The World Crisis

by Winston S. Churchill

  Even now the German Supreme Command had not divined the root fact that they were in the presence of an enormous inherent superiority of the defensive. At this time in the West, that is to say between armies of equal quality and in a theatre with closed flanks, the offensive could make no headway. Once the war subsided into the trench lines and barbed wire, the advantage of the defenders was overwhelming. The attacking troops had not got at this time the weight of artillery necessary to pulverize the trenches. Still less had they the volume of artillery capable of lining the whole front, so that an attack on a great scale could be launched on any one of three or four different sectors. The offensive therefore could not acquire the virtue of surprise. They had no tanks to crush down the barbed wire. They had not yet developed poison-gas. Even the creeping barrage was unknown. In short, the offensive possessed none of the processes or apparatus capable of making headway against a continuous line of bravely-defended trenches supported by the ordinary artillery of a field army, reinforced by many fortress guns. Falkenhayn did not understand this, nor did Joffre, nor did French, nor Foch, nor apparently any of the high military officers on either side. But it remained for several years the dominant fact in the Western theatre. With the armies matched as they were, no means of advance was open.

  Falkenhayn throughout took the conventional military view, and adhered to it with perseverance. He did not believe that any manœuvres in the East would end the war. He had already reached the conclusion that so long as France, Russia and Great Britain held together, it was impossible to beat them sufficiently to attain a ‘decent’ victory, and Germany would run the danger of being exhausted. At this moment he sought nothing from Russia or France but an indemnity. He was no longer fighting for victory, but only for honourable escape. If, in order to find peace, Germany had to continue the war, the best chance was to press the struggle in the West. He was already busy planning a renewed offensive mainly against the British. Four new army corps would soon be ready in Germany. In January, or at the latest in February, his whole available force would be hurled upon the Northern sectors of the Anglo-French lines.

  ​HL met him four-square in opposition. They were sure that the war could be won and ought to be won by making great efforts in the East, and that unless these efforts were made, it would be speedily and irretrievably lost by the apparition in the field of the armies of a Balkan block, and a separate peace by Austria. Conrad and the Austrian Headquarters reiterated these views with desperate energy. And now all the forces of high politics and diplomacy ranged themselves upon the Eastern side of the argument. The Chancellor and the German Foreign Office, rightly terrified at the prospect of Italy and a Balkan block being added to the hostile coalition, joined themselves to the victors of Tannenberg—the Great Twin Brethren of the East. ‘The West has failed. The Schlieffen plan is burnt out. Smash Russia. Hold Austria up. Crush Serbia. Rally the Balkans and join hands with Turkey.’ Thus arose a grim trial of strength between personages and policies of the highest consequence.

  On New Year’s Day Falkenhayn and Conrad met in Berlin. Ludendorff representing Hindenburg was also present. Tense discussions occupied the day. The conflict of wills and opinions rendered the conference abortive. Writing of it in after years, Ludendorff says that he received no clear answer and in effect that Falkenhayn adopted dilatory tactics towards Conrad’s demands. ‘It was all unsatisfactory and unmeaning. It was a contest of opinions settled beforehand.’ On January 2 Falkenhayn confirmed his decision. He telegraphed to Conrad, who had returned to Teschen, that the Kaiser agreed that troops could not at present be moved from the Western to the Eastern theatre. It would be time enough to settle the destination of the new troops now being raised in Germany in three weeks. And the next day he informed Hindenburg that to ear-mark the new formations for the East would be ‘equivalent to renouncing all activity in the West for as long as could be forecasted, with all the serious consequences which that would entail; and these must not be lost sight of there.’ Hindenburg thereupon took counsel with the Chancellor; and the latter, deeply impressed, proposed to the Kaiser Falkenhayn’s removal from the Supreme Command.

  On January 4 Conrad received a report from his military attaché in Rome that Italy was making all preparations to enter the war against the Central Powers, that the Italian army would be ready at the end of January and fully ready by the end of March. Berchtold, from Vienna, emphasized this formidable news and urged a speedy victory in the Carpathians as the only means of averting the peril. On this Conrad ordered the preparation of an offensive in Galicia and telegraphed both to the Supreme Command and to HL for the aid of four or five German divisions. Falkenhayn refused. He would not send troops from the West to the East, nor was he even willing that Hindenburg should send German troops from his own army to aid in an offensive in the Carpathians. If any troops were sent from the Ninth Army they should go to Serbia, rather than the Carpathians. ‘Roumania’s attitude, Bulgaria’s possible accession and the extraordinarily important question of establishing communications with Turkey, are exclusively dependent on the situation in Serbia.’ He added pointedly that ‘In the view of German diplomacy, Italy could only be kept quiet by satisfying her wishes as soon as possible and not by driving the Russians out of the Carpathians.’ To this Conrad retorted that the satisfaction of Italy was not to be thought of, and would it not be better for Germany to satisfy France (presumably in Alsace-Lorraine) ‘and thus break up the Entente?’ On this HL struck a decisive blow. They informed Berlin that they were in full accord with Conrad, and that they had already without consulting Falkenhayn promised to send several divisions to his aid. This independent action was a challenge of the first order to Falkenhayn’s authority.

