The retiring column, leaving the shelter of the wood, encountered heavy machine-gun fire, and, greatly depleted in numbers, finally gained the first line of the second position at Beaumont.

No attempt was made by the Germans to advance on the Woevre front. In the territory of Soumazannes, La Ville Wood, and Herbebois the French firmly maintained the supporting line.

The tactics pursued by the Germans during the first days of the battle of Verdun were ably considered and not lacking in thoroughness. Their favorite method was to break into defensive sectors with heavy artillery, and then completely surround them by barrage fire. After the destructive work of the guns they sent forward a scouting party of a dozen or fifteen men to report on the extent of the damage. Following them came bombers and pioneers, and then a strong body of infantry. Theoretically, this system had merit, but it did not always work out as perfectly as the German strategists had planned. Their artillery fire often failed to win the ground and make it safe for their infantry to advance and occupy it. The French artillery endeavored to isolate the attacks, should they succeed in reaching the French lines, and their fearless infantry by vigorous counterattacks prevented the Germans from making any important advance.

The fighting for Haumont was continued on February 22, 1916. The strong resistance the French had offered to the furious attacks of the German infantry may be called a failure. But they succeeded in holding back the Germans until their reserves had time to reach the scene and prepare a new defensive line.

Early in the morning of the 22d the Germans had increased their bombardment. Shells of the largest caliber fell, uprooting trees and demolishing houses.

When the Germans attacked Consenvoye Wood with flame projectors and advanced toward the western edge of Haumont Wood, the French could not move out of the village, so dense was the curtain of fire around them.

Braving this blasting storm, troops of the Haumont garrison occupied the half-ruined works on both sides and in front of the place, while the southern exit was held by some reserves that had reached the scene.

Haumont and the ravine to the south were flooded with German shells of the largest caliber. Early in the afternoon they were falling at the rate of twenty a minute. The French held on undismayed. The village crumbled into a mass of debris. The principal French defense, a redoubt of concrete, was smashed, and some eighty men were buried in the ruins. A number of machine guns were also lost, and the ammunition dump was destroyed.

About 5 o'clock in the evening a German battalion attacked Haumont, advancing in three columns. The remnant of French troops manned the trenches. The few remaining machine guns were brought into action and, being well served, wrought havoc in the enemy's ranks, but the deadly advance continued, regardless of the heavy losses incurred.

The French then assembled every survivor in some trenches southeast of Haumont, and with three machine guns continued the fight. But the Germans had the advantage of numbers. They penetrated to the center of the village, and finally surrounded the French battalion headquarters.

After premises were fired by means of flame projectors, the French colonel and his staff, facing capture or death, were fortunate in escaping through the German machine-gun barrage without a single casualty. They had been forced to evacuate Haumont, but their sustained and splendid defense of the place was one of the bravest deeds that marked the Homeric struggle at Verdun.

At the close of the day the French still held the greater part of Herbebois and Wavrille, but La Ville Wood was in the hands of the enemy. The French line now ran by Hill 240, the Mormont Farm, and the intermediate position of Samogneux-Brabant. Their defensive works and trenches having been destroyed or made useless, the French had no cover. Fighting must now be carried on in the open. Often the French artillery fired at point-blank range regardless of their own sacrifices so long as they could mow down the enemy.



Brabant was evacuated by the French during the night of February 22, 1916. At Samogneux, owing to the intensity of the German fire, they remained on the defensive. Several counterattacks to the east were carried out which greatly improved the French positions.

In the Wavrille sector the French had succeeded during the night in connecting their new line with the Herbebois sector, though incessantly bombarded. Wavrille Wood and Hill 351 must be protected, for their capture would enable the Germans to sweep the Beaumont-Hill 344 line.

After repeated attacks the Germans captured Wavrille Wood, where they were kept hemmed in by the French barrage and unable to proceed. Fighting in the Herbebois sector had raged throughout the day, and during the night the French were forced to withdraw.

When February 24, 1916, dawned the French line ran by Beaumont, the northern edge of the Bois des Fosses, and covered La Chaume Wood. The Germans continued to bombard the Woevre front, but did not attempt to attack as the French artillery held them to their trenches.

During the day the Germans, who had been hemmed in at Samogneux, after repeated struggles to debouch from that place, succeeded when night came in capturing Hill 304.

From the southern edge of Caures Wood the Germans slowly advanced through the heavily timbered ravines up the slopes of Anglemont Hill. On the side of Fosses Wood they bombarded French positions all the morning of February 24, 1916. East of Rappe Wood and to the north of Wavrille Wood they assembled strong forces. Two French battalions succeeded in carrying part of the wood, and were then held up by machine-gun fire. Fosses Wood and Beaumont were deluged by German shells of every caliber. An infantry attack gave the Germans the southern edge of Wavrille Wood, where the French clung tenaciously. Fosses Wood, then Beaumont, were captured, then La Chaume Wood. The French situation had become serious. At 2.20 in the afternoon a large force of Germans advanced between Louvemont and Hill 347, and though the French made desperate efforts to stay the advancing waves, Les Chambrettes, Beaumont, and Fosses and Caures Woods were occupied by the enemy.



PART IV—THE WAR AT SEA



CHAPTER XV

NAVAL SITUATION AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SECOND YEAR—SUBMARINE EXPLOITS

Naval events such as the world had never known were believed to be impending at the beginning of the war's second year. With the land forces of the belligerents in a fierce deadlock, it seemed that a decision must come upon the sea. Assuredly the Allies were willing, and Germany had accomplished things in her shipyards that for sheer determination and efficiency developed to the last degree, were comparable to her finest deeds of arms. None doubted that she longed with a grim hope for such a meeting. Helgoland and the newly enlarged Kiel Canal were hives where an intensive industry kept every man and vessel fit. And the navy grew while it waited.

