Berlin. Newspapers in Berlin and in Hamburg carried the story of the "naval alliance" between Britain and Russia. Allegedly the Russians hoped to win Royal Navy agreement to dispatch transport ships to Baltic ports before the outbreak of war. They were to carry Russian troops who would invade northeastern Germany.
But as the talks between Admiral Prince Louis of Battenberg and the Russian admiralty had been scheduled for August, they had not yet started to take place. According to the German press, Prince Louis did not manage to come to St. Petersburg: "the war that Russia thrust on us prevented" the British-Russian naval alliance from being concluded.
"The war that Russia thrust on us": That embodied what Germans came to believe. When news of Russia's mobilization first was known, the Bavarian military attaché confided to his diary: "I run to the War Ministry. Beaming faces everywhere. Everyone is shaking hands in the corridors: people congratulate one another for being over the hurdle." The German people, the political parties, the labor unions, the press, all had been fooled into believing that Russia had started the war. Another diarist, chief of the Kaiser's naval staff, made everything more clear: "The mood is brilliant. The government has managed brilliantly to make us appear as the attacked."
The German government announced that Russian invaders had crossed into German territory. The German people believed it.
CHAPTER 40: AUGUST 2
London. The British cabinet, which met exceptionally on a Sunday, began by moving somewhat in the direction of involvement in the developing crisis. It was in session from 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m., but then convened again at 6:30 p.m.
In the morning session the ministers ratified Churchill's order mobilizing the fleet. It considered, but rejected for the time being, dispatching an expeditionary force to the Continent, as had been envisaged in secret Anglo-French army staff talks a few years earlier of which most members of the cabinet had been ignorant.
In between the morning and evening sessions, Grey advised the French ambassador that should the German navy attack the undefended French Atlantic coast, the British navy would offer France protection.
In the evening session, the cabinet learned of Germany's violation of the neutrality of Luxemburg. The British government took the view that its responsibility to Luxemburg was collective—that is, it was obliged to act only if the other guarantors did so as well. Belgium was a different matter; the guarantee of neutrality arguably was individual, and Grey had already alerted the German ambassador to Britain's position on the matter. Yet Germany's invasion of Luxemburg presaged an invasion and occupation of Belgium too. Indeed, as the cabinet reconvened at six-thirty, a German ultimatum was being received in Brussels. Asquith ordered mobilization of the army.
The shift in political sentiment over the course of the day was remarkable. That morning Asquith had set down in writing, in a personal letter, his own view of the European situation.
1. We have no obligation of any kind either to France or Russia to give them military or naval help.
2. The despatch of the Expeditionary force to help France at this moment is out of the question & wd serve no object.
3. We mustn't forget the ties created by our long-standing & intimate friendship with France.
4. It is against British interests that France shd. be wiped out as a Great Power.
5. We cannot allow Germany to use the Channel as a hostile base.
6. We have obligations to Belgium to prevent her being utilised & absorbed by Germany.
This formulation of the Prime Minister's public policy objectives in the gathering European storm may be taken as almost comprehensive. But it represented only his personal views, which were not shared by his Liberal party. He reckoned that "a good ¾ of our own party" in the House of Commons "are for absolute non-interference at any price."
Before the morning cabinet meeting he had received an assurance of firm support from the Conservative leadership for his policy of backing up France. This placed Asquith in the peculiar position of being supported in his foreign policy largely by his political opponents. His overriding political object was to keep his Liberal party united behind whatever decisions the cabinet eventually made, while trying to bring the cabinet around to his own and Grey's point of view.
Berlin. Moltke sent to the foreign office some suggestions "of a military-political nature" to which he attributed "some value from a military point of view." If England entered the war, Moltke suggested, Germany should incite uprisings against Britain in South Africa, Egypt, and India, thereby converting a European war into a world war. Germany's secret alliance with Turkey, just being concluded, should be made public; and Italy should state whether or not it would stand by its allies Germany and Austria. Sweden and Norway should be urged to mobilize against Russia, bringing pressure to bear. Japan should be urged to move against Russia in Asia. Switzerland already had mobilized; and, Moltke confided, the Swiss chief of staff had secretly drafted documents that would, if ratified, place the Swiss army under Germany's command.
The foreign office announced that France and Russia already had commenced hostilities. It transpired that this was not true.
Rome. The German ambassador learned from the Italian foreign minister, the Marchese di San Giuliano, that Rome had decided to remain neutral. San Giuliano explained that the treaty of alliance with Germany and Austria obliged Italy to come to their aid only if Germany or Austria were attacked. But the conflict in which they were engaged in the summer of 1914 was "a war of aggression" on their part. Italy, therefore, would stand aside. In a later account of this interview, San Giuliano stated that "the war undertaken by Austria . . . had, in the words of the German ambassador himself, an aggressive object."
Italy's military chief said that his country could not go to war in any event because its armed forces did not have enough uniforms.
Basel. German sources reported to Berlin that Swiss authorities had arrested French agents who were sending carrier pigeons to France with reports of German troop movements.
