The Second Year
I
THE second anniversary of the declaration of the World War finds the Teutonic Powers, for the first time, on the defensive on all fronts. At the beginning of the war Germany immediately began delivering swift sledgehammer blows at Belgium and France. The first anniversary found her resting quiet on the western front, but driving the Russian armies through Poland and Galicia at an almost inconceivable rate. But now the tables are turned, and as the third year of the war begins, the enemies of the Central Powers are directing, with ever-increasing power, a concentric offense at a number of different points on the outer ring of Teutonic trenches that is slowly forcing these lines back, and compelling the Teutonic Allies to draw in toward the centre. The situation thus created is new to Germany. She has not yet found herself in relation to it. Whether she will be able to overcome the fact that her old advantage of interior lines is rapidly being neutralized by the many-sided attacks she is now having to resist, remains to be seen.
In order to grasp more readily the position of the Central Powers with respect to the Entente it will be necessary to go back to the earliest stages of the conflict and briefly recapitulate.
A state of war in Europe had existed only a few months when it was realized by the Entente that the status thus created was destined to be long lived. It was also realized that modern war, as it was introduced by Germany, demanded, as the price of success, intense organization of manufacturing industries, complete mobilization of finance, and recruitment of the maximum number of men. Of the nations at war, only the Central Powers had appreciated the necessity for these measures of preparedness before war was declared. In none of the Entente countries had any centralized organization of industries been attempted; in England, military service was voluntary and the volunteer force was small; financial panic, in the early days of the war, was averted only by the narrowest of margins. Germany had used up the first year in heroic efforts to obtain a quick, crushing victory, the Entente in putting their house in order and preparing for the second and even for the third year. The burying of strategy in the trench warfare that followed the battle of the Marne, coupled with the Russian activities in Poland and Galicia which demanded Germany’s full attention, gave the Entente powers an opportunity which they were not slow in improving to the utmost.
The second year of the war, therefore, found the Entente poorer in territory, it is true, but richer in experience and in the practical needs of presentday military operations. Both France and England had their manufacturing resources well in hand and were producing within five per cent of their own munition requirements. American manufacturing had been enlisted, and through British finance and British sea control shipments were beginning to be made to Russia. The British blockade was in full force and Germany was almost completely cut off from the outside world. Germany, then, accustomed to import many millions of dollars’ worth of food-supplies, cotton, rubber, fats, and other raw materials from other countries, was suddenly forced to depend on her own interior resources while her opponents had the markets of the world at their backs.
There were at this time — (August 1, 1915) — four important, theatres of military operations: the Belgian-British-French front, the Russian front in both Poland and Galicia, the Gallipoli Peninsula, and Trentino and Istria in Italy. Of these, only the Russian front was actively interesting. It is with Russia, then, that the military story of the Second Year of the war will begin.
August 1, 1915, found Russia in the midst of her great retreat. The Germans had previously broken the line of the Dunayets, and, before the Russians could repair the rift in the dam, had poured through, taking the Carpathian line in flank and rear and compelling its retirement. Through Galicia the Teuton drive continued, the Russians being driven from one defensive position to another, drawing back their forces on either side as a break was created in their line. At the beginning of the year the Russian line was a sharp salient, the apex of which was a few miles west of Warsaw, the right flank resting on the Baltic Sea at Windau, the left in the angle between Bessarabia and Rumania.
The immediate German objective was Warsaw, and, as a corollary to the fall of Warsaw, the line of the Vistula River. The Vistula is the most formidable military obstacle in any of the battle areas; broad, deep, with a rapid current at all seasons of the year, its high steep banks make it a defensive screen of the highest value. It is crossed by railroads only at Warsaw; therefore whoever held Warsaw and controlled the railroad bridges over the river at that point had also control over the river. It is a generally accepted theory that, if the war is to be won by either belligerent, it must be won on the western front. Therefore all other operations, no matter on how grandiose a scale they may be conducted, must have victory in the West as their ultimate goal. This was the inspiration of the German scheme of action. No important Russian offensive west of the Vistula was possible while the Germans held the Warsaw bridge-head. This was one consideration. The other, as stated, was a corollary. Because of its natural defensive strength, the line of the Vistula could, if in German hands, be held by comparatively few men, thus freeing the bulk of the German army for operations on the western front.