It was not the work of a day, though, nor of a generation, to match the sea power that Great Britain had spent centuries in building. Try as she would, strain men, ordnance plants, and shipyards to the breaking point, Germany could not catch up with her great rival. The first half of the new year saw no matching of the grand fleets. It did produce a few gallant combats, and was marked by a melancholy succession of German submarine attacks on defenseless craft. The sacrifice of lives among neutrals and the Allies cast a pall upon the world.

Naval losses up to August 1, 1915, had been considerable on both sides without crippling any one of the belligerents. No sooner was a warship sunk than there were two to replace it. Every country engaged took effective steps to preserve such maritime power as it had, and Great Britain worked harder than any of the others, for her existence depended upon it.

The first year of the conflict cost England thirty-two fighting craft, great and small. France lost thirteen, Russia five, Japan three, a total of fifty-three. The combined tonnage was 297,178. To counterbalance this Germany lost sixty-seven war vessels, Turkey five and Austria four, the seventy-six ships having an aggregate tonnage of 206,100. The difference of 91,078 gross tons in favor of Germany and her partners in war was offset by the number of fast German cruisers which fell victims to the Allies, and by the numerical inferiority of the Central Powers' combined fleets.

On August 1, 1915, the naval situation was identical with that of August 1, 1914. Great Britain, aided materially by France, and her other allies, in a lesser degree, stood ready to do battle with the Teuton sea forces whenever opportunity offered. She had won every important engagement with the exception of the clash off the coast of Chile, and could look calmly forward, despite the gnawing of German submarines at her commerce. With every gun and man primed for the fight, with the greatest collection of armed vessels ever known lying at ports, merely awaiting the word, she felt supremely ready.

The lives of 1,550 persons were lost during the first year of the war through the sinking of merchant ships, nearly all of which were torpedoed. This applied to vessels of the Allies alone, twenty-two persons having been lost with neutral ships. The total of tonnage destroyed between February 18, 1915, when the German edict against commercial vessels went into effect, and August 1, 1915, was 450,000 tons, including 152 steamships of more than 500 tons each. This was the heaviest loss ever inflicted on the shipping of the world by any war. But it did not seriously cripple the commerce of either France or England, Germany's two major opponents. Their vessels continued to sail the seven seas, bringing the products of every land to their aid, while Germany and her allies were effectually cut off from practically all resources except their own. Switzerland and Sweden were the main dependence of Germany for contraband, and the activities of the former were considerably restricted when the Entente Allies really settled down to a blockade of Germany. Austria and impoverished Turkey had no friends to draw upon, but must fight their battles alone except for such assistance as Germany could lend, which did not extend beyond the actual material of war—guns, shells and bullets.

The submarine was Germany's best weapon. She outmatched the Allies on land, but in such a small degree that her most brilliant effort could not win a decisive victory. Meanwhile her opponents grew stronger in an economic way, while the situation in Germany became more strained. By issuing a constantly increasing volume of bank notes against an almost stationary gold reserve she depreciated the value of her mark at home and abroad. In the face of this tangled situation her submarines rendered incalculable aid, destroying and menacing allied commerce. Without them Germany would have been helpless upon the sea, would have ceased to exist as a maritime power. Her first-line ships lay securely in their harbors, unable to venture forth and match the longer-ranged, heavier-gunned vessels of the British, ably supplemented by the French fleet.

Just how many submarines Germany possessed at the beginning of the war cannot be stated. The number probably was in the neighborhood of fifty. That she has lost many of these vessels and built even a larger number is certain. As the conflict grew older Great Britain in particular learned a method of combating them. It was estimated that on August 1, 1915, she had 2,300 small craft specially fitted for running down submarines. Private yachts, trawlers, power boats, destroyers, and torpedo boats hunted night and day for the elusive undersea boats of her enemy. The pleasure and fishing craft which had been impressed into service were equipped with all sorts of guns, some of them very old ones, but thoroughly capable of sinking a submarine. These vessels patrolled the British coast with a zeal that cost Germany dear. Some authorities believed that up to August 1, 1915, upward of fifty German submarines had been sunk and more than a dozen captured. The numbers probably are excessive, but if they had disposed of even twenty-five undersea boats the effort was a distinct success.

In addition to this means of defense Great Britain embarked upon another undertaking that truly was gigantic in its extent and the difficulties imposed. She stretched wire nets for many miles under the surface of the waters washing her shores. The regular channel routes were thus guarded. Once within such a net there was no escape for the submarine. The wire meshes fouled their propellers or became entwined around the vessels in a way that rendered them helpless. The commander must either come to the surface and surrender or end the career of himself and crew beneath the waves. A number of submarines were brought to the surface with their crews dead by their own hands. Others were captured, and it is said that about twenty of these vessels have been commissioned in the British navy.

The hazardous character of the work in which the submarine engaged and the success of British defensive measures undoubtedly made it difficult for Germany to man her new undersea craft. Special training is essential for both crew and officers, and men of particularly robust constitution are required. There have been reports that men assigned to the German submarines regarded their selection as a practical death warrant. Despite the fine courage of German sailors as evidenced in this war, word filtered through the censorship that it was becoming difficult for Germany to secure men for her submarines.

But the venturesome spirit of many German submarine commanders knew no bounds. Previous to the period under consideration at least one submarine had made its way from a German base to the Dardanelles, establishing a record for craft of this sort that had seemed impossible up to that time. During August other submarines made the same trip without any untoward event. The Allies knew full well that reenforcements were being sent to the Mediterranean, but seemed unable to prevent the plan's success. This inability was to result in serious losses to both the allied navies and their merchant shipping.

