Hidden History: The Secret Origins of the First World War.

by Gerry Docherty

  At a meeting of the Council of Ministers held at three o’clock that same afternoon, 24 July, the Russians decided to mobilise 1,100,000 men in the four southern military districts of Odessa, Kiev, Moscow and Kazan, together with both the Baltic and Black Sea fleets.10 The czar further agreed that preparation should be made for the mobilisation of 13 army corps at a date to be determined by Sazonov. The minister of war was authorised to ‘proceed immediately to gather stores of war materiel’ and the minister of finance directed to call in at once all Russian money in Germany and Austria. This, remember, was still 24 July, the day before the Serbian Reply was due for submission.11

  The Russian Military Command comprised class-ridden elitists, self-infatuated aristocrats, time-servers and careerists, who did not doubt their capacity to defeat both Austria and Germany at the same time. Undeterred by the stupidity of changing their chiefs of the general staff six times in nine years, they firmly believed that Russia was ready for war and bound by her word of honour to France to move against Germany.12

  After the hastily convened meeting of the Council of Ministers on 24 July, Foreign Minister Sazonov lunched with ambassadors Buchanan and Paléologue at the French Embassy. These were the Secret Elite’s diplomatic enforcers, who ensured that London and Paris were kept fully updated. Sazonov confirmed that the czar had approved both the mobilisation of over 1 million men and the Russian navy. The imperial order (ukase) was not to be made public until he, Sazonov, considered that the moment had arrived to enforce it, but all the necessary preliminary preparations for the mobilisation had already begun.13

  Sazonov confirmed that Russia was prepared to ‘face all the risks’, and Paléologue reiterated Poincaré’s ‘blank cheque’, placing France unreservedly on Russia’s side. Poincaré had explicitly instructed Paléologue to reassure Sazonov by prompt and persistent promises of French support.14 The French ambassador informed Sazonov that he had also received a number of telegrams from the minister in charge of foreign affairs, and that not one of them displayed the slightest sign of hesitation. Russia was mobilising for war, and France placed herself unreservedly by her side.15

  Sazonov was thus constantly reassured that France would stand shoulder to shoulder with Russia, but what about Britain? Grey and King George V had assured him of British support at Balmoral in 1912, but he was confused by the overtures of friendship voiced by Britain to Germany. Sazonov was not sufficiently astute to realise that such mind games were designed to mislead and were part and parcel of the deception. Germany had to be led to believe until the very last minute that Britain would remain neutral. An official treaty between Britain and Russia, which Sazonov so desperately desired, would have destroyed that cover. Grey was determined to hold to the official line that ‘England’ could be more effective if she posed as a mediator at all costs.16 His charade had to be maintained. Germany had to be kept guessing.

  The following morning, 25 July, the Russian Council of Ministers rubber-stamped the military plans and confirmed their readiness for war.17 Telegrams were sent out in secret ciphers, halting military manoeuvres throughout the Russian empire. Military divisions were instructed to return immediately from their summer camps to their regular quarters. Troops were to be equipped and prepared for transportation to their designated areas on the frontiers.18 Cadets undergoing training at the St Petersburg Military Academy were immediately promoted to the rank of officer, and new cadets enrolled. A ‘state of war’ was proclaimed in towns along the frontiers facing Germany and Austria, and a secret order given for the ‘Period Preparatory to War’.19 This enabled the Russia military command to take extensive measures for mobilisation against Germany without a formal declaration of war. Meanwhile, on the diplomatic front, ambassadors and chargés d’affaires, ministers and imperial officials continued the pretence that they sought a peaceful resolution to the Austro-Serbian crisis and bought precious time for the military. Russia had begun a secret mobilisation in incremental stages before the Pasic government in Serbia had even responded to the Austrian Note.

