The Russian Advance

War between Russia and Austria has been inevitable since the latter first cast her eyes eastwards and decided that Salonika was to be the object of her expansion. To reach a port on the east the Teuton must crush the Slav. Fundamentally, it is a battle of races. Hitherto the Teuton has managed to avoid actual conflict; by means of carefully designed coups at opportune moments, or, to put it more bluntly, by the methods of a common thief, he has made very good progress during the last few years without risking his own skin. But on the present occasion circumstances were not so favourable as they appeared to be; and instead of catching Slavdom at a disadvantage, he caught it ready to fight for its existence—a serious miscalculation which bids fair to have the most far-reaching results.

With the exception of the Greeks, Turks and the sparse Teutonic population, the inhabitants of the whole of eastern and south-eastern Europe are of Slavonic origin. They number roughly 125 millions, and they possess the best of all rights to their territories—that of settlement at the time when the Aryan peoples migrated from Asia to Europe. The Russians, Rumanians, Bulgars, Montenegrins and portions of the Serbs, Croats and Poles are either self-governing or under the rule of other Slavonic peoples. The remaining Slavs are under Teuton domination. In East Prussia the Kaiser rules Poles, Kassubes and Serbs, while Austria has several millions of Polish, Czech, Ruthenian, Serbian, Croatian, Slovenik and Slovak subjects.

The Slav is the world’s most fervent nationalist. An intense and unconquerable vitality is the outstanding characteristic of every Slavonic people. Like the Jews they maintain their national traits distinct and unchanged in spite of centuries of foreign domination. Their conquerors have never been able to absorb them. Unlike the Jews, however, this vitality is not passive but active. They have never been subdued. When not actively hostile they are sullenly awaiting the opportunity to throw off the yoke. For nearly five hundred years Serbia was a Turkish province, held in the most ruthless subjection. But during all that time Serbia never forgot that once she had been an empire, nor faltered in her determination to be an empire again. In 1817 the chance came and Serbia rose like a nation defending its liberties rather than a rebellious people with a dozen generations of bondsmen for forebears. The modern experiments of Germany and Austria have not proved any more successful than the mediæval methods of the Turks. Neither country has had a moment’s peace from its Slavonic subjects. They have never dared play any part but the bully’s.

The growth of the organised Pan-Slavist movement has added enormously to their difficulties, and Austria in particular has had many anxious moments in the eastern portions of her Mosaic empire. The movement is the definite expression of Slav aspirations. It aims at unity, if not actual union, amongst all the Slav peoples. Russia is the natural head of the movement, and the ultimate aim is a collection of free Slavonic nations under the suzerainty or protection of the Tzar. In the meantime the immediate object is to free the Slavs who are under the rule of foreign races.

Reference has already been made to Serbia’s aspirations to be once more the empire she was in the days before the Turks overran south-eastern Europe. When in 1817 she at length threw off the Turkish yoke her object was but half fulfilled. A further portion was won back as a result of the recent Balkan War. But there still remain some millions of Serbs under Hapsburg rule. In 1908 Austria, taking advantage of Russian weakness, seized the provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina, both of which are peopled by Serbs. For a time war seemed inevitable. But the Powers stepped in and Serbia, unable to rely on strong Russian help, was forced to acquiesce. She had formally to renounce all claims to be a more natural ruler for Serbs than mongrel Austria, to moderate the activities of the Pan-Slavist societies all of which were more or less bitterly opposed to Austria, and to profess to be perfectly satisfied with the arrangement and full of neighbourly love.

It was not to be expected that such an agreement, forced on a small nation by the Great Powers, would prove anything but a farce. Serbia very naturally resented the indignities which she had suffered. The nationalist societies, instead of being suppressed, became more bitter and bolder in their activities. The chief of them, the Narodna Obrava, has an immense membership, drawn from all classes. It is to be found in every town and village. The press, the army and the government service are its most enthusiastic adherents.

One evening, early in June, five members of the Narodna Obrava met in a house near the royal palace at Belgrade and hatched the plot which was destined to prove the spark that kindled the European conflagration. All the world knows how well their plans were conceived, how faithfully carried into execution. On June 28th the Archduke Francis Ferdinand, the heir to the Austrian throne was, with his wife, murdered in the streets of Serajevo, the chief town in Bosnia.

There is no need here to dwell on subsequent events. After a delay of some three weeks, Austria was bullied by Germany into presenting her famous Note to Serbia. Every line of that Note was a studied insult designed to make Russian intervention and war inevitable. Serbia was exhausted in every way after her two wars with Turkey and Bulgaria, Russia was in the midst of a scheme of military reorganisation which still required a couple of years for completion. War was the last desire of either country. Acting on Russia’s advice, Serbia made an almost abject reply to Austria. But Germany was not to be denied. She was determined to unsheath the sword. Every proposal for peace was dismissed for the most trivial reasons, every precautionary measure was exaggerated into a hostile act. At last, on Friday, August 1st, when the German military preparations were practically complete, Baron von Pourtales, the German Ambassador, called on M. Sazonov, the Foreign Minister and formally demanded that the Russian partial mobilisation should cease within twelve hours. At seven o’clock the following day war was declared and Russia took up her task of defending Slavdom from the Teuton menace, and incidentally saved western Europe from its direst peril since the days when Napoleon thought to crush its liberties.

The eastern campaign has been more or less overshadowed by the western, especially during the early days of the war. It was natural that it should be so. The western campaign was the more sensational. The Kaiser hurled his finest forces westwards; every day brought its vital news; doubts, joys, fears crowded one on the other; there were no tedious preliminaries, no hesitation, but smashing stroke and counterstroke. The storm in the east was comparatively slow in gathering and it lacked the spectacular element.

The result was that Russia was both neglected and misunderstood. In spite of the public welcome accorded to journalists by the Grand Duke Nicholas, the official lust for secrecy is as fierce in the east as in the west. Only the sparsest details have been allowed to be published. Defeats have been ignored or dismissed as “local checks.” Every victory has been acclaimed a triumph and every step forward has been supposed to echo menacingly in the streets of Berlin and in the Kaiser’s headquarters.

It has been practically impossible to obtain a clear view of the eastern campaign, and consequently it is not to be wondered at that there has sprung up a general disposition to regard Russia as something of a disappointment. Ignorance of the conditions under which she is fighting caused impossible triumphs to be expected of her.

The best corrective for this distorted vision is to study the eastern war from the Russian point of view. It is that point of view that I have endeavoured to set forth in these pages. No claim is made to any secret knowledge; in view of the extraordinary strict censorship in Russia, such a claim would be absurd. But it is possible to record and explain the events as they are known and understood by representative opinion in Russia. Moreover, sufficient of the earlier stages of the campaign have emerged from the fog of war to enable the period within these pages to be analysed in the light of subsequent events. In the circumstances, it can be confidently claimed that the views generally held by men of moderate opinion in Russia provide a reliable if somewhat sketchy history of the campaign. Some details may be meagre, others faulty; that is only to be expected when for descriptions of the actual fighting it is necessary to rely to a very large extent upon the stories of the wounded. But the general outlines and deductions are undoubtedly correct, and the study of them will enable the man in the west to understand and appreciate the many difficulties connected with the war in the east.

The war that the nation fights is already half won. Tzars, Kaisers, Kings and Governments may spend millions on perfecting their fighting machines, they may hurl those machines at one another, but unless they have behind them the united will of their subjects, their efforts are bereft of more than half their force. The victorious army is the one which enjoys the whole-hearted support of a people prepared to face any sacrifice for the sake of its cause. The moral factor is as important as the material or the ethical. History is full of instances of wars being won against heavy odds by the sheer enthusiasm of a people determined to win at all costs. For a modern example it is only necessary to glance at the Austro-Serbian campaign.

The Kaiser knew very well how essential it is for a nation to present a united front to the foe. Ever of a religious disposition, he realised how true was the text that a house divided against itself falls to the ground. And so he chose his moment carefully. Britain was on the verge of civil war over the Irish crisis; France was torn asunder with political passions; both would obviously prove easy victims. And Russia? Unfortunately for the Imperial plans Russia was in a contented state. But the defect could soon be remedied! Russia has a reputation for strikes and revolutions, two of the most valuable allies an invading army can have. And so it happened that July saw the renewal of labour troubles in Petrograd, Moscow and other large towns.

The first sign that trouble was brewing came from the famous Putilov works, the Russian armament factory. For some time past Germany has been evincing a very keen interest in the factory, and not so long ago an insolent attempt was made to get the control of the works into the hands of German Jew financiers. Of course the attempt failed and Germany had to content herself with filling the place with her spies. There is little doubt that the German Secret Service was primarily responsible for the strikes of 1914. For no particular reason beyond vague references to the “rights of labour” and “the glorious revolution,” some thousands of Putilov workmen went on strike. Thanks to a vigorous campaign throughout the country by real and imitation labour agitators, their example was extensively followed. Workers in mills, factories and railways answered the call. Hundreds of thousands were on strike although there was still no formulated demands on the part of their leaders. The strikers were fed on the stock phrases and generalities of the demagogue’s programme. Soon rioting took place. The military had to be called out, and on several occasions at Petrograd the Cossacks came into serious conflict with the strikers.

Then suddenly the war clouds gathered. Russia appeared to have been caught at the most inopportune moment possible. The war danger arose at the very time when the strike movement seemed to be at its height. There is no doubt that Russia’s advice to Serbia in regard to the latter’s reply to Austria’s Note was to a large extent dictated by the unfortunate internal condition of the country.

But the nation rose to the occasion in a manner which even Russia’s warmest friend would hardly have dared to predict. The national danger forged a united people. The rioting and other disturbances ceased. The military remained in their barracks; there was no work for them in the streets. Then, as the international situation grew graver the strikers realised how insignificant, yet how dangerous, were their own squabbles, and they began to troop back to work of their own accord. Throughout that period of agonising suspense the Russian statesmen received no more inspiring news than this. It was the only ray of light that pierced the gathering gloom.

The people, realising that war was inevitable days before the Governments gave up hope of peace, acclaimed it with enthusiasm. Next to the Jews, the Germans, or Nemetz, as they are called, are the most hated foreigners in Russia. They are found in nearly every town and village, and their national habit of growing prosperous at the expense of their hosts has earned for them an honest hatred. The average Russian was only too pleased at the prospect of getting a chance of paying off a few old scores. In addition to personal dislike, the racial aspect of the war was also a very strong consideration with the Russian democracy. Pan-Slavism is a very real doctrine amongst the mujhiks, who have an unlimited faith in the heaven-sent destinies of their race. There is hardly a soldier in all Russia’s immense army that does not regard the freeing of all sorts and conditions of Slavs as his most sacred duty.

And there was the religious question to add to the nation’s enthusiasm. Russia is the most religious nation in Europe. Every home, no matter how humble, has its ikon. The festivals of the Church are real holy days, and not mere secular holidays. The Church itself is indeed the mother of the people. The simple, unquestioning faith of the mujhiks is without a parallel in Europe, except perhaps in the remote districts of Ireland. Religion is a reality with them; it enters into every action of their daily life. In the towns, of course, much of this faith has been lost, and there is a parade of unbelief which is apt to lead the casual observer to wrong conclusions. The real Russia is not to be found in the towns, but in the villages and hamlets and amongst the peasants. With them the war is a religious war. It is a battle between the Orthodox Church, which is the peculiar property of the Slavs, and the Western, which seeks to impose its tenets on the “true believers.”

It is from these simple peasants with their racial hatreds and rock-like faith that Russia draws nine-tenths of her soldiers. As fighting men they can be compared only with Cromwell’s Ironsides.

In the rural districts the popular enthusiasm for the war found an outlet in religion; in the towns it sought a more secular form of expression. Petrograd was the scene of unprecedented outbursts of popular jubilation. Crowds paraded the streets singing the National Anthem and cheering portraits of the Tzar. The French and particularly the British Embassies were besieged by cheering throngs. Every public appearance of the Tzar was the sign for vociferous outbursts of loyalty such as are rarely witnessed in Russia. Even the Empress, whose shattered nerves have kept her virtually a prisoner for years, had to come forward and bow her acknowledgments to the crowds. And, to crown all, the police, gendarmes and military were noticeably absent from the streets. The crowds were orderly, in spite of their patriotic fervour. Petrograd was as free and unrestrained as London. It was difficult to realise that only a few days before the spectre of revolution had stalked through the city.

One incident alone marred the demonstrations. On August 4th, news reached Petrograd of the scandalous treatment undergone by the Russian diplomatic staff at the hands of the Berlin mob. Enraged beyond control a huge crowd descended on the Nevski Prospect and after demolishing a German café and several German-owned shops, made a resolute attack on the Embassy. The police were overpowered, the gates forced and the work of destruction began. The flagstaff was torn down, the Prussian Eagle and several pieces of statuary were unceremoniously thrown into the Moika Canal; furniture, pictures, linen, books, everything that was inflammable was heaped on the ground and soon a huge bonfire was raging. Amidst a roar of cheering a large portrait of the Kaiser was hurled into the flames. The orgy continued until the police and military appeared in force. But the most significant feature of the affair was the discovery in the cellars of large stores of firearms and revolutionary propaganda—concrete evidence that the suspicions that Germany was fostering internal troubles in Russia to serve her own ends were only too well founded.

The most impressive of all the many scenes emphasising the facts that not only the Russian nation but all Slavdom is united against the Teuton menace, and that a new Russia is being built up as a result of the common cause and danger, occurred on Saturday, August 8th, when the Tzar received the two Houses of the Duma at the Winter Palace. Early in the proceedings, striking evidence was given of the new order of things. Party quarrels, personal jealousies and political enmities were forgotten. The leader of every party came forward and announced that he and his followers would support the Government by every means in their power. Even M. Purishkivich, the implacable leader of the Anti-Semite movement, abandoned his principles and praised his Jewish fellow-subjects.

The Tzar’s speech was simple and direct, but it was significant because of the stress it laid upon the racial and religious aspects of the war:

“In these great days of alarms and anxiety through which Russia is passing, I greet you. Germany, following Austria, has declared war on Russia. The enormous enthusiasm and the patriotic sentiments of love and faith to the Throne, an enthusiasm which has swept like a hurricane through our country, is a guarantee for me, as for you, I hope, that great Russia will bring to a happy conclusion the war which the Almighty has sent.