The first event during the month of August, 1915, that bore any naval significance was the sinking of the British destroyer Lynx on August 9, 1915, in the North Sea. She struck a mine and foundered within a few minutes. Four officers and twenty-two men out of a complement in the neighborhood of 100 were saved. The vicinity had been swept only a day or two before for mines and it was believed that a German undersea boat had strewn new mines which caused the loss.

Another British war vessel was sunk the next day. The auxiliary cruiser India fell prey to a submarine while entering the roads at Restfjord, Sweden, on the steamship lane between England and Archangel, Russia's northernmost port. Eighty of the crew, estimated at more than 300 men, were saved by Swedish craft. The attack came without warning and furnished another illustration of the submarine's deadly effectiveness under certain conditions. The India, a Peninsular and Oriental liner before the war, was well known to many travelers. Built in 1896, she had a registry of 7,900 tons, and was in the eastern service for a number of years.

After many months of idleness a clash came in the North Sea on August 12, 1915. The Ramsay, a small patrol vessel, met and engaged the German auxiliary Meteor. Although outmatched, the British ship closed with her foe and kept up the fight for an hour. The cannonade attracted a flotilla of cruisers, which came up too late to save the Ramsay, but which did succeed in cutting off the Meteor.

Four officers and thirty-nine members of the crew were picked up by the Germans when their antagonist went down and these, together with the crew of the Meteor, took to the German's boats when her commander saw that escape was impossible. He blew up his ship and by a combination of pluck, good seamanship, and a favorable fortune managed to elude the cordon of British cruisers, reaching the German shore with his prisoners. The total crew of the Ramsay was slightly more than 100 men.

Two successful attacks in four days on British war vessels, and the loss of a third by a mine, stirred official circles, and demand was made in the papers that redoubled precautions be taken. It was believed that the adventure of the Meteor into hostile waters heralded further activity by the German fleet, but the days passed without incident, and the British naval forces settled down to the old routine of watching and waiting.

While these events were transpiring in the North Sea the British had not been idle elsewhere. From the beginning of operations in the Dardanelles attempts had been made to penetrate the Bosphorus and sink one of the Turk's capital ships. A number of sailing vessels and one or two transports had been sunk by British submarines in that sea, but efforts to locate the larger warships of the enemy failed until August 9, 1915. On that day the Kheyr-ed Din Barbarossa, a battleship of 9,900 tons and a complement of 600 men, was sent to the bottom. The attack took place within the Golden Horn, at Constantinople, and the event spread consternation in the Turkish capital. It was the first time on record that a hostile warship had penetrated the land-locked waters of the Ottoman city, so favored by nature that attack had seemed impossible there.

The Barbarossa, although an ancient ship as war vessels are rated, carried four 12-inch guns and was a formidable fighting craft, having been overhauled by German engineers about a year before the war started. Along with the Goeben and Breslau, which took refuge at Constantinople on the outbreak of hostilities, and were "sold" to Turkey, she constituted the Turk's chief naval arm.

News of the feat was received with enthusiasm in England, coming as the initial achievement of the sort by a British submarine. It helped salve the wounds to British pride, made by repeated disasters through the medium of German undersea boats. The event was one of the few bright episodes from an Ally standpoint in the campaign to capture Constantinople, and was taken to mean that a new tide had set in for the attackers. It did serve to clear the Sea of Marmora of Turkish shipping, and supplies for the beleaguered forces at the tip of Gallipoli Peninsula were henceforth carried by a single track railway or transport. It also inspired a healthy respect among the Turks for enemy submarines.

A few days later, August 16, 1915, another German submarine was to set a new record. Early in the morning of that day the towns of Whitehaven, Parton, and Harrington, on the western coast of England, were aroused in succession by the boom of guns and the falling of shells in their streets. It was believed for a few frenzied moments that the German fleet had come. But merely one lone submarine had made the attack. This was enough to cause considerable alarm, particularly when it was seen that a gas plant at Whitehaven had caught fire. There were other fires in the same town and at Harrington, none of which did much damage.

Once more the undersea boat of the enemy had scored. Not since 1778 had the towns smelled hostile powder. In that year John Paul Jones surprised the guards at Whitehaven during the night, spiked the guns of its defenses, and prepared to burn a number of ships at anchor there. The arrival of reenforcements frustrated this plan and the American seamen were recalled to their vessels. Whitehaven never forgot, and now it has a new chapter in its martial record.

The Turks were soon to have their revenge for the loss of the Barbarossa through the medium of a German submarine which, after more than a year of war, accomplished one of the cherished plans of the Germans—the sinking of a British troop ship. On August 17, 1915, the Royal Edward, registering 11,117 tons, was hit and sunk in the Aegean Sea. There were thirty-two officers and 1,350 troops aboard, in addition to 220 officers and men of the ship's company. One thousand were lost.

The blow was a hard one, coming after the efforts of the British navy to protect the country's fighting men. It emphasized the new activity by German submarines in the Mediterranean. No one believed for a moment that Austria had ventured upon such an extensive campaign as recent events pointed to. In addition to the one German submarine known to have reached the Dardanelles via Gibraltar, it had been reported that others were being brought overland to Pola and the parts assembled there.

A good deal of mystery surrounds an engagement off the west coast of Jutland on this same August 17th. Berlin announced that a fight began at 2 o'clock in the afternoon between five German torpedo boats and a light British cruiser and eight destroyers. It was alleged that the cruiser and one destroyer foundered, without any loss to the German force.

The British Admiralty was vague in its report of the encounter, saying that the British ships were mine-sweepers, of which one failed to return. Like many other incidents of the war at sea, the real facts cannot now be established. But there is no doubt that a clash did take place, and the German report was the more circumstantial.