  Sir George Buchanan urged Sazonov to be cautious lest Germany got wind of the mobilisation, reacted immediately and Russia was portrayed as the aggressor.20 Buchanan did not suggest that Sazonov should stop the Russian mobilisation, far from it, but urged him to keep it well hidden from German view. It was important that the mobilisation be as far advanced as possible before the Germans became aware of the military build-up on their frontiers. Furthermore, the Secret Elite in London needed to be able to portray Germany as the aggressor, to entice Germany into firing the first shots and so avoid a situation where Russia could be blamed for starting the war. At all costs, blame had to be laid at Germany’s door. The British public would never accept war unless Germany was seen as the aggressor. This absolute conviction became Britain’s diplomatic mantra. Although Buchanan later denied it, the French ambassador, Paléologue, even went so far in his memoirs as to recall Buchanan telling him: ‘Russia is determined to go to war. We must therefore saddle Germany with the whole responsibility and initiative of the attack, as this will be the only way of winning over English public opinion to the war.’21 The Secret Elite and their agents knew exactly how the unfolding events would have to be manipulated to dupe the British public.

  Sir Edward Grey stubbornly insisted throughout the whole crisis that the Austro-Serbian dispute did not concern him.22 This lie went unchallenged. He chose to distance himself and the Foreign Office from what transpired in Vienna and Belgrade, and its impact on St Petersburg. By making no parliamentary reference to events in that part of the world, he hid the Secret Elite’s diplomatic incitement to war behind a screen of apparent lack of interest in the Austro-Serbian conflict. He consulted daily with Sir Arthur Nicolson and had a powerful anti-German ally in Sir Eyre Crowe. These two almost outbid each other in their distaste for Germany and their indulgence of Russia.23 Grey’s minders never veered from the Secret Elite doctrine. Inside Grey’s Foreign Office, the Empire loyalists behaved like a swarm of Jesuit zealots pledged to an anti-German inquisition. In sharp contrast, the foreign secretary’s public stance was of mute disinterest in the events that they expected to lead to war. Theirs was an ignominious deception, for they knew that this was a dispute from which a general war would ensue, and, far from being disinterested, they were intimately complicit.

  Sir Edward Grey’s attitude was very matter-of-fact. In his telegraphed reply to Buchanan on 25 July, he accepted that the critical step of Russian mobilisation had raised international tension to the next level. He expressed no criticism or undue alarm. Instead he blamed the ‘brusque, sudden and peremptory’ nature of the Austrian demands, which in his eyes made it ‘almost inevitable that in a very short time Austria and Russia will both have mobilised against each other’.24 Later that day, he repeated this view in a diplomatic letter to Horace Rumbold, the British ambassador in Berlin. He predicted that Europe would soon be confronted by a moment when ‘both Austria and Russia would have mobilised’.25 Grey’s message to Russia was not one of horror and dismay, or protestation that mobilisation would lead to war. He was waiting for it. Indeed, there is much substance to the view that ‘Grey actually encouraged Russia to mobilise’.26

  Meanwhile in Belgrade, at 3 p.m. on 25 July (three hours before responding to the Austrian Note), Pasic’s government, confident of Russian military support, announced Serbia’s mobilisation against Austria. At 9.30 that same night, the Austrians responded by declaring a partial mobilisation (some 22 divisions) of its army against Serbia.27 Austria had made it patently clear that in the event of such a mobilisation, war would remain localised and no territorial claims would be made on Serbia. She intended to occupy Belgrade until such time as Serbia agreed to all of their demands.

  This Austrian mobilisation was deliberately misrepresented as a direct challenge and threat to Russia, and the reason for Russian mobilisation. That is a ridiculous claim. The Russian mobilisation had been agreed in principle before Poincaré left St Petersburg and be
fore Austria had even delivered the Note to Serbia. Another fiction put about was that the Russian mobilisation was meant to act as a deterrent to war. What nonsense. It was the first act of war, and all involved knew it. The notion that it could be seen as a deterrent is groundless. They clearly understood that to order mobilisation was to cross the Rubicon: there could be no turning back.28

  Maurice Paléologue, the French ambassador, offered an interesting insight into what was happening on the streets of the capital:

  At seven in the evening [the 25th] I went to the Warsaw Station [in St Petersburg] to bid farewell to Isvolsky, who was leaving to rejoin his post. Great activity at the terminus, the trains crowded with officers and troops. All this points to mobilisation. We hurriedly exchanged our views of the situation and both arrived at the same conclusion: this time it is war.29

