CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE STORM BURSTS.

In the basin of the great American river Mississippi one may go forth on a spring morning with the sun brightly shining and a blue sky overhead, yet within a single hour all may be terribly changed. The wind suddenly begins to roar, and in a few minutes a storm bursts in awful fury. Whole forests are laid low; houses, villages, and towns are swept into ruin; men, women, and children lie dead beneath the stone and timber that sheltered them; the pride and labour of years are destroyed in a moment, and terror and desolation stalk the land. The terrible blast sweeps on, but gradually abates its ruthless might, and by nightfall all is calm again. The stars gleam brightly from the storm-swept sky, and the moon shines with a message of cheer to the survivors, who with the morning light begin to repair the ravages which they have suffered, and to go about their business once more, inspired by that hope which "springs eternal in the human breast."

Somewhat thus may we picture the Eastern arena of battle during the year 1915. A mighty tornado suddenly burst upon the Russian armies, and the whole aspect of the war was changed. The smiling sky of early April was a fierce rack of roaring thunder clouds by the middle of May. The onward sweep of the whirlwind could not be resisted; the Russians reeled beneath the shock; hundreds of thousands of their soldiers were swept into eternity, and for months hopeless ruin stared the survivors in the face. They recoiled before the terrible blast, and fell back into the vastnesses of their land, leaving behind them all the gains of nine months' hard battling. Whole provinces were yielded; great cities fell into the hands of their foes, yet with sublime resolution they still plodded eastwards until the fury of the storm began to abate. By this time they had knitted up their strength anew, and were strong enough not merely to resist the failing onset, but to make headway against it. And so it came about that the dire gloom of early summer brightened into new hope by autumn, and Russia's foes, though they had reft from her enormous tracts of territory, knew in their hearts that they had failed. They had aimed at utterly destroying their enemy, but they had done nothing of the kind, and the new territory which they had won was likely to become a Pandora's[53] chest of troubles. By the end of the year they were strung out on a line of nine hundred miles, across the marshes and plains of Russia.

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On page 125 of this volume I told you that with the fall of Przemysl on 22nd March the Allies were full of hope that before the close of the summer Cracow would fall, Silesia would be entered, the Russians would be sweeping through Hungary, and the end of the war would be in sight. But at the very moment when they were cherishing these rosy hopes, there was much weakness in the Russian armies. They were holding far too long a line for the number of men and guns which they could put into the field; their forces were not joined up, but were divided by gaps, and they had not sufficient railway lines to enable them to move troops and supplies to any point which might be threatened.

Their greatest weakness, however, was their shortage of artillery, machine guns, rifles, and ammunition. They had multitudes of men, but they could not arm them properly. Large numbers of their recruits were without rifles, and had to wait in the trenches, often under heavy fire, until they could take up the arms and ammunition of the wounded. This grave shortage of munitions was guessed at the time, but the truth was only fully known in February 1916, when the Russian Minister of War lifted the veil. He told us that prior to the outbreak of hostilities the Russians had relied on Germany for most of their war material, and for all the chemicals which enabled them to manufacture high-explosive shells. The consequence was that when the German supply was cut off, the Russians had to build munition factories, and make the necessary chemicals for themselves. It is more than likely, too, that there was serious wrongdoing in high quarters, for in March 1916 the general who was Minister of War in the early months of 1915 was brought to trial. For these reasons the Russians could not for a considerable time properly munition their armies, and this led to the great misfortune which I am about to describe.

Despite their weaknesses, the Russians were too near success for the German High Command to feel comfortable. The Russian armies in Galicia were only fifty miles from Cracow; they had won fifty miles or more of the Carpathian watershed, and in some places they commanded the southern ends of the passes. Unless they were checked, and checked speedily, they would sweep down upon the great granary of Hungary, and Germany would lose her greatest source of wheat supplies. There was no time to be lost. A gigantic effort must begin immediately, and the Russians must be cleared out of Galicia altogether.

Preparations were at once made with the utmost secrecy and dispatch, and before the Russians had more than an inkling of what was on foot, Germany was ready to strike. Never before in the history of the world have so many guns and men been so silently and swiftly brought up to an enemy's front. The secret was wonderfully kept. Train after train heavily laden with hundreds of big guns and three-quarters of all the shells that had been made in the busy munition factories of Germany during the winter was hurried to Galicia, and soon the new depots erected near the Donajetz were full to overflowing. Then followed many pontoons and much bridging material, for many rivers would have to be crossed on the line of the proposed advance. New hospital stations were established, a network of telegraph lines was erected, and great herds of cattle for feeding the armies were penned behind the German lines. Then, with the same speed and secrecy, masses of troops were hurried into Galicia, and before long there were two millions of men between Bukovina and Cracow. Not until everything was ready did Dmitrieff discover his danger.