“It is also in this unanimous enthusiasm of love and eagerness to make every sacrifice, even life, that I am able to regard the future with calm and firmness. It is not only the dignity and honour of our country that we are defending, but we are fighting for our brother Slavs, co-religionists, and blood brethren. In this moment I see also with joy that the union of the Slavs with Russia progresses strongly and indissolubly.

“I am persuaded that all and each of you will be in your place to assist me to support the test, and that all, beginning with myself, will do their duty. Great is the God of the Russian Fatherland.”

The effect of that ancient Russian saying was electrical. The whole assembly burst into a storm of cheering; this was followed by “God save the Tzar,” sung with a fervour which obviously affected his Majesty. Finally that most beautiful of all Russian anthems, “Lord, save the People,” was sung. Tears streamed down the cheeks of the deputies, as, with voices choking with emotion and faith, they sang the simple words of the anthem.

Such a scene of patriotic fervour and national determination had not been witnessed in Russia since the Napoleonic war of 1812.

The practical enthusiasm of the nation was no less marked than the sentimental. The wealthy classes contributed liberally to the various relief funds, and made many sacrifices to help the country in its time of danger. In spite of the inconvenience and dislocation of trade caused by the military preparations, complaints were never heard. The whole nation seemed to have combined in a common determination to see the war through to a successful conclusion.

The gathering of the harvest provided an instance of this practical enthusiasm. Russia being the world’s largest producer of wheat, barley, rye, and oats the matter was a very urgent one. Moreover, Russia is self-supporting, and the failure of the crops would mean the ruin and starvation of thousands during the winter months. Most of the men had been called to the colours, and there was a serious danger of large portions of the crops, especially in the more remote districts, being allowed to rot for lack of labour. The problem was attacked with a practical spirit unusual in the Russian with his Asiatic fatalism. The zemstvos, the military, and the local authorities co-operated in dealing with this problem. Women, boys, and old men were set to work. Tramps and prisoners were forcibly transformed into temporary harvesters. By means of a central bureau in each district it was possible to keep in touch with every farm, no matter how remote, and to ensure that no crops suffered through lack of labour. As a result of these measures the whole harvest was successfully gathered, and the nation was able to face the coming winter with the satisfactory knowledge that, in any event, its food supply was assured.

Perhaps the most remarkable effects of the war on the nation was the complete change which came over its attitude towards the Jews. Partly by reason of ancient religious intolerance and partly because of the fact that the Jews, thanks to the thriftless and unbusinesslike methods of the Russians, have managed to accumulate much of the national wealth, the Judiev hitherto have been regarded with fierce animosity and subjected to pitiless persecution. The story of the pogroms is one of the most hideous chapters in the history of any people. It was fully expected in many quarters that the national enthusiasm engendered by the war should find an outlet in a repetition of these horrors. Vienna indeed was so confident that it officially informed the world that Vilna was the scene of a terrible outbreak of anti-semitism. The report was a lie. The Jews were no longer the best hated race in Russia; that distinction had been wrested from them by the “Nemetz.” Everywhere a new tolerance and a new respect for the Jews was apparent, especially when news came of their heroic deeds at the front. Their enthusiasm for the war and devotion to the Tzar rivalled that of the Russians themselves. A quarter of a million of men—the largest Jewish army ever assembled since the fall of Jerusalem—were with the Tzar’s forces. Throughout the country the Jews set a splendid example in contributing to the relief funds and in removing distress caused by the war. Hence the Jew has become almost popular. Even when, as a mark of Imperial appreciation of their loyalty, ukases were issued relieving them of many of the disadvantages under which they suffered, and practically admitting them to the full citizenship of the Russian Empire, hardly a protesting voice was heard.

Indeed, in many respects, the war has been for Russia a blessing in disguise. It has completed the work of the past few years. On all sides reforms have been effected and a new Russia has emerged. The old ideals and the old standards have passed. But the change has been unconscious, and the Russians, with their chronic fatalism, have not realised they have been taking part in events which have practically transformed the old autocratic regime into one which is almost democratic. Some external shock was needed to rouse the nation to a sense of its new glories. The war provided that shock, and Russia and the world have realised that a new era has dawned in the dominions of the Tzar.

Mobilisation in Russia is an inevitably slow and difficult operation. The circumstances under which it is effected render it almost impossible to reduce it to a matter of automatic precision, as is the case with the German Army. It is typically Russian: rather ponderous and very human. The chances of its being successfully and quickly accomplished are so slight compared with those of its proving an orgy of confusion and disorganisation that nobody, least of all in Russia itself, where businesslike methods are not expected of officials of any sort, dared hope that it would be carried out without a hitch. The Allies were apprehensive, the Kaiser was openly contemptuous and left only second-line troops to guard his eastern frontiers until Russia could extricate her army from the inevitable confusion and be worthy of the attentions of the perfect Teutonic fighting machine.

The German, of course, with his keen materialism, has a reputation for doing these things with an automatic efficiency. The Slav, on the other hand, is of a very different temperament, and the Tzar’s army has acquired, and deserved, a reputation for mismanagement. It is the most human of armies, for certainly there never was one more given to error. The Manchurian campaign was one of the worst muddles of modern times. In comparison, the South African War was a model of efficient management. It was always a case of the wrong thing at the wrong moment: and even when there appeared to be a chance of the right thing happening, corruption or ineptitude stepped in and stultified every effort. Those who happened to be in Russia during that period will remember that hardly a day passed without some fresh instance of the national habit of blundering through. The railways were in a state of frantic disorganisation; whole regiments got mislaid; food and clothing were always lacking in spite of the most lavish expenditure. Worst of all, numerous officials and Jewish contractors became suddenly and mysteriously wealthy, and made small secret of the source of their prosperity.

Nobody raised his voice in protest because nobody had expected anything different. The orgy of mismanagement was accepted with a good-humoured shrug of the shoulders. Nitchevo, it can’t be helped! That was the comment of the fatalism which is at once the greatest weakness and greatest strength of the Russian character.

Of course, there was excuse enough. Mobilisation is carried on in the face of more difficulties in Russia than in any other country. Everything militates against its speed and efficiency. It is all on so vast a scale that it would seem impossible for human ingenuity to place it on a systematised basis. The area of the Russian Empire is forty times that of Germany, but its population is only three times as great. The units to be concentrated are diffusely scattered; they have to be gathered singly. The aggregate length of the Russian railway system is only twice that of the German lines, and few of the Russian railways have been laid with a view to meeting military needs. The majority of the troops summoned to the colours have to traverse vast distances, often on foot, before they can reach the railway which will take them to their mobilisation centres. The sparseness of the population renders it difficult for orders to filter through, and still more difficult for troops to be quickly concentrated. A good deal must of necessity be left to the zeal and initiative of the reservists themselves who, in most cases, are utterly unreliable without supervision.

At the best, therefore, with good weather and good luck, the mobilisation is but a slow process. Previous to the present war the most obstinate optimist did not believe that, in the most favourable circumstances, it could be completed in less than three weeks or a month.

In the present case, too, there were special aggravating circumstances which rendered success all the more doubtful. July had been a month of labour disputes, and it seemed more than likely that the strikes would seriously hamper the mobilisation. Moreover, the Russian military plans were incomplete. A programme of reform was being pushed forward with all possible speed, but it was not to be completed until 1916, at least. The army was in a state of transition. A new system was being imposed upon it, and it was by no means ready for the supreme test. There was a general feeling that it would be better to rely on the old system which, whatever its defects, had at least the merits of being known and understood. A partial muddle was better than the risk of absolute chaos.

The order for mobilisation, therefore, could not have come at a more inopportune time. Russia, in spite of all official assurances to the contrary, was unprepared.

It is well known that this inevitable slowness and possible impotence on the part of Russia during the early period of the war was the foundation on which the Kaiser constructed his plan of campaign. He could, so he thought, smash the Allies in the West and return in time to mete out similar treatment to the Russians before they could do any damage in the East. Everything favoured the plan, which had all the merits of simplicity and conciseness. Nobody who was acquainted with the disadvantages under which Russia laboured could deny that, humanly speaking, Germany was immune from a serious attack from Russia for at least six weeks. Even that estimate seemed to err on the side of optimism, for at that time there was no reason to suppose that Austria would have much difficulty in defeating Serbia and menacing Russia with a strong advance.

But among the many factors with which the Kaiser omitted to reckon must be included General Soukhomlinov—the Russian Kitchener, as he has, not inaptly, been called.

When the disastrous Manchurian campaign was ended, Russia sadly needed a man who could take to heart the lessons of defeat and build up a new and better army from the discredited fragments of the old. The moment produced the man. Soukhomlinov, the greatest War Minister Russia has known, has for the past nine years been engaged on an immense scheme for the remodelling and reorganising of the army. Quietly and with inexorable efficiency, he has cut away cancer after cancer and added reform to reform. No problem has been too large, no detail too trivial, and no circumstance too hopeless, for him to devote to it his tireless energy. The whole military system from top to bottom, and in every nook and cranny, has been renovated.

Soukhomlinov’s greatest merit is that, in planning and carrying this huge scheme into effect, he has not fallen into the trap that lurks in the path of every military reformer. Although working on western lines, he has not attempted to imitate the German or any other army. That would have been the obvious course for a man of less genius. But Soukhomlinov had the greatness to realise that an imitation army can never be satisfactory. An army must be national to the core, or it will fail in its object. “What is health to the Russian is death to the German,” is a Russian saying that is very true. And an attempt to force Teuton temperaments into Slav bodies would result only in a bastard production emphasising the defects of both.

Soukhomlinov knew that the Russian is the finest soldier in the world. His bravery, his unquestioning obedience, his infinite capacity for suffering and hardship, his stolid fatalism which makes him the same in victory or defeat, all these qualities render him an ideal fighting man. German helmets or the goose step would not add one jot to his virtues. He has never had a chance, because he has never been properly led or properly organised. It is in these two directions, therefore, that General Soukhomlinov has concentrated his efforts. Under the new regime the Russian officer has been transformed. The army is no longer a hobby for fashionable young men, but a stern business in which slackers and the inept are not wanted. The habit of heavy drinking at night—which during the Manchurian campaign so often resulted in such heavy slaughter in the morning—is a thing of the past. The army requires clear heads, and Soukhomlinov has no use for befuddled officers.

Efficient organisation is as vital to an army as efficient leadership, and the greatest test of organisation is the mobilisation.

Owing to the speed with which Germany and Austria can effect their mobilisation, Russia must of necessity begin a European war on the defensive. Consequently, her mobilisation bases are not situated on the frontier, but at a considerable distance in the interior, at Warsaw, and other towns lying behind the Vistula. These towns are protected by a long chain of fortresses and fortified positions, stretching from Kovno to Radom, and designed to hold an invading force in check until the troops have been mobilised and the advance can begin.

The method by which the mobilisation is effected will be understood by reference to the diagram. At the call to arms recruits and reservists living at the outlying hamlets, a a a, make their way to the central villages and towns, b b. This journey has usually to be performed on foot, and may be anything up to fifty miles. At b b the men are collected in batches and passed on to the concentration centres, c c c. For this journey railways are sometimes available, but in the more remote districts the roads are, more often than not, the only means of communication. The peasant soldiers troop into the concentration centres in their ordinary dress, they leave them ready for the field. All day long a constant stream of peasants is pouring into the barracks, and a constant stream of soldiers, fully equipped for hostilities, is pouring out. Regiments and battalions are formed. Then, when all is complete, they pass on by train to the mobilisation base D.

The success of the system obviously depends on the maintenance of an even flow of men from a and D. A delay or hitch at any point may throw the whole process out of gear. The area covered is so vast, the population so sparse, the army so huge, and the means of communication from point to point leave so much to be desired that difficulties and dangers spring up in every direction. An especially weak point about the system is that in the early stages so much depends upon the men themselves.

Ivan Ivan’ich, the Russian Tommy Atkins, is no better and no worse than the rank and file of any army. He is not averse to temptation, especially when it takes the form of alcohol. Vodka was the cause of much of the muddle of the Manchurian mobilisation. In the present instance, however, General Soukhomlinov very wisely decided to take no risks. He decided on a bold stroke which, in the unsettled state of the country at the beginning of the war, might easily have been the cause of serious rioting. The Imperial ukase ordering the mobilisation was followed by another which practically prohibited the sale of alcohol in all districts likely to be affected by the military preparations. The railway stations, concentration centres, and mobilisation bases were signalled out for specially stringent regulations. There were also severe pains and penalties for those who, in their patriotic fervour, were inclined to be over-generous to the troops on their way to the front.

This drastic measure was fully justified by the results. With nothing to delay them, the men arrived punctually at their posts. They were sober, and displayed all the virtues of sobriety. Their health and temper were noticeably improved. There were none of the quarrels and disturbances usually associated with mobilisation. The conduct of the troops was in every way irreproachable. The worries and work of the officers were lightened a hundredfold.

Russia, in short, provided the world with an object lesson in the value of temperance.

Of course there was some grumbling. Men who had tramped fifty versts or so to serve the “Little Father” thought that they were at least entitled to drink his health and damnation to the Nemetz. But generally the order of things was accepted with the unquestioning stolidness of the Russian peasant. The “Little Father” had said, “No vodka”—therefore, nitchevo, why complain?

The following description of the actual mobilisation is based upon the letters written by Vasili Grigorovich, the cobbler of a little town in the Ukraine, to an English friend. The bond between this rather ill-assorted pair is Vasili’s unsatiable thirst for learning. Self-taught, he reads everything and anything that comes his way, and it was a chance conversation over an out-of-date newspaper during the mending of the traveller’s boot that led to the friendship.

“The news that a general mobilisation was ordered reached the village late in the afternoon. The Governor himself came to tell us that the ‘Little Father’ is at war with the Nemetz, and that we must all start off for Berlin at once. He is a witty man, our Governor. I started getting ready, but Marya scolded me for not being quick enough. Indeed, she scolded me all the time, even when I bade her goodbye. That’s like our women. They always hide their heartaches. And after all they are quite right, for what are their sorrows compared with the orders of the Tzar? She swore at me and said I was not fit to be a soldier, when I kissed her. But her voice was thick and her eyes glistened. And Dimitri, who caught me up later, told me that when he passed he saw her praying before our ikon. It was the first time, too, that he had seen Marya weeping.

“She is a fine woman, though outwardly rough. I am very glad to hear that the Tzar has ordered that the wives and families of the soldiers shall be well supplied with money. He is a great Tzar. However, it will be very lonely for Marya all through the winter, and if it were not for thinking of her I should be quite happy.