CHAPTER XVI

THE SINKING OF THE ARABIC—BRITISH SUBMARINE SUCCESSES

While the diplomats were laboring with questions arising from the loss of the Lusitania, at a moment when tension between the United States and Germany was acute, came the sinking of the Arabic, on August 19, 1915, with the death of two Americans and thirty-odd British citizens out of 391 persons aboard. The attack took place near Fastnet Light, not far distant from the spot where the Lusitania was sunk. Like the latter ship the Arabic was struck without warning, two torpedoes penetrating her side. She was a vessel of 15,801 tons and, although in service for a number of years, was rated as one of the first-class Atlantic liners. Previous to the attack she had been chased on several occasions by undersea craft, but had always managed to elude them.

The outcry that followed this event in the United States gave the situation as regarded Germany a graver aspect than before. She had been warned that this country would hold her to strict accountability for the lives of its citizens. Berlin, asked if a submarine sank the vessel, followed by immediate disclaimers of any belligerent intent. It was alleged that a German submarine had been in the act of attacking another British vessel when the Arabic hove into view and attempted to ram the submarine. In defense the latter's captain sank the liner, Berlin explained.

This theory was not in the least acceptable to the United States. Captain Finch of the Arabic and other persons aboard had seen the attack on the second ship, and the Arabic attempted to flee but was overhauled and torpedoed. The facts were attested to by such a number of persons that there could be little doubt of their correctness. But despite this and Germany's oft-repeated assurances of respect for American lives, nothing of a positive character was done by the United States. Negotiations dragged out to a wearisome length and the submarines continued to take their almost daily toll from neutrals and belligerents alike.

The British submarine E-7 was sunk by a Turkish land battery in the Sea of Marmora on September 4, 1915, thirty-two men being lost. She was the first undersea boat of the Allies to meet that fate in the Dardanelles operations.

The combination of care and luck that had kept British transports inviolate for more than a year, which ended with the sinking of the Royal Edward, was to be reversed during the coming months when German submarines inflicted heavy losses on this class of ships. The Mediterranean proved to be the grave of several thousand men lost in this manner. The Ramazan, of 3,477 tons, bringing native troops from India, was torpedoed and sunk on September 19, 1915, in the Aegean Sea. Out of about 1,000 men on board some 300 were landed at Malta. The levy which she had aboard consisted of Sikhs and Gurkhas. The sea was new to these men, drawn from interior provinces, and they had embarked upon their first voyage with all the misgivings which usually accompany that experience. The panic among them when the Ramazan was hit may well be imagined. Hints of it crept into the British press, but it was said that after a few wild minutes the officers got their men in hand and all died together with true British fortitude.

One of the few announcements made by Germany concerning lost submarines was given out on September 27, 1915, whether for diplomatic reasons or otherwise it would be difficult to say. The U-27, it was said, had not been heard from since August 10, 1915, and was deemed to have been sunk or captured. Berlin concluded with the observation that the U-27 might have been destroyed after sinking the Arabic, inasmuch as none of her commanders had reported the torpedoing of the liner up to that date. It was Germany's plea at the time that she knew nothing officially of the Arabic's loss. The disappearance of the U-27, a new and fast submarine having seventeen knots speed on the surface, therefore, was a matter of diplomatic importance. The puzzle never was answered.

For some unexplained reason Great Britain never resorted to submarine attacks upon German shipping in the Baltic Sea until the fall of 1915. While her own vessels were being sunk she spared those of her enemy, either because the navy had not been prepared to undertake an expedition into the Baltic, or because it had been looked upon as a small issue in the face of graver problems. This situation was changed by the German threat against Riga, Russia's important Baltic port, following the fall of Libau and the progress of German troops in Courland within cannon range almost of Riga.

It was determined to send a squadron of submarines into the Baltic as a means of assisting Russia and for the purpose of stopping supplies being sent to Germany from Sweden. Commanders of the undersea boats were specifically directed to see that all passengers and crews were taken off merchant ships before they were sunk. These orders were carried out in detail, not a single noncombatant having lost his life as a result of the operations that ensued.

The E-13, with several other submarines, was bound for the Baltic when she ran aground. This was in Danish waters off the island of Saltholm, between Copenhagen and Malmoe. She struck early in the morning and all efforts to gain open water failed. At five a. m. a Danish torpedo boat appeared and informed the commander that twenty-four hours would be given him to leave the three-mile zone. Shortly afterward a German destroyer came up and remained close by until two additional Danish torpedo boats reached the scene. The German withdrew, but reappeared about nine o'clock, accompanied by a second destroyer. The three Danish boats were close at hand, but neither they nor the British crew had an inkling of what was to follow.

One of the German destroyers hoisted a signal, but this was pulled down so quickly that the E-13's commander failed to read it. The German then fired a torpedo at the helpless craft, which struck the bottom near by without doing any damage. This was followed with a broadside from every gun that could be brought to bear.

Realizing that escape was impossible the British commander gave orders to abandon the ship and blow her up. When such of his men as were still on their feet tumbled over the side, the Germans turned machine guns and shrapnel upon them. A dozen men were killed or wounded before a Danish boat of the trio on hand steamed into the line of fire and stopped the slaughter. Both of the German destroyers retired.

This attack inflamed England from end to end. It was pointed out how British sailormen so frequently had risked their lives to rescue Germans in distress, and demand was made for reprisals. No direct steps were taken toward that end, but the German navy soon was to suffer losses from the companion boats of the E-13, which had reached the Baltic safely.