  Both parties now clutched at the Kaiser. Hitherto he had stood by his new Chief of the Staff who was still also Minister of War; but the pressure had now become irresistible. The dismissal of Hindenburg and Ludendorff was impossible. All Germany would stand behind them. On January 8 the Kaiser decided in favour of Conrad’s Carpathian plans and ordered the formation of a German Southern Army, the ‘Südarmee,’ under Linsingen. Falkenhayn, compelled to submit, was nevertheless strong enough to exact an important condition. He did not intend to be further surprised and defied by the Hindenburg-Ludendorff combination. He was resolved to break up the tremendous partnership which had already altered the centre of gravity of the German war control. He therefore obtained the Kaiser’s assent to Ludendorff’s appointment as Chief of the Staff to Linsingen. This invidious act was wrapt in a flattering reference to the Kaiser’s special confidence in Ludendorff; but the motive was obvious. Hindenburg, deeply aggrieved, reported on January 9 directly to the Kaiser, saying that the success which he now expected in the Carpathians would be by no means an adequate cure for the difficulties of Austria.

  ‘It must be combined with a decisive blow in East Prussia. Four new Army Corps will be ready at the beginning of February. The employment of these in the East is a necessity. With them it will not be difficult quickly to inflict on the enemy in East Prussia a decisive and annihilating blow and at last to free entirely that sorely afflicted province and to push on thence with our full force to Bialystok…. I regard this operation, with the employment in the East of the newly-raised forces, as decisive for the outcome of the whole war; whereas their employment in the West will only lead to a strengthening of our defence, or—as at Ypres—to a costly and not very promising frontal push. Our army in the West ought to be able to hold well-constructed positions sited in successive lines and to maintain itself without being reinforced by the new Corps until the decisive success in the East has been attained.’

  He concluded with an impassioned appeal for the return of Ludendorff.

  ‘Your Imperial and Royal Majesty has been graciously pleased to command that General Ludendorff should, as Chief of the General Staff, be transferred from me to the Southern Army…. During the days of Tannenberg and the Masurian Lakes, during the operations against Ivangorod and Warsaw
, and in the advance from the Wreschen-Thorn line, I have grown into close union with my Chief of Staff; he has become to me a true helper and friend, irreplaceable by any other, one on whom I bestow my fullest confidence. Your Majesty knows from the history of war how important so happy a relationship is for the course of affairs and the well-being of the troops. To that is to be added that his new and so much smaller sphere of action does not do justice to the General’s comprehensive ability and great capacity…’ ‘On all these grounds I venture most respectfully to beg that my war-comrade may graciously be restored to me so soon as the operations in the South are under way. It is no personal ambition which leads me to lay this petition at the feet of Your Imperial and Royal Majesty. That lies far from me! Your Majesty has overwhelmed me with favour beyond my deserts, and after the war is ended I shall retire again into the background with a thankful and joyful heart. Far rather do I believe that I am fulfilling a duty in expressing with all submission this request.’44

  Meanwhile Falkenhayn had decided to attempt a personal settlement. On January 11 he reached Breslau and there met Conrad, Linsingen and Ludendorff. On the 12th he was at Posen and faced Hindenburg supported by Ludendorff and Hoffmann. These discussions only aggravated the existing differences, and an intense personal and technical crisis arose in Berlin. All centred upon the Kaiser. Hindenburg now openly joined the Chancellor in demanding the dismissal of Falkenhayn, the employment of the four corps in the East, and the reunion of Ludendorff and Hindenburg. The Kaiser, by the German Constitution Supreme War Lord, had to choose. He did not on this occasion fail the German people. He decided against Falkenhayn. The four corps were ordered to the East. Ludendorff after organizing the ‘Südarmee’ was to be returned to Hindenburg; and Falkenhayn was forced to resign the Ministry of War. In spite of these wounding blows, Falkenhayn was found still willing ‘with a heavy heart’ to remain Chief of the Staff of the Armies. Thus smitten in the foundations of his power, he nevertheless continued in the highest military office for nearly two years. He nursed for a time the idea that he himself might take command of the Eastern operations. Rebuffed again in this, he contented himself with a scathing commentary upon them. He doubted altogether ‘the possibility of bringing to a combined result two decisive undertakings separated by a thinly-held gap of over 600 kilometres for which only limited forces were available.’ He anticipated no more than ‘fairly large local successes’ in the Carpathians and in East Prussia. In this he was to be vindicated by the event. His authority had however received a mutilating blow, and henceforth there were two rival centres of power in the German army.