“Dimitri and I had to tramp thirty-two versts—a good stretch. We went some distance out of our way to reach an inn. But it was closed by the Tzar’s orders. Well, the Little Father knows best.

“We decided to walk all through the night, because we both wanted to be fighting the Nemetz as soon as possible. We had not gone far before a farm cart full of soldiers caught us up and they gave us a lift. It was rather cold, but we did not mind. We talked about the war, and the news about the inns. We are sure to win, but it is rather hard on the innkeepers, who will lose a lot of money. However, they are all rich.

“We reached —— before dawn. The officer there was very surprised, because the men from our district were not supposed to arrive until late in the evening. He was rather cross too, because everybody was coming too soon, and upsetting the arrangements. However, a landed proprietor offered his mansion for the use of the soldiers. Fancy that!

“The next day we marched to ——, where there is a railway station. There are no trains for the ordinary passengers, because the Tzar has taken them all for the soldiers. Fifty trainloads of soldiers are passing through —— every day! Dimitri said we should be able to get drinks at the station, but he was wrong. I hear now that it is a crime to give vodka to the soldiers.

“Our train was very full, because of the men all being so early. It was rather uncomfortable, but we were all too glad to be going to the front to notice it. At one station two boys, who had run away from home and wanted to fight, were discovered by an officer and turned out. They were very disappointed, but there was more room for us.

“At last, after sixteen hours, we reached ——. At first we thought that there was no accommodation for us, but we found that a camp had been prepared for us. The town was very full of soldiers, but they were all very orderly and quiet. The day after our arrival we received our new uniforms, rifles and other things. The uniforms are very smart, something like the English, I am told. The boots, too, are excellent. The very best leather. It is evidently true that the Tzar has made our army better than ever it was. It is a bad lookout for the Nemetz. In these uniforms and boots we shall be able to chase them all the way to Berlin quite comfortably.

“Our regiment is complete. To-morrow we start for Warsaw, where our Army Corps is forming. In a few days we shall meet the Nemetz. Good-bye.”

Among the Cossacks, who are, of course, a less reliable people than the ordinary peasants, the mobilisation was no less smooth. A Government official in the Ural provinces gives a vivid account of the scenes. The Cossacks, it may be noted, supply their own horses, uniforms and equipment.

“On July 31st the village awoke to find a red flag waving before the Government building, the sign that a general mobilisation had been ordered. Immediately everything was in a state of uproar. Nobody knew who was the enemy and nobody cared. It was sufficient that there was war. Only the women made wild conjectures as to whom it was against. There was no thought for work. Horses were groomed, uniforms donned, rifles and sabres cleaned with enthusiastic vigour. Soon the Government veterinary surgeon took his stand before the chief building and the work of examining the horses began. Each man in turn brought up his horse and put it through its paces. The test was most strict, and any animal showing the slightest defect was promptly branded as useless. All day the work continued, a crowd of women and children watching the proceedings. At night the red flag was pulled down and a red lamp was hoisted in its place. In the evening there was a great feast. A whole ox was roasted, there was dancing among the younger people, but owing to the new regulations there was practically no vodka. All through the night men came riding into the village from the outlying districts.

“On the Sunday when the preparations were almost complete the consecration service was held. The whole village assembled before the little wooden church. It was a stirring sight to see these great warriors in their full battle array kneeling before their Maker and solemnly asking His aid. At the conclusion of the service each man was blessed by the priest and anointed with holy water. Then he led his horse away and received the blessings of his family.

“On the following day they set off on journey of thousands of miles. The women, children and old men watched them. Their eyes gleamed with tears and their breasts heaved. Then, when the last man had disappeared from view, they turned away, walked to the fields and took over the labours which the men had left unfinished.”

In the simple narrative of Vasili Grigorovich and the description of the Cossack scenes may be found all the causes which contributed to the startling success of the Russian mobilisation.

The organisation, thanks to the genius of Soukhomlinov, proved perfect. The smallest detail had been prepared, and every possibility foreseen. In no direction was there any fluster or confusion. The commissariat and transport arrangements worked splendidly; the equipment of the troops with the new service uniform—an idea borrowed from the results of Britain’s South African experiences—was an unqualified success. The uniform has been designed for business purposes only, and with no regard for show. It is very similar to the British uniform; the chief differences being that the Russian tunics are looser, and in place of puttees, long boots are worn. Special attention has been given to this latter detail. Manchuria taught Russia to realise the advantages enjoyed by a well-shod army.

But perhaps the greatest triumph of the mobilisation was the prompt and businesslike way in which the financial question was settled. All who had suffered any loss as a result of the dislocation of trade and traffic caused by the requisition of the railways and other means of transport, were recompensed without delay. By utilising the organisation of the zemstvos or local councils, it was possible to prevent all distress and to make ample provision for the wives, families, and other dependants of the men called to the colours. Indeed, in Moscow and Southern Russia money has seldom been so plentiful as it was during the period of the mobilisation, and many families are better off now than they ever were.

Another contributing cause was the conduct and efficiency of both officers and men. The former proved that they have taken the reforms of the last few years thoroughly to heart. The latter showed that even the lowest ranks felt that they were “Soukhomlinov’s men.” To some extent, of course, their efficiency was due to their enforced sobriety. But much of it arose from an honest determination to rise to the occasion. Ivan Ivan’ich is taking this war very seriously. He is calmly confident of his ability to win, and he is immensely proud of the new army, of which he is a member. Moreover, he had an unlimited enthusiasm for the war. He was anxious to be killing the hated Nemetz, who threatened his own liberty and that of his brother Slavs, and he knew that the better he behaved the sooner he would be at the front. There was no mistaking his eagerness to do the right thing.

The following is an extract from the diary of a traveller, who spent nearly thirty hours in Kiev waiting for a train to be available for civilian passengers to Petrograd.

“Everywhere there are soldiers. There must be tens of thousands of infantry, cavalry and artillery. They are constantly on the move. In their peasant blouses, baggy trousers, and birch-bark shoes, they pour in ceaseless streams into the barracks, where they are served with their equipment. They issue forth transformed into as smart soldiers as could be wished. All the uniforms are new, and appear to be made of excellent material. They are greyish khaki in hue, and not unlike the British service uniform in appearance. Seven million brand-new uniforms of the finest quality! That gives some idea of the millions which Russia has been quietly spending on her army!

“The men are as proud as peacocks, and tremendously in earnest. Ivan Ivanovich is a very important person just now, and he knows it. Physically, he is splendid. Seldom tall, but always thick-set and well proportioned, he is a first-class fighting man, and, with his experience of Russia’s climate, he can endure practically any hardship. I doubt if there are any troops living who will suffer more and grumble less. That is the advantage of being a Russian. And it is all done on the most frugal of vegetarian diets! What would our Tommies say to a diet of black bread and fermented cabbage!

“Those who doubted Russia’s military value should spend a few hours in Kiev and note how regiment after regiment marches through with never the slightest hitch or confusion. They should see these sturdy Tommies, with their cruel rapier like bayonets always fixed. They should hear their deep-throated war chants. Then they would realise that Russia is going to play a very important part in this war....”

It must not be forgotten that the nation itself was largely responsible for the success of the mobilisation. The self-sacrificing enthusiasm of all classes was a revelation to those who believed that Russia was in a parlous condition internally. The inevitable losses and inconvenience were cheerfully borne. The rich came forward in a wholly unprecedented manner. In Russia, owing to the lack of a middle class, the distinction between noble and peasant is most rigorously observed. The old days of the serfdom have not been entirely forgotten. But during those early weeks of August the national call was responded to with equal enthusiasm by rich and poor. Mansions were placed at the disposal of the peasant soldiers. Food and gifts were showered upon them; even carriages were offered to help them on their way. The owner of an estate near Novgorod, not only entertained, at his own expense, nearly three hundred troops a day, but his wife and daughters served them with their own hands. A year ago such an action would have meant social ostracism. To-day it is an example which is being followed everywhere.

This rapprochement between the classes will have effects extending far beyond the mobilisation. They give promise of a new and happier Russia, for Ivan Ivan’ich never forgets a kindness.

The enthusiasm of the people was evinced in a thousand different ways. There was cheering and singing everywhere, but practical enthusiasm was no less in evidence. Often it resulted in trouble. The impersonation of reservists who had been called up, by those who had not, was very frequent. In many cases the discovery of the trick ended in blows with the result that neither proceeded to the front, the impersonator going to gaol and the impersonated to the hospital. Thousands of boys ran away from their homes in order to enlist. Some Polish boys living at Vilna were so disappointed at being refused admission to the army on account of their age that they formed themselves into an unofficial patrol. Unfortunately they fell in with some Austrian Cavalry, and the next day their bodies were discovered hanging from the branches of a tree.

The enthusiasm was not confined to the men. Women and girls sacrificed their tresses and disguised themselves as recruits. Some actually managed to reach the front without being detected, and one even contrived to enter the air service.

At no time during the mobilisation was the religious aspect of the war allowed to be forgotten. Before starting on their journey reservists knelt before their humble ikons. In every village the priest blessed the troops as they passed. Ikons and sacred relics have been taken to the front.

Petrograd witnessed the most impressive scenes. The most holy of all ikons, the famous Smolensk, “Mother of God,” which is embellished with jewels enough to ransom the Tzar himself, was carried in solemn procession to Kazan Cathedral. Hundreds of thousands stood in the streets through which the ikon passed. Every head was bared, a muttered prayer was on every lip. Thousands were unable to gain admission into the cathedral during the services, and gathered in the square outside, sometimes to the extent of fifty thousand, chanting the responses and singing the hymns. On the Sunday following the declaration of war, the Tzar blessed the Russian arms and those of the Allies. The flags of the nations were placed on the altar before the Smolensk ikon, and with all the Byzantine pomp and circumstance of the Greek ritual the aid of the Almighty was invoked.

Thus in most gratifying circumstances the news went forth that Russia was ready. The mobilisation was sufficiently complete to warrant an advance. The date was August 16th, barely a fortnight after the issue of the general mobilisation order and a full month sooner than the Kaiser had calculated. The number of men in the field cannot be stated with accuracy. Experts have talked glibly of millions, but none know the exact number of Russia’s fighting men except the Russian General Staff, and doubtless the German. Four million men in the field and a further three million in reserve may be taken as a likely estimate.

In any case the mobilisation was the finest feat of the war. It was a triumph over almost insuperable difficulties and a miracle of national organisation and effort. It was the most significant and most threatening of the many clouds which were beginning to gather round Germany.

On August 15th the Grand Duke Nicholas issued, on behalf of the Tzar, the following Proclamation addressed to all the Poles:

“Poles,—The hour has sounded when the sacred dream of your fathers and your grandfathers may be realised. A century and a half has passed since the living body of Poland was torn in pieces, but the soul of the country is not dead. It continues to live, inspired by the hope that there will come for the Polish people an hour of resurrection, and of fraternal reconciliation with Great Russia. The Russian Army brings you the solemn news of this reconciliation which obliterates the frontiers dividing the Polish peoples, which it unites conjointly under the sceptre of the Russian Tzar. Under this sceptre Poland will be born again, free in her religion and her language. Russian autonomy only expects from you the same respect for the rights of those nationalities to which history has bound you. With open heart and brotherly hand Great Russia advances to meet you. She believes that the sword, with which she struck down her enemies at Grünwald, is not yet rusted. From the shores of the Pacific to the North Sea the Russian armies are marching. The dawn of a new life is beginning for you, and in this glorious dawn is seen the sign of the Cross, the symbol of suffering and of the resurrection of peoples.”

This master stroke of policy was one of the most significant and important events in the whole war. It has revolutionised the whole outlook in Eastern Europe. This pledge to restore to dismembered Poland her lands, her liberties, her religion and her national tongue is the most momentous act of any Tzar since the days when Alexander II. abolished the serfdom. With dramatic suddenness it brings to a close one of the most terrible chapters in the history of Europe. For generations Russia has been engaged in a ruthless and vain attempt to force her Polish subjects to become, at least to all outward appearance, Russians. The Poles have been subjected to the fiercest persecution, their religion and language have been denied them, their history has been a stream of blood. Poland has been the greatest tragedy in Europe. Now at a stroke all is changed.

The spoliation of Poland has been a bond between Russia, Austria and Prussia for a century and a half. The three nations combined to carry out the crime, and as a consequence they have ever since remained more or less united over the results of the crime. They have regarded the Polish question as their own particular concern, and have brooked no interference from the rest of Europe. They have vied with each other in their efforts to crush the Polish spirit. They have made every move in unison.

The Tzar’s Proclamation consigned the whole system to the limbo of the past. One of the conspirators had realised the errors of his ways, and was determined to make reparation. Of course, the decision to issue the Proclamation was to a large extent dictated by material considerations. But whatever the reasons, there can be no doubt as to the excellence of the results. And by thus breaking the bond of generations Russia proved that she realised that this war was to be fought to the death. After this solemn pledge on the part of Russia, both Germany and Austria must not only be beaten, but conquered. A free Poland would mean the loss to Prussia of the whole province of Posen, and the setting back of her frontiers to Pomerania. Austria would lose all her territories beyond the Carpathians from Silesia to the borders of Roumania. Both countries can be relied upon to resist such a wholesale shrinkage of their boundaries to the utmost of their power. It would be more than a defeat; it would be humiliation, such as no first-class Power has yet been called upon to undergo.

The effects of the Proclamation were anxiously awaited, not only in Russia, but in Germany and Austria as well. It was addressed to the most sacred emotions of the Poles, to that fierce patriotism which no violence has been able to crush. It solemnly promised them all that they have been struggling for so bitterly. But would they forget the past? The treatment they have received would hardly be likely to encourage trust. Massacres and repression are not usually associated with the “dawn of a new life.”

The Polish Deputies immediately hailed the Proclamation with joy. But the people hesitated. It was too sudden a change to be grasped at once. Then the leaders set the example, first one and then another came forward. Sienkiewicz addressed a stirring appeal to his compatriots. The people realised that the promise was genuine, that Poland was really to be free again. Scenes of indescribable enthusiasm followed. The Poles are the most emotional nation in Europe, and from Kalisz to Biala and from Mlava to Stopnika they abandoned themselves to their joy. Thereafter the Polish enthusiasm for the war vied with that of the Russians themselves. The effect was immediately felt in the army. In one of the early dispatches received at Petrograd from the front, mention was made of the furious heroism of the Polish regiments. In Russia, therefore, the results of the Proclamation were to remove the last shreds of apathy and to weld both the subjects and the armies of the Tzar into one pulsating whole.