The defense of Warsaw depended on the retention of two railroad lines both of which were paralleled by the sides of the Warsaw salient. These were the roads from Warsaw to Grodno and Vilna and to Kovel and Rovno. It was consequently against these necessary lines of communication that the German power was directed. On Wednesday, August 4, the Germans reached the second of these lines end cut it at Lublin and at Cholm. The next day the Russians retired across the Vistula bridges and the Germans entered the Polish capital. The following day Ivangorod was taken, thus placing all that section of the Vistula south of Warsaw in German hands. In both cases the Russian retirement was slow and methodical. As a result, all the large guns and all war material were removed safely to the rear. NovoGeorgievsk, west of Warsaw was, in the retirement, abandoned to stand a siege. It was evidently the hope of the Russians that it would hold out for some time and thus prevent the Germans from using the river as an avenue of supply. A few days later, however, it capitulated and the Warsaw salient became a thing of the past.
I have dwelt thus at length on the Warsaw operations because, as will be presently demonstrated, upon the Germans’ next move after the taking of Warsaw will rest either the ultimate success or the positive collapse of the German cause. No incident of the war was so portentous as the fall of the Polish capital. With Warsaw in German hands the gates to all of Poland and to much of western Russia beyond were thrown open to the German invader. Rut then was the time for Germany to pause and consider. By halting here with the strong defensive line of the Vistula on her front, Germany could have held the Russians in place, secured East Prussia from future invasion, and with perfect safety conserved her strength for future operations on the western front. But the German leaders looked backward to Napoleon for a comparative situation. They saw him also facing a powerful coalition. They saw him emerge victorious through smashing the coalition by defeating its component units separately and forcing each one into a separate peace. They saw him defeated only when a coalition maintained its integrity in spite of disaster. Writing in 1912, Friederich von Bernhardi, foreseeing the possibility of the present Entente, stated that Germany’s only chance of ultimate victory lay in her ability to crush one antagonist, then turn on the other. This was a powerful argument (particularly in view of the then disorganized state of the Russian army) in favor of driving on and gaining a decision, not over a section of Russian territory, but over the Russian army. Against such a decision was the fact that Russia had two continents behind her and unlimited territory into which to retreat, and that every step eastward would draw the German forces farther and farther from their home bases.
Germany could not withstand the temptation to continue the advance, and her forces poured through the open gates into western Poland. Simultaneously they drove forward in the centre and drew their flanks together like the jaws of a nut-cracker, pinching the Russians between. In the most rapid advance in history, Germany soon had reached the line of the railroad running generally north and south from Riga through Dvinsk, Vilna, Grodno, BrestLitovsk and Cholm to Lemberg. From Dvinsk south this railroad was passed.
Again Germany was on the horns of a dilemma. Once the line of the Bug River is crossed, there are, in western Russia, only two railroad systems running north and south — the line mentioned and that from Vilna through Baronovitschi, Sarny, and Rovno. Again the choice was presented to Germany, to entrench and turn her attention to the West, or to continue her drive eastward in an effort to destroy the Russian army. Against the latter decision was the fact that to abandon this first line was to condemn the German army to an indefinite offensive; to brave the forces that had crushed Napoleon and the cold that had frozen the blood of the finest of the French soldiery. But Germany saw only a beaten demoralized force between her and victory. She elected to push forward. On the decision made on the banks of the Vistula and reiterated here the fate of Europe depends; for it Germany is eventually defeated it will be these two decisions which have caused her downfall.
The advance continued unchecked.
