To Arms

by Hew Strachan

  Austria-Hungary had lagged behind in the arms race of 1911–14. Naval expansion had not helped: of 757.7 million crowns voted in January 1911 for a five-year programme, 312.4 million had been earmarked to cover the entire shipbuilding budget. For the army, material had to be sacrificed for manpower.206 The early campaigns, therefore, created a munitions crisis that was different in nature from that of Germany. More than replacing lost or damaged equipment, more than arming an enlarged army, Austria-Hungary had to create in war the stocks it had failed to form in peace. Despite increased production, it never fully caught up.

  Although this was a war dominated by artillery, Austria-Hungary also had a small-arms crisis. Rifles were manufactured by the state-owned Austrian weapons company at Steyr, and also by the Hungarian works at Györ, established in 1912 and just coming on stream in 1914. But so infrequent were orders from its own army that Steyr was not geared to the domestic market; it received none in 1910, and contracts for 6,500 small arms in 1911 and 2,700 in 1912. By contrast, in 1913 Greece placed orders for 200,000 rifles and Romania for 230,000; in early 1914 Steyr joined with Mauser, the German firm, to clinch a deal for 200,000 rifles for Serbia.207 Steyr produced 34,000 rifles in January 1915, a tenfold increase on its output for September 1914. But some divisions that winter had only 3,000 to 5,000 rifles for between 12,000 and 15,000 men: only one-third were of the new 1895 model, and the remainder were of six different calibres. In September 1915 Steyr produced 74,000 rifles and the Györ works a further 18,000, but still the army’s demand was double their output. Monthly production finally exceeded 100,000 rifles a month in the second half of 1916. One reason why the Austro-Hungarians had an abundance of small-arms ammunition was that it had too few rifles from which to fire it.208

  The production of artillery, and especially of heavy artillery, was concentrated at the Skoda works in Pilsen. Skoda was a private firm, but worked closely with the technical committee of the War Ministry. Testimony to this relationship was the massive 30.5 cm mortar adopted in 1911. In November of the following year the Inspectorate of Technical Artillery was created, an indication that some quarters of the Austro-Hungarian War Ministry were as persuaded as their German counterparts that machines could substitute for men. The inspectorate established itself as the co-ordinating body between government and private industry—a function which by 1915 would embrace the metal Centrals and would give the inspector a status comparable to the war minister himself.209 Skoda flourished partly for these reasons, but principally thanks to naval orders and exports. Its workforce increased 60 per cent between 1910 and 1913, to reach 9,600. It jumped again in 1914 to reach 14,000; in 1916 it was almost 30,000.210

  The Skoda heavy mortar was exceptional, the result of a secret and unauthorized deal. Before 1914 Austria-Hungary held back from the costs of modernization and innovation in many categories of artillery. Conrad, an advocate of new models and involved in the development of the heavy mortar, found himself baulked until the war showed the inadequacies of the existing armament. In October 1914 he demanded that the new models of field howitzer, 10 cm gun, and mountain artillery, all designed before the war, be put into production and adopted forthwith. In February 1915 a programme was drawn up which specified that each division should have twenty-four field guns, thirty-six light field howitzers, four 10 cm guns, and four 15 cm howitzers. Thus, while more than half the army’s artillery holdings were to be exchanged for new types, the divisional artillery establishment was to be increased by at least a third.211 The effect of these overlapping programmes was to swell the different types of guns in use to a total of forty-five, making the logistic and maintenance problems more complex, and increasing the difficulty of maintaining a satisfactory supply of the appropriate shells.212

  The position was exacerbated by the pre-war neglect of the heavy artillery, the 30.5 cm mortar apart. Here the key weapon was the 15 cm howitzer, but with a bronze barrel it deepened the copper shortage and could only range 5,000 metres. The decision to upgrade to steel barrels, taken in 1915, coincided with demands to repair and replace worn-out field guns. The production of gun barrels in the second half of 1916 stood at 3,554, as opposed to 240 for the comparable period in 1914. But all new construction had been halted in June to meet the needs of existing ordnance, and by the end of 1916 total output for the year was 3,650 of all calibres. Although a significant increase on the 1,463 manufactured in 1915, the Austro-Hungarian army still had only 5,000 of the 13,300 guns it reckoned it needed.213

