accurately. Orders were sent over the telephone; the telescope controlled the effect of the gunfire, and one could see plainly how, in a distance of a few miles, the hail of shot descended on the enemy's trenches. 'Way up towered the geysers of earth when the shot struck home. Above the Russian trenches lay a long white cloud of powder forming a great wall of waves. The dull thunder of the guns was tremendous. It whistled and howled, it cried and moaned, it roared like the surf of the ocean, like the terrifying growl of a thunderstorm, and then it threw back a hundredfold clear echo. In between came the dull crack of the Russian shrapnel. They broke in the broad, swampy lowlands of the Rawka; they pierced the cover of ice which broke with a tremendous noise while dark fountains of bog water gushed up from the ground. In front and in back of the German batteries one could see the craters made by the Russian hits; they were dark holes where the hard frozen ground had been broken up into thick, slaglike pieces weighing tons and all over the white cover of snow had been strewn, dark brown and as fine as dust, the torn-up soil.

"Then the storm of the trenches set in. At a given hour the roar of the guns stopped suddenly. A few minutes later the masses of infantry, held in readiness, arose. They came up from their trenches, climbed over their walls, sought cover wherever it could be found, and were promptly received by rifle and machine-gun fire from the Russians. That, however, lasted only a moment; then they advanced in a jump; the attacking line thinned out, stretched itself out and, continually seeking cover, tried to advance. A few minutes only and the first Russian trench line was reached. In storm, with bayonet and rifle butt, they came on and broke into the trenches. They were fighting now man for man. Then the artillery fire set in again. Again in the afternoon the infantry advanced in storm formation against the head of the village and the trenches flanking it. From them roared rifle and machine-gun fire against the storming lines. Nothing could avail against these intrenchments. Again artillery was called upon to support the attack.

"It was now five o'clock in the afternoon on January 31, 1915, and the artillery fire still roared over the white plain. Here and there were a few scattered farms, deeply snowed in. In the distance stood forests, darkly silhouetted against the sky, covered with heavy, low-hanging snow clouds. In between were yawning depths, and farther up other curtains of clouds glowing in the full purple light of the setting sun. A wonderful majesty lay on the heavens at that hour. But down on the earth, across the white plain, the fighting German troops still crowded against the enemy. Again infantry fire started and became the livelier the nearer twilight approached and the deeper evening shadows prepared the coming night.

"The 1st of February, 1915, the second day of battle, broke damp and cloudy. Once more artillery fire set in. Later in the morning, just as on the first day, the infantry again attacked. While the roar of the battle went on, some of the men prepared the last resting place for their comrades who had fallen on the previous day. Silently this work was done. Here there were single graves, and then again places where larger numbers were to be put to rest together. One such grave was dug close to the wall of the cemetery and in it were bedded the dead heroes so that their closed eyes were turned westward—toward home. A chaplain found wonderful words at the open grave, blessing the rest of those who had fallen on the field of honor and speaking to their comrades of the joys of battle and of its sorrows while they said farewell to the dead with bared heads.

"The guns still roared; then they were silent and then roared on again. A remarkable tension was in the air. In a discord of feelings the day drew to its end, and after that the third day of battle, the 2d of February, dawned with renewed fighting. It was noon. We were sitting at division headquarters, lunching, when the telephone rang loudly. With a jump a staff officer was before it. 'General, the Russian lines are giving way.' Quickly the general issued his orders. Once more the fighting set in with all the available strength and vigor. The thunder of the guns was renewed, and so the third day of battle ended with the storming of the strong Russian positions in Humin and with the occupation of the entire village by the German troops."

After the storming of Humin the Germans took the heights near Borzimow, which commanded the road Bolimow-Warsaw. Here, too, the fighting was very hard. South of Humin, near Wola-Szydlowieca, the Russian lines again were broken on February 3, 1915, after a combined artillery and infantry attack, which began early on February 2, 1915, and lasted for more than twenty-four hours. The next ten days brought continuous fighting at many points, some of it almost as ferocious as that of which we have just spoken, but none of it yielding any important results to either side. With the middle of February a lull set in in this sector of the front. Of course the fighting did not stop entirely. But the Germans did not advance farther, and the Russians were unable to break their lines or to force them back anywhere to any appreciable extent.