The plan of campaign was as follows. Von Mackensen was to be provided with not less than 1,500 guns and ten army corps, and with these he was to batter his way through the Russian lines. He meant to overwhelm the Russian trenches by means of a hurricane of artillery fire, and then thrust forward his men in close order, wave after wave, and drive the broken and dazed enemy before him. He was going to do what we had done at Neuve Chapelle, but he had far better prospects of success, for the Russians had neglected to prepare second and third lines of defence, and they were woefully deficient in artillery, rifles, and ammunition. Once he could get the Russians on the run he might envelop and utterly destroy them. At any rate, he would hurl them back to the river San.

This map shows you the Russian line on 28th April. By this time Dmitrieff was aware that a mighty force of Germans was in front of him. He sent an urgent message to Ivanov, begging for two corps as reinforcements; but by some mistake the message never reached headquarters, and he was forced to meet the terrible thrust of the enemy with only his winter strength.

Von Mackensen began the action by an advance on Gorlice, and Dmitrieff was forced to weaken his centre in order to strengthen his left wing. Meanwhile the real attack was beginning farther north. Midway between Gorlice and Tarnow you will see a break on the Russian front. It was against this point that von Mackensen made his great effort. On the morning of 1st May hundreds of his big guns began to roar, and soon shells were falling fast and thick on the Russian trenches. It is said that no less than 700,000 shells were hurled against the Russian positions on that day. Nothing could live in the whirlwind of death, and speedily the Russian trenches were wiped out, and thousands of Russians with them.

Meanwhile pontoons were pushed across the river, and as soon as the bombardment ceased wave after wave of Germans in close order surged forward. By the next day they had broken through the Russian line, and the whole of the front was turned. There was nothing for it but swift retreat. Nor were the Russians able to make a stand until they were twenty miles from the position which they had occupied all winter.

On the little river Wisloka they halted, and turned their faces to the foe. The line of the river gave them but a poor defence; but it was necessary that they should hold back the enemy if Brussilov's army, which lay along the foothills of the Carpathians, was to escape. By this time the famous Caucasian corps had been hurried up to stem the German torrent. These devoted men, though they had no heavy guns, defied the terrible artillery fire of the enemy, and at length managed to get to grips with him. They fought with supreme valour; they captured one of the German batteries, took 7,000 prisoners, and slew many thousands more. Not until they had lost 10,000 men did they perceive that no human valour could avail against Mackensen's merciless guns. For five priceless days they held out, and then were forced to retreat towards the little river Wistok.

Soon the retreat became something like a rout, and Brussilov's army was in deadly peril. For a moment it looked as if von Mackensen was about to roll up the two halves of Dmitrieff's army and achieve another Sedan. But the Russians managed to push out strong forces towards Sanok and check the advancing enemy. The five days' stand on the Wisloka and this new movement enabled Brussilov, after much desperate fighting, to withdraw his troops from the foothills, and to retreat eastwards. Many of his men who were south of the Dukla and Lupkow Passes were cut off and made prisoners.

This check enabled the Russian armies to withdraw towards the San and take up the position shown upon the map (page 293). There was now no fear of a rout, and they reached the new position in perfect order. So far all von Mackensen's efforts to roll them up had failed. He had won a great victory, it is true; in a fortnight he had pushed back Dmitrieff some eighty-five miles, and had taken large numbers of prisoners and much war material. He had loosed upon the Russians such a storm of fire as had never been known before in the history of the world, and, blasted and scorched, they had fallen back hurriedly with overwhelming numbers hard on their heels. They had suffered awful losses, but they had not been destroyed. Most armies under such terrible punishment would have broken into flying fragments, but the Russians showed all the dourness and fortitude of their race and managed to hold together. Their rearguards freely sacrificed themselves, that the army might make good its escape. It was unbroken and undefeated at the Wistok, and the latter part of its retreat to the San was slow and orderly. The German victory was thus matched by an equally great Russian achievement. On 12th May the Russian army, after passing through an agony that seemed to promise its total destruction, lay along the San with its face still to the foe.