  The struggle to increase the production of guns was less severe in its impact than it might have been, because of the persistence of shell shortage. Indeed, the position was the opposite of that for small arms: more artillery would only have exacerbated the problems of shell supply. Stocks per gun have been variously calculated at 250 and 500 rounds:214 even the higher figure is significantly lower than that of the other major powers. Shell production at the outbreak of war was 7,400 rounds per day, or three rounds per gun. In December 1914 it was running at 17,000 rounds per day, or seven rounds per gun, and by August 1915 at 43,000 rounds per day or fourteen rounds per gun. In 1915 as a whole monthly output averaged 950,000 rounds, as against 375,000 in 1915, but in 1916 it only increased to 1.4 million—as opposed to Germany’s 7 million.215 Although daily output was 60,000 rounds by the end of 1916, it could still be exceeded by daily consumption and the army’s target was 800,000 per week, or twice what was being achieved.216 Furthermore, the global figures obscure even greater shortages for specific calibres. The proliferation of ordnance meant that by 1915 twenty-nine types required 100 different sorts of ammunition. Austria-Hungary, like Britain, had favoured shrapnel over high explosive and struggled to fill its shells. The decision to replace the 7 cm mountain gun and the 10 cm field gun meant that stocks of shell for these pieces were already being run down when the war broke out, although both guns still figured in Austria-Hungary’s order of battle.217

  The confusion of the empire’s bureaucracy are only a partial explanation for the failures of procurement from 1916. The dual monarchy could not do more; it had reached the limit of its capacity for industrial expansion. Raw materials were running short. Supplies of vital commodities like manganese and copper could not keep pace with the growth in the army’s needs for munitions. Transport bottlenecks were already re-emerging in the second half of that year. As the shell-production figures for 1916 themselves made plain, the dependence of Austria-Hungary on its more industrialized ally would grow in the second half of the war.

  Between 1914 and 1916 Germany was protected from the consequences of its position as the economic leader of the Central Powers. Austria-Hungary’s industrial response in 1915 kept its dependence to manageable levels. Bulgaria did not join the Central Powers until September 1915, and therefore generated no demands on Germany’s productive capacity before that. The effect of Bulgaria’s entry was to outflank Serbia and so open the route to Turkey. Until then, however insistent the demands for munitions from Constantinople, Berlin could plead quite genuinely that it was in no position to respond. But from 1916 all three of its allies would increase their requests for raw materials and finished goods. Up until 1916 German industry, and the compromise structure adopted for the management of the German war economy, proved equal to the task because the demands made of them were comparatively limited. Thereafter, the structure would have to have the resilience both to cope with a more sustained and more intensive version of industrialized warfare, and to be able to do so on several fronts simultaneously.

  THE MUNITIONS CRISIS AND THE ENTENTE, 1914–1916

  By 10 September 1914, after little more than three weeks of active operations, the French army had lost a tenth of its field artillery, 410 75 mm guns, and 750 limbers.218 By January 1915 its holdings of the 1886 Lebel rifle had fallen from 2,880,000 to 2,370,000, a loss of over half-million.219 Some of these guns and rifles were no doubt smashed beyond repair. But many lay on the battlefield, salvageable or even intact. The soldiers of France, anx
ious to expedite their retreat and exhausted by its pace, did not encumber themselves with excessive burdens.