Hard on the heels of the E-13 incident came formal complaint from Germany that the British had pushed overboard survivors from a German submarine sunk by a trawler. Men aboard the transport Narcosian gave the first news of this affair on reaching New Orleans after a trip from England. They said that while the U-27 was parleying with the Narcosian, preparatory to sinking her, an armed trawler came to their aid and rammed the U-27, which sunk almost at once. Several of the German sailors swam to the trawler and climbed over her sides. They were thrown back and drowned, according to the Narcosian crew's testimony.

Representations upon this subject were made to Washington by the German authorities, without any expectation that the United States would take action, but merely to serve as a record and basis for future action. The German press cried for revenge, and it was not long until the Government itself talked broadly of similar treatment for British prisoners. Great Britain suggested that a board of American naval officers hear evidence in the case and render a decision, providing that Germany would defend charges of a similar character. From fighting, the two principal combatants had fallen to quarreling. Germany refused the challenge and nothing came of the matter.

A large German torpedo boat was run down and cut in two by a German ferryboat on October 15, 1915, not far from Trelleborg, Sweden. Both vessels were running with all lights out when the accident took place. Five men were saved and forty drowned.

The first fruits of the undertaking to clear the Baltic of German shipping and interfere with the operations against Riga was the sinking on October 24, 1915, of the Prinz Adalbert, an armored cruiser of 8,858 tons. Of 575 men aboard less than 100 were saved. She was the first big German warship to be blown up by a torpedo. True, the Bluecher was so disposed of during the Dogger Bank fight, mentioned in another volume, but she already had been disabled.

The submarine that ended the Prinz Adalbert's career never was identified, but she did her work well. Berlin announced that two torpedoes struck the cruiser, both taking effect, and that she sunk in a few minutes. The attack was made near Libau, according to the German statement.

The British cruiser Argyll stranded off the Scottish coast on October 28, 1915, and broke up a few days later. The mishap occurred during a storm, and all of her crew were rescued by other vessels. She was of 10,850 tons burden, and carried a heavy armament. This same day the Hythe, an auxiliary vessel, was sunk in a collision near Gallipoli Peninsula, with a loss of twenty lives.

Turkish gunners destroyed the French submarine Turquoise in the Dardanelles on November 1, 1915. Her crew of thirty odd men were killed or drowned. The incident took place at the narrowest point of the passage into the Sea of Marmora.

November proved to be a bad month for the kaiser's naval forces. During the first week the U-8 was lost in the North Sea. Berlin reported that the vessel had stranded. Whether this version was correct cannot be learned, the British policy of concealing submarine captures, in order to befog Berlin, cutting off information from that source.

This month also cost the British several ships. Torpedo boat No. 96 collided with another vessel near Gibraltar on November 2, 1915, and sank before all of her crew could escape, eleven men being drowned. The fifth of the month witnessed a successful attack by an enemy submarine upon the armed merchantman Tara of the British navy. She was a vessel of 6,322 tons and carried from four to five hundred men, of whom thirty-four lost their lives. The sinking of the Tara, coupled with numerous attacks on merchant ships, proved that the undersea fleet of Germany in the Mediterranean was becoming formidable. Then began a painstaking search of the many small islands off the Greek, Italian, and Turkish coasts for submarine bases. Several were discovered and destroyed. A number of submarines also were caught or sunk in the Mediterranean.

The Undine, a German cruiser having 2,636 tons registry, and a crew of 275 men, was torpedoed in the Baltic November 7, 1915. She had been convoying a fleet of merchant ships coming from Sweden when a British submarine cut short her days. Nearly all of the crew were lost.

Germany now began to feel the pinch of undersea warfare. Sweden, most friendly of neutral powers on the European continent, and a source of endless supplies, was almost isolated from the Baltic side by the half dozen British submarines in that sea. Unlike the British, the Germans deemed it better to keep their vessels in port than risk destruction, even in the face of conditions that approached starvation for the poor. The string of vessels that had been bringing native Swedish products to Germany, and others from the United States and elsewhere, transshipped by the Swedes, were kept idle.

Search for the submarines that imperiled their last water link with the outside world went zealously on. A number of small, fast patrol boats and cruisers were assigned to the task. Thus it was that the Frauenlob, a cruiser of 2,672 tons and some 300 men, came within the range of a British submarine off the Baltic coast of Sweden on November 7, 1915. She blew up and plunged to the bottom after a single torpedo had been fired. Practically every man aboard was lost.

As may be well imagined these achievements of her own undersea boats filled England with pride. It was almost a joy, except for the loss of life, to see Germany suffer at a business in which she had caused such distress to others. And the Empire was suffering acutely from the suspension of connections with Sweden, as evidenced by the greater haste to run down the elusive submarines that dogged her navy. More vessels were assigned to the hunt. Every mile of shore line within the German reach was searched for a possible base and the vessels in the hunt kept a lookout on all sides for the telltale periscope.

The British lost another destroyer on November 9, 1915, during a storm in the Mediterranean, a half dozen men being saved. And the Turks accounted for a submarine on the 13th, when the E-20 was sunk by land fire in the Sea of Marmora. Although Turkish craft had been compelled to forego trips in those waters they proved to be most unfriendly for allied submarines. With experience on the part of the Turks came less respect for the undersea boats, a number of which were hit by land batteries during the operations there.

Naval operations continued in this way without notable incident until December 18, 1915. Then the cruiser Bremen joined the other German war vessels that had been sunk in the Baltic search. She registered 2,672 tons, and had about 300 men aboard. The attack took place near the Swedish coast, and created such a sensation that the Swedes became convinced the British had a submarine rendezvous on their shores, and took a hand in the hunt. No evidence of a base could be found.