Several times the Russian Army was threatened with capture or destruction. At Vilna it was surrounded and its line of retreat, cut by German cavalry. Yet invariably it made good its escape, and finally retired behind the Pripet marshes, with the Vilna—Rovno road in its rear, the Dwina, the Styr and the Sereth rivers on its front. On this line the Russians brought the Teutons to a dead halt and turned a brilliant tactical victory into a strategic defeat. The occupation of territory in this war means nothing. Russia still has two continents behind her. The destruction of an army, its reduction to a point where it is no longer a fighting machine,— this alone can bring a decision. Thus after months of the fiercest fighting, after expending untold ammunition and sacrificing thousands of her most efficient troops, Germany was faced by an enemy whose power of resistance was greater relatively than when the first effort was made. And, moreover, she found her own army hundreds of miles from its nearest home base, and brought to a standstill between two railroads, one too far in the rear to be of use, the other in her front held by the enemy. The great German drive had been converted into that military paradox — a brilliant defeat. On the termination of the western offensive, the opposing lines in the West settled back into their former state of monotonous deadlock. On the Russian front the situation was not dissimilar. When driven to their last trench, so to speak, the Russians were proving that their defense was just a little bit stronger than the German offense. The Teutons could not afford to lie idle. A waiting game was more to their opponents’ liking than to their own. Germany, therefore, in order to strike a vital blow at her most formidable enemy, — England, — looked to the Far East as the scene of her next endeavor. But an offensive in the East would call for a base at Constantinople, and Bulgaria stood in the way. Bulgaria was the bridge between Hungary and Turkey. Without Bulgaria’s aid the Germans could never reach Constantinople. From such information as is at hand, it was not merely a question of getting shell over the Oriental railroad to the hard-pressed Turks on Gallipoli. The ammunition factory at Tophane near Constantinople had a production almost, if not quite, sufficient to meet the demands of the Gallipoli defenders. Rumania had, it is true, refused to permit the passage of shell over her railroads; but it was more than a question of shell. It was a question of a place in the sun through domination of the Oriental railroad; it was a question of an attack on Egypt, of a thorough reorganization of Turkey in Teuton interests by means of a direct connection with Germany and Austria. Bulgaria alone was in position to furnish such connection and to provide a regular passageway through which free, unhampered communication could be had between Germany and her Moslem ally. With Bulgaria in the field, it remained for the Germanic allies to conquer only the northern part of Serbia where the Oriental road runs from Belgrade to Pirot, in order to open a direct route from Berlin to Constantinople. The diplomatic efforts of the Teutons were therefore concentrated on Sofia, and, in spite of all the Entente could offer, Bulgaria, early in October, entered the lists on the side of the Central Powers.
II
The Russian retreat had reached its last phase, when the British and the French on the western front launched their only great offensive movement of the year. As a military conception it had the same motive as the German campaign against Warsaw. The western battle line is also, for the most part, a huge salient, with its apex at Noyon, its left at Nieuport, its right on the Swiss frontier. It is obvious that, if the Allies could break the German line at two points, — one north, the other east of Soissons, — and, even if checked before the flood of their forces could pour through the broken dikes, still cut the German lines of communications, the entire salient between the points of attack must fall. To accomplish this the Allies struck simultaneously in Artois and in Champagne. In the Artois sector the attack was launched between La Bassée and Neuville-St. Vaast, with the object of fighting through to the Arras—Lille railroad. In the Champagne sector the front of attack was between Ville-sur-Tourbe and Auberive and was directed against the Challerange-Bazancourt road. These two roads are the only lateral lines in their respective districts available for German use and are therefore of vital importance to the German supply system. For some reason (presumably for lack of shell) the movement was quickly halted by the Allies’ commanders after only the first line of the Germans had been taken. The attack did not break through, nor did it cut the railroad lines. It was therefore a failure. While failing in its object, however, it did accomplish two things: the Allies took about 30,000 German prisoners, and secured possession of the last line of hill crests that separates the LensGivenchy sector of Artois from the great low-lying plain of northern France. As a battle manœuvre, the attack was expensive in both men and material — much more expensive than the meagre results obtained justified.
The opening gun of the campaign against Serbia was fired immediately upon the announcement of Bulgaria’s decision. This campaign was essentially different from that in any other field of operations. Germany, as well as her opponents, realized from the outset that it was entirely subsidiary. Victory, no matter how complete, might bring the destruction or the dismemberment of the Serbian army. Under no possible circumstances could it bring a decision. The maximum practical result would be obtained when the Oriental railroad was under complete control of the Central Powers, which meant the occupation of the northeast corner of Serbia only, involving the railway points of Belgrade, Nish, and Pirot. Any other accomplishment in this field would be purely incidental.