Of course all this fighting took place near enough to Warsaw to be heard there and to fill its inhabitants with terror and fear of a possible siege or attack on the city proper. Although a great many people had fled to the interior, thousands of others had flocked to the city, especially from those outlying districts that had been overrun by the invaders. Most of these were practically destitute and without means or opportunity to earn any money. The Russian Government did its best to help them, and provided nineteen asylums and thirteen people's kitchens which, it is reported, distributed each day 40,000 portions. Wood, coal, and oil gradually became more and more scarce and advanced to very high prices, causing a great deal of suffering, especially among the poorer classes.

Again reports of various neutral war correspondents, located at that time in Warsaw, are of great interest. Says one: "The thunder of the cannons has started up once more. Only the forts of the belt line of fortresses are still silent. The railroad to Wilanow has been closed. No one is allowed to go beyond Mokotow. In front of the two railroad stations silent crowds of people are standing, their features showing their terror. They stand there like they would at a fire to which the firemen are rushing with their engines and ladders. One's feet are like lumps of ice, one's head feels foolish and empty. Doors and windows in the big new houses in Marshalkowska Street have been boarded up in expectation of the rifle fire. It reminds one of a boat when, before the breaking of the storm, hatches are closed up and sails are trimmed. Omnibuses come in loaded with wounded, likewise butcher wagons with similar loads. Many of the lighter wounded soldiers limp on foot. With nightfall the entire city falls into darkness—strange, ghostlike. People creep along the walls with bowed heads. The silence of the night only intensifies the roar of the untiring guns, and they seem then to come closer."

During all this time the German dirigibles and aeroplanes were very active, too, throwing bombs. Granville Fortescue pictures the terror spread by them most realistically. "Warsaw's inhabitants know now well the meaning of an aeroplane, and whenever they see one approach they run in wild terror into their houses and cellars. Before every open door pushing, shouting crowds mass themselves, and serious panics are caused when the sharp crack of the exploding bomb shakes and rattles all the windows. As soon as the danger is passed the curious collect, first with hesitation, then bolder and bolder, around the spot where the bomb fell and gape with terror at the powerful results produced by the explosion. Here a stretch of the railroad has been destroyed; the walls of the near-by houses are covered with innumerable holes looking like smallpox scars; others, of the splinters from the bomb, have dug themselves deep into the ground and not a single window in the vicinity is unbroken."

A winter of the most bitter misery has closed in on the unfortunate city; miserable-looking shapes by the thousands, without home or food, crowd the narrow, crooked streets. As sand flows through an hourglass, so regiment after regiment, from every part of the vast empire of the czar, streams through the streets which now are black with people. From far-distant Siberia and from the borderlands of Turkestan these gray-clad soldiers pour through Warsaw to the plains of Poland. In their dull features no trace can be discovered of what they feel or think. One can study the faces of these Tartars, Mongols, and Caucasians as much as one pleases, there remains always the same mystery. Tramp, tramp, tramp—they march from the Kalish station along the railroad until they disappear together with the horizon in a single gray mass—who knows whither, who knows whence? It is at such times that one realizes the magnitude of Russia if one considers that many of them have traveled all the way from the Ural Mountains.

Quietness and gloominess now reign in Warsaw's hospitals, in which formerly there was so much life and activity. The patients have been sent, as far as their condition permitted, into central Russia to recuperate, and at this time only slightly wounded men are brought in. This is a bad sign, for the doctors figure correctly that it indicates that those seriously wounded are left on the battle fields and perish there. The hotels, on the other hand, are full of life. There officers have settled down; every rank and every branch of the service is represented here, from the grizzly general down to the beardless lieutenant; every province of the immense empire seems to have sent a representative. You may see there the most fantastic figures: Caucasian colonels with enormous caps, huge mustaches, and black boots, figures which look still exactly like the Muscovian warriors from the days of Napoleon. It strikes one as very strange to hear so many German names borne by these Russian officers. And while the poor inhabitants of Warsaw await their fate with fear and trembling, the officers are the only ones full of joy, for war is their element and a promising opportunity for thousands of enticing possibilities which peace never brought them.

During November and December, 1914, both in north and south Poland, continuous fighting went on along the lines. In south Poland the field of action was at first north of Cracow, between the Rivers Warta and Pilitza, and later between the latter and the River Nida. But although the result of this fighting—which mainly was in favor of the German-Austrian forces—to a certain extent influenced the result in the central sector to the west of Warsaw, the details of it do not properly call for consideration at this time and place. For it was directed much more by the Austrian General Staff than by that of the German armies, the forces involved were preponderantly Austro-Hungarian, and it was more closely connected with the Russian attack on Galicia and the Carpathians than with Von Hindenburg's attack on the Russian center. It will find its proper consideration in another place in connection with the Galician campaign. Suffice it to say here that the Austro-Hungarian forces under Boehm-Ermolli, supported by the German division under General van Woyrsch, carried successfully that part of Von Hindenburg's general plan which had been assigned to it—the protection of the right wing of his central group of troops and the shielding of Cracow from a direct Russian attack.