By this time German shipping had practically disappeared from the Baltic and it never reappeared. The British tactics fully served their purpose in this direction. And the few submarines rendered effective aid in the defense of Riga, helping the Russians stem what promised to be a dangerous onslaught. It would not be too much to say that the arrival of the little fleet of undersea boats was a turning point in the German drive along the Baltic, which overwhelmed Libau. The Russian line stiffened before Riga with the aid of the navy and the submarines. Riga was saved, perhaps Petrograd, which it guarded.

There was a considerable loss of life on December 28, 1915, when the Ville de la Ciotat, a French channel steamer, became the mark of a torpedo. Seventy-nine of her passengers and crew were drowned, the survivors suffering severely from bad weather in open boats before they reached land. A number of them afterward died of pneumonia.

The final tragedy of the year at sea took place on December 30, 1915, shortly after one o'clock in the afternoon at a point 300 miles northwest of Alexandria, Egypt, where the Peninsular and Oriental liner Persia was torpedoed. Like so many ships that had gone before she sank immediately. Out of 241 passengers aboard only fifty-nine were saved, while ninety-four men in a crew of 159 reached shore. This aroused some criticism, but there was no evidence to show that the crew had taken advantage of those intrusted to their protection.

No one saw the submarine that sank the Persia. She undoubtedly was torpedoed, as it was scarcely reasonable that a stray mine had floated to such an unfrequented spot. One American citizen, Robert Ney McNeely, appointed consul to Aden, Egypt, lost his life. He was en route to his post at the time and the United States Government found itself facing another serious situation. Here was an American official, bound on official business, killed by a friendly nation. There the problem became more complex. It could not be proved to whom the submarine belonged that attacked the ship; it could not even be shown that she had been torpedoed. Germany flatly denied any hand in the affair and Austria, after delay for reports from her submarines commanders, likewise disclaimed responsibility. Official Washington turned inquiring eyes upon Turkey. There were hints in the German press that a Turkish boat torpedoed the vessel. Both Germany and Austria had pledged themselves to respect the lives of noncombatants, but Turkey, having never sank a passenger ship, was bound by no such pledge. It even was hinted that Bulgaria might be the nation to blame. She had entered hostilities on the side of the Teutonic Powers, and was said to have at least one or two submarines.

Amid this welter of excuses, explanations and possibilities the United States Government floundered for several weeks. Then it gave up the problem and ruled that Mr. McNeely should have asked for a warship if he wanted to reach Aden and there was no other way to go. The Persia had several 4.7-inch guns aboard, which compromised her in the view of Washington.

According to the British Admiralty thirty-nine unarmed steamships and one trawler flying the Union Jack were sunk without warning by submarines up to the end of 1915. Thirteen neutral steamships and one sailing vessel were listed under the same heading. Of these, the Gulflight and Nebraskan were American. The Norwegians lost four steamships and the sailing craft, the Swedes four, the Danes one, the Greeks one, and the Portuguese one. It was stated that several vessels believed to have been sunk by submarines, where proof was lacking, had not been taken into account.

Although this compilation included the Lusitania, the Arabic, and other big vessels on which many lives were lost, the list seems of small consequence in view of later raids upon allied and neutral shipping by the German undersea boats. It was destined to reach an ominous length in the succeeding months.



CHAPTER XVII

CRUISE OF THE MOEWE—LOSS OF BRITISH BATTLESHIPS

The cruise of the Moewe stands out as one of the heroic, almost Homeric achievements of the war. She left Bremerhaven on December 20, 1915, according to one of her officers who afterward reached the United States, and calmly threaded her way through the meshes of the British navy's North Sea net. After leaving the shelter of home waters, with the Swedish colors painted on her hull, the Moewe boldly turned her nose down the Channel. She answered the signals of several British cruisers and on one occasion at least was saluted in turn. Having a powerful wireless apparatus aboard, her commander, Count zu Dohna-Schlobitten, a captain-lieutenant in the Imperial navy, was able to keep up with the movements of British patrol vessels. Several intercepted messages told of a strange white liner that refused to answer questions. This was the Moewe, and before passing into the Atlantic she had changed her coat to black. She was sighted by probably a dozen British warships before reaching the North Atlantic. By refusing to heed the signals of distant vessels, which she had a good chance of outdistancing in a race, and showing every courtesy to those close at hand, the raider made her escape.

The Moewe had about three hundred men aboard. They were a picked crew, and her commander a man of daring. Within a period of less than three months he sunk fifteen merchant ships, captured the Appam and sent her to Norfolk, Va., then returned home with 199 prisoners and $250,000 in gold bars. And he may have been responsible for the loss of the British battleship King Edward VII, of 16,500 tons, which struck a mine in the North Sea on January 9, 1916. It is certain that the Moewe left a chain of mines behind her on the outward voyage, some of which undoubtedly caused loss to allied shipping.

Once past the British Channel fleet, the Moewe struck for the steamship lane off the Moroccan, Spanish, and Portuguese coasts. There she was comparatively safe from pursuit, and so skillfully were her operations carried on that it was many weeks before the fact became known that a raider actually was abroad. But one by one overdue steamships failed to reach their ports and suspicion grew. Either the Karlsruhe had returned to life as a plague upon allied shipping, an able successor appeared, or a flotilla of giant submarines was at large that could cruise almost any distance. Several vessels brought tales to England of being chased by a phantom ship near the African coast. But such stories had been repeated so many times without any foundation that the British admiralty was in a quandary. To overlook no clue, a flotilla of cruisers swept the seas under suspicion. They came back empty handed.

At dawn, February 1, 1916, a big steamship passed into Hampton Roads, disregarding pilots and the signals of other craft. She hove to at an isolated spot and waited for daylight. When the skies cleared the German naval flag was seen floating at her prow. Newport News could scarce believe the report. Then the city remembered the Kronprinzessin Cecile and the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, both of which had stolen in under cover of night from a raiding career.