  The severity of the war had already worn down the frail personality of Berchtold. The failure of Potiorek in Serbia had deprived him even of that local satisfaction he had purchased so dearly. The prospect of Italy joining the foes of Austria and adding a new front to the task of her crumbling armies was a strain beyond his nerve to bear. He who had been so rash and resolute in the crisis was the first to falter in the struggle. Tisza on the other hand, who had pleaded for caution and peace while time remained, now showed the stern strength of his character. Undismayed by events, he strove to infuse resource and energy into the leadership of the Empire. He resolved that Berchtold should give place to a more determined figure. The change was effected with an ease and politeness, with an absence of irritation or excitement thoroughly typical of the diplomatic circle in Vienna. On January 11 Tisza and Tschirschky lunched with Berchtold. The German Ambassador as usual pressed, and this time with harshness, that Austria should buy off Italy at all costs with territorial concessions. Tisza made it plain that this could not be done. After a long discussion between the three Tisza found himself alone with Berchtold for a few minutes before his audience with the Emperor. ‘I told him,’ he records, ‘that I should be obliged to say to His Majesty that at the present moment I considered that the post of Foreign Minister should be occupied by a man of greater decision, who followed out his own policy with more consequence and energy.’ Berchtold replied smiling, as was his custom, like a good child: ‘I shall be very thankful if you really do say it, for I am always saying it; but he won’t believe me. He will believe you.’ Not disarmed by this engaging demeanour, Tisza repaired forthwith to the palace and proposed Berchtold’s immediate dismissal to the Emperor. Francis Joseph did not demur. He had often, he remarked, thought the same thing. After Tisza had explained that he himself could not leave his post as Hungarian Minister and President, it was arranged that a man of the bureaux, a protégé of Tisza’s, Baron Burian, should take charge of the foreign policy of the Empire. On January 13 Berchtold quitted the Ballplatz, and retired tranquilly to his estates, where he resides to this day. ‘Leave me in peace,’ he protested naively in 1916 to a friend, ‘I got sick of the war long ago.’

  We have witnessed the birth convulsions of the German plans for 1915. We shall presently follow their varied fortunes in the field. No one can now doubt that the decision wrung from the Kaiser, for which he deserves due credit, was right. The year that opened so darkly for Germany was to be for her the most prosperous of the war. In Artois and Champagne the French, at Neuve Chapelle and Loos the British, were doomed to wear themselves out upon the barbed wire and machine-guns of the German defence. With the loss of all her fortresses Russia was to be driven out of Poland and Galicia. Bulgaria was gained as an ally by the Central Powers; Serbia was invaded and for a space annihilated; Greece was distracted and paralyzed. While Roumania was awed into a continuing neutrality and Italy was left to break her teeth on the Isonzo, the German road to Constantinople was opened and Turkey, saved from destruction, fought on reinvigorated. To observe the other side of these surprising transformations and mighty achievements we must now repair to London.

  The attention of France was riveted upon the Invasion. All French energies and thought were absorbed in the life-and-death struggle which for the moment had slackened, but must soon be renewed. Joffre, victor of the Marne, and his Grand-Quartier-Général, G.Q.G., dominated the scene. France was hardly conscious of other scenes. Russia, Austria and the Balkans, all these were noticed only as a swordsman in the climax of a duel observes his seconds or the spectators. To strengthen the French army, to hold the front in France, to liberate the thirteen conquered departments from a hateful yoke—these were the war-plans of France. But in London, where the pressures were not so severe, a more general view was possible. A small group of men at or near the summit of the war-direction had been for some weeks gazing intently upon that same Eastern Front which was the subject of these lively discussions in Berlin.

  The reader with all the facts laid bare before him must also realize how difficult it was in the Cabinet or at the Admiralty and War Office to learn and measure the facts and values of the episodes which this volume has already recorded. We had been absorbed in securing the command of the seas, in sending the British army to France and keeping it alive under the terrible hammer-blows which it endured; in gathering together the forces of the Empire, and in mobilizing for the struggle all the wealth, influence and manhood—not inconsiderable in any quarter of the globe—on which His Britannic Majesty could make a claim. The French told us little except their wishes, and the Russians less. We had sustained generally the impression that Russia had defeated Austria in a great battle called Lemberg, and that Germany had successfully defended East Prussia. We had the feeling that the Russian ‘steam-roller’ which the Western Powers had expected would smooth the path to victory, was moving backwards as well as forwards, as is indeed the habit of steam-rollers. But the full significance of Tannenberg was only gradually understood. Like the French, we were in contact with immeasurable events and occupied from hour to hour with vital details. Masses of information were provided in the Intelligence reports. Every day there lay upon my table twenty or thirty flimsies recording the ceaseless movement of troops to and fro across Europe and every kind of rumour true or false. From the Admiralty we asked the War Office repeatedly for general appreciations. But al
l the British General Staff had gone to the war, and had been entirely preoccupied ever since in keeping together the body and soul of the Expeditionary Army. No adequate machine existed for sifting, clarifying and focussing the multitudinous reports. Lord Kitchener, calm, Olympian, secretive and imperfectly informed, endeavoured in these months to discharge in his own person the functions of Secretary of State for War, Commander-in-Chief and of the collective intelligence of a General Staff.

  Yet somehow things had not gone wrong. The seas were clear; the island was safe; the army had reached its battle station; the front was held; the Empire was forming in the fighting line. Therefore there was not at this juncture any very decided questioning of our impressions acquired from day to day, nor of our primitive methods of war-control. Indeed up to the end of 1914, we were, I feel, entitled to be proud of our conduct of the war. All our ships and men were being used to the full and in the right way.