The entrance of Bulgaria into the war contributed to the forces of the Teutonic Allies certainly not more than 400,000 men and probably not more than 350,000. The Serbian strength, depleted by the Austrian campaign of the previous year and sapped by the typhus scourge which had decimated the population, was at that time not more than 250,000 effectives. Opposed to this force were the 350,000 Bulgarians and an equal number of Austrians and Germans. Obviously, therefore, Serbia cotdd not turn back the attack alone, but would have to depend for the backbone of her defense upon assistance obtained from extraneous sources. Her first call was upon Greece, who, under the treaty of Bucharest which closed the Second Balkan War, was obligated to unite with Serbia in case of attack. The ties of kinship with the German Kaiser proved stronger, however, than treaty obligations, and, contrary to the will of the Greek people, King Constantine refused to be bound.
Serbia then turned to her western Allies, France and England, who, taking advantage of certain leasehold rights in Salonica which Serbia had acquired by treaty, started a belated movement of troops to that port.
When the Teutonic Allies attacked, the Serbians were concentrated along the line of the Danube and along the northeastern border, guarding the railroad passes between Serbia and Bulgaria. The British and French contingents, having landed in Salonica, were moving up into Macedonia. As in other campaigns, the military problem involved in this invasion can best find expression in terms of railroads, and in this case was extremely simple. There is in Serbia but one railroad running north and south. This road, entering Serbia at Belgrade, has its other terminus at Monastir. At Uskub, some seventy miles north of Monastir, a branch breaks off to the northwest, running up towards Montenegro. It is obvious therefore, that the maintenance of this one line was fundamental to the Serbian defense, as it was their single line of retreat and supply, and the one means by which the reinforcements of the Allies could come north from Macedonia. This road was then the objective of both Bulgarian and Teuton armies. While the Teutons were engaged in forcing the passage of the Danube, the Bulgarians struck from the east at practically every pass along the border. Throwing a force into Macedonia from Strumnitza, they had no trouble in holding the British and French back, while, penetrating the passes farther north, they reached the railroad at a number of points.
The end came soon. The Serbians offered stubborn resistance from the outset, but with their life-line cut by the Bulgarians, unable to get food, outnumbered at every point, they fell back from point to point until, in the last week of December, the Teuton occupation of Serbia was complete. Not a vestige of military force remained. The British and French fell back, now that there was nothing for them to do, and took up a position in front of Salonica, which they strongly fortified. The Serbian army, or its miserable remnant, was either scattered in the wilds of Albania, or, having reached the sea, was transported by the Allies to some of the Mediterranean islands to recuperate. Germany had taken her first real step toward a place in the sun.
While the Serbians were being driven out of their own country and the entire eastern situation was being got under control by the Teutonic Powers, Great Britain was maintaining an army of at least a quarter of a million men on Gallipoli — men who were fighting a series of battles in which there was not one chance in ten thousand of winning. These men could have been used to great advantage in Serbia had the British seen fit to transfer them. But, having undertaken the Gallipoli campaign, they were afraid to let go lest the admission of defeat would cause a loss of prestige among the Mohammedans of the East, where it is essential to the Empire that British rule be unquestioned. When it finally became apparent to the Brit ish high command that further fighting on the Peninsula was useless and that to acknowledge failure was really the bigger thing to do, Serbia had been overrun and the gates of the East had been opened.
At the time of the withdrawal from Gallipoli, the British were occupying two separate lines far removed from each other and with no land communications. One of these was in front of Krithia, where they had been held for months without being able to advance against the Turkish defense. The other was along the coast of Suvla Bay, where a landing had been made some months before, with the idea of flanking out of position the Turkish forces which were opposing the British at Krithia. The forces at Suvla Bay were the first to withdraw, followed after a short time by those at Krithia. The withdrawal was an extremely brilliant movement, the fleet, its guns outranging those of the Turkish forts, holding the Turks in their tronches while the British embarked on the transports.
From Gallipoli the British moved to Salonica, whore they went into that fortified camp with the French and the remnants of the Serbian army. These forces at Salonica are destined to play a most important part in the war. It is a repetition of the Torres Vedras of history, and when the time is ripe, we shall see them moving north over the Monastir—Belgrade road, reconquering Serbia and striking at Austria through Transylvania, the back door to the Central Empires.
III
With the conquest of Serbia and the British evacuation of Gallipoli, the armies on all fronts went into winter quarters. There were occasional flickers of activity, of short duration, but there was no movement of troops reported that had any influence on the general situation. Not until the early part of February were active operations resumed, and then an entirely new interest was suddenly created by the opening up of a new theatre — that of the Caucasus.