  Hour by hour, Russia secretly edged closer to war.30

  On 26 July, the czar officially approved ‘partial’ mobilisation against Austria. A telegram was despatched from Paléologue to Poincaré on board La France. It concluded: ‘Russian opinion makes it clear that it is both politically and morally impossible for Russia to allow Serbia to be crushed.’31

  Poincaré’s visit had been successful, his mission accomplished. Apart from the outrageous exaggeration that Austria intended to crush Serbia, the telegram confirmed that nothing would stop the Russians moving to war against Austria. That, of course, meant war against Germany too. Russia’s frontier districts adjoining Austria and Germany were put on a war footing as rapidly and discreetly as possible, though Sazonov assured the German ambassador, Count Pourtales, that no mobilisation orders of any kind had been issued.32

  It was a complex package of lies, deception and misrepresentation that added up to false justification, deliberate manipulation and a downright determination to wage war on Germany.

  SUMMARY: CHAPTER 23 – JULY 1914 – THE FIRST MOBILISATIONS

  By the accepted conventions of the time, general mobilisation by a major power was the first act of war.

  The French–Russian (entente) game plan was to ensure that Germany was attacked on two fronts: that is, from the east and west simultaneously.

  The Secret Elite’s grand plan tightened further when Poincaré and the French agreed in principle with the Russians to joint mobilisation during his visit to St Petersburg. Poincaré repeatedly assured the czar and Sazonov of the absolute commitment of France.

  Any wavering on the part of the czar or Sazonov was bolstered by the reassurances from his diplomatic minders, Paléologue (French ambassador) and Buchanan (British ambassador). The Russian military were preparing for war and delighted with their French allies.

  Sir Edward Grey also encouraged mobilisation by declaring his calm acceptance of its ‘inevitability’, while Buchanan cautioned Sazonov to make sure that Germany did not get wind of what was happening.

  Buchanan and Grey knew that the British public would not go to war unless Germany was the proven aggressor.

  The Serbian government mobilised at 3 p.m. on 25 July, and the Austrians followed with a partial mobilisation against Serbia at 9.30 that evening.

  Russian mobilisation had been agreed while Poincaré was still in St Petersburg, and the evidence of troop movements was recorded by diplomats. The czar accepted partial mobilisation of the Russian armies on 26 July.

  CHAPTER 24

  July 1914 – Buying Time – The Charade of Mediation

  BEFORE THE WAR, SIR EDWARD Grey’s reputation rarely suffered from contemporary attack no matter what he did. The Secret Elite protected him at every turn. The foreign secretary fronted their ambitions with absolute loyalty, and his reward was to be treated with reverence by The Times, King George V, the British Establishment and sympathetic international leaders. He was an untouchable, the epitome of right-minded, educated Englishness, of impeccable family and the best of clubs. Sir Edward Grey was held in such high esteem that his clever manipulation of the July crisis and his consequent misrepresentation of events to Parliament and to his Cabinet colleagues was accepted at face value. The verdict of his time claimed that he ‘acted splendidly in a great crisis, and did everything possible to avert war’.1 He did not. Grey delivered the war.

  His strategy from 25 July onwards was to make it appear that he sought answers to intractable problems by offering plausible solutions, and to urge the Germans in particular to cling to the hope that peace was still possible. Grey knew precisely what had been arranged by and through Poincaré’s visit. Sazonov and the Russian military had begun mobilisation. His prime objective was to gain time for the Russians by delaying Germany’s defensive response. He achieved this by presenting Britain as an ‘honest broker’ for peace. Sir George Buchanan in St Petersburg ensured that Grey was kept fully informed, thus allowing him to don the mantle of peacemaker to Russia’s advantage. British neutrality sat at the epicentre of this charade like a prize exhibit at an auction. Sazonov desperately wanted Grey to openly commit to the entente, but to no avail.2 The Germans repeatedly sought clarification about ‘England’s’ intentions, but Grey held to the official line. Britain was not bound by any obligation to enter into war. He had told this lie so often he might even have started to believe it.

  Over that weekend of 25–26 July, while the Russians secretly began their mobilisation, the British political leaders left town for their country pastures. The German ambassador, Prince Lichnowsky, arrived unannounced at the Foreign Office with an urgent message from Chancellor Bethmann, imploring Sir Edward Grey to use his influence at St Petersburg against any form of mobilisation. No one was available to see him, and Lichnowsky had to postpone his appeal until Monday.3 It was an old trick and such a simple deception. By being allegedly out of touch for the weekend, formal diplomacy was put on hold and the Russians were gifted two more valuable days for mobilisation.

