CHAPTER I

THE SITUATION BEFORE THE WAR

When the Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria was assassinated at Sarajevo in Serbia on June 28, 1914, it never for a moment occurred to any one in this country that the crime could in any way affect the destinies of the First or Grenadier Regiment of Footguards. No one dreamed that, before another year had passed, not only would the three Battalions be fighting in a European war, but there would even be a 4th Battalion at the front, in addition to a 5th Reserve Battalion of almost unwieldy proportions.

Even when Austria began to show her teeth, it still seemed an "incident" quite beyond our horizon. If Austria and Serbia did come to blows, Great Britain was not even indirectly involved, and the British Army, therefore, remained unmoved. The Balkan peoples were constantly in a state of warlike commotion, but their troubles hardly affected the great British Empire. The war clouds, that from time to time darkened the European sky, had hitherto always been dispersed. More than once of late years the German Emperor had rattled his sword in the scabbard, and talked or telegraphed to the very limits of indiscretion, but nothing had ever come of it, nor did it seem at all probable that the assassination of an Austrian Archduke could be made the pretext for a European conflagration.

There were, however, certain elements of danger in the European situation at this particular juncture. The creation of the Triple Alliance--Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Italy--had made necessary some counter-move by the other European Powers. And the _entente_ between England and France, initiated by King Edward, and originally intended merely for the settlement of outstanding differences between the two countries, became eventually the basis of a second grouping of nations. This _entente_ was followed by one between England and Russia; and although in neither was there anything in the nature of a defensive alliance, it was well known that there was in existence--though the exact terms of it had never been made public--a far stronger agreement between France and Russia.

Meanwhile it was generally known that, all the time these several _ententes_ were being formed, Germany had been steadily preparing for war. For forty years, with characteristic thoroughness of method, the Germans had been diligently organising their forces to this end. Not only had the Army been perfected into a first-class fighting machine, but the civil population had all been assigned the parts they were to play in the coming campaign. Trade problems had been handled, not so much with a view to commercial prosperity pure and simple, as to ensure to Germany a sufficient supply of the commodities which would be needed in a great war. Gigantic preparations had been made for a limitless output of shells and ammunition, and plans carefully elaborated for the conversion of factories of all kinds into workshops for war material. The whole State Railway system was controlled in such a way that, on the declaration of war, troops could be instantly concentrated at any selected spot with the utmost speed.

While many civilians saw and deprecated the arrogance and madness of such a policy, the military element, supported by the Emperor, was anxiously pressing for an opportunity of proving to the world the efficiency of the organisation it had created. It was only to be expected that the generals, who knew how vastly superior the German Army was to any other continental army, should hanker for an opportunity of showing off their perfect war-machine.

The attitude of the bankers and merchants towards the war was not clear. Originally, without doubt, they had favoured the insinuating methods of peaceful penetration, which had been so successful in the past, and by which they intended to dominate Europe, but just before the war they appear to have been allured by the prospect of large indemnities from France and Russia and to have withdrawn their opposition. They were persuaded by the military party that by war, and by war alone, could the domination of the world by Germany be achieved, and that now was the time to realise their dream. Young officers of both services made no secret of their wish for war, and constantly drank "to the Day" when they met at mess. The more intelligent portion of the German population quieted what conscience they had with the comfortable reflection that all military and naval preparations were merely ordinary precautions for defence. Indeed this theory, cunningly instilled into the German people by the military party, was so generally accepted that even after the war was declared the majority was under the delusion that it was fighting only for the defence of the Fatherland.

Although the attitude of Germany towards England did not play any prominent part in the events which led up to the war, there undoubtedly existed in Germany a deep hatred of this country. Commercial rivalry and the desire of the Germans to found a Colonial Empire on the same lines as ours would hardly account for this feeling, which permeated every class, and it is to the _Flotte Verein_ or Navy League that we must look if we wish to find the reason. Originally instituted to instil into the youth of Germany a desire for sea power, this organisation, by means of propaganda, speeches, and pamphlets, succeeded in convincing the rising generation that we were their natural enemies. The arguments were invariably pointed by reference to the British Fleet, which, it was said, could dominate Germany's world policy, and so young Germans grew up with a feeling of terror for the British Fleet and hatred for the British nation.