  The allies’ abandonment of equipment in the first few weeks of the war was the most immediate economic consequence of the opening German advance. Particularly in the supply of rifles, it created considerable short-term strains for the French army. But in the long term it was not the most deleterious aspect of Germany’s territorial gains. After the stabilization of the front, France’s industrial heartland lay either under German control or within the battle zone. In 1913 the north-east of France was responsible for 74 per cent of the nation’s coal production, 76.5 per cent of its coke, 81 per cent of its pig iron, 63 per cent of its steel, 94 per cent of its copper, 76.5 per cent of its lead, 60 per cent of its manufactured iron and steel, 25 per cent of its engineering products, 81 per cent of its wool, and 44.5 per cent of its chemicals.220 Heavy industry was hit with particular ferocity. Eighty-five out of 170 blast furnaces were lost, forty-eight out of 164 Siemens-Martin furnaces, and fifty-three out of 100 convertors. By 1915 French coal production had tumbled from 40 million tonnes to under 20 million, its iron ore output from 22 million tonnes to 620,000, and its steel production from 4.6 million tonnes to 1.1 million.221 Furthermore, France was already a laggard in the more obvious indices of European industrial strength. In 1913 Britain produced 270 million tonnes of coal and Germany 220 million to France’s 37 million; and Britain produced 11 million tonnes of iron and Germany 17 million to France’s 5 million.222 Given such a proportionately high loss of such a comparatively low productive capacity, how could France sustain and equip its armies over four-and-a-half years of industrialized warfare? For not only did it do so, but it also rearmed the Serbs in 1915, provided artillery for the Americans and Greeks, and supplied aircraft to the British.223

  Not all the answers can be found within France. In 1915 France’s imports of steel matched its domestic production, in 1916 and 1917 its steel imports tripled, and in 1918 they fell back to parity with domestic production only because of the shortage of shipping.224 For France was part of an alliance that included the world’s third industrial power, Britain, and was able to continue trading with the world’s first, the United States. From the latter came Remington rifles, and Colt and Hotchkiss machine-guns. In February 1916 Fiat in Italy contracted to deliver munitions and trucks, and later aero-engines and tanks.225

  But there were within France strengths obscured by the overall aggregates. The concentration of French industry in the north-east had left under-exploited the resources of other regions: Normandy and the Ardèche had iron ore, the water-power of the Pyrenees and Alps could generate electricity. Thus, the abandonment of the north and east was offset by a rise in production in the centre, the south, and the west. In December 1915 42.5 per cent of France’s labour force was employed south of a line from Mont-Saint Michel to Geneva; by January 1917 that figure had risen to 55 per cent. In every département of the same area the number of businesses which had been forced to close in the first seventeen months of the war was below the national average of 10.3 per cent. Most striking was the Rhône. Its workforce engaged in the defence industries swelled 35.5 per cent by December 1915 (when over France as a whole it declined by 4.2 per cent). Between then and January 1917 the number of newly opened firms in the region was less than the national average (41.4 per cent as against 92.1 per cent), but the workforce nonetheless grew by a further 215.7 per cent, against a national average of 58.7 per cent. In other words, the Rhône attracted big business.226 Therefore, one effect of the war was to promote the industrialization of the rest of France. Furthermore, one consequence of defeat was that fewer of France’s own resources were being siphoned off to support the manufactures of the north. France’s imports of coal, coke, and related fuels remained relatively constant (at about 20 million tonnes per annum) both before the war and during it: the loss of domestic output in the war was balanced by a decline in domestic consumption.

  The results were particularly apparent in the steel industry. The production of the high-grade steels needed for military purposes depended on crucibles and electric furnaces. These were already concentrated in the centre before the war. Whereas 64 per cent of France’s pig iron production for 1913 came from areas that had been overrun, the same applied to only 58 per cent of its crude steel and 54 per cent of its finished steel. Therefore, in 1913 unoccupied France had already produced about 500,000 tonnes of munitions-quality steel, when the annual requirement of the land armaments of industry was only 5,000 tonnes. Its needs did, of course, grow from September 1914, to 200 tonnes a day, with targets of 500 tonnes a day by early November and 800 tonnes thereafter. But the problems of 1914 were less those of capacity and more those of labour. Furnaces were extinguished for lack of manpower. Output for August 1914 in the war-free zones slumped from 3,000 tonnes a day to 250. As existing furnaces were relit, new ones were added. France more than doubled its numbers of Thomas convertors and of crucibles, and increased its holdings of Martin furnaces by 94 per cent and of electric furnaces by 75 per cent. Steel output in the Loire rose by between 60 and 80 per cent, and in the south and west by between 15 and 30 per cent. By 1918 new furnaces increased France’s capacity to produce cast iron by 590,000 tonnes a year, and steel by 1,760,000 tonnes.227 By December 1914 steel production was already able to keep pace with the needs of the munitions industry, then set at 1,140 tonnes a day, and rising to 1,800 tonnes a day by May 1915. By 1916 France’s aggregate production still lagged significantly behind its pre-war output—just under 1.5 million tonnes of pig iron as opposed to 5.2 million in 1913, and just under 2 million tonnes of steel as opposed to 4.7 million. Furthermore, after 1916 France was actually unable to maximize its productive capacity in iron and steel owing to labour shortages, lack of fuel, especially coke, and transport difficulties. In 1918 output of steel was 59 per cent of capacity and of pig iron 56 per cent. But in central France output had swelled from 527,952 tonnes to 763,159, in the south-west from 159,994 tonnes to 207,347, in the south-east from 120,258 tonnes to 176,463, and in the west from 184,144 tonnes to 207,649.228