But the appeal was also addressed to the Polish subjects of the Kaiser and the Emperor Francis Joseph. It was an open invitation to them to revolt. In the circumstances, the German and Austrian Poles who have so often experienced Teutonic methods of stamping out rebellion, can hardly be blamed for accepting the proposal in a cautious spirit. They were quite unprepared for open rebellion, and at the best would have stood but little chance of success against the armies already mobilised in their midst. In addition, the cream of their manhood was with the forces of the Kaiser and Emperor. Only in Austria did a Polish regiment dare to mutiny, with the result that it was shot down to a man. For the rest, wiser if less heroic counsels prevailed. Everything possible was done covertly to assist the Russian advance. Both German and Austrian commanders complained of the extreme activity of innumerable spies, lamented that the whole population seemed to have combined in an effort to be of every possible service to the enemy, and admitted that fighting in Eastern Prussia and Galicia was fraught with all the difficulties attending operations in a hostile country.

But the Proclamation, and the obvious sincerity which prompted it, have had effects extending far beyond military exigencies and the future of the Poles. It has done more than anything else to raise Russia in the estimation of the world. The oppression of Poland has always estranged the leading democracies of the world from Russia. In France it was used as an argument against the Franco-Russian alliance, in Britain it has caused the Triple Entente to be regarded as a potential danger to ourselves. At the time of the war with Japan it withheld the sympathy of the United States from Russia. Now all is changed. The Proclamation was received with approbation by the whole world, with the exception, of course, of Germany and Austria. It was realised by all that Russia is indeed advancing, that the short-sighted autocratic government is giving way to the finest ideals of democracy, and that Russia is an ally worthy of the most ardent lover of liberty.

Apart from the initial handicap of having to fight on the defensive because of the comparative slowness of her mobilisation, Russia is the most advantageously situated of all European Powers for war on the grand scale. Britain is dependent on her command of the sea for her food and trade; the existence of both France and Germany more or less depend on supplies from the outer world. But Russia is self-contained. Her vast “lump” of empire can supply all her needs, from food and trade to an unlimited store of first-class fighting material. Mainly agricultural and possessing a comparatively small foreign trade, Russia could face with equanimity a war of any duration. Until the end of the seventeenth century Russia was the Tibet of Europe, and practically cut off from the rest of the world. She could, with very little inconvenience, retire again behind her frontiers and bid defiance to the world. Time has always been her greatest ally, and her strategy is based upon utilising that ally to the utmost.

The boundaries between the Tzar’s dominions and those of Germany and Austria are, for the most part, purely artificial. They follow no distinct line of demarcation. The great Russian plain extends far into Prussia and Austria, and along the whole length of the frontiers the only obstacles to the advance of an invading army are forests, marshes and the fact that generally speaking the roads are very poor.

Each country has had, therefore, to take defensive measures to remedy the deficiencies of nature. Russia has the chain of fortresses and fortified positions, extending from Kovno to Radom, which are intended to hold an invading force in check until the mobilisation can be completed. Special attention has of late years been given to the defence of the north-western frontier. Plans have been drawn up for the construction of more fortresses and of strategic railways and military roads. But these works are not yet in a sufficiently advanced state to serve any practical end in the present war.

Germany, realising the significance of Russia’s military reorganisation, has recently spent huge sums on strengthening her eastern frontiers. The works are by no means complete, but they are more advanced and of more practical service than those on the Russian side of the frontier.

To the south where Russia and Austria meet, neither Power has taken or contemplated taking any such extensive measures for defence. Cracow, Lemberg and Przemysl are the only fortresses of any value in Galicia, and they are faced by fortifications of about equal strength on the Russian side.

Russia, however, possesses a very great advantage over Austria, and in lesser degree over Germany, in that the inhabitants of Galicia and Eastern Prussia are mostly of Slavonic origin and therefore more or less strongly in sympathy with Russia. The Poles being members of the Catholic Church and having strong nationalistic aspirations, the bond is less strong in their case. But reference has already been made to the results of the Russian Proclamation, and it will be seen therefore that both Germany and Austria are under the disadvantage of having to defend hostile territories.

At the moment when war was declared, Russia had nine army corps, or about 400,000 men guarding her western frontiers. Three corps were stationed at Warsaw, and one each at Vilna, Grodno, Bialystok, Minsk, Lublin, Rovno and Vinnitza. In addition to these troops, there were three army corps at Kiev and one at Odessa. There was thus available for immediate hostilities a total of about 600,000 men. Against these Germany and Austria could muster about 400,000 men. There were German army corps at Königsberg, Dantzig, Posen, Breslau, Allenstein and Stettin. The Austrian corps were at Cracow, Lemberg and Przemysl. This numerical advantage on the side of Russia was further increased by the withdrawal of some of the German corps for service in the western campaign. Russia might, therefore, have made an immediate attack on Prussia with every prospect of success. But she refrained. In the first place, time was not of such particular importance as to warrant the taking of any risks. In the second place Russia needed all her energies for the successful completion of the mobilisation. And finally there was the Austrian menace.

Theoretically Austria could muster her two and a half million men, and invade Russia long before the latter’s mobilisation was complete. To Austria, then, was assigned the task of maintaining the prestige and reputation of the Mailed Fist in Eastern Europe. Russian Poland was to be invaded, Warsaw captured and the Russian army kept at bay until the conquerors of France could come and complete their victorious work. Unfortunately for the success of the plan, however, Austria could not get her rheumatic knuckles into the famous gauntlet. Even Serbia, exhausted though she was after two hard-fought wars, proved more than a match for Austria. And when the latter attempted to advance into Russia, she found herself more or less paralysed by her old enemy—internal dissension.

In Russia the war was the signal for all internal animosities to vanish and to leave the nation pulsating with one determination. In Austria the reverse was the effect. All semblance of unity and loyalty in the eastern provinces disappeared, the crisis tore aside the artificial bonds and Austria stood revealed for what she was and always has been—a ramshackle collection of wrangling races and creeds.

Francis Joseph is the nominal ruler of a heterogeneous collection of Germans, Magyars, Czechs, Poles, Ruthenians, Serbs, Slovaks, Croatians, Rumanians and Italians. Of a total population of fifty-three millions, half are Slavs. And it was with an army drawn from all these sources that Austria sought to invade Russia, the protector of all the Slavs. She foresaw the likelihood of trouble, and took measures accordingly. The outbreak of the war was the signal for a reign of terror to begin in Dalmatia, Bosnia and Croatia and other Slav provinces. In order to get the inhabitants under military control and to take the sting out of any revolutionary movement, all the men up to the age of fifty were mobilised. The newspapers were suppressed; clubs and societies, even the most harmless, were dissolved. The people were forbidden to leave the towns and villages; the leading Slavs were seized, imprisoned and held as hostages.

But even these ruthless measures could not crush the rebellious spirit of the Slavs. In Herzegovina the murder of some government officials was followed by a wholesale slaughter of priests held by the authorities as hostages. Everywhere there were savage acts of rebellion followed by more savage acts of reprisal. In the army matters reached a climax. The Slav regiments mutinied. Concerted action was impossible owing to the fact that the authorities kept the Slav regiments separated and disposed their loyal Teuton and Magyar regiments in the most advantageous positions for quelling any mutiny on the part of their “comrades.” Nevertheless thousands of Slavs mutinied rather than fight against their brothers. They were shot to a man. In some cases whole regiments refused to serve and were promptly exterminated. The mutinous spirit spread to Poland and Bohemia. In Prague there were daily executions and the Moldava ran red with Czech blood.

These measures of wholesale murder were effective. The Slav regiments were driven to the front at the points of their “comrades” bayonets. But Austria’s plans were already wrecked. The mutinous spirit of her army had caused the mobilisation to break down. Time was valuable; the Russian mobilisation was pressing forward to its triumphant conclusion. The project of invading Russia and capturing Poland became daily less likely of accomplishment.

The campaign in the east therefore, opened in the most inauspicious circumstances for the Mailed Fist. All was well with Russia and all was wrong with Austria. The troops were sullen and utterly lacking in the fighting spirit; they were badly led and their equipment left much to be desired. The Kaiser realised that in relying on Austria he had made another serious miscalculation. Instead of being a useful ally she appeared far more likely to prove a millstone about his neck. Cripples are of little use in war. Desperate efforts were made to obtain more satisfactory help. Italy and Turkey were alternately coaxed and bullied. The world was deluged with a frantic flood of wireless lies which were obviously designed to attract help from anywhere. But they were all in vain. Fate seemed to have taken especial care to have the last word.

Accordingly, Germany had to content herself with an attempt to revitalise the Austrian millions. At any rate the material was there, if only it could be forced into shape. So German officers were requisitioned for the Austrian army.

The operations during this preliminary phase of the war, during which Russian effort was concentrated upon preparing for the coming advance, were necessarily of a somewhat desultory and unimportant nature. They were interesting chiefly as showing in what way subsequent and more important fighting would be likely to develop.

For some days nothing more exciting occurred than a few collisions between patrols guarding the frontiers. Then, on August 3rd, the Germans made a definite move. A small force from Lublinitz, a town near the point where the Russian, German, and Austrian frontiers meet, crossed into Russia and occupied Tchenstochov. Further to the north other German forces seized Bendzin and Kalish, in Poland. Russia immediately answered this move by making a cavalry raid into Prussia, with the result that Johannisburg was occupied and a rather important railway was broken.

The Germans, however, continued to be aggressive. Numerous raids were made at various points along the frontiers. In some quarters it was feared that these raids were the prelude to an early invasion. They were, as a matter of fact, designed to harass the Russians and keep them engaged while the Germans completed the mobilisation of the forces which were to defend Eastern Prussia and, if possible, invade Poland during the absence of the first line troops in the western theatre of war. These new forces were chiefly composed of the Landwehr, and comprised about twenty divisions of 20,000 men each, with thirty-one cavalry regiments and six batteries of artillery. This army, under the command of General von Hindenburg, was mobilised along a line about thirty miles from the frontier. Its right flank was protected by the marshes around Arys, while its left rested on Insterburg. Naturally it took some days to collect this army and prepare it for attack, and it was not until nearly the middle of August that the Germans were in a position to contemplate any serious advance.

In the meantime the Russians, who were collecting considerable forces under General Rennenkampf, were able to throw back the cavalry which was harassing them, and to make a tentative advance over the Prussian frontier. On August 5th they entered Eydtkuhnen without opposition, and proceeded to advance towards the main German army. It was not until they reached Stalluponen that they encountered serious opposition. A sharp action resulted in the Germans being turned out of the town, leaving 200 dead and some machine guns.

This advance on the part of Russia was hailed in the west as a definite invasion with the object of sweeping across Prussia to Berlin. It was nothing of the sort. Russia was only advancing because the Germans had not yet collected their full forces. Indeed, Russia was by no means ready, and she carefully refrained from pressing too far forward, pending the completion of her own preparations. After the affair of Stalluponen there was obviously the temptation to push forward. But this would have brought the attacking force dangerously near the main German army and dangerously distant from Russian support. The advance, therefore, ceased until stronger forces could be brought forward. The German preparations, too, were progressing, and they were able to deliver vigorous attacks on the small invading force. Numerous attempts were made to recapture both Stalluponen and Eydtkuhnen, but all were beaten back. Then, after an interval of about a week, the main Russian army, under General Rennenkampf pushed forward, and the advance into Eastern Prussia may be said to have definitely begun.

Meanwhile, the Germans had been active further to the south. The provinces of Kalish and Kelche in Russian Poland were invaded. The invading forces were not in any great strength, but the Russians did not attempt to offer any serious opposition to the advance, contenting themselves with pursuing the same tactics as those adopted by the Germans in Eastern Prussia. The Germans, for their part, were in no mind to hurry, and were content to advance slowly and prepare for the coming shock between the main armies. They established themselves firmly along a line extending from Sieradz in the north, through Radomsk towards Kelche.

In the preliminary operations between Russia and Germany, therefore, neither side could claim any great advantage. The Russians obtained a footing in Eastern Prussia, and the Germans penetrated into Russian Poland. As events turned out, however, the latter was the more permanent advantage.

The operations between Russia and Austria were more decisive. The invasion of Russian Poland by the Austrians was a very half-hearted affair. The mutinous spirit of the troops and the wholly unexpected success of the attack by the Serbians and Montenegrins on Bosnia and Herzegovina paralysed the Austrian advance. Nevertheless, some progress was made in Poland, thanks more to lack of opposition than to any display of military virtues. Forces from Cracow proceeded northward over the frontier, and joined the Germans between Kelche and Radomsk. This advance was described in Berlin and Vienna as a triumphant march on Warsaw, but it was not anything so serious. Warsaw was never in the slightest danger. However, it was certainly an advance.

The Russian invasion of Galicia, on the other hand, was of definite significance. As early as August 8th a Russian army advanced from Rovno, crossed the Styr, and obtained a footing across the frontier. On the 10th the Austrians had their first experience of the Cossacks. Two regiments of infantry, supported by a regiment of cavalry, occupied a position near Brody. They were attacked by a company of Cossacks, and in the course of a few minutes were in the wildest flight, leaving ample evidence of the prowess of the Cossacks.

On the 12th the Russians gained an important success by capturing Sokal, which lies on the River Bug, just across the frontier. The town is an important railway centre, and its possession was a matter of vital interest to Austria. A determined advance towards Vladimir Volynski was a definite part of the Austrian programme. If successful, the move would have had far-reaching effects, for it would have broken the railway between Rovno and Warsaw, and so seriously impeded the completion of the Russian mobilisation and render communication between her central and southern armies very difficult. For this advance Sokal was the only possible base of operations. The Austrians, therefore, defended the town to the utmost of their power. The passage of the Bug was fiercely contended, but after some hours of furious fighting, during which both sides lost heavily, the Russians managed to capture the bridge. This practically settled the engagement. The town was unfortified, and at the mercy of the attacking force. The Austrians, with the dreaded Cossacks in pursuit, were soon in headlong flight out of the town. The destruction of the railway station and bridge rendered the Austrian advance in this direction impossible for some considerable time.