When the Russians were concluding their great retreat, the Grand Duke Nicholas, who had been in command, was, for political reasons, removed and sent to command the armies in the Caucasus. He immediately set about regenerating and reorganizing the entire Eastern army, and, through the agency of Japan, was accumulating large supplies of ammunition. The first published report of his activities announced that he had advanced almost to the ancient Turkish stronghold of Erzerum, and although in that wild maze of mountains it was still the dead of winter, it was reported that the fall of the fortress was imminent. Twentyfour hours later it was taken. This was a blow which Turkey had not expected and was not prepared for, and it immediately shook the very foundations of her Asiatic empire. With the Black Sea fleet in complete command of the sea, the Russians’ supply of food and munitions was secure. They rested their right therefore on the Black Sea, their centre near Bitlis, west of Lake Van, and their left in southern Persia, and began a serious campaign against Mesopotamia and the Caucasus.
In April the important Black Sea city of Trebizond was taken and at once a large area was thrown open to their armies; but for some reason not yet apparent, the Russians were unable to take advantage of this success. All along the line they were held up by the Turkish defense, and it gradually began to appear as if the Grand Duke was simply to hold what he had taken while the materials and supplies essential to his advance were sent to other quarters. In the latter part of June, however, there was a renewal of Russian successes on t he entire front from Trebizond to Bitlis. The Turkish army was defeated at Baiburt and Mamakhatun and what seems to be a general retreat was begun. As the second year of the war closes, the Turks are still in retreat over a wide front; the important fortified post of Erzingan is about to fall into Russian hands, and the entire country north of the East Euphrates River is being occupied. If this campaign accomplishes nothing more than now stands to its credit, it has more than justified itself. The menace to Constantinople which it has constituted is sufficient. Whatever plans the Teutons may have had against Egypt had to be abandoned, and all the energies of the Turks concentrated against the Russians instead of being directed at the Nile. Farther south, in Mesopotamia, another Russian army was fighting its way during the winter towards Bagdad and the Tigris. It had accomplished but little when the early summer came, and the intense heat put at an end all military operations in this district.
Late in 1914 the British had launched an expedition from the head of the Persian Gulf with the twofold object of protecting the British oil-fields of Persia and of seizing Bagdad. The entire conception was wild and ill-considered. Although this force had considerable initial success, when it had reached the point where the Turks considered it dangerous, they immediately attacked it, drove it from Ctesiphon south along the Tigris and cut off its rear-guard, which it besieged at Kut-elAmara. The Russian movement against Mesopotamia promised relief, but the failure of the Russians to reach the Tigris made the end inevitable. The British at Kut were forced to surrender. This was immediately heralded as the death-blow to British prestige in the East. As a matter of fact, although months have passed since the surrender took place, nothing has happened to indicate that the incident has not been forgotten. The move was foolish in the first place, and has met its appointed end. The first week in May, 1916, taught England a lesson she will not forget; in a war of world-powers, where millions of men are engaged, it is folly to fritter away strength with a small fraction of your forces in a territory where, from the very nature of things, nothing decisive can take place.
The situation in the West, — that is, on the French front, — as it existed at the time of the surrender of Erzerum, is worthy of consideration as bearing on the approaching battle of Verdun. Germany at this time had reached the zenith of her military strength. The time was actually at hand, or soon would be, when every loss in her ranks would leave a gap which she could not fill. Her resources in man-power were approaching their limit. Germany saw her opponents, on the other hand, constantly growing stronger. Russia, with her almost untold millions being recruited and drilled; the British summoning every man of fighting age to the training camps; France, weakened somewhat, but still a most formidable enemy. She saw herself therefore growing weaker as her enemies grew stronger. There was but one thing to do. While she was still at her strongest and before her numbers began to wane, she must strike with all her force and gain a decision.
The domestic situation in Germany was also ripe for such a move. There had been a long period of quiet, the people who were suffering the hardships of war were getting restless. The political situation was also growing acute. Russia’s great victory at Erzerum was being widely heralded; Rumania was getting restless; that part of the world which Germany was most anxious to impress was beginning to have doubts of the ability of Germany to bring the war to a successful issue. Finally, the Entente was known to have been preparing for an offensive for six months. Vast accumulations of shell were being made, all preparations were complete to throw against the German lines a vast army which would outnumber the Germans at least three to one. If they were permitted to strike first they would have all the advantages which go with choice of battleground and initiative. There was but one answer and this might prove an adequate solution of all elements of the problem. This was an attack in force in a final effort to end the war.