While the Russians were retreating from the Wistok to the San, the Grand Duke Nicholas and his staff looked the facts fairly in the face. They knew that they were hopelessly outclassed by the Germans both in guns and in number of men, and it was idle to suppose that they could resist von Mackensen's terrible thunderstorm of shell until they were equally well supplied. If they gave battle to the foe they would be utterly wiped out. As a Russian soldier put it, "We have only one weapon, the living breast of the soldier." The Grand Duke finally decided to retreat, not for leagues, but for hundreds of miles. He would draw the Germans on and on until he led them into the very heart of Russia if need be. As the Germans followed him eastwards they would leave the railways behind them and be forced to move their monster guns and heavy loads of shell over country without railways and without good roads. Thousands of square miles of territory would have to be given up to the invader, but as he pushed eastward his strength would grow less and less, and the time would be gained for Russia to supply herself with the guns and munitions which she so sorely lacked. Then, at last, her hour would strike. She would be able to turn and rend the weakened foe.

Such was the Grand Duke's plan. He knew full well all that it involved. Przemysl and Lemberg, at whose capture joy bells had rung throughout all Russia, would have to be left behind. The great city of Warsaw, which had thrice defied von Hindenburg, must be abandoned. The line of the Vistula must be allowed to fall into German hands, and probably the German flag would wave above the great Polish fortresses; but if the armies could be saved, all might yet be well.

In our first volume (page 64) I told you how Napoleon, the greatest war lord that Europe has ever known, marched a great army into Russia in the year 1812, and by so doing rang his death knell. The Russians were now about to repeat the tactics of 1812, and observers in the West prophesied that the Kaiser would be led into the same trap and suffer the same fate. But we must remember that the conditions had changed in many respects since Napoleon's day. He failed chiefly because he could not obtain sufficient supplies. The country through which he advanced had been swept clear of everything but wood and water, and all the food and munitions that his armies needed had to be sent forward by horse-drawn wagons along tracks which frequently ended in morasses. When these wagons failed to reach the troops, the men starved. Nowadays every army is accompanied by engineers who can build roads and light railways very quickly, and so keep the advancing army in touch with its bases. For example, during the campaign which I am about to describe, a German general boasted that his men, who then lay within a hundred miles of Riga, were eating bread baked in Berlin the day before. He also said that his engineers could construct fifty miles of asphalted road in two days. Motor transport has largely superseded the horse, and long distances, given fair roads, can be covered very quickly. Thus you see that in our time Napoleon's great difficulty need not be fatal.

There was, however, much danger in pushing far "into the bowels of the land." As the German lines of communication grew longer and longer, supplies would take more and more time to reach the armies, and there would be more and more chances that the line might be impeded or cut. Thousands of men would have to be taken from the firing-line to hold the railways and roads along which the convoys travelled, and thus the attack would gradually lose force, and at last be unable to resist a vigorous onset by the enemy.

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Now we must return to the San, where the Russian armies were lying ready to retreat when the word was given. From the map on page 293 you notice that the Russian lines bulged out in front of Przemysl. Ivanov was prepared to give up this fortress, but not until he had cleared it of everything that might be useful to the enemy. In order to gain time he fought a holding battle in the centre and struck hard on the flanks. On the morning of 15th May his right began a three days' battle, in which the Austrians were well beaten, and after losing 30,000 men had to fall back. The enemy was caught in the open and the Russians plied the bayonet with deadly effect. On the borders of Bukovina the Russian left also had a success, and the enemy was driven back as much as thirty miles. But in the centre, where Mackensen was advancing, a very different state of things prevailed. The salient round Przemysl was fiercely attacked in three places, and its sides were driven in until the neck was less than ten miles across. Attacks were also made at two places farther north. When the Russian line was pierced at these points, the Austro-Germans were able to swing southwards towards the main railway, and the days of Przemysl were numbered.

On 31st May the fortress fell, and at 3.30 on the morning of 2nd June von Mackensen entered the city. The Russians had held it a little over two months. The capture of Przemysl was a great feather in von Mackensen's cap, but it was no great prize. He found it little more than an empty shell. Guns, rolling stock, and supplies had been moved eastwards, and only a little booty fell into his hands.

Why, you ask, did not von Mackensen push on more quickly and keep the Russians on the run? You must remember that his great weapon consisted of an enormous number of heavy guns which could only be moved slowly. As soon as the great machine lumbered up, the Russians were bound to retreat, but while it was slowly advancing to a new position, they were able to hold back the enemy on the wings and send away eastward all the valuable contents of the city. The great danger was always in the centre, where von Mackensen was making his terrible thrust; on the wings the Russians were able to delay the enemy.