When, therefore, on August 17th, a general advance was ordered, Russia had every reason to be satisfied with the state of affairs. True, the enemy had established themselves in Poland, but this was more than balanced by the advances into Eastern Prussia and Galicia. Russia indeed had achieved more than she had reckoned on. During this preliminary phase she had fully expected that Poland would be invaded. She had also expected that her right and left flanks would have been more or less seriously threatened by forces from Eastern Prussia and Galicia during the most difficult process of mobilisation. The forces at Kovno and Rovno were sent to deal with that menace, and to hold it in check until the main armies were ready. They not only achieved that object, but carried the attack into the enemies’ countries.

The Russians must be somewhat of a disappointment to many experts, professional and amateur, whose supreme ignorance of the conditions obtaining in the eastern theatre of the war was only equalled by their sublime confidence in the ability of a steamroller to push forward, full steam ahead, over all obstacles and against all opposition. When towards the middle of August the news came that Russia was ready for serious business, it was confidently predicted that the end was in sight. It was only a matter of 180 miles from the Russian frontier to Berlin, the Germans had only Landwehr and Landsturm forces, contemptible third-rate fighting material, to defend her territories, and Austria was too busy shooting her own mutinous soldiers to be a menace to anybody. Obviously then, said the strategists, it could only be a matter of days before the tramp of the Russian legions would be heard perilously close to Berlin, the Kaiser would have to withdraw his forces from the west to meet the danger in the east, the allies would overthrow his weakened armies and hurl them back against the oncoming Russian hordes. Armageddon looked to be in danger of degenerating into a race to Berlin.

The expected has not happened. In spite of many rumours it may be taken as certain that the Germans have not to any great extent reduced their forces in the west. The fierceness of the fighting there is sufficient proof of this. And instead of being on the very threshold of Berlin, the main Russian armies are still 400 miles away.

It is Russia’s due that this failure to come up to expectation should be explained.

It is quite true that from the most westerly point on the frontier of Russian Poland to Berlin is only a matter of 180 miles. A glance at the map, however, will show that Poland is more or less a wedge driven into German territory. The average distance from the frontier to Berlin is much more than 180 miles. Nevertheless, Russia might have made a dash on Berlin along the route indicated. There would be every likelihood, too, of the dash proving successful. The country would be favourable for a quick advance. The communications are good—well-made roads and direct railway connection with the Russian base at Warsaw. The River Oder would be the only natural obstacle, and the fortress of Posen the only artificial one. And the country being open, it would be easier to attack than to defend.

But apart from the fact that the capture of Berlin would no more crush Germany than the occupation of Brussels has crushed Belgium, such an advance would be doomed to disaster. The invading army might reach Berlin itself, but sooner or later, it would find itself cut off from its supplies. It would necessarily have left behind it large forces of German troops in Eastern Prussia, and equally strong Austrian armies in Galicia. It could only be a matter of time before Russia would meet with a greater and more disastrous Sedan. Such a move would be a terrible blunder of which no general in his senses would be guilty.

It may be objected that the German troops in East Prussia were only Landwehr reserves and that the moral of the Austrians was so bad that it would have been possible for Russians to leave sufficient forces to hold both armies in check. In the first place it has been amply proved, again and again during the present war that the partially trained reserves when capably led, and in sufficiently large numbers, can hold their own with first line troops. In the second place, although the Slav regiments were mutinous, Austria had quite two million Teutons and Magyars in her army. These men were unquestionably loyal and quite capable of giving a good account of themselves.

Before, therefore, they could set off on that 180 mile journey, it was necessary for the Russians to remove all sources of danger to their rear. The Germans must be turned out of Eastern Prussia or safely held in their own territories, and the Austrians swept from Galicia.

The task of capturing Eastern Prussia is one of unusual difficulty. It is a region which it is very much easier to defend than to attack. The greater part of it is covered with marshes, lakes and forests, most difficult country for an army to traverse. The means of communication are poor, the roads—a most important consideration in connection with the movement of the heavy artillery necessary for a successful invasion—are in many instances little better than tracks. Moreover, it is strongly fortified. Königsberg is a first-class modern fortress, whilst those on the line of the Vistula at Thorn, Graudenz and Dantzig are even more powerful. Königsberg and Dantzig, it should also be noted, have the advantage of being ports as well as fortified towns. In other words, they could be used for large supplies of men and material. An invading army, therefore, could not content itself with merely masking the fortresses unless it was supported by a navy enjoying the command of the sea. The Russian fleet was practically a prisoner in the Gulf of Finland. The German navy was in complete command of the Baltic, and, therefore, to be safe, the invading army would have to storm the fortresses and gain possession of the ports.

The German War Staff, of course, knew perfectly well how difficult was Russia’s task of subduing Eastern Prussia. Hence it was not likely that they were in any way panic stricken over Russia’s advance, at least in that direction. Before that advance could become dangerous the whole of Eastern Prussia would have to be in Russian hands and the passage of the Vistula forced. There was every prospect of Russia being busily engaged for weeks to come.

And it must not be forgotten that the mobilisation was not complete at the time that the general advance was ordered. Thousands of troops cannot be gathered from the farthest confines of Siberia and transported across Asia and half-way across Europe. Only the first phase was completed. Time was still necessary before Russia could put her full strength in the field. The army under General Rennenkampf which invaded Prussia did not comprise the million men with which it was credited. It is doubtful whether he had half-a-million men with him. Certainly he had no more during the early stages of the campaign. Besides invading Prussia, Russia had to invade Galicia, drive back the forces invading Poland and generally guard a frontier about seven times as long as that between Germany and France. Another reason why General Rennenkampf’s army was not so large as it was popularly supposed to be was the fact that the Grand Duke Nicholas, the Commander-in-Chief, did not, for reasons that will be subsequently examined, regard the invasion of Eastern Prussia as of such paramount importance as the invasion of Galicia.

In dealing with this campaign, therefore, its secondary importance should not for a moment be forgotten. Both victory and defeat must be tempered with the knowledge that neither will have the far-reaching effect hoped for or feared. Of course, that is not to say that the Russians did not care what happened in Prussia. If it should prove that the defending German forces were weaker than was believed, if it were possible to overcome all transport difficulties, if Rennenkampf should march from victory to victory, driving the Germans back over the line of the Vistula, so much the better. But such an accomplishment would be a feat of arms worthy of Napoleon himself. Rennenkampf was known to be a remarkably clever general and great things were expected of him—otherwise he would not have been chosen for the most difficult command—but there was no reason to credit him with superhuman genius.

Popular enthusiasm, however, both in Russia and the West, knowing nothing of circumstances and conditions, and full of implicit faith in Russian prowess, immediately jumped to the conclusion that Rennenkampf was the man who was destined to alter the whole trend of the war. The campaign, therefore, assumed a rather exaggerated importance which was not remedied until actual events had their inevitable sobering influence.

At the beginning of the general advance, the Russians found themselves firmly established in the neighbourhood of Stalluponen. Before them lay a strong German army, under General von Hindenburg. The advantage in numbers was with the Germans, who were in the proportion of roughly three to two. On the other hand they were composed to a very large extent of reserves. The smaller Russian army was composed of fully trained first line troops. The coming operations, therefore, were a test of the comparative values of numbers and training. Sheer numbers supported by perfect discipline, such as that which obtains in the German army, can accomplish much in modern warfare. The advance of the Germans in the western theatre of war had already proved as much. And in these days when the personal factor in warfare, at least so far as the rank and file is concerned, has been practically eliminated, and the tendency is to rely for victory more and more on artillery and material superiority rather than on personal qualities, the age, training and fitness of the troops is of less importance than in the old days when battles consisted of downright fighting. The finest troops in the world are helpless when exposed to an efficient artillery attack. In point of artillery the two armies in Eastern Prussia were about evenly matched, the superiority, if any, being on the side of the Germans. Consequently, it will be realised that the Russians were faced with a difficult task.

The advance, which after the taking of Stalluponen had temporarily ceased, was resumed with vigour. The region to the north towards Tilsit was cleared of the enemy. Cavalry patrols scoured the country and there were innumerable minor engagements. In all of these the Russians were successful and the Germans were forced to withdraw their outposts towards the line Stillen, Gumbinnen and Goldap. The only engagement of any importance occurred some miles to the north of Stalluponen. Here a strong Russian force fell on a German army corps, which was occupying a rather advanced position. The fighting continued for practically a whole day, and in spite of fierce Russian attacks, the Germans held their ground. Towards the evening, however, their left flank was turned and soon they were in full retreat towards Gumbinnen. The Russians captured some hundreds of prisoners besides eight field guns, twelve cannons and three machine guns.

Inspired by this success the Russians pushed forward. But the Germans contested every foot of ground. The Russian movement, too, was considerably hampered by the excellence of the German means of obtaining information. Their airmen were everywhere in evidence, and displayed the greatest courage and daring in face of the Russian aeroplanes, which were mostly of the heavy Sikorski type. The latter, excellent machines though they are, were outmatched in point of speed by the German Taube machines, and were therefore unable to deal effectively with the menace from the air. The country, too, was infested with spies. Every movement of the Russians was signalled to the defending forces.

On one occasion a large force of Cossacks was sent to carry out a surprise attack on a German force occupying a village to the south of Stalluponen. As they moved forward, it was noticed that a haystack had caught alight. A tramp and a pipe were the explanation. The owner was greatly upset at his loss and made every effort to save his property. He worked with desperate energy, throwing bucket after bucket of water on the flames. The only result, however, was that a dense column of black smoke rose from the stack. The Cossacks pushed on. A couple of miles from the village they had to pass through wooded country. Suddenly a storm of lead swept through them. They had been ambushed. In close formation, and scarcely able to turn, they were mowed down by the score. When the few survivors returned to their headquarters the haystack was still smouldering, but the owner had disappeared. It was found subsequently that the “water” which he had so vigorously thrown on the flames was a chemical solution which had caused the dense clouds of smoke, serving to warn the Germans of the coming attack.

The advance, however, continued in spite of all the courage and cunning displayed by the Germans. The Russian cavalry in particular distinguished itself by its dash and bravery. The German advance guards and outposts were overwhelmed by the fury of its attack. Thanks to its superb, almost reckless, bravery and its bewildering mobility, the way was cleared for the main army, so that on the 19th it found itself facing a strong German army defending Gumbinnen.

In the meantime a Russian force had advanced in a north-westerly direction from Bialestock and had crossed the frontier at Prostken. Moving rapidly, it captured Lyck after a sharp engagement, and pushed on towards Lotzen. Here their progress was barred by a German army corps holding a strong position. Some desperate fighting ensued, but the Russians forced their way into the town and the Germans retreated northward along the lakes towards their main army at Gumbinnen.

Obviously the time had now come for a decisive engagement. Any further retreat on the part of the Germans would entail the abandonment of Insterburg, a most important railway junction, the possession of which was the key to the whole of the country lying east of Königsberg and Allenstein. The Germans, faced by the main Russian army on the south-east towards Goldap, and with its right flank threatened by the victorious force marching on from Lotzen, prepared for a determined resistance.

As early as the 17th the civilian inhabitants had been ordered to leave the town, at the same time reinforcements were brought up from the west and north so that the strength of the defending army amounted to about 200,000 men. On the morning of the 20th, the Russian right rested on the village of Pilkallen, its left on Goldap. Everything was in readiness for a determined onslaught. At dawn the battle began with a terrific artillery duel. Soon the shells of the heavy German guns were causing havoc in the Russian lines, but after a time the Russian artillery began to manifest a superiority, and some of the enemy’s guns were silenced. The Russian infantry then moved forward to the attack, and some of the most desperate fighting of the war took place.

The Russians were subjected to a merciless fire from machine and field guns. On all sides men were falling. But they never wavered for an instant. On and on they pressed until they reached the German trenches. There the bayonets got to work and soon the defenders were forced to give ground. But they were by no means defeated. Time after time they hurled themselves forward in the most desperate counter attacks, but the Russians succeeded in holding their own.

It was during this period of the engagement that one of the most significant events—so far as Russia is concerned—of the whole war occurred. A Russian battalion was in the midst of a veritable inferno. The Germans were determined to hold an important position at all costs. The Russians were equally determined to capture it. On both sides the carnage had been terrible. At last, with a desperate rush, the Russians succeeded in getting to grips with the Germans. Indescribable hand-to-hand fighting ensued. In the midst of the mêlée a German bayoneted the Russian Standard-bearer and seized the flag. Emboldened by this emblem of victory the Germans renewed their efforts and dashed to the assistance of their comrade. But before they could reach him a young Russian had sprung forward, killed him and recaptured the flag. With a howl of disappointment the Germans attacked him. For a moment he seemed to be doomed. Germans, were all round him struggling for the possession of the flag. Then there came a deep-throated roar, a sudden rush, and the Germans were hurled back. The Russians had captured the position and saved their flag.

The youth who had held it against such odds was afterwards discovered severely wounded. He proved to be a young Jewish medical student from Vilna, named Osnas. He was at once hailed on all sides as a hero, and on being invalided back to Petrograd the Commander himself gave orders that every care was to be taken to save the life of “Osnas the hero.” Subsequently he received the military cross of St. George, the Russian V.C., from the hands of the Tzar himself.

The significance of the incident does not lie in the bravery of Osnas, but in the fact that he was a Jew. His action, which has made him a popular hero throughout the Russian Empire, has done more to improve the position of the Jews than any event in the whole course of their history in Russia. It has made the nation realise that a Jew can be a worthy son of Russia.

While these fierce attacks and counter-attacks were taking place at the centre and on the Russian left, determined attempts were made to envelop the right flank resting on Pilkallen. The successful resistance of this movement was chiefly due to the brilliant work of the Russian cavalry.

The Germans occupied a strong position towards the north-west, from which their artillery was able to pour a murderous fire into the Russian ranks. At length it became obvious that unless the guns were silenced the Russians would have to retreat. The Horse Guards were ordered to take the guns. The first squadron charged straight at the battery. There was an ominous silence. The distance grew less and less. Then at point blank range the gunners fired. The squadron was practically annihilated. The second squadron then charged. It seemed as if it were doomed to a like fate, but at the critical moment the third squadron took the battery on the flank. In a few minutes every gunner was either sabred or fleeing for safety.

For fourteen hours the battle raged until darkness caused a cessation of hostilities. The Russians were, on the whole, satisfied with the results of the day’s work. They had suffered heavy losses, but the enemy had suffered more. They had made distinct progress in the centre, had captured thirty guns and large numbers of prisoners.