But this was no raider. It was the Appam, a raider's victim. She had sailed across the Atlantic from a point on the South African route, held prisoner thirty-three days by a prize crew of twenty-two men and one officer, Lieutenant Hans Berg, of the Imperial German Naval Reserve. Aboard the Appam were 156 officers and men, 116 of her own passengers, 138 survivors of destroyed vessels, and twenty Germans who had been en route to a prison camp in England when rescued. This large company was cowed by the lieutenant's threat to shoot the first man who made a hostile move, or to blow up the vessel with bombs if he saw defeat was certain. And, like a good stage director, he pointed significantly to rifles, bayonets, and bombs.

There were several notables among the prisoners, including Sir Edward Merewether, Governor of Sierra Leone, and his wife. They were homeward bound from his African post for a vacation when the Moewe took the Appam. All of the persons aboard, save the Germans, were released and the ship interned. Then followed a long wrangle as to the status of the vessel, Germany claiming the right of asylum for a prize by the terms of an old Prussian treaty with the United States. Great Britain protested this claim and demanded that the ship be released. Without actually affirming one or denying the other, the United States allowed the Appam to remain in German hands, enjoying the same privileges as other interned ships.

The Appam was a rich prize indeed. Having a registry of 7,781 tons, she was a modern vessel throughout, having been employed for several years in the trade between South Africa and England. She was worth $1,000,000 stripped, while her cargo sold for $700,000. The $250,000 in gold bars which subsequently went into the Berlin strong box also came from the Appam—a round $2,000,000. Altogether it was a very good day's work for the Moewe.

Not till the Appam arrived in the Virginia harbor was it positively known that a raider had eluded the allied navies. The search that followed was conducted on a broader scale and with more minute care than any similar hunt of the war, but to no avail. On February 20, 1916, the Westburn, a British vessel of 3,300 tons, put into Santa Cruz de Teneriffe, a Spanish port. She, too, had a German captor aboard. One officer and six men brought in 206 prisoners from one Belgian and six British ships. Having landed all of those on board the German lieutenant in command asked for permission to anchor at a different point, and, this being granted, steamed beyond the three-mile limit, where the Westburn was blown up. Long use of sea water in her boilers caused the explosion, her commander said. He was arrested along with his half dozen men, then paroled. It was the fortune of war. Once more the Germans had won, the British lost.

Again word was passed that the Moewe must be found. The British public took her feats much to heart. They rivaled the finest accomplishments of British sailormen in the days when privateers went forth to destroy French commerce. But the Moewe never was caught. On the morning of March 5, 1916, she put into Wilhelmshaven with 4 officers, 29 marines and sailors, and 165 men of enemy crews as her prisoners. And the gold bars were secure in the captain's safe.

Immediately a fervor of enthusiasm ran through Germany. The Moewe was back after a trip of many thousand miles, with prisoners and bullion aboard. She had sunk fifteen allied vessels—thirteen British, one Belgian, and one French—with an aggregate tonnage of nearly 60,000. This had been accomplished in the face of her enemies' combined sea power. The Moewe first sailed through the blockade and then came home again by the long way round. She skirted the whole of Iceland to reach Wilhelmshaven safely, making a perilous voyage into Arctic waters at the worst season of the year. All this and more the German papers recounted with pardonable pride. It was said that Germany had flung the gauntlet in the British face and escaped unscathed.

Count zu Dohna-Schlobitten had the honor paid him of a visit from the kaiser aboard his ship, where he received the Iron Cross. Wilhelm was much pleased, as may be imagined, and the example of the count was held up to the German navy as an illustration of what daring could achieve.

The Moewe's exploits evidently were part of a concerted plan. Whether the raider actually sunk all of the vessels accredited to her is a question that probably never will be answered. The evidence tends to show that it was Germany's aim to create a fleet of auxiliaries in the mid-Atlantic. It seems likely that the naval board in Berlin conceived the idea of having a number of their interned vessels break for the sea on a stated day and meet at a common rendezvous, or undertake raiding upon their own account.

Whatever the plan, it was carried out in part. Two German liners escaped from South American ports on February 12, 1916, and never were heard from again, so far as the records go. They were the Bahrenfeld and the Turpin. As the identity of the Moewe already had been established and allied warships were scouring the seven seas for her, it appears plausible that the Bahrenfeld and Turpin both assumed the same title, and that one or other of the vessels was taken to be the original Moewe by persons on ships which they sunk. Or one or both may have been run down and the fact kept secret.

The Bahrenfeld and Turpin commanders were wily men. They told the authorities at Buenos Aires, where the first named had sought asylum, and Puenta Arenas, Chile, where the second was interned, that the machinery of their ships was suffering from disuse, and requested permission for a day's run in the neighboring waters that the engines might have exercise. This was granted, and they quietly put to sea. That was the last seen of them by the South American folk. But the port officials at Rio de Janeiro were suspicious when the Asuncion tried the same ruse. As she began to edge beyond bounds a shot across her bow cut short the plan.

Both the Bahrenfeld and the Turpin were built in England, the former having a registry of 2,357 tons, and the latter 3,301 tons.

The first day of the new year was marked by the explosion of the British armored cruiser Natal in an east-coast port. Three hundred men of a crew numbering 700 were killed, the others escaping because they had shore leave. Not a man on board lived to tell how the explosion came. It was one of a mysterious chain that had shaken even British nerves in the early days of the war when a half dozen warcraft were blown up in home ports. The explosions were, in every instance, extremely violent, literally blowing the vessels to bits. Several of them were affirmed to have been accidental by the British admiralty, which rendered that verdict upon the Natal, but these official explanations never were convincing.