Germany selected the salient at Verdun as the point of attack, and on February 21, after the usual artillery bombardment, the first infantry attack was launched. The first blow was delivered on the east bank of the Meuse, and, following the usual German strategy, was delivered over a narrow front with immense masses of men. The initial attack, extending over the territory between Consenvoye and Ornes was immediately successful. The French, occupying a series of advanced posts on the several hills north of the main Verdun position, fell back, and after several days’ fighting took up what is really their main position on the east side of the river — the ridge of Louvemont, extending in a fish-hook formation from the Meuse, along Pepper Hill, to the fortress of Vaux. Checked here, the Germans shifted eastward and attacked from the Woevre plain. The French position in the plain was strategically of no value, and a quick retirement was made to the first line of hills west of the plain. On this position their lines held fast, and the Germans practically gave up the attack from this direction.
Although it was evidently the German intention to drive the French across the Meuse, and by virtue of their quick hard blows to fold back this line against that on the west bank, the resistance of the French made it necessary again to change the point of conflict to the west bank between Malancourt, and Forges. Here also the Germans were at the outset successful, although the French have not yet been forced to retire to their main position, the ridge of Charny. Instead, the Germans found themselves completely checked at the two points most necessary for them to possess, Hill No. 304 and Le Mort Homme. No fighting of the war has been as incessant or as concentrated as the Germans’ effort to take these positions. Five months have passed since the opening gun was fired, half as long again as from Elba to Waterloo; still the Germans are pounding at the French line, gaining a little to-day only to lose it to-morrow. The net result, after sacrificing at least a half million men, has been the acquisition of about 110 square miles of useless territory.
Space does not permit a detailed account of the fighting in this greatest of the world’s great battles. It is sufficient to say that no matter what may be the fate of Verdun, the course of the war will not be changed one iota. Verdun is an area, strongly held and strongly fortified. It is a gateway to nothing, and in capturing it the Germans will capture nothing more than a fortified area. There are numerous such areas between Verdun and Paris, and while the taking of Verdun might bring a certain momentary glow to the hopes of Berlin, Wilhelmstrasse knows that in its larger relations to the war as a whole, t he battle of Verdun has accomplished nothing.
IV
In the Italian theatres, both along the Isonzo, which was the line of Italy’s offense, and in Trentino, where the operations were essentially of a defensive nature, operations had been at a standstill for nearly a year. Fighting there was, some of it most intensive; but the net result was a stalemate. The Austrians could not come down through the Trentino passes, nor could the Italians take the Gorizia bridgehead. Suddenly, in the middle of May (presumably as a result of a winter s preparations), the Austrians struck in overwhelming force at the Italian Trentino line, stretching in a huge semicircle from just south of Rovereto on the Adige River to a point west of Borgho in the valley of the Brenta.
The Italians were taken completely by surprise and swept off their feet. They were driven back from the positions they had won so dearly last year, and for the first time were fighting on their own soil. For a time it seemed that the line of the Po would be their first stand. The plateaus of Arsiero and Asiago had fallen to the Austrians, and the Italians were almost on the last line of hills north of the plain of northern Italy. Then the great Russian blow was struck against the Austrian line in Volhynia, and the Teuton attack in the Tyrol came to a sudden halt. The Italians immediately struck a counterblow and, everywhere successful, are now back almost to their former lines. The Austrian blow, though carefully planned and thoroughly prepared, has proved but another flash in the pan, a mere incident. It was designed to eliminate Italy from the war by crushing her on the plain of Lombardy and Venetia. It ended in the wild tangle of the Tyrolean Alps, with Italy still at the gates of Rovereto and the valley of the Brenta.
On Wednesday, May 31, began the greatest battle in the history of modern sea war — the battle of Jutland, between the battle cruisers of the British and the entire German main fleet. But very little is really known as to just what took place. The only accounts we have are the official reports of the British and the Germans, and these are so widely divergent as to facts that nothing can be stated as positive. From such data as have been given out, it seems that the German fleet was about a hundred miles from its base when the British battle-cruiser squadron, which was cruising in the vicinity, saw it, and immediately closed in and gave battle, although completely lacking in capital ships. What the Germans were doing away from Heligoland; why the British attacked a number of dreadnoughts and superdreadnoughts with nothing but battle cruisers, has never been made clear. Both sides, of course, claim victory, and each gives an account of its losses and those of the opponent. Between the two accounts there seems to be an irreconcilable discrepancy.