To the north of the central group—north of the Vistula and between it and the Narew—the Germans had assembled, as we have already stated, another group which had as its bases Soldau and Thorn. Their chief task was to protect the German provinces of West and East Prussia from a Russian attack from Novo Georgievsk and Warsaw.

During November, 1914, these forces restricted themselves entirely to defensive fighting along the border. With the beginning of December, however, when the Russians had temporarily weakened their forces fighting north of the Vistula in order to send additional support to the defenders of Warsaw, the Germans attempted an advance which for a short time was successful.

On December 10, 1914, Przasnysz, about twenty-five miles southeast of Mlawa, was stormed after the latter place had been occupied some time before. By December 15, 1914, however, the Russians had again stronger forces at their command for this part of the front, and with them they not only threw the Germans again out of Przasnysz, but forced them to evacuate Mlawa and retire behind their border. A week later, about December 22, 1914, the Germans again advanced from Soldau and Neidenburg, and by December 24, 1914, Mlawa once more was in their hands. Although the fighting in this sector practically went on without intermission from the beginning of November, 1914, to the end of February, 1915, comparatively small forces were involved on both sides. This, of course, excluded any possibility of a decisive result on either side, and we can therefore dismiss this end of the campaign with the statement that, although the Germans north of the Vistula were more successful in keeping the Russians off German soil than the Russians were in keeping the Germans out of Poland, the latter did not make here any appreciable headway in the direction of Warsaw, and accomplished no more than to keep a goodly number of Russian regiments tied up in the protection of Novo Georgievsk and the northern approach to Warsaw instead of permitting them to participate in the repulse of the main attack against the Polish capital, where they would have been very useful indeed.



CHAPTER LXXX

WINTER BATTLES IN EAST PRUSSIA

The most northern part of the eastern front is now the only one left for our consideration. We have already learned that when the German General Staff planned its second drive against Warsaw, it had been decided to restrict the German forces collected in East Prussia south of the Niemen and east and south of the Mazurian Lakes to defensive measures. At that time—the beginning of November, 1914—and until about the beginning of February, 1915, they consisted of two army corps under the command of General von Buelow, who at the outbreak of the war and for a few years previous to it had been in command of a division with headquarters at Insterburg, and who was therefore well qualified for his task through his intimate knowledge of the territory. About 50 per cent of his forces belonged to the Landwehr, about 25 per cent to the Landsturm and only about 25 per cent were of the first line. These faced a numerically very superior force variously estimated at five to seven army corps. The Germans therefore found it necessary to equalize this overpowering difference by withdrawing behind a strong natural line of defense. This they found once more behind the greater Mazurian Lakes to the south and behind the River Angerapp which flows out of the lakes at Angerburg to the north until it joins the river Pissa slightly to the east of Insterburg.



These positions apparently were prepared during the early part of November, 1914. For as late as November 15, 1914, fighting took place at Stallupoehnen on the Kovno-Koenigsberg railroad and some ten miles east of the Angerapp. A few days earlier, on November 9, 1914, a Russian attack, still farther east, north of the Wysztiter Lake, had resulted in considerable losses to the Russians. North of the Pissa River the Germans managed to stick closer to their border, along which there flows a small tributary of the Niemen offering natural protection. Considerable fighting took place in this territory around the town of Pillkallen, but the German line held.

On November 30, 1914, the Russians had again occupied that part of East Prussia located between the border and the Mazurian Lake-Angerapp line. On that day the first of a long series of attacks against this very strong line was made east of Darkehmen, but was as unsuccessful as all its successors. The German Emperor saw some of this fighting during a short visit to the East Prussian defenders. All through December, 1914, the Russians made repeated attacks against the German lines, always without accomplishing their object of breaking through it and advancing again against Koenigsberg. Of course, they inflicted severe losses on their adversaries, though their own, both in disabled and captured, were much more severe, due to the disadvantages which the difficult territory heaped upon the attacking side. By the beginning of January winter had set in in full earnest and the weather became so severe that no fighting of any importance took place throughout the entire month. The only exceptions were Russian attacks about January 15, 1915, against Loetzen, the German fortress on the eastern shore of the northernmost group of the lakes, which, however, brought no results. At the same time Gumbinnen was once more the center of considerable fighting.