  The adaptive strengths of the French iron and steel industry were becoming evident in the two decades before the war. Its rate of growth in that period had exceeded those of Germany, the United States, and Britain, and by 1913 it ranked fourth in the world to those three. By 1914 France was reaping the advantages of backwardness. A selective look at its industries showed that its late spurt had given it a lead in precisely those technologies to become relevant to modern war, including the manufacture of automobiles and aircraft, and certainly not neglecting artillery.229

  The switch from bronze and iron guns to steel had given Schneider-Creusot its opening to the arms trade. By 1900 Schneider had secured orders for quick-firing artillery in twenty-three countries, and between 1904 and 1907 it delivered 300 complete field and mountain batteries, two-thirds of them to Balkan states. The performance of Schneider-Creusot’s guns in the Balkan wars presented a serious challenge to Krupp’s domination of overseas markets. Domestically, the navy was a bigger buyer from private industry than the army. The latter ordered components from the arms trade but preferred to assemble whole systems itself. The position changed with the tentative development of orders for heavy guns from 1912. Schneider-Creusot received contracts for half the 220 long 105 mms ordered in April 1913, for eighteen 280 mm mortars in November 1913, and for 120 long 155 mms in June 1914. The combination of the army’s uncertainty over heavy artillery doctrine and the competition with the attractions of aircraft and the infrastructure costs of the three-year law kept these orders small. Moreover, ensuring that the state ordnance factories also received contracts subdivided the investment (Bourges was asked to produce the other half of the long 105 mms) and so retarded serial production.230 Thus, the biggest initial industrial impediment to the expansion of munitions production was neither resources nor location (Schneider-Creusot, like many other arms factories, was in Saône-et-Loire); it was the
lack of machine tools. At the war’s outset part of France’s productive capacity was devoted to the preparation of plant as a preliminary to the manufacture of guns.231

  This was hardly a situation unique to France. There, as elsewhere, the real difficulties in expanding munitions production were organizational. Mobilization disrupted the manufacture of shells until the sixty-fifth day of hostilities.232 Exemptions from the call-up were extended only to 11,000 of the 45,000 to 50,000 employed in the French arms business: 7,600 of these worked in the state-owned factories. Renault, for example, which during the war would expand its production of aero-engines as well as diversifying into shell production and tank design, at first received no exemptions. Even Schneider Creusot found its labour clipped from 12,000 to 6,600. Twenty-five per cent of the whole French workforce was mobilized, but the rate in the metal industry was 33 per cent, and in the chemical industry 42 per cent. In August only about half the businesses and a third of the workers in the Paris-Seine area remained active. The production of 75 mm shells, due to double to 13,600 a day at the war’s outset, fell to 7,000 by the beginning of September.233

  Although France had failed to think through the economic implications of mobilization, the Ministry of War was not slow to anticipate crisis. At about the same time that Falkenhayn was planning the establishment of the KRA with Rathenau, Messimy was expressing his concerns for shell production to Renault. He was warned by Joffre immediately after the opening encounters in Alsace that shell consumption had exceeded all expectations and that he should aim to multiply output more than tenfold, from an anticipated 6,000–8,000 shells per day to 100,000.234 On 14 August Messimy met the representatives of France’s leading private arms manufacturers, Schneider-Creusot and St-Chamond, and on the following day he initiated co-operation with the Comité des Forges, the trade association of the major iron firms. The ministry still had little idea as to what the actual level of shell expenditure would be: not until the closing stages of the Marne, on 14 September, was it fully informed as to the disparity between consumption and output.