The engagement on the 21st opened sensationally. In the early hours of the morning a strong force of Cossack cavalry moved northwards and managed to envelop the German left flank. Dawn was the signal for a combined movement. The Germans found themselves vigorously attacked in the centre and left. For a time they held their ground, but their position soon became untenable. There was no holding the Russian attack. A regiment of Cossacks, finding the ground unsuitable for cavalry operations, dismounted and hurled themselves forward with all their reckless ferocity. Gradually the Russians pressed forward until they were attacking the enemy on three sides. The result was then inevitable. Von Hindenburg had the choice of flight or of allowing his army to be surrounded. He decided to retreat. Soon retreat degenerated into rout, and vast quantities of stores and ammunition, besides thousands of prisoners fell into the hands of the Russians.

The battle of Gumbinnen was the first decisive engagement of the war. Its immediate result was to make Russia master of the whole of Prussia east of the line from Königsberg to Allenstein. There was no position which afforded von Hindenburg any hope of successful resistance even if he were able to collect his routed troops. Insterburg, the main point in the network of German strategic railways, fell into Russian hands on the evening after the battle and ensured for Rennenkampf ample supplies. Tilsit was isolated, and its capture was a matter of convenience. The whole region of the Mauer lakes was at the mercy of the Russians.

The moral advantages were as great as the material. Von Hindenburg’s army had been badly beaten, and would never be able to face the Russians again with the same confidence. Moreover, the rout of the Germans and the reputation of the pursuing Cossacks caused a panic throughout the province. From every village and town the inhabitants began to fly in terror, some towards Danzig, others towards Graudenz in the hope of reaching Berlin. Soon Danzig was in a state of chaos. Two hundred and fifty thousand refugees poured in with the most exaggerated stories of the prowess of the Russians. Commerce was at a stand-still; the prices of provisions rose daily. Soon there was rioting in the streets. There was no accommodation for the refugees, most of whom were penniless, and who were almost as numerous as the ordinary inhabitants of the town. It was not until the sternest measures had been taken by the military authorities that the panic subsided and some show of order was restored.

Meanwhile the Russians were following up their victory with a vigorous pursuit. Von Hindenburg’s army divided into two, one portion retreating through Tapiau to Königsberg, the other pressing in a south-westerly direction towards Allenstein, and the fortresses of Thorn and Graudenz. The former portion safely reached its destination, which was invested by the Russians on the 25th. On the same day Tilsit was formally occupied. Meanwhile the main Russian army, meeting with practically no resistance, pushed on along the line of the railway, occupying Angerberg and Korschen. By this time, however, heavy German reinforcements had come up, and the advance began to be contested with increasing determination. For three days there was vigorous fighting in the neighbourhood of Allenstein. Then, after inflicting heavy losses on the Germans, Rennenkampf entered the town and again forced von Hindenburg to retreat. The action, however, was not a decisive battle comparable with Gumbinnen, and the Russian advance became slow. Further fierce fighting, most of which resulted satisfactorily to the Russians, took place further to the south around Soldau and Nesdenberg.

The Russians, after a remarkably quick advance through very difficult country, had now come within hail of the line of the Vistula. The line was protected by three first-class fortresses covered by at least four army corps in addition to the armies which had been driven back by the Russians. It was the critical moment of the campaign. With their heavy numerical superiority and strongly fortified position, the Germans would be sure to make a more determined resistance, and in greater force than any which the Russians had yet had to meet. In attacking the line Rennenkampf would be handicapped by a lack of heavy siege artillery, and by the numerical inferiority of his forces. On the other hand his troops comprised some of the finest fighting material in the world, they were flushed with victory and could be relied upon to make a tremendous effort to win the greatest triumph of all. If they could drive the Germans over the Vistula and bring up sufficiently large forces to invest Thorn, Graudenz and Danzig, the northern route to Berlin would be open to them as far as the Oder. The beginning of the end would indeed have arrived.

The Russians accordingly pushed forward. But they did not advance much further on the road to the Vistula. An immense German army, heavily supported by artillery, including numbers of the heavy siege guns which had already proved themselves to be the Kaiser’s most potent weapons, awaited the Russians in a strong position in the neighbourhood of Osterode, midway between Allenstein and Graudenz.

Von Hindenburg now proved himself to be a leader of remarkable skill and resource and he performed as brilliant a feat of generalship as the war has yet produced. Only a year before he had taken part in the manœuvres in East Prussia, and was acquainted with every inch of the ground. It was even stated that he had already solved the exact military problem with which he was now faced, and in the same locality. In addition he enjoyed the advantage of outnumbering the Russians by at least two to one.

These factors practically decided the battle. The district around Allenstein and Osterode is of the worst possible description for an invading force. It is a mass of lakes, swamps and forests, and an intimate knowledge of the locality is essential for the success of any military operations there. There are almost insuperable difficulties in the way of transport alone.

Utilising his advantages to the full, von Hindenburg lured the Russians towards Tannenberg to the south-east of Osterode. The Russians, realising that a successful offensive was their only chance, blundered forward. They pressed on until they found themselves in a position where their flanks rested on more or less solid ground, but their centre was backed by a vast swamp. Then von Hindenburg struck his blow. An immense force was hurled against the Russian right. A desperate encounter followed, but sheer weight of numbers gave victory to the Germans. The Russians were forced back on to the swamps. A similar attack on the Russian left was equally successful.

What followed was not a battle; it was one of the most hideous slaughters history has known. The Russians were unable to manœuvre on the swampy ground; the Germans, on the other hand, were in possession of the solid higher ground and free to move at will. From three sides they poured a murderous fire into the helpless Russians, forcing them deeper and deeper into the swamps. Guns sank in the mud, horses were unable to move, men stood up to their waists in the deadly slime. The carnage continued until nightfall, when Rennenkampf managed to escape with a remnant of his army, leaving Generals Samsonov, Martos and Pestitsch among the thousands of slain.

Thus von Hindenburg won the battle of Osterode and obtained ample revenge for his defeat at Gumbinnen.

The battle caused a complete reversal of the campaign. The route to Berlin via the north was not only barred, but the Russian advance was turned into a retreat. Hopelessly outnumbered, Rennenkampf was forced back on Allenstein. Every foot of the way was contested, but bit by bit he had to give up the results of his victorious move forward. Allenstein and Intersburg were in turn evacuated before the merciless pressure of the advancing Germans. The troops investing Königsberg were recalled. It was not until the frontiers were almost reached and strong reinforcements came up from Kovno and Grodno that the German advance was checked and finally held.

In spite of official attempts at secrecy, the news soon spread that the invasion of Germany upon which Russia’s Allies had placed such high hopes had ended in what appeared to be complete failure. Berlin was as far off as ever, and the Germans were at the very gates of Paris. Something had gone seriously wrong with the steam roller on which so much had depended!

The strategists were wrong in the blame they heaped on Rennenkampf’s head because of his failure. As a matter of fact, his chief fault was that he had played his part too well. He had never been expected to push forward so far as Osterode. His “advance” was intended simply to attract German attention and to prevent Germany from sending reinforcements to the Austrian army. In attaining this object he succeeded admirably. After the battle of Gumbinnen the Germans poured regiment after regiment of Landwehr and Landsturm troops into Eastern Prussia, which otherwise would have gone to the aid of the Austrians. Rennenkampf’s unexpected success took him too far forward. His advance was so rapid that it was difficult to bring up reinforcements. Osterode and its heavy losses was the penalty he paid for success.

The only really unfortunate result of his efforts was that he attracted such strong forces into Prussia that the Russians will have great difficulty in dislodging them. They are, however, strong enough to keep them confined to their own territories, and so have little to fear from that direction.

Besides, there are other ways to Berlin.

It has already been pointed out that Russia could not advance directly on Berlin and thus expose herself to the danger of being cut off and annihilated by German armies from East Prussia and Austrians from Galicia. A march on Posen would more likely than not have resulted in another and more stupendous Sedan. In the previous chapter it was shown that, for various reasons, the Russian General Staff decided not to threaten Berlin by the northern route through Prussia. The nature of the country was unfavourable for any such movement; it was strongly fortified and capably defended. Moreover, the fact that winter was approaching had to be taken into account. Those who have had the misfortune to spend the winter months at Königsberg or other towns in Eastern Prussia will agree with the Russian Staff that the conditions during that period of the year do not favour military or any other operations. And it was essential that Russia should maintain a vigorous offensive, if only to keep faith with her allies.

That there was another route to Berlin, and one which possessed many obvious advantages, was overlooked by most of the strategists. The route in question lies along the banks of the Oder, through Silesia and Saxony. If Russia could crush the military power of Austria in Galicia and drive the remnants of her armies across the Carpathians, either pursuing them to Buda-Pesth and Vienna or confining them to the Hungarian plains, she would be free to advance upon Breslau and Berlin.

There are many advantages possessed by this route. In the first place, it would be safe, assuming that Austria were thoroughly broken beforehand. The country is open and well provided with railways, excellent roads, and other means of communication; it contains only one fortress of any strength—Neisse—which could be easily masked, and is generally favourable to a rapid advance. An additional advantage is that Silesia is a busy mining and industrial province, with a population of nearly 6,000,000. The invading army would be preceded by armies of panic-stricken fugitives, who would impede any defensive measures and strike terror in Berlin long before the menace of the invaders became serious.

There can be little doubt, in view of (1) that the chief Russian armies are engaged in Galicia and Poland, and (2) that no serious attempt has been made either to follow up General Rennenkampf’s remarkable advance in East Prussia or to retrieve the ground lost as a result of the defeat at Osterode, that an advance on the lines suggested through Galicia and Silesia is the main feature of the Russian strategy. It is the simplest, safest and most effective route by which Germany could be invaded. It is the one route an advance along which, supported by a vigorous offensive from Poland, would have an immediate effect on the war in the west. When once the Russians begin to march on Breslau, it will be only a matter of weeks before they reach Berlin, unless the Germans detach very strong forces from their western army and hurry them across to defend the capital.

But first of all, Austria must be smashed, and Galicia and Poland swept clear of the enemy.

At the end of the preliminary phase of the campaign, the Russians had already gained a footing in Galicia in the neighbourhood of the River Styr, whilst the Austrians had advanced northwards from Cracow and established themselves in Poland. This Austrian army, after being heavily reinforced, so that it amounted to about 500,000 men, began to march northward towards Warsaw. It was then still further reinforced by a German army which had advanced from Posen, and invaded the Polish province of Kalisch. In Poland, therefore, there was a very considerable army which seriously threatened Lublin and Warsaw, and would require heavy and probably extended operations before it could be forced back.

A second Austrian army, smaller than the first, was in Galicia, with Lemberg for its base.

The operations against these two armies constitute the real “Russian Advance,” the movement intended to prepare for the crushing of Austria and a march on Berlin. That it would be slow was obvious. Opposing it were, at the time under review, about 1,500,000 troops, with two first-class fortresses in Cracow and Przemysl and a hardly less strong position in Lemberg. The question remained, how would Russia act? Would she concentrate her attention on driving the first Austrian army on to Galicia, or would she deliver her main attack on the second army, and invade Galicia from the east, trusting on her success and consequent menace to the communications of the first army to force that army back on to its base? The former course would be the safer, for the first Austro-German army was a more formidable force than the second. The latter course, if the more hazardous, had the merit of speed. The Grand Duke Nicholas decided to adopt this plan, much to the surprise of the Austrians. An army was sent from Warsaw to operate against the Austro-German army in Poland, but the main army, under General Russki, had Kiev for base, and immediate preparations began for a vigorous and sweeping movement through Galicia.

It was, however, essential for the success of the plan that the Austro-German army should be held in check until the menace to its rear was strong enough to force it back. If it were to capture Lublin or seriously threaten Warsaw, the whole scheme would be in danger of collapse.

It must not be forgotten that while these operations were in progress Austria was fighting on her southern frontier against Serbia and Montenegro. The war in the south naturally affected to some extent the war in the north. A series of victories in the south would undoubtedly have provided the Austrians in the north with the moral tonic they so sadly needed. As it happened, however, the war in the south was a complete failure. Seven attempts were made to capture Belgrade, an utterly defenceless town, but each was repulsed. The invasion of Serbia ended in the rout of Shabatz. The Austrians thereupon abandoned their operations against Serbia, and threw all their forces into the northern war. Whatever advantage was gained by this increase in numbers was for the time being more than counterbalanced by the shattered moral of the additional troops. Mutiny had already done much to destroy the spirit of the troops. The companionship of men who had been routed by the despised Serbians was not calculated to improve matters. However, Austria needed every man in the north to defend her reputation as a first-class military power.

Her plan of campaign amounted to an attempt to force the reversal of the Russian plan. The main army was to carry out a vigorous invasion of Poland in two directions, towards Lublin on the north-east and towards Lodz on the north. The latter movement would receive help from the Germans operating in the province of Kalisch. The success of these movements would render a determined invasion of Galicia from the east impossible. Russia would have to change her plan and concentrate her efforts on defeating the invading Austrians and driving them back across the frontier. Obviously this would have suited the German plans admirably, because it would have delayed the Russian advance indefinitely, and so relieve the dangerous position resulting from the unexpected success of the Russian mobilisation and the equally unexpected failure of the attempt to crush France in the course of a few weeks. Viewing the war as a whole, therefore, the main object of both sides was to gain time. The Allies wanted to delay the German advance until the pressure of Russia on the east became unbearable. The Austrian object was to hold Russia in check and so enable Germany to maintain an undiminished army in the west. The issue of the whole war now depended on the efforts of Austria, for even if the Allies in the west were able, as the result of a vigorous offensive, to force the Germans out of France and Belgium, it was extremely doubtful whether they would be able to invade Germany itself with anything more than moderate success, unless the Germans were forced to divide their troops more or less equally between the two frontiers.

The most important operations in the east, therefore, were the advance of the main Austrian army on Lublin and the advance of the Germans through Kalisch. Until these were positively checked the projected Russian advance could not be pushed forward. But, once checked, a successful Russian advance would cause the retirement or downfall of these invaders of Poland unless they were heavily reinforced.