Later in the month, January 26, 28, and 29, 1915, this town again and again had to pay dearly in additional destruction of what little of it that was still left of its former prosperity for the advantage of being located on the Koenigsberg road. On January 30, 1915, the Russians attempted to break through a little further south at Darkehmen—but still the German lines held.

In the meanwhile new troops had been prepared and collected and were being rushed to that part of the east front for the purpose of clearing all of East Prussia of its invaders. These reenforcements were sent to the right and left wings of the Mazurian Lakes-Angerapp line, and the former began its attack in February. A few days before an exceptionally heavy snowfall, accompanied by very high winds and very low temperatures, had set in. This not only added to the hardships of the troops, but increased immensely the difficulties with which the leaders on both sides had to contend. On account of the weather the roads became impassable for motor cars and the railroads were hardly in better condition. At no time could a general count with any amount of certainty on the prompt execution of movements. Trains were delayed for hours and regiments appeared in their allotted positions hours late.

The right wing of the German front was sent around the southern end of the lake chain by way of Johannisburg. There the Russians had thrown up very strong fortifications in connection with the dense forests surrounding this town. To the southeast the river Pisseck forms the outlet for one of the lakes and flows toward the Narew. This line, too, was held by the Russians, who had considerable forces, both in Johannisburg and to the east in Bialla. In the late afternoon and during the night of February 8, 1915 a crossing over the Pisseck was forced and Johannisburg was stormed. Russian reenforcements from the south—Kolno—arrived too late and were thrown back with considerable losses in men and guns. In spite of the bitter cold the Germans pressed on immediately. They took Bialla on February 9, 1915, and then immediately pushed on to Lyck with part of their forces. This town, like so many other East Prussian towns, had suffered cruelly, having been in the thick of the fighting almost from the beginning of the war. Now the Russians again made a most determined stand in its vicinity, induced, no doubt, chiefly by the defensive advantages which the territory offered here. To the west of Lyck, beyond the Lyck Lake, they had built up very strong intrenchments which resisted all German attacks for days, and it was not until the middle of February, 1915, that they gave up these positions. But even then they continued to hold Lyck itself, and it was not taken until after the middle of the month. The other part of the right wing in the meantime had forced the Russians out of the southeast corner of East Prussia and was advancing against Grajeko and Augustovo.

In the north the German left wing had pushed its advance simultaneously, starting from around Tilsit and the Niemen line. The Russians fell back on strongly prepared intrenchments along the line Pillkallen-Stallupoehnen, but by February 10, 1915, they had to give up this line and withdraw still farther south and east toward Eydtkuhnen, Kibarty, and Wirballen, all places of which we heard considerable during the previous battling in East Prussia. It was snowing furiously and the Russians apparently counted with too much certainty on this as a means of keeping the Germans from following closely. They procured quarters in these three towns and were going to enjoy a much needed rest for one night. But during that night the Germans, overcoming all difficulties of snowdrifts and impassible roads, attacked and stormed Eydtkuhnen as well as Wirballen and killed, wounded, or made prisoners almost all the Russian forces located there, amounting to about 10,000 men with considerable artillery and even greater quantities of supplies. Gumbinnen also was retaken by the Germans and by February 12, 1915, they were on Russian territory and advancing once more against Suwalki.

By the middle of February the last Russian had been driven out of Germany. This series of battles, known commonly as the "Winter Battle of the Mazurian Lakes" not only freed East Prussia, but yielded comparatively large results in the numbers of prisoners taken. In nine days' fighting about 50,000 men, 40 guns, and 60 machine guns were captured. Both sides, of course, suffered also heavy losses in killed and wounded. These great battles here briefly summarized to round out the account of the operations of the first six months are described in greater detail in Volume III.



CHAPTER LXXXI

RESULTS OF FIRST SIX MONTHS OF RUSSO-GERMAN CAMPAIGN

This brings us approximately to the end of the first six months' fighting at the eastern front. It will be well now to pause for a short space of time and to sum up the results of the tremendous conflict which has been narrated. However, before we consider these results from a military point of view and strike the balance of successes achieved and failures suffered, let us see how they affected those who were the actors in this terrible tragedy of mankind—the men who fought these battles and their leaders, and the poor, unfortunate men, women, and children whose habitations had been thrown by an unkind fate into the path of this vortex of death and destruction.