In spite of everything, England slumbered on, hypnotised by politicians who had convinced themselves by a process of mental gymnastics that war was an impossibility. The contingency of a British Army being sent to France was never even discussed by the House of Commons, and the logical outcome of our European policy appears never to have occurred to either House of Parliament.

While Germany was studiously preparing for war, we were engaged in academic discussions on disarmament, and although members of the Imperial Defence Committee and a limited number of Cabinet Ministers may have known of the possibility of our having to send an expeditionary force to France, the man in the street, and even the majority of members of Parliament, were completely in the dark as to the true significance of the position of affairs in Europe.

The whole situation was singularly favourable to the Germans. Never before had they been so strong, and probably never again would they have such a powerful Fleet and Army. For some years it had been growing clear to them that if ever they were to strike, they must strike soon. The Socialists were becoming stronger every day, and there were constant grumblings, which ever-increasing prosperity failed to stifle, at the enormous expenditure on armaments. The nation might weaken as the years went on, and there was every probability that the Government would find it impossible to maintain indefinitely a huge Army and a huge Fleet. If they failed to take advantage of this opportunity they might never again be in a position to dominate Europe.

Though Austria had long been tied to the wheels of the German chariot, there was always the danger of the Hungarians and Bohemians refusing to support Germany, should the quarrel be purely German. It was therefore necessary to make the _casus belli_ essentially Austrian. What better opportunity could ever offer itself than the assassination of the heir to the Austrian throne? Moreover, the new heir, perhaps soon to be the new Emperor, might not be willing to endorse all his predecessor's pledges, and Austria might conceivably drift apart from her ally. Clearly, therefore, if Germany, with Austria's help, was to strike a blow at Russia and France, she must do so forthwith.

The war party held that together Germany and Austria were more than a match for France and Russia. Italy was a member of the Triple Alliance, and would either come in on their side or remain neutral. Great Britain, it imagined, would be unable to take any part owing to her internal troubles. It appears to have taken it for granted that the Dominions and Colonies would in any case seize the occasion for declaring their independence, and that there would certainly be a second mutiny in India. There was therefore no need to consider the British Empire in calculating the chances of success. A parade march to Paris would settle France in a short time, and then the whole forces of the two Empires would be turned on Russia. A glorious and victorious peace would be signed before the end of the year.

With such calculations as these, it is hardly to be wondered at that the rulers of Germany decided on war at once. To their dismay, however, Serbia submitted to the terms dictated by Austria, and it seemed at one moment that the whole incident would be closed. Acting on Russia's advice, Serbia agreed to all the points in the Austrian memorandum but two. These practically threatened her independence, but there was nothing that could not be satisfactorily settled by an impartial tribunal. But, as despatches and telegrams were exchanged between the European Powers, it gradually became clear that the original dispute between Austria and Serbia had now nothing to do with the matter. Sir Edward Grey made a final attempt to avert war by proposing a conference, but this proposal came to naught, and the determination on the part of Germany to force a war appeared to be stronger than ever. However sincere the Emperor's wish for peace may have been, he was powerless in the hands of a military autocracy which he himself had created. Ever since he had ascended the throne, he had set the military over the civilian element, and now, finding himself powerless to resist the demands of the war party, he determined to place himself at their head.

On July 31 Germany despatched an ultimatum to Russia demanding immediate demobilisation. This was tantamount to a declaration of war, but war was not actually declared till the next day. The declaration of war with France followed as a natural sequence.

Such was the situation at the beginning of August. With disinterested detachment the British Empire watched the preliminary negotiations, and even when war was declared between the two groups of Powers, public opinion was divided as to which course we should adopt. When, however, Germany violated the neutrality of Belgium, all doubt was removed, and we declared war on August 4. The whole Empire was stirred to the depths, and in London huge crowds paraded the streets and assembled outside Buckingham Palace to cheer the King and the Queen. The wildest rumours were circulated and believed. Fantastic tales were told to every one in confidence by well-informed men in the street, and eagerly swallowed by excited dupes.

Then the curtain was pulled down, and the British public was allowed to know nothing. What troops were going, where they were going, when they were going, all became matters of conjecture.

Meanwhile, silently and surely, the British Expeditionary Force found its way over to France.