The campaign opened with a serious defeat for Russia. The Austrian army crossed the frontier and established contact with the defending forces in the neighbourhood of Krasnik, a little town some fifteen miles across the border. Details of the engagement are very few. Officially, the Russians ignored it, being wholly taken up with the telling the world about their successes in Prussia. What appears to have happened was that the Russians did not expect the enemy to throw forward such strong forces, and were taken by surprise. Heavily superior in point of numbers and well supported by artillery, the Austrians, while unable to break the Russian centre, seem to have successfully carried out a flanking movement. The Russians fought gamely, and inflicted heavy losses on the enemy, but their defeat was inevitable. The Austrians claimed to have captured some thousands of prisoners and much artillery. In view of the results of the battle, it is quite possible that their claims were not exaggerated.

The serious results of this engagement were at once apparent. The heaviness of the defeat made it impossible for the Russians to make a determined resistance against the Austrian advance for some time. The Austrians overran Kelche and pressed forward on Lublin.

In the course of this advance the Austrians made brave attempts to imitate their German allies. The occupation of Kamenetz Podolski was a good example of their efforts to play the Hun. The town was captured after a sharp engagement, in the course of which the Austrian commander had the misfortune to be slightly wounded. His first act was to demand 200,000 roubles, 200 horsed carts, 800 poods of bread and 60 oxen. Unless this levy were forthcoming by eight o’clock the next morning, the mayor was to be hanged and the town sacked. At the best of times this would have been an almost impossible demand on the resources of Kamenetz, which is only a small town. On the approach of the Austrians the Municipal Treasurer, the bankers and all the wealthy families had fled, taking their riches with them. Nobody in the town had so much as twenty-five roubles in his possession.

The mayor went to inform the general that it was impossible to fulfil his demands. The general replied that he would bombard the town unless the whole levy were delivered by eight o’clock.

The night was spent by the inhabitants in the impossible task of trying to raise the money. Rings, watches and jewellery of all kinds were collected. The churches were stripped of their crucifixes and plate. A valuable collection of old coins, worth at least 15,000 roubles, left the scales at an appraisement of seven hundred roubles. At half-past six in the morning it was found that not more than five or six thousand roubles’ worth of gold and silver had been collected towards the 200,000 demanded. The mayor went to find the general in the forlorn hope that the latter would relent. The inhabitants crouched in their cellars awaiting the dreaded bombardment.

Eight o’clock passed and nothing happened. The Austrian general had left during the night, leaving a colonel as governor of the town. The latter gravely assessed the levy at 25,000 rubles, returned the crucifixes and church plate and announced that he was perfectly satisfied. Then a few hours later, acting on instructions from Vienna, he returned the whole levy, to the utter bewilderment of the inhabitants.

But in spite of these half-hearted attempts to imitate the Huns, there is no doubt that for a time the advance of the Austrian army was a serious matter. General Bankal, the commander of the force, drove the Russians from position after position in a series of desperate engagements and it was not until he reached the line Lublin Kholm that he was definitely checked, and General Russki was able to advance in earnest.

The primary cause of General Bankal’s check was the fact that he found himself face to face with a strong Russian army, with the fortress of Ivangorod for a base. This army was as large as his own, and occupied an immensely strong position. Bankal, realising the necessity for maintaining the offensive, attempted to break through the Russian centre. After a heavy bombardment he threw his men forward in close formation, hoping by force of numbers to cut a way through. The attempt was a costly failure. A second and third attempt fared no better. Then, realising that his position was hopeless in the face of such superior forces, Bankal retired, and soon was in full retreat towards the south.

In this battle the Russians captured over 5,000 prisoners; whilst the Austrian losses may be estimated from the fact that over 3,000 of their dead were buried by the victors.

A secondary cause contributing to General Bankal’s failure was the lack of German support from Posen. This was the direct result of General Rennenkampf’s successful offensive in Eastern Prussia. In the previous chapter it was shown how, after the battle of Gumbinnen and the rapid advance through Allenstein, the Germans brought up several army corps to cope with the menace. They drove back Rennenkampf, but only at the cost of starving their offensive in Poland. They were unable to reinforce both the defensive line of the Vistula and the armies attacking Poland, unless they withdrew a portion of their forces from the western theatre of war. In spite of rumours, it may be stated for certain that no such withdrawal took place. There was no apparent diminution of German power in the west, and no reinforcements arrived in Poland.

The Germans, however, managed to penetrate as far as Lodz. Their advance was more due to lack of opposition than to their own prowess. They were in no great numbers, and on meeting with a superior force at Pobianitz, they at once began to retire without offering any serious resistance.

Nevertheless, their advance, insignificant as it was, is worthy of attention as affording a comparison between themselves and their Austrian allies. The latter in the course of their advance made half-hearted attempts to win a reputation for savagery, such as the incident at Kamenetz, but on the whole, their conduct, apart from much drunkenness and a little looting, was admirable. The Germans, on the other hand, fully lived up to the reputation which their comrades in Belgium had won for themselves.

Their chief exploit was the sacking of Kalisch. During the German occupation of the town in the early stages of the war it was stated that some of the inhabitants had fired on the soldiers. General Preusker, the German commander, at once indulged in the most savage reprisals. Numerous inhabitants were shot. Some hundreds of the leading citizens, including the priests, were seized as hostages and forced to lie for hours under a broiling sun. Then suddenly they were marched out of the town and were told to prepare for execution. When all was ready, and the wretched prisoners thought that their last moment had come, the order was countermanded. The town was then bombarded by the German artillery. The town hall and all the chief buildings were ruined, hundreds of innocent men, women and children were killed. After witnessing the destruction of their homes the hostages were sent as prisoners to Posen.

After this savage display, General Preusker issued a proclamation to the Poles, stating that the Kaiser, in return for their help, would effect the regeneration of the Polish nation through the influence of Western culture. Needless to say, the proclamation met with no response.

The news of this event naturally caused something of a panic in Western Poland. At Lodz, for instance, the approach of the Germans resulted in the town being in danger of falling into a state of anarchy. The administrative authorities and the bankers immediately fled to Warsaw, leaving the town, which has over 600,000 inhabitants, without protection and without money. The manufacturers, to their credit, stayed in the town. The closing of the banks rendered them for the time being penniless, and there was danger of riots from their employés who could not be paid. The workpeople, however, kept their heads, and notes were issued by a committee of leading citizens. Owing to the impossibility of providing them with food, the prisoners had to be released. For a time the fate of the town hung in the balance. The most trivial event might have inflamed the workpeople. But, thanks in no small measure to the fact that all the taverns had been closed since the beginning of the mobilisation, calm was gradually restored. It was almost a relief when the Uhlans at last appeared and the thoughts of the people were distracted by the new menace.

The fighting around Lodz, although temporarily decisive in that it resulted in the Germans being driven back over the frontier, was of only small extent. It was here, however, that the Cossacks gave the Nemetz a taste of their qualities. Indeed, the exploit of Kusma Krutchakov and his companions was one of the most courageous feats of the whole war.

He was out on patrol duty with his comrades, Stchergolkov, Astachov, Ivankov; and Rvatchov, when they learned that twenty-seven German horsemen had been seen in their immediate neighbourhood. Rvatchov was at once despatched to headquarters with the news, while the others, without a moment’s hesitation, set out to tackle their formidable antagonists, whom they had seen disappearing behind a hill.

After making a detour to escape observation, the Cossacks divided into pairs, Krutchakov and Ivankov approaching the Germans from the rear, the other two from the front. The leader of the patrol attempted to inveigle the Germans into a bog, but in this he was unsuccessful, and the whole party charged down upon the Cossacks, who made off on their swift horses.

As soon, however, as the Germans gave up the chase Krutchakov and his companion, who had meanwhile been joined by the other two, followed them and continued the pursuit for four miles. At last, getting the enemy in full view in the open country, they dismounted and opened fire. The Germans now saw that they had only four men to deal with, and charged down upon them at a gallop.

At this the Cossacks mounted and prepared for a hand-to-hand struggle. As the Germans approached, their officer was shot dead. They then closed in upon Ivankov, who was nearest to them, and attacked him with their lances.

Before they could get him down, however, his three companions had sprung in to his assistance.

Krutchakov swung to one side and engaged three of the Germans, while his comrades together got into a close scuffle with the rest. While one German was trying to run Astachov through the body, he himself was pierced by the lance of Stchergolkov and fell to the ground. Another German aimed a blow at the head of Stchergolkov, but was just in time put down by Ivankov. Three Cossacks then broke free from the mêlée, Ivankov and Astachov on one side, pursued by six Germans, and Stchergolkov on the left, with three of the enemy on his heels. When the Germans abandoned the pursuit Ivankov and Astachov dashed in to the assistance of Krutchakov, who, at first beset by three Germans, now had a dozen round him.

Against these desperate odds he was defending himself with coolness and address. A non-commissioned officer aimed a blow at his head, but he parried it by swinging up his carbine. His fingers were slashed, but not severed, and, dropping the carbine, he seized the sword and chopped his assailant down.

When at length help arrived, only five Germans remained alive. Krutchakov had received sixteen wounds, and his horse eleven. Stchergolkov was wounded in two places, whilst Ivankov escaped with only one hurt.

The retreat of General Bankal from Lublin and the driving back of the Germans from Lodz left General Russki free to move forward in earnest. The conditions were at once reversed. Hitherto the successful advance of General Bankal had caused his army to be the most important factor in the campaign. Now it was only of secondary importance. The centre of interest had shifted from Poland to Eastern Galicia.

The advance which was now beginning was the most important move in the war. On its success or failure depended the issue of the whole war. If the Austrians had been powerful enough to inflict a really decisive defeat on General Russki, the whole plan of the Allies would have been thrown to the ground. Russia, instead of advancing, would have been forced to act on the defensive, at least for a time, and her Allies in the west would have had to abandon all hope of help until the lost ground could be retrieved and a fresh advance begun. In view of the supreme importance of success and of continued success, every care was taken to render the advancing army as invincible as human endeavour could make it. It represents the flower of the Russian army, from general to rank and file the Tzar could put no finer force into the field. Its failure would appear to be impossible.

The Russians crossed the frontier at several points. It is at once apparent that they would have the advantage of operating in a friendly country. The Ruthenians welcomed them as heaven-sent deliverers. Every man up to the age of fifty had been summoned to the Austrian armies, but the women, children and old men who were left were wild with delight. Processions, headed by priests, went forward from the villages to greet the invaders; food and provisions were gladly given to the troops.

The first action of any magnitude was the storming of Tarnopol. The Austrians were in strong force, well entrenched and supported by artillery. On the morning of August 23rd the Russian attack began. For some time an artillery duel raged, and then the Russian infantry began to advance. It was received with a hail of bullets from rifles and machine guns. For four hours the battle continued, the Russians gradually pressing forward. Meanwhile their shrapnel was working havoc in the Austrian trenches. The defence was showing signs of flagging. A bayonet charge settled the affair. Unable to keep back the Russians, the Austrians, rather than face the bayonets, abandoned their positions and fled into the town.

But victory was not yet achieved. With the aid of machine guns mounted on church towers and prominent buildings, the Austrians kept up a murderous fire on the Russians. The order was given to storm the town, street by street. In fighting of this description, in which the personal element predominates, the Cossacks excel. With ruthless completeness they scoured the town until there was not an Austrian defender left. Thousands lay dead in the streets; the rest were in full flight towards the main Austrian army defending Lemberg. Several machine guns, some artillery, and numerous prisoners fell into the hands of the Russians.

This victory forced back the Austrian centre, and gave the Russians possession of the north-eastern corner of Galicia.

The next move was to force back the Austrian right on to Lemberg, and so gather the enemy into a suitable position for a decisive attack and also gain possession of all the means of communication in Eastern Galicia. This was effected successfully by the engagement at Halish, a small town on the Dniester, on which the Austrian right rested. Here the victory was in the main due to the dash and courage of the Russian cavalry. Early in the engagement the enemy’s cavalry was put out of action. In the meantime their artillery had been playing with good effect on the Russian infantry. But a cavalry charge on the flank silenced the guns and the infantry was able to advance. The Austrians made a desperate resistance, but were soon forced into flight.

General Russki, now master of all Galicia east of Lemberg, immediately began his preparations for the attack on what was now the chief Austrian army, defending that important town.

Before, however, dealing with the operations round Lemberg, it is necessary to refer to the other Austrian army—that under General Bankal. After its defeat between Lublin and Kholm, this army retreated southwards in the direction of Tomasov. Any further advance into Poland being out of the question, General Bankal’s object was to join forces with the army defending Lemberg, and so present a greater resistance to General Russki’s advance. The troops, which had been occupying the Polish province of Kielce were also hurriedly withdrawn towards Lemberg. In order to prevent this threatened junction of forces, the Russians made the most determined efforts to overtake the Austrians. For some days, however, Bankal, in spite of heavy losses of artillery and stores, managed to elude his pursuers. It was not until he was within a few miles of Tomasov that he was forced to give battle. There he was met by a force sent forward from the right flank of General Russki’s army. Hastily entrenching himself, he prepared for a desperate attempt to throw back the Russians and force his way to Lemberg. His position, however, was hopeless. Faced by a force superior in every way, and attacked on his left flank by the Russians, who had been pursuing him, defeat was inevitable. Nevertheless, the Austrians fought desperately, and inflicted heavy losses on the Russians. But their own losses were terrible. Entire regiments were annihilated. A shrapnel shell killed Bankal himself, and several of his staff officers. Within a few hours the remnants of the army were pouring over the frontier in full flight for Przemysl.

In this engagement the Russians captured five thousand prisoners and twenty pieces of artillery.

In the meantime the remaining Austrian forces in Poland were faring but little better. At Podgorzo, the troops from Kielce who were endeavouring to join General Bankal’s army, and push forward to Lemberg, were forced to give battle as a result of a successful turning movement from the north-east. Here again the fighting was of a desperate character, but again the issue was inevitable. Three thousand prisoners and large quantities of artillery and stores fell into the hands of the Russians.

Thus ended to all practical intents, the preliminary Austrian advance into Poland. It was not until later, when the German victory at Osterode enabled large forces to be thrown into Poland, that the enemy were able to make any definite impression in that quarter.

Meanwhile the movement which it was supposed to prevent was developing strongly. The battle for the possession of Lemberg had already been fought and won.

That the Austrians were determined to defend the town at all hazards may be judged from the fact that they had accumulated there sufficient stores for a year. The defending army formed a semicircle facing north and east, with the fortress in the centre. By pushing forward his right wing towards the west, General Russki formed another outer semicircle. Then the Russian semicircle began to contract, and with vice-like pressure forced the Austrian line back and back.