Luxemburg City. The Grand Duchess of Luxemburg, Marie Adelaide, cabled the Kaiser: "At this moment the Grand Duchy is being occupied by German troops." She protested and asked Wilhelm to respect the country's rights. In reply, Germany's Chancellor claimed: "Our military measures in Luxemburg indicate no hostile action against Luxemburg, but are solely measures for the protection of the railroads under our management there, against an attack by the French." He promised full compensation.
London. The German ambassador advised his government: "The question as to whether we are going to violate Belgian territory in our war with France may be of decisive importance in determining that of England's neutrality."
In fact, by the time of the British cabinet meeting that evening there was broad agreement that the issue was Belgium. The legal situation was not entirely clear: did one guarantor of Belgium's neutrality have to act even if none of the other guarantors did so? The cabinet felt that if the violation of Belgian neutrality were substantial and if Belgium itself fought back against the invaders, Britain was bound to come to its aid.
Brussels. Alarmed by Germany's incursion into Luxemburg, Belgium's foreign minister called upon Germany's resident minister to ask reassurance. Grey already had asked both France and Germany to pledge their continuing support of their treaty obligations to protect Belgian neutrality. France had given the pledge; Germany had not. Now the German minister was evasive.
He had to be. He did not yet know what was contained in his sealed instructions that a messenger had delivered to him on July 29 with orders not to open them until told to do so. He was told to do so on August 2. The German minister retrieved his instructions from his safe and unsealed them. Inside was an ultimatum that he was ordered to serve upon the Belgian government, which he duly delivered that evening. It gave Belgium twelve hours in which to reply. Drafted July 26 but purporting to have just been written, the German note complained of entirely imaginary French troop movements and demanded that Belgium allow
German forces to pass through its territory in order to engage the French.
London. Meeting that evening, the British cabinet learned that Germany had invaded Luxemburg and seemed poised to invade Belgium. The Prime Minister ordered the army to mobilize.
CHAPTER 41: AUGUST 3
Brussels. Early Monday morning King Albert of the Belgians rejected Germany's ultimatum. Assuming command of his country's relatively modest armed forces, he ordered the destruction of the bridges and tunnels the German troops would expect to use in their invasion.
Luxemburg City. Proclamations circulated throughout the city by German invasion forces announced: "Since France, without regard to the neutrality of Luxemburg, has opened hostilities against Germany from Luxemburg territory," German forces had done so too. The head of the Luxemburg government called the German government in protest that "this statement is founded on error. There is absolutely not a single French soldier in Luxemburg territory."
London. The cabinet, in its morning session, was told of the German ultimatum to Belgium. "The Germans, with almost Austrian crassness" had moved against Belgium, Asquith noted privately. The swing in ministerial opinion was dramatic. Belgium had become the issue. The week before, the cabinet had been overwhelmingly opposed to intervention. At the time they had wanted to stay out; now they felt compelled to go in. Lloyd George, formerly for peace, took the lead in arguing for war. Opinion in the cabinet was almost unanimous. Nonetheless, Asquith and Grey continued to make decisions without asking for or receiving a vote.
That afternoon Grey addressed the House of Commons. London was packed with vacationers; it was a Monday day off, known to the British as a bank holiday. Parliament itself was packed with members and visitors; the House of Commons, according to Barbara Tuchman, "had gathered in total attendance for the first time since Gladstone brought in the Home Rule Bill in 1893." "Grey made a most remarkable speech—about an hour long—for the most part almost conversational in tone," wrote Asquith. Grey had not had time to write it out in advance. He narrated the history of the crisis, but when he came to the issue of Belgium it was clear that he had the House of Commons overwhelmingly behind him in favor of intervention.
Only a week before, Britain had been on the verge of civil war on the issue of Ireland. Now, after Grey had finished speaking, John Redmond, the principal leader of the Irish nationalists, rose to assure the government that it "might tomorrow withdraw every one of their troops from Ireland" because "the armed Nationalist Catholics in the South would be only too glad to join arms with the armed Protestant Ulsterman in the North" to defend the shores of the United Kingdom.
What happens next? Violet Asquith asked her father, while independently, Winston Churchill asked Grey the same question. The Prime Minister and the foreign secretary both gave the same answer: deliver an ultimatum. Indeed, at a cabinet meeting convened after the House of Commons session, that is what was decided.
CHAPTER 42: AUGUST 4
London. At 9:30 a.m. Grey sent a telegram to Germany protesting Germany's ultimatum to Belgium and demanding that it be withdrawn.
As news arrived confirming Germany's intention of invading Belgium, Grey, at 2 p.m., sent Berlin an ultimatum demanding German compliance with Belgium's neutrality to be confirmed by midnight. The cable was sent to the British ambassador, who was able to deliver it only at 7 p.m. At some point Grey realized that the ultimatum did not specify whether it was to expire at midnight British time or continental time, and it was decided that it should be continental time, giving Germany five hours in which to reply.
Germany never replied.
Germany's invasion of Belgium, bringing Great Britain into the war, converted what had been a continental war into a world war. The British Empire extended all the way around the earth and so, now, would the warfare. Moltke's memo on August 2 to the German foreign office made it clear that the German government understood that.