However, there are certain conclusions that can be drawn as a result of what each of the powers concerned has reported of itself. First the German fleet unquestionably, and while the fight was still in progress, sought the refuge of the defensive mine-field in its own harbor. This is not a characteristic action of a successful fleet. Second, if the German loss was only what the German Admiralty reported, the German Navy will after several more such fights cease to exist. It is ridiculous for the Central Powers to attempt to challenge the sea power of the Allies. The odds against them in tonnage are so enormous that, even had the British lost twice as many capital ships as did the Germans in the North Sea fighting, the advantage still remains with the British. The German victory, if victory it was, is too Pyrrhic to allow room for elation.
V
In the spring of 1915 the press of Europe and of America was filled with rumors of the great ‘ spring drive ’ that was soon to come. The civilian population of the Entente countries was taught by the press to look forward to this drive as the one thing that would end the war and was watching daily for some sign that the beginning of the end was in sight. But the spring turned to summer, and the summer to fall, and the drive never took place. The same conditions were repeated this year. The spring came and saw only Germany on the offensive, while the Allies seemed satisfied to resist her efforts to break down the French defense at Verdun.
On June 4, however, Russia started what has since proved to be one of the most successful movements of the whole war. The Austrians, it will be remembered, about the middle of May began a large-scale offensive operation against the Italians in Trentino. Russia waited until the Austrians were thoroughly committed to the Italian endeavor and then struck. Russian reasoning was absolutely sound. Of all the nations at war, Austria is the most nearly exhausted in every particular, and especially in men. Consequently when the move against Italy was made, Austria, not having any great interior reserves from which to take men, had to remove them from the Russian front. Therefore it was against the Austrian portion of the line that the Russian blow fell. The Russian line at the time of the attack ran from the Pripet south along the Styr in Volhynia, the Sereth and the Dniester in Galicia, the Russian left resting on the Rumanian frontier. This meant that the greater part of the Volhynian triangle, made up of the three fortresses of Lutsk, Dubno, and Rovno, was in Austrian hands.
The Russians struck out, however, from such portion of that line as remained to them, and in a few days were in possession of the entire triangle. Simultaneously they struck at Czernowitz, the capital of Bukowina, and after much severe fighting were in possession of this all-important bridgehead. This, however, was just the beginning of a great campaign, which had for its object, not merely the recovery of Poland and the recapture of Galicia, but the destruction of the entire Austrian army. Pushing westward from Lutsk, the Russians advanced towards Kovel, the key to the entire Teuton line in Russia. On every hand they were successful. Carefully prepared defenses were destroyed or passed over as if they did not exist. Entire divisions of Austrian soldiers were captured, vast quantities of guns and military stores of all kinds taken and used against their late owners. The marsh country was left behind and the line of the Stokhod River reached. Here the Germans had come down in force from the north to support the Austrians, and the Russian attack was temporarily halted on the Lutsk Kovel railroad about twenty miles east of Kovel.
In the south the Russians were even more successful. The Austrians were first driven from the Sereth front and then across the Strypa. Then Russian attention was turned to Bukowina. Austrian resistance was completely shattered and the whole of the Austrian Crown land was again in Russian hands. Again the line of attack was shifted, this time to the comparatively narrow front between the Dniester and the Pruth rivers. This movement met with similar success. Kolomea was taken, Stanislau cut off, and the entire Austrian position along the Strypa taken in flank. In the meantime the Russians, when they were held up in front of Kovel, undertook still another offensive, this time against the Germans, on the line of the Styr River from Czartorisk to the Pinsk marshes. In a few days the Germans were forced to retreat for a distance of sixteen miles until the line of the lower Stokhod River was reached, when the advance was again halted.
But the Russians had not yet finished. The resistance of the Teutons on the Stokhod line seemed but to increase the fury of their attacks. Turning to the southern side of the Lutsk salient, they broke the Austrian line, drove it across the Lipa River, forced the crossings of the Lipa and advanced to the Galician border. The beginning of the third year of the war, then, finds them again threatening Lemberg. The Galician capital is fast being surrounded, and the defensive line in front of it rapidly outflanked. Lemberg or Kovel — it matters little which: each will be equally effective, for the fall of one means that the other must be shorn of all its value.