The Natal, a vessel of 3,600 tons, had but recently returned from sea service and was in good condition throughout. The explosion that rent her apart came in the quiet of the evening when the men either were sleeping or preparing for supper. Suddenly there was a crash, and the Natal was no more. Such of her hull and superstructure as had not been scattered in every direction sank beneath the surface of the water.

Just nine days later the King Edward VII, a pre-dreadnought of 16,500 tons, collided with a mine in the North Sea and soon foundered. She was a second-line ship of heavy battery and carried a crew of 777 men, all of whom were taken off before the big craft sunk. This was one of the few instances in which there was no loss of life from mine or torpedo explosions. The accident occurred at a time when the King Edward VII was accompanied by a number of other vessels, or most of the men aboard probably would have been drowned. On a warship, even more than a passenger vessel, it is impossible to carry enough boats for all. The price of defeat in a naval action inevitably is death. For this reason there was general thanksgiving in England that the crew of the battleship had been saved, even though the ship was lost.

During the month of January, 1916, three British sailing vessels and ten steamships were sunk by enemy warships, with a respective tonnage of 153 and 31,481. Four hundred and ten lives were lost. Three steamships struck mines and foundered in the same month, having a tonnage of 3,357. Two persons died in the trio of accidents.

The Amiral Charner, an old but serviceable French armored cruiser of 4,680 tons, was torpedoed in the Mediterranean near Syria on February 8, 1916. She went down within a few minutes, although about a hundred men managed to reach the lifeboats and rafts. The weather was bitterly cold, and only one survivor lived to bring the news. He was picked up on a raft with fourteen dead companions and told an incoherent story that bore little relation to the truth. But it was only too easy to guess what had happened.

During the early period of the war the French navy escaped the heavy blows that fell upon the British, partly because Germany concentrated on her larger antagonist's navy, and partly due to the fact that the British ships were nearly all engaged in the Atlantic, while the French confined themselves more especially to the Mediterranean. With the opening of operations at the Dardanelles and the coming of German submarines the losses of the French sea forces began to grow rapidly. But they held the Mediterranean against all attacks.

The Arethusa, which torpedoed the Bluecher after she had been put out of action by the Lion in that famous fight, collided with a mine near the east coast of England on February 14, 1916. She went down with a loss of ten men, neighboring vessels doing notable rescue work. The Arethusa was a cruiser of 3,600 tons and had taken an active part in all of the work that fell to the British fleet. She was one of the pet ships of the navy, having a reputation for speed and luck that made her name familiar to readers the world over. A half dozen brushes with the enemy had found her well up in the fighting line, and she was said by sailormen to have a charmed existence, never having been hit. But she sunk quickly after striking the mine. The passing of so gallant a ship was one of the chief developments of the month in its naval history.

The Peninsular and Oriental liner Maloja was blown up in the Channel on February 28, 1916, supposedly by a mine. The loss of life was large, 147 persons being drowned.



CHAPTER XVIII

CONTINUATION OF WAR ON MERCHANT SHIPPING—ITALIAN AND RUSSIAN NAVAL MOVEMENTS—SINKING OF LA PROVENCE

Throughout the months of January and February, 1916 while negotiations between Germany and the United States were in a critical stage, the submarine war on merchant shipping continued with little abatement. Seeing that her armies could thwart the Allies' offensive efforts, but were unable to crush any one of the larger powers, Germany turned longing eyes to the sea. There was much talk of risking a major engagement. The kaiser's naval advisers worked feverishly with figures and plans. An echo of this scarce suppressed excitement crept into the German press, and was duly noted in London and Paris.

One of the principal German journals came out with a frank discussion of the elements involved and the chances of success. It was said that three possibilities lay open. The first contemplated an attack upon the Allies' flank in Flanders, made from the sea, to coordinate with a drive on land. Another section of the fleet would try to hold off the British until the action was over or, failing that, combine forces with the first squadron and stake the Empire's fortune on the result of a general battle.

The second plan provided for a dash to sea with the purpose of running the blockade and effecting a junction with the Austrians in the Mediterranean, to be followed by an attack upon the Suez Canal. A land attack was to take place at the same time. The third scheme called for minor raids on exposed points by the two fleets and relentless submarine activities.

This estimate was not far short of the actual plans before the German naval authorities. Their realization of the pressing need for action, the tightening blockade, and the desperate possibilities of defeat, made them a trifle unwary. News was flashed abroad many times that revealed this state of mind. For instance, on February 20, 1916, it was announced that cooperative action at sea had been settled upon in accord with the proposals of Archduke Charles Stephen and Prince Henry of Prussia, the kaiser's brother. Such information, whether genuine or not, could only make the Allies redouble their watch.

Early in February, 1916, it was established that 70,000 naval reservists had been gathered at Kiel and Helgoland ready for duty on auxiliary vessels and cruisers of newly-formed squadrons. Many facts that pointed to Germany's resolution in the face of odds never reached America. The Ally censors kept Germany's secret well. But the whole world expected that a big engagement would be fought any day. The intervening hours, almost the minutes, might be counted.



Then Germany changed her mind. She gave notice that after March 1, 1916, a new submarine campaign would be launched. Certain concessions were granted to the demands of the United States, but it was proposed to consider many vessels as warcraft that other nations regarded as merchant ships. It was agreed that warning should be given passenger vessels unless they made an offensive move. This broad ruling gave Germany a free hand, at least from her own standpoint.

The new campaign was widely advertised, a succession of brusque threats and veiled insinuations leading up to a fine climax of publicity. The tactics were those of diplomacy and the drama, with the world for an audience.

But the campaign failed to accomplish what had been claimed for it. The number of vessels lost did not materially increase, nor did allied shipping halt. No matter what efforts Germany has made the ports of her enemies never have closed—have in reality been far busier than before the war. And the British