In determining the total losses which the Russian and German forces suffered during the first six months of the war, it is next to impossible to arrive at this time at absolutely correct figures. This is especially true in regard to the German troops. In a way this sounds strange, for the German war organization made itself felt in this respect, just as much as along other lines, and in none of the countries involved were the official lists of losses published as rapidly, frequently, and accurately as in Germany, especially in the early stages of the conflict. However, these lists included the German losses on all fronts as well as on the seas, and therefore are available for our purposes only as a basis for a computation of average losses. But by taking these totals and comparing them with other figures from various sources—newspapers, official Russian reports, English and French computations (non-official), statistics of the International Red Cross, etc.—it is possible to determine a total per month of German losses of all kinds—killed, wounded, missing, and captured—for all fronts on which German forces were fighting during the first six and a half months of the war. This total is 145,000 men per month. Assuming that all in all the losses were about evenly divided on the western and eastern fronts, and disregarding the comparatively small losses of the navy, we get a monthly average of German losses at the eastern front of 72,500 men, or a total for the entire period of 471,250 men. This does not include those wounded who after a varying period of time were again able to return to the fighting, and whose number of course was very large, but represents the number of those whose services had been lost to the German forces for all time.

In the case of the Russian losses it is somewhat easier to arrive at fairly accurate figures, at least as far as their losses through capture are concerned. For the official German figures in this respect go into great detail and undoubtedly may be accepted as generally correct. During the early part of the war when the Russians were fighting along the border and on East Prussian territory they lost 15,000 officers and men by capture, at Tannenberg 90,000, and immediately afterward in the Lake district 30,000 more. In October, 1914, fighting in the province of Suwalki, during Hindenburg's advance to the Niemen and his retreat, he captured 10,000, and by November 1, 1914, there were according to the official German count 3,121 officers and 186,797 men in German prison camps. By January 1, 1915, this number had increased to 3,575 and 306,294 respectively, and by the middle of February the total in round numbers must have been at least 400,000. That this is approximately correct is proven by the statement of the Geneva Red Cross published in the "Journal de Geneve," which gives the total of Russian prisoners in the hands of the Central Powers by the end of February as 769,500. According to the same source the Russians had lost by that time in killed 743,000 and in totally disabled 421,500, while their slightly wounded—those who finally returned again to the active forces—reached the huge total of 1,490,000. These figures again are for the entire Russian forces, those fighting against German as well as Austro-Hungarian forces. Just what proportion should be assigned to the Russian forces fighting against the Germans is rather problematical. For while these were fighting on a much larger front than those who had been thrown against Galicia and the Bukowina, the latter were comparatively much more numerous and, therefore, probably suffered proportionately larger losses. Some of the losses also occurred in the fighting against Turkey. However, we will be fairly safe—most likely shooting below rather than above the mark—in estimating one-half of all these losses as having been incurred on the Russo-German front. This, then, would give us for the period of August 1, 1914, to February 15, 1915, the following total Russian losses in their fighting against the German forces: Killed, 371,500; totally disabled, 210,750; captured, 384,750, a grand total of 967,000, or about twice as much as the German losses.

Even these figures, without any further comment, are sufficient to indicate the terrible carnage and suffering that was inflicted on the manhood of the countries involved. But if we consider that every man killed, wounded or captured, after all, was only a small part of a very large circle made up of his family—in most cases dependent on him for support—and of his friends, even the most vivid imagination fails to give proper expression in words of the sum total of unfathomable misery, broken hearts, spoiled lives, and destroyed hopes that are represented in these cold figures.

At various points in this history we have had occasion to speak of the various generals, both Russian and German, who were directing these vast armies, the greatest numerically and the most advanced technically which mankind has ever seen assembled in its entire history. To go into details concerning the hundreds of military geniuses which found occasion to display the fruits of their training and talent would be impossible. But on each side there was among all these leaders one supreme leader on whose ability and decision depended not only the results of certain battles, but the lives of their millions of soldiers—yes, even the fate of millions upon millions of men, women and children. The Russians had intrusted their destiny to a member of their reigning family, an uncle of the czar, Grand Duke Nicholas, while the Germans had found their savior in the person of a retired general, practically unknown previous to the outbreak of the war, Paul von Hindenburg. Each had been put in supreme command, although the former's burden was even greater than that of the latter, including not only the Russian forces fighting against the Germans, but also those fighting against the Austro-Hungarians. On both, however, depended so much that it will be well worth while to devote a short space of time to gain a more intimate knowledge of their appearance, character and surroundings. We will spend, therefore, a day each at the headquarters of these two men by following the observations which some well-known war correspondents made during their visits at these places.