The fall of Przemysl compelled the Russians to give ground once more, and on 14th June their line ran as shown in the map on page 293. While the retreat was proceeding, Brussilov scored a victory. When the German right wing had pushed through the forests from Stryj, had crossed the Dniester, and was travelling by bad country roads, Brussilov caught it at a disadvantage. A three days' battle followed, in which the enemy was flung back across the Dniester with heavy loss. Some 17 guns, 49 machine guns, and more than 15,000 prisoners were captured, including a whole company of the Prussian Guard. Successes on the wings, however, could avail nothing while von Mackensen was blasting his way through the centre.

A glance at the map shows you what a very strong position the Russians held from Grodek southward. In front of the city for fifteen miles there is a series of shallow, swampy lakes, with but few roads crossing the dry ground between them. Farther south lies a great district of marshes. The Russian lines behind the lakes and the marshes could not be forced, but they would be turned if the Germans could break through to the north of Grodek and force the line of the Dniester to the south of the city.

Von Mackensen now moved on a broad front towards Rava Russka, and as soon as his great guns began their terrific onslaught on the Russian lines, the fate of Lemberg was no longer in doubt. On 19th June he broke through, and on the same day the German right wing crossed the Dniester. Next day a fierce battle was fought for Rava Russka. Von Mackensen won it, and then swung his forces southwards in the direction of Lemberg. The Grodek position had been turned, and once more the Russians were forced to retreat. The way to Lemberg was open, and on 22nd June the Austrians entered the city. After nine months the capital of Galicia passed once more into their hands. Vienna, Buda Pest, and scores of other places in Austria-Hungary broke into loud rejoicing. Towns and villages were bedecked with flags, and joyous peals rang out from every belfry.

There was good reason why the Austrians should rejoice at the recovery of Lemberg. They had not only regained the capital of Galicia, but they were once more masters of a city that afforded them a splendid jumping-off place for carrying the war into Russia. As you see by the map, Lemberg is almost on the Russian frontier, and six lines of railway meet in it. So long as the Austrians could hold on to Lemberg, Galicia was safe. Its recapture was, therefore, a triumph for von Mackensen; but though he had reconquered a province and its capital, he had not brought the war any nearer to its end. He had neither shattered the Russian armies nor split them in twain.

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It is said that one day in June, just before the fall of Lemberg, the Kaiser met von Hindenburg and his Chief of Staff, von Falkenhayn, in the castle at Posen. The Kaiser was in high spirits, and he declared that the moment had now arrived for the capture of Warsaw. He already saw himself riding into the city at the head of his troops as the conqueror and deliverer of Poland. The two generals gladly agreed with his proposal. They believed that the Western front could be held without much effort, and that with the mighty engine of artillery which they now possessed they could batter through the Russian lines, and seize the great city which had so long defied them.

After the fall of Lemberg, Warsaw formed the apex of a great salient. It could only hold out so long as the two great railway lines which meet in the city were in the hands of the Russians. The first of these routes runs north-east through Grodno, Vilna, and Dvinsk to Petrograd. The other line runs south-east through Ivangorod, Lublin, Cholm, and Rovno to Kiev.[54] Von Mackensen was already pushing northwards towards this southern line of railway, and the Russians were falling back before him. It was now the business of von Hindenburg to advance from East Prussia and capture the northern line. Once the railways were cut, Warsaw would fall. Von Falkenhayn, however, hoped to do more than merely capture the city and a few more thousand square miles of Polish ground. He hoped to make an end of the Russian armies in the salient, and this he proposed to do by carrying out a great enveloping movement. While von Mackensen was pushing on towards the southern railway, he would make a fierce thrust at the northern part of the same salient, in order to cut the Petrograd line between Warsaw and Bialystok. But this was not the whole of the plan. A German army under von Buelow had already overrun Courland,[55] and was not far from Riga. While the two thrusts were being made at the salient, this force was to hack its way south, seize Kovno and Vilna, and cut the Petrograd line far to the eastward. The Russians in the salient would thus be taken in flank and in rear; they would be squeezed between the enemy on the north and the south, and probably would be surrounded and forced to surrender. Russia would thus be crippled for many a month to come, and then the might of Germany could be flung against the Western front.

We will now follow the fortunes of the three great thrusts that were about to be made--the thrust against the southern railway, the thrust against the Petrograd railway between Warsaw and Grodno, and the thrust against the same railway still farther east. Before the end of June five German armies, with von Mackensen in the centre, were moving steadily northwards to cut the southern railway line between Lublin and Kovel. They had now left the railways of Galicia behind them, and were crossing a country of forests, marshy plains, and bad roads. The great guns moved slowly, but the armies met with little opposition, and by 2nd July they were less than thirty miles from the railway.