The blow which Russia has dealt the Teutons may well prove to be a fatal one for Austria. In less than two months the Russians have taken three hundred and twenty-five thousand prisoners, have retaken over fifteen thousand square miles of territory, and have destroyed in this territory one of the most carefully prepared defensive positions in any battle area. Nearly one half of the entire Austrian force has been put out of action. Nor, as the second year of the war comes to a close, is the end yet in sight. The entire Teuton line from Riga to the Carpathians, which the Russians are now penetrating, is under continuous and very severe pressure. There seems to be no end to the Russian reserves in men and to the ammunition on hand. If the Russian ammunition holds out (and no one knows how much Russia has accumulated), it does not seem possible that the Teuton army, weakened as it is by the loss of nearly one quarter of its effectives, can escape a long retreat, at least to the line of the Niemen and the Bug, and perhaps even to the line of the Vistula. The great mistake of the Germans in passing these lines last August is now apparent.
On the first of July, the French and the British on the western front began their great offensive. The scene of the attack was at Albert, some miles north of the point where the battle-line changes its direction from north and south to east and west. The exact point of turn is at Noyon. The object of the attack at this point is to force the abandonment of the Noyon salient and the uncovering of the flank of the German line north of this point, and, by an attack against this flank, to force the German line to fall back out of northern France and western Belgium. As in all such attacks, it is leveled at necessary lines of supplies, the principal of which in this vicinity are the railroads passing through Douai and Cambrai. The plan is an ambitious one, and, if these two points can be reached, the object is necessarily accomplished. The initial success has been considerable, particularly of the French. The Germans evidently considered that the resistance which the French had offered at Verdun had largely sapped their strength and that, as a result, no offensive movement was to be feared from them, at least this year. Consequently, knowing that the British had not been engaged, the main German force was concentrated against that section of the front which the British held, and the French front was to some extent neglected. The resistance offered to the French attack has, therefore, been unable to hold them back and they have driven forward about six miles almost to the banks of the Somme River. They are now on the outskirts of the town of Peronne, a minor German field base, with the Germans hemmed in between the French lines and the river. To the north of the Somme, where the British line joins the French, the advance has not been so marked. The resistance, for the reason given above, has been much more stubborn and much more effective.
The advance has not yet reached the stage where any conclusions may be drawn from it. It is still in its incipience, and while the initial progress is generally satisfactory to the friends of the Entente, there are no indications as to whether there is sufficient potential strength in the British and the French to accomplish the objects for which the movement was begun.
The entire Entente operations as they are now being conducted show for the first time since the beginning of the war the cohesion, the unity of action and of command, essential to ultimate victory. It was distinctly noticeable that up to early June of this year the operations of the Allies were marked by alack of coördination, by an individualism that was fatal. There seemed to be no general plan, no coöperation. The Allies have finally, however, created a General Staff, on which all of the Powers are represented, and all military moves are dictated by this body. Nothing has shown the result more plainly than the present operations.
The sequence of attacks is worthy of special study. First, after Austria was given time t o commit herself thoroughly to the Italian campaign, so that removal of troops from that field was impossible, Russia struck with tremendous force. The other powers held back until the Teutons had had time to reinforce their Russian line at the expense of other fronts, and then struck on the West. The ultimate results of such a campaign are patent. Suppose, for example, a circular battle-line, with the opponents drawn up on the rim of the circle. It is obvious that if attacks are made against this circle one at a time and at separated points, the power within the circle, having excellent interior lines, can reinforce any point at which the attack is directed. It is equally obvious that the only way to prevent this is to strike at all points at once — in other words, to conduct an offensive against so many points in the ring that it will be impossible for the interior power to reinforce at all without weakening some one point to such an extent that the line may give way. Once the line is really broken in one point, the whole circle must, contract and shorten its radius.
This is exactly the German situation. For the first time since the war began, Germany finds herself confronted on all sides with the full force of the Allied Powers. What the result will be no one can predict. Because of the resources of the Allies in men, money and shell, the plight of the Central Powers begins to look extremely serious. It may well be the beginning of the end.