The war correspondent of the London "Times" had occasion during his travels with the Russian armies to make the following observations: "Modern war has lost all romance. The picturesque sights, formerly so dear to the heart of the journalist, have disappeared. War now has become an immense business enterprise, and the guiding genius is not to be found on the firing line, any more than the president of a great railroad would put on overalls and take his place in an engine cab. Here in Russia the greatest army which ever met on a battle field has been assembled under the command of one individual, and the entire complicated mechanism of this huge organization has its center in a hidden spot on the plains of West Russia. It is a lovely region which shows few signs of war. In a small forest of poplars and pines a number of tracks has been laid which connect with the main line, and here live quietly and peacefully some hundreds of men who form the Russian General Staff. A few throbbing autos rushing hither and thither and a troop of about 100 Cossacks are apparently the only features which do not belong to the everyday life of the small village which is the nearest regular railroad station. Many hundreds of miles away from this picture of tranquillity is stretched out the tremendous chain of the Russian front, each point of which is connected with this string of railroad cars by telegraph. Here, separated from the chaos of battle, uninfluenced by the confusion of armed masses, the brain of the army is able to gain a clear and free view of the entire theatre of war which would only be obscured by closer proximity."

Another, a French correspondent, says: "Whatever happens anywhere, from the Baltic Sea to the Carpathian Mountains, is known immediately in the big blue railroad cars whose walls are covered with maps. Telegraph and telephone report the most minute occurrence. Should the commander in chief desire to inspect a position or to consult personally with one of the commanding generals there is always an engine ready with steam up. Headquarters suddenly rolls off; and, after two or three days, it returns noiselessly, with its archives, its general staff, its restaurant, and its electric plant. The Grand Duke rules with an iron fist. Champagne and liquor is taboo throughout the war zone, and even the officers of the general staff get nothing except a little red wine. Woe to anyone who sins against this order, here or anywhere else at the front. The iron fist of the Grand Duke hits, if necessary, even the greatest, the most famous. At a near-by table I recognize an officer in plain khaki, Grand Duke Cyril. The proud face and the powerful figure of the commander in chief, Grand Duke Nicholas, is sometimes to be seen in this severe room. Shyly one approaches the chief commander upon whose shoulders rests all the responsibility; and the attitude of the man who has been chosen to lead the Russian armies to victory does not encourage familiarity. Next to him I notice Janushkewitch, the Chief of the Great General Staff, with the gentle, almost youthful face of a thinker. But everything is ruled by the personality of the Grand Duke, which, with its mixture of will power and of gracious majesty, is most captivating."

Let us now rush across space and follow still another war correspondent, this time a representative of the German press, to the headquarters of the German armies: "Field Marshal von Hindenburg has an impressive appearance. With his erect, truly military carriage he makes a picture of strength and health. With him appears a very young-looking general who cannot be older than fifty years. A high forehead, clear blue eyes, a powerful aquiline nose, an energetic mouth, a face—in one word—which would be striking even if the man, to whom it belongs, would not be wearing a general's uniform and the insignia of the order 'Pour le merite'—one knows that one is face to face with the chief of the General Staff, Ludendorff. The Field Marshal greets his guest with charming friendliness, leads the way to the table and offers him the seat to his right. During the simple evening meal he rises and offers the toast: 'The German Fatherland!' Around the table are about ten officers, among them Captain Fleischmann von Theissruck of the Austrian army, who represents the Austrian General Staff. The Field Marshal mentions a letter which he received from some one entirely unknown to him in which the writer reproaches him most severely because some Cossacks had entered some small town on the border. 'That will happen again and again,' he says, 'and cannot be avoided. I cannot draw up my troops along the entire border, man by man, like a quarantine guard. To gather forces quickly again and again and to beat the Russians again and again, that is the best way to make them disgusted with their stay at the German border.' Then he relates some details about the battle of Tannenberg. He does not tire of entertaining his guest with interesting details about the fighting. He mentions the vast number of presents which have been sent to him by his numerous admirers. 'It is touching how good people are to me. A great many of their gifts are very welcome—but what shall I do with framed pictures while I am in the field? What shall I do after the war is over? Nothing. I'll go back to Hanover. There are lots of younger men [pointing to Ludendorff and the others] who want their chance, too. With my years, there is nothing more beautiful than to retire after one's work has been done and to make room for the younger generation.'"