The battle lasted for seven days, and the fighting was of the most stubborn nature. By means of successive bombardments and infantry attacks on the defending forces, the Russians gradually forced themselves forward. But every inch of ground was contested, and the losses on both sides were enormous. As the days passed, however, the superiority of the Russian artillery began to assert itself, and the Austrian fire weakened. At all points the Russians were increasingly successful. At length on the seventh day the main Austrian force, comprising five army corps, was driven back with heavy loss on to the town itself.

This was the beginning of the end. At half-past two in the morning the actual storming of the town began. The Austrians attempted to reform their forces, but were thrown into confusion by repeated artillery and cavalry attacks. The Austrian left was driven in. The whole army was in danger of being surrounded.

At this stage of the conflict an episode occurred which finally sealed the fate of the Galician capital. A particularly searching fire was directed by the Russian batteries at the centre before the town, their object being to impede the retreat of the Austrians, who had been beaten on the right flank, and, if possible, to surround the town completely before its garrisons could be withdrawn.

In the hope of checking the Russian advance till the town had been evacuated, the Austrians threw out a rearguard screen of Slav troops with a backing of Magyars, who received orders to shoot the Slavs down from behind the moment they showed any hesitation. This circumstance became known to the Russian commander, and at the critical moment a terrific artillery fire was opened over the heads of the Slavs upon the retreating Austrian columns. This dropping hail of projectiles set up a wild panic in the ranks of the enemy. Abandoning guns, ammunition, and stores, his troops broke into frantic disorder, and fled helter-skelter along the road to Grodek.

This was shortly after nine o’clock, and proved to be the decisive stroke of the battle. It appeared that the Austrians then lost all hopes of holding the town, for the strong forts by which it was defended rapidly fell one after another.

It was now that the strong Russian forces poured into the town from the north, and the final battle began in the streets. For some time the fierce fight was kept up, but the Austrian detachments, recognising the hopelessness of their position, surrendered one by one.

The Slav inhabitants received the conquerors with demonstrations of delight and shouts of “Long live the army of the Russian liberators.” The singing of the Russian National Anthem mingled with the last shots fired at the routed Austrians in the neighbourhood of the town.

Then the progress of the Russian regiments through the town became like a triumphal procession. As they passed down the streets cheers were raised, and flowers were showered upon them from the crowded windows. At half-past ten the Russian flag fluttered out from the staff on the roof of the Town Hall.

Russia thus achieved the first great triumph of the war and ensured the accomplishment of the first step towards Berlin—the smashing of the military power of Austria. In addition they had won 637 guns, 44 quickfirers, flags, and 64,000 prisoners, in addition to immense stores of ammunition and provisions.

The Austrians had prepared Lemberg for a siege of at least a year. The Russians captured it in a week. The fortresses, which were reckoned as first-class examples of modern fortifications, were reduced to ruins by the bombardment of the Russian heavy artillery. The victory, therefore, proved to the Russians, just as Liège and Namur had proved to the Germans in the west, that modern fortresses are helpless against modern artillery. The Russians employed no remarkably heavy guns, but merely their ordinary siege howitzers. There are no secrets about these weapons. They are of about the same calibre and weight as those of the Germans and of every other army. The question of transport limits the size of these weapons, and no nation can employ a gun which exceeds a certain well-defined standard. Just as, however, the fall of Namur and Liège was responsible for rumours of secret monsters from Krupp’s of infinite power, so the fall of Lemberg was responsible for similar rumours about the Russian guns. In each case the rumours were absurd, for the simple reason that guns of such immense power would be too heavy to move.

In any case, the Russians had every reason to be satisfied with the performance of their guns. They had proved themselves capable of reducing the finest modern fortifications. What had been accomplished at Lemberg could be done with equal facility at Przemysl, Cracow, Posen and all the other fortresses guarding the road to Berlin. Germany and Austria have spent millions on these fortresses, which have been proved to be practically worthless as obstacles in the path of an invader.

The remarkable speed with which the position had been taken, coupled with the enormous losses inflicted on the defending army, was certain to have a most damaging effect on the moral of the Austrians. Owing to racial jealousies and hatreds the Austrians had already displayed a lack of cohesion and fighting spirit, except perhaps in the German and Magyar regiments operating with the chief army in Poland. Now the last shreds of moral force would disappear. The troops had been sullen and half-hearted; now they were dejected as well. To extricate herself from a very critical position Austria demanded the utmost spirit and determination from her troops. In her hour of need there was every prospect of their failing her.

The magnitude of the defeat, coupled with the rout of the army in Poland, made it impossible for Austria to make any further offensive movement in Russia, or defensive movement in Galicia for some considerable time. Her armies were scattered in confusion and fleeing at random. To arrest the flight of a routed army, to disentangle the units and to present a battle front again is the most difficult task a commander can have. And in the present case the difficulties of the Austrian generals were increased a hundredfold by the fact that their men were not only defeated but broken in spirit. Further resistance east of Przemysl was out of the question. The Russians were undisputed masters of Eastern Galicia.

The Russians, therefore, gained an immense moral advantage over the troops facing them. The material gains were on a similar gigantic scale.

Lemberg had been expected by the Austrians to hold out indefinitely. It contained a year’s supply of provisions and munitions. These vast quantities of stores fell into the hands of the Russians, thus lightening very considerably the strain upon the transport and commissariat departments. Lemberg, moreover, being the capital of Galicia and the chief Austrian military centre north of the Carpathians, contained an arsenal, railway works, and numerous other works useful to the invaders. The huge capture of rolling stock was perhaps the most valuable of all. When it was seen that it was doubtful whether the town would be able to hold out long, the Austrians had collected all the available rolling stock, in order to remove as much as possible of the stores west to Przemysl and Cracow. The rapid success of the Russians prevented the carrying out of this plan. The Austrians made desperate efforts, but the lines became hopelessly congested, and not a train escaped. Thirty locomotives and immense numbers of carriages and trucks thus fell into the hands of the Russians.

Most important of all were the strategic results. Lemberg, being the chief town in Galicia, and the administrative centre, the town is naturally the point on which all the means of communication converge. Eight railways and as many high roads connect the town with every point of civil and military importance north of the Carpathians. It is, therefore, an ideal base for the Russian operation in Galicia. It commands the approaches to Przemysl on the west and to the passes over the Carpathians leading to Vienna and Buda-Pesth on the south. It has railway connection with no less than four points on the Russian frontier, allowing direct communication with the important military centres of Kiev on the east and Warsaw on the north.

Lemberg may therefore be described as the key to Austria. Its possession opened the way for the Russian armies westwards to Silesia and Berlin, southwards to Buda-Pesth and Vienna. It was the most important town in the whole eastern theatre of war, and its capture was far more than a stage in an advance, it was an event which must have the most far-reaching effects on the whole course of the war.

In addition to these direct advantages gained by Russia, the victory had other results affecting the course of the war. It roused the entire Slav race, giving increased enthusiasm and determination to those engaged in the war and strengthening the sympathies of those who had remained neutral. Bulgaria and Roumania, neither of whom were on friendly terms with the Serbs as a result of the recent wars in the Balkans, now veered round at the prospect of the power of the Austrians being broken. More important was the effect produced on Turkey. Bound to Germany in many ways, Turkey had been seriously considering whether she should not throw in her lot with the Kaiser in the hope of regaining some of the territory of which she had been despoiled after the Balkan war. German diplomacy had been making strenuous efforts to induce the Turkish Government to tempt fate once more. And relations between Russia and Turkey had been rather strained over the Goeben incident. The purchase of Germany’s finest Dreadnought, by Turkey, was of vital interest to Russia, who could not afford to allow Turkey to become the chief naval power in the south-east of Europe. In answer to her representations, Turkey had protested her determination to remain neutral, but there was considerable cause for doubting the sincerity of these protestations. The fact that there were numerous German officers with the Turkish army and superintending the placing of the heavy Krupp guns in position along the fortification of the Dardanelles did not tend to allay the suspicions. After Lemberg, however, Turkey realised that Austria was a broken power, that Germany was in a position of some jeopardy and that neither was a suitable ally for a nation whose chief object was to rob its neighbours.

Although, however, the capture of Lemberg was a triumph of the first magnitude which rendered the downfall of Austria inevitable, it must not be assumed that Russia’s task was to all intents and purposes accomplished. It was rashly predicted at the time, as in the case of every Russian victory, that the end of the war was in sight, that there was nothing to prevent the steam roller going full speed ahead to Berlin. Subsequent events have proved how ill-founded were these prophecies, most of which were based more on hope than on fact. Lemberg fell during the first week of September, and Russia is still a very long way from Berlin.

One triumph does not smash a nation, not even a ramshackle one such as Austria. After Lemberg she was in a desperate position, faced with almost certain defeat, but she still had considerable fighting power. France struggled for over a year after Sedan. And Lemberg was not such an overwhelmingly decisive event as Sedan. The latter resulted in the surrender in an Emperor, his finest generals, and his chief army. Lemberg, after all, only routed the chief Austrian army. In spite of terrific losses, and in spite of the demoralisation of her troops, Austria still had over two million men in the field and a large number of reserves, as yet untouched. Obviously she was still a power that could not be neglected.

Large numbers of Austrians were still in south-west Poland. The fortresses of Cracow and Przemysl were untaken, and were defended by practically the whole remaining military force of the country. And reinforcements were being hurried up to help stay the Russian advance. The operations against Serbia and Montenegro had been finally abandoned, further reserves were being called to the colours, and the armies thus raised were being hurried northward. German aid was also forthcoming. The success of the operations in Prussia had set free some of the army corps for the purpose for which they were originally intended.

Germany was also forced to realise that the Russian advance was a serious menace, and it was now that she transferred troops from the west to the east. This eased the task of the Allies, but, of course, made that of the Russians all the more difficult. The German advance into Western Poland, which has now continued for nearly two months, is as determined as that into France. Unless, therefore, the Russians can win a stupendous victory, this second phase of the war will be prolonged. There can, however, be no doubt as to the final result. Russia is inexhaustible.

To sum up, then, the capture of Lemberg was one of the most significant events of the whole war. The tide of victory had now definitely turned in favour of Russia, nothing short of a miracle could stem it. But Russia was still faced with a task of considerable magnitude, and much time and patient work was necessary before it could be finally accomplished.

To the unthinking, Russia has proved somewhat disappointing. Such great things were expected of her by those who knew nothing of the conditions in the eastern theatre of war. At the end of over a month of fighting she had not advanced a mile along the direct road to Berlin. Her army in the north, after an advance which was acclaimed as of tremendous importance, was defeated, driven back and practically forgotten. The south-west of Poland was still overrun by the enemy, and the only real advance that had been made was to penetrate about a hundred miles into Galicia.

Certainly it does not appear at first glance to be a very considerable achievement. It is only when matters are thoroughly investigated that the truth is grasped. Russia has achieved more than any other Power engaged in the war, and far more than could rightly have been expected of her. In the west the Germans advanced to the very gates of Paris, but they won no decisive victory; the allied armies remained intact and unbroken. The Allies then assumed the offensive, and the Germans were pushed back. But again no decisive battle has been fought, at least during the period under review. The German armies are, at the moment of writing, still intact and to all appearances capable of assuming a renewed offensive with vigour. It is only in the eastern theatre of war that victories have been won. Tarnopol, Tomasov, and Lemberg were not merely favourable engagements which resulted in the enemy being forced to retreat a few miles. They were victories which routed as well as defeated the enemy.

It must be remembered, too, that these operations in Galicia and Poland are being fought on the same vast scale as those in the west. They extend along a front of no less than 200 miles. In point of numbers engaged, the Galician and Polish operations are again very similar to those in France. In fact, the conditions in the east and west are more or less equal, and therefore Russia’s victories were the only really decisive engagements won by any of the armies.

Official opinion in Russia would have been quite satisfied if, by the beginning of September, the mobilisation was completed, and Warsaw, Vilna and Kiev still in Russian hands. It was certainly expected that at the end of a month’s warfare Russia would be engaged in fiercely defending her own territories and in making desperate efforts to drive the invaders back over the frontier. In short, she was fully expected to be faced with a month or more of sheer defensive fighting before she could hope to advance. The magnitude of her task in this direction will be obvious when it is remembered that, in addition to the inevitable slowness of mobilisation which renders her a comparatively easy prey for invaders, she has a frontier of well over 1,000 miles to defend against Germany and Austria.

Of course, much was made of the fact that Russia could mobilise no less than eight million men. It was assumed that an immense army of at least two million men would march on Berlin. By sheer force of numbers Russia was going to bring both Austria and Germany to their knees. In the first place there is a limit to human organising power, and it is doubtful whether any general can successfully direct the operations of such vast quantities of men. Napoleon himself never fought with a million men, and no modern general has yet proved that he possesses the military genius of the Corsican. Numbers are all very well up to a certain point, but in excess they are only a hindrance and a menace. The larger the army the slower it moves. It is the very unwieldiness of the armies in the west that has caused their lack of success. They have such enormous fighting power that there is no particular reason why either should suffer defeat.

Superfluous men do not add to an army’s efficiency. They only hamper its mobility and throw an extra strain on the commissariat and transport. The ideal army is the one which is large enough to accomplish its object thoroughly and no more. Employing two men to do the work of one is merely a wasteful proceeding.

Russia has no intention of putting all her eight million men in the firing line. Her object is to place adequate armies in the field and to maintain those armies at their full strength of first-class fighting men. She has no particular ambition to make herself bankrupt.

In view of the difficulties with which she had to contend and the gigantic nature of her task, Russia may be said to have accomplished a brilliant feat in rendering the ultimate defeat of Austria inevitable and in opening up the most advantageous road to Berlin. The remarkable success of her mobilisation has been followed by equally brilliant achievements in the field. Soukhomlinov’s work has not been in vain. Russia has indeed fulfilled her part and made the issue of the war as sure as it is humanly possible to make it. Much remains to be done, but the tasks of smashing Austria and reducing Germany to her knees will now be taken up with every confidence.

The events in Russia have been as significant as those in the battlefields. Not only has this war proved that Russia as a military power has come into its own at last, but it marks the beginning of a new era in Russian history. The world is witnessing the rebirth of Russia. The nation is united as it has never previously been. The old autocratic institutions are passing away, the Duma is gaining strength, the coming rehabilitation of Poland is a master-stroke of liberalism. A new Russia is emerging. Democracy is coming into its own at last in the empire of the Tzar.

Printed in Great Britain by Wyman & Sons Ltd., London and Reading