  Grey’s convenient absence stalled Lichnowsky but did not in any way hinder the Foreign Office from repeatedly making diplomatic moves aimed at buying more time for Russia’s military preparations. An offer of British mediation was immediately accepted by Germany but rejected by Sazonov and Poincaré.4 Grey then proposed that the ambassadors of Italy, Germany and France should meet with him in London to find a peaceful solution to the diplomatic conflict.5 This offer was made in the full knowledge that Italy had long planned to betray her commitment to the Triple Alliance. Germany and Austria were themselves aware that it was very unlikely that the Italians would support them. Bethmann believed that ‘the ill-will of Italy appeared almost a certainty’.6 As matters stood, Germany knew she would find herself isolated at the conference and that the vote count was bound to be three to one in favour of Russia’s view. A further stumbling block was the insistence that Austria accepted the Serbian Reply as a basis for negotiation.7 No specific condition was placed on any other nation, and Russia remained free to continue her ‘preparatory measures’.8 In truth, the conference was proposed not as a means to find a settlement but to give the massive Russian military machine time to move its armies up to the German frontier.

  Germany advocated the eminently more sensible proposition that direct negotiations between Vienna and St Petersburg offered the best chance of peace. Grey agreed, but Sazonov did not. Knowing full well that Austria had just declared the Serbian Reply unacceptable, Sazonov said he considered it satisfactory and the basis for talks on which Russia ‘willingly held out her hand’ to Austria.9 This was yet another of the ‘peace proposals’ that Grey, Sazonov and Poincaré knew could never be acceptable. Forewarned that any peace proposal emanating from Grey was a ruse, Poincaré and Isvolsky knew how they were expected to respond. When Grey suggested a solution and Germany accepted, Poincaré or Sazonov would say no. Likewise, if Germany proposed a peace move, Grey would accept and be seen as the man of moderation, but either Poincaré or Sazonov would then reject it. War was the object, not peace.

  During that same weekend of 25–26 July, with the British Cabinet absent from London, Sir Arthur Nicols
on in the Foreign Office kept his finger on the beating pulse of the European crisis. Across at the Admiralty, another secret decision drew war ever closer. At four on the Sunday afternoon, the first sea lord, Prince Louis of Battenberg (who had been appointed to replace Jacky Fisher in 1912), sent, with Churchill’s prior approval, an order to the fleet to remain concentrated at Spithead. Quietly and unassumingly, the fleet was mobilised. Note the coincidence: both the first lord of the Admiralty and the foreign secretary were absent from their posts, yet key departmental decisions were taken that deliberately brought war ever closer. As far as the public were concerned, nothing untoward was happening. It was just another summer weekend.

  Churchill and Prince Louis of Battenberg acted without the authority of the Cabinet or the king, but it hardly mattered since the entire British Grand Fleet ‘just happened’ to be gathered at Spithead for the King’s Review. The massed ranks of Britain’s navy had been effectively mobilised since 15 July 1914. The official Royal Review took place on the 18th, but the fleet had not been disbanded back to its sectoral locations in the Atlantic, across the Empire or closer to home in the North Sea. It had been mobilised in full view of Germany. What a magnificent deception.

  On Sunday, 26 July, Prince Henry of Prussia was at Cowes on the Isle of Wight, sailing his magnificent yacht Germania, when he received an invitation to dine with King George in London. Henry was the kaiser’s younger brother and grand admiral of the German Fleet. This was no chance meeting but one primed by the Secret Elite to deceive the kaiser. Over a private dinner, the king promised that ‘we shall try to keep out of this, and shall remain neutral’.10 The reassuring news was telegraphed that same evening to Berlin. The king, like his late father, always played his part in the Secret Elite programme that cut across the bonds of the extended royal families of Europe. Though the kaiser and Prince Henry were his cousins, King George had no hesitation in maintaining the deception. Naturally, the kaiser laid great store in the promise. Here was something infinitely more worthy than the huckstering of politicians. He had the word of a king.11