Apparently the men at the "helm of the ship" lead a life of comparative ease and security. But if we consider the fearful responsibilities that they have to carry and the tremendous mental strain under which they are continuously, we can readily see that their lot is not to be envied. Of course, their rewards are equally great if they are successful. But what if they fail? At any rate they, as well as the troops who fight under them, have the glamour of fighting, the promise of glory, the sense of duty well done, to sustain them. But what of those others, equally or even more numerous, on whose fields and forests, in whose streets and market places, around whose houses and churches the battles rage and the guns roar? What of the women and children, the sick and the old, whose fathers, husbands and sons are doing the fighting or, perhaps, have already laid down their lives upon the altar of patriotism? What is there left for them to do when they see their houses go up in flames, their few belongings reduced to ashes, their crops destroyed and even their very lives threatened with death and sometimes—worse yet—with dishonor?

All this and more, millions upon millions of Russians and Germans, rich and poor alike, had to suffer most cruelly. And on the eastern front this suffering in a way, perhaps, was even more severe than in the west. For there the actual fighting, while extending over an equally long front, was much more concentrated, and after the first few months did not move forward and backward; and existence, except in the immediate vicinity of the firing line, was at least possible, even if dangerous and precarious. But in the east thousands upon thousands of square miles in East Prussia, in West Russia, and especially in Poland, the fighting passed in ever advancing and retreating waves as the surf rolls along the beach, and soon gunfire and marching millions of armed men had leveled the country almost as smoothly as the waves of the ocean grind the sand.

In East Prussia the devastation wrought by the Russians, some through wanton lust for destruction and in unreasoning hate for the enemy, but mostly through the pressure of military necessity, was terrible, especially east of the Mazurian Lakes and south of the Niemen. But there, at least, the poor inhabitants had the consolation of being able to return to their destroyed homes after the Russians had been finally driven out and to begin to build up again what war had destroyed, and in this they had the help and support of their highly organized government and their more fortunate compatriots from the interior.

In Poland, however, especially in the rural districts, even that consolation was lacking. For after German and Russian armies alike had passed over the country again and again, not only destroying values that it had taken centuries to build up, but on account of the huge masses concerned frequently denuding the entire countryside of absolutely every means of sustenance, the final result was occupation by the enemy. And even if that enemy, true to his inherent love of order and to his talent for organization, immediately proceeded to establish a well-regulated temporary government, at the best his efforts would have to be restricted; for he had not much to spare, neither in men to do the work needed, nor in means to finance it, nor even in food to give sustenance to those who had lost everything.

And the worst of it was that for years previous to the outbreak of the war the two principal races inhabiting Poland—the Poles and the Jews—had been fighting each other, with the Russian sympathies strongly on the side of the Poles. Now when war overtook this unfortunate country, both the Poles and the Russians threw themselves like hungry wolves upon the unfortunate Jews. They were driven out from their villages, often the entire population irrespective of age, sex, or condition. They were made to wander from one place to another, like so many herds of cattle, except that no herd of cattle had ever been treated as cruelly as these poor helpless droves of women, children, and old and sick people whose men folk were fighting for their country while this very country did its best to kill their families. This is not the place or time to go into this horrible catastrophe, beyond stating this fact: In July, 1914, Poland had been inhabited by millions of hard-toiling people who, though neither overly blessed with wealth or opportunities, nor enjoying conditions of life that were particularly conducive to happiness, were at least able to found and raise families and to sustain an existence which was bearable chiefly because of the hope for something better to come. Six months later—January, 1915—these millions had stopped toil, for their fields were devastated, their cattle had been killed or driven away, their houses had been burned down. Hundreds of thousands of them had been forced to flee to the interior, other hundreds of thousands had died, some through want and illness, some during the fighting around their homes, some through murder and worse. Families had been broken up and others wiped out entirely, and thousands of mothers had been separated from their children, perhaps never to see them again. Even if, in isolated cases, destruction, and even death, was merited or made inevitably necessary, in the greatest number of cases the suffering was as undeserved as it was severe.

From a military point of view the net result of the fighting during the first six months of the war most decidedly was in favor of the Germans. February, 1915, found them conquerors along the entire extent of the Russo-German front, and the Russians those who had been conquered. In spite of the successful campaigns which German arms had won, however, they had fallen far short of what they had apparently set out to do, and in that wider sense their successes came dangerously near to being failures. But even at that they were still ahead of their adversaries; for though they had not gained the two objects for which they had striven most furiously—the possession of Warsaw and the final destruction of the offensive power of the Russian armies—they held large and important sections of the Russian Empire, they had driven the Russians completely out of Germany and forced them to do their further fighting on their own ground, and they had reduced the effectiveness of their armies by vast numbers, killing, disabling, or capturing, at a most conservative estimate, at least twice as many men as they themselves had lost.