Round about Krasnik they came into touch with the Russians, who held a strong position, with marshes and streams on their flanks. The army of the Archduke Joseph, to the left of von Mackensen, was heavily assailed, and during four days of attack and counter-attack was driven back with the loss of 15,000 prisoners, a very large number of machine guns, and heavy casualties in dead and wounded. For a week the German advance was checked. It began again on 16th July, when von Mackensen, who had bridged the marshy streams, was able to get his big guns working. Once more he blasted his way through, and on the 18th was within ten miles of the railway.

Now let us see what was going on in the north. On 14th July von Buelow's army in Courland began to push forward, and at the same time another army attacked the Niemen front. The great thrust against the Warsaw salient was entrusted to von Gallwitz, who now advanced against the line of the Narev. He made good progress, and the Russians fell back, fighting stubbornly. They retired across the Narev on the 20th, and three days later von Gallwitz won several crossings of the river. By means of one of these crossings he pushed forward until by 25th July, though the river line had not yet been won on a broad front, he lay within twenty miles of the Warsaw-Petrograd railway. Meanwhile the German heavy guns were battering down the outworks of the river fortresses, and the army of the Niemen was within sixty miles of Vilna.

The Warsaw salient was now in great peril. Spears had been planted against its breast in three different directions. At the apex a spearhead was but fifteen miles away; another was only ten miles from the southern railway, and a third was but twenty miles from the northern railway. The fortified line of the Narev had been broken through, and the salient was doomed. Once more the Grand Duke had to make a decision upon which hung the fate of the Russian armies. Should he try by means of the great Polish triangle of fortresses--Novo Georgievsk, Ivangorod, Brest Litovski--to hold the salient, or should he sacrifice Poland and fall back to the east? The second course was by far the more difficult. To withdraw his armies along the three railways left to him, while the spearheads were closing in hour by hour, and any day two of the three roads of escape might be lost, was a most perilous task. His wornout troops would have to hold the sides of the salient for some weeks while the main body retired. If the sides were forced in, it was more than likely that his armies would be utterly overwhelmed. It seemed easier to hold on to the fortresses, and hope that in some way or other the enemy might be checked.

The Grand Duke refused to take any risks; he chose the more difficult task. He determined to withdraw his armies from Poland altogether, and fall back eastward and ever eastward, until his forces could be properly fed with munitions and were ready to make a stand. It was a great resolve, and few commanders would have dared to make it. Probably no other army could have made such a retirement without losing heart altogether, and hopelessly breaking down.

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The last days of July saw strange scenes in Warsaw. The whole city was stripped of everything that might be useful to the enemy. The great factories were dismantled, and their plant sent eastward. Gold from the banks, books and papers from the Government offices, relics and sacred pictures from the churches, bells from the towers, copper from the roofs, wire from the telegraph poles--all were piled on great wagons which followed each other in a long procession across the Vistula bridges. Half a million of the city's inhabitants streamed eastwards in carts and in hackney carriages. Only the Poles and the poorest of the Jews remained.

About 24th July the forces in front of Warsaw began to fall back into the suburbs of the city. Meanwhile along the Narev a fierce holding battle was being fought to enable the troops in the northern part of the salient to get away. Five days later Mackensen cut the southern line between Lublin and Cholm, and the sides of the triangle were fast closing in. By this time all the stores and guns were safe, and the troops in the centre were moving through the city. Every day German aeroplanes dropped bombs in the streets, and soon, as the German shells burst among the houses, great fires began to flame up in the western suburbs. At three o'clock on the morning of Thursday, 5th August, three loud explosions shook the city. The Vistula bridges had been blown up.

Three hours later German cavalry galloped in, and that evening Prince Leopold of Bavaria with his suite rode through the streets on the way to the palace. On the eastern horizon he saw the red glow which Napoleon had seen--the flames rising from crops and villages which the Russians had fired as they fell back before the invader.

The Kaiser made no state entry into Warsaw. His exultation, however, appeared in the following telegram which he sent to his sister, the Queen of Greece: "My destructive sword has crushed the Russians. They will need six months to recover. In a short time I will announce new victories won by my brave soldiers, who have shown themselves invincible in battle against nearly the whole world. The war drama is now coming to a close."

[Footnote 53: _Pan-do´ra._ In ancient Greek story, a goddess who possessed a box containing every kind of ill; this was opened, and the ills escaped and spread all over the earth, Hope alone being left at the bottom of the box.]

[Footnote 54: For these railway lines, and other places mentioned in this chapter, see map, p. 311.]

[Footnote 55: Or Kurland, Baltic province of Russia between the Gulf of Riga on the north and the province of Kovno on the south. It has many small, scattered lakes, and almost one-third of the surface is covered with forest.]