In view of the paramount importance of the British decision, it is all the more remarkable how, in that pre-democratic age, the decision was reached. Parliament did not vote. The cabinet played little role. As A. J. P. Taylor tells us, King George V "held a privy council at Buckingham Palace" the night of August 4 "which was attended only by one minister and two court officials" and which "sanctioned the proclamation of a state of war." More astonishing, when viewed through modern eyes, "The governments and parliaments of the Dominions were not consulted." Instead each "governor general issued the royal proclamation on his own authority, as did the viceroy of India." Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, India (which then included Pakistan and Bangladesh), and much of Africa were swept up in a war without first being asked.
Peculiar in a different way was the situation of Germany, which was fighting Russia, France, Britain, Luxemburg, and Belgium—all supposedly to prop up Austria, which, as of August 4, was still at peace with all of them. Yet Germany was not at war with, or fighting against, Serbia, the only country with which Austria was at war and which, according to Vienna, was the country that posed the threat to Austria's existence.
The following day, we are told by the historian Hartmut Pogge von Strandmann, there was "a panic in Berlin" as German troops continued to advance alone and without allies. Moltke told Tirpitz on August 5 that if Austria continued to shy away, Germany—only days after declaring war—would have to sue for peace on the best terms it could get.
On August 6, Vienna overcame its reluctance and declared war against Russia.
No wonder that, from the very outset, the belligerents felt obliged to explain to their own peoples, and to the peoples of other countries, the seemingly muddled logic that had brought them to the battlefield and, in Austria's eyes, to the wrong battlefield.
CHAPTER 43: SHREDDING THE EVIDENCE
Michael Howard, the military historian, writes of 1914: "Probably no few days in the history of the world have been subjected to such scrutiny as those between June 28, when the Archduke was assassinated, and August 4, when Britain declared war." Yet gaps remain in the record. Suspicious historians are bound to turn detective and to ask what the gaps mean. For the suppression or destruction of evidence in itself is evidence, and the challenge is to discover: evidence of what)
A case in point is the week that began the morning of June 28. Austria-Hungary was deciding how to react to the assassination of its heir apparent. Its foreign minister, Count von Berchtold, the prime decision-maker in what ensued, is the first person whose private papers we would want to consult. It may tell us something that we learn from Holger Herwig, author of a magisterial work on Austria and Germany in the First World War: "It is interesting to note that Berchtold's official diary at the Foreign Office is conspicuously devoid of entries for the period between 27 June and 5 July 1914." There is a one-week gap. It suggests that in the week after June 27, Berchtold was doing something that he knew he might someday want to disavow. Interesting, too, is that Austrian intelligence, in Vienna's war archives, contains records that stop June 28, and do not resume for a whole year. When Germany justified itself on August 3, two days after declaring war, by publishing documents, "half of the thirty documents were blatant forgeries."
During the First World War all sides wanted to prove that they had not started it; afterwards, everyone wanted to avoid "war guilt," especially the Germans, on whom it was officially fixed in the Treaty of Versailles of 1919, after the Armistice. The German authorities instigated the suppression of relevant portions of Moltke's papers.
The result was that even in the decades after the war, evidence tended to be destroyed rather than recovered, and even if recovered, rewritten or restructured. Moreover, the authorities under successive German regimes up to and including the Nazi government carried on a massive disinformation campaign which has been described by Herwig in detail in his essay "Clio Deceived."
The diaries of Kurt Riezler, private secretary to the German Chancellor, illustrate the difficulties that research scholars face. Riezler died after leaving instruc
tions that his diaries should be destroyed. The personal papers of Bethmann had been removed or destroyed a decade or two earlier. After many maneuvers and arguments, the Riezler papers were rescued. But examination showed that while the diaries before and after the summer of 1914 were in small exercise books, the key months of July and August were recorded, instead, on loose paper and in another manner, strongly suggesting that these centrally relevant sections had been rewritten—and had been substituted for the original. The papers of Müller, head of the Kaiser's Naval Cabinet, though they survived, were expurgated.
Germans were not alone in destroying or falsifying their records. In the first weeks of the 1914 war the French foreign office issued a Yellow Book justifying all that it had done—a work of which Albertini in the 1940s was to write: "it musters 159 documents, many of them altered, mutilated, or falsified." Of a similar effort by St. Petersburg, Albertini writes that the Russian Orange Book "gives 79 documents, some considerably faked." And Serbia's archives were closed for half a century. No minutes were kept of Serbian cabinet meetings for 1914.
But nowhere was suppression or destruction of records, diaries, and the like carried out so widely throughout the following decades as in Germany. Thus all records of telephone conversations and notes of other verbal communications are missing for the period in question from the German foreign office. On the German side the two key turning points were the July 5 conversations with the Austrians, resulting in the "blank check," and the discussions among German leaders the week of July 27 that led to the decision to go to war. All records of both are missing from the foreign office. Missing, too, we are told by a leading researcher in this field, Imanuel Geiss, are all records of the Kaiser's conversations with military and political leaders during July. For that matter, there are no records of Germany's conversations in Berlin with foreign powers.
Europe's Last Summer Page 24