During the first three weeks of August, 1914, the Russian armies had invaded East Prussia and laid waste a large section of it. Then came the debacle at Tannenberg, and by the middle of September, Germany was freed of the invader, who had lost tens of thousands in his attempt to force his way into the heart of the German Empire. Not satisfied with these results, the Germans on their part now attempted an invasion of large sections of West Russia, pursuing their defeated foes until they reached the Niemen and its chain of fortresses which they found insurmountable obstacles. It was once more the turn of the Russians, who now not only drove back the invading Germans to the border, but who by the beginning of October, 1914, faced again an invasion of their East Prussian province. However, less than two weeks sufficed this time to clear German soil once more, and by October 15, 1914, the Russians had again been forced back across the border. By this time the German Commander in Chief, Von Hindenburg, had learned the lesson of the Niemen. Instead of battering in vain against this iron line of natural defenses, he threw the majority of his forces against Poland, and especially against its choicest prize—historic Warsaw. October 11, 1914, may be considered the approximate beginning of the first drive against the Polish capital. During about two weeks of fighting the German armies advanced to the very gates of Warsaw, which then seemed to be theirs for the mere taking. But suddenly the Russian bear recovered his self-control, and with renewed vigor and replenished strength he turned once again against the threatening foe. By October 28, 1914, the Germans in North and Central Poland and the Austro-Hungarians in South Poland had to retreat.

November 7, 1914, became the starting date for the third Russian invasion of East Prussia. The Germans now changed their tactics. Instead of meeting the enemy's challenge and attempting to repeat their previous performances of throwing him back and then invading his territory, they restricted themselves, for the time being, to defensive measures in East Prussia, and launched a powerful drive of their own against Russian territory. For the second time Warsaw was made their goal. By this time, to a certain extent at least, the offensive momentum of both sides had been reduced in speed. Where it had taken days in the earlier campaigns to accomplish a given object, it now took weeks. Of course the rigors of the eastern winter which had set in by then played an important part in this slowing-up process, which, however, affected the speed only of the armies, but not the furor of their battling. December 6, 1914, brought the possession of Lodz to the Germans, and on the next day the Russians were taught the same lesson before the Mazurian Lakes that they had taught to the Germans a few months before when they faced the Niemen. East Prussia up to the Lakes was in the hands of Russia, but beyond that impregnable line of lakes and swamps and rivers they could not go.

In the meanwhile the drive against Warsaw was making small progress in spite of the most furious onslaughts. There, too, a series of rivers and swamps—less formidable, it is true, than in East Prussia, but hardly less effective—stemmed the tide of the invaders. For more than two weeks, beginning about December 20 and lasting well into January, the Russians made a most stubborn stand along the Bzura and Rawka line, and successfully, though with terrible losses, kept the Germans from taking Warsaw. However, in order to accomplish this they had to weaken their line at other points and thus bring about the collapse of their drive against Cracow, by means of which they expected to gain from the south the road into Germany which had been denied to them again and again in the north.

The end of January, 1915, found the Germans practically as far in Poland as the beginning of the month. It is true that they had made little progress in four weeks, but it is also true that they had given up none of the ground they had gained. And with the coming of February, 1915, they reduced their offensive activities at that part of the front and turned their attention once more to East Prussia. The second week of February, 1915, brought to the Russians their second great defeat on the shores of the Mazurian Lakes. By February 15 East Prussia again had been cleared of the enemy, and parts of the Russian provinces between the border and the Niemen were in the hands of the Germans who apparently had made up their minds that they were not going to permit any further Russian invasions of East Prussia if they could help it. They now held a quarter of Poland and a small part of West Russia, while the Russians held nothing except a long battle front, stretching almost from the Baltic to the Carpathian Mountains and threatened everywhere by an enemy who daily seemed to grow stronger rather than weaker.



PART VIII—TURKEY AND THE DARDANELLES



CHAPTER LXXXII

FIRST MOVES OF TURKEY

The entrance of Turkey, the seat of the ancient Ottoman Empire, into the Great War in 1914, with its vast dominions in Europe, Asia, and Africa, created a situation which it was appalling to contemplate. The flames of world war were now creeping not only into the Holy Land, the birthplace of Christian civilization, but to the very gates of Mecca, the "holiest city of Islam." Would the terrible economic struggle in Europe, the war for world trade, now develop into a holy war that would bring the religious faiths of the earth on to a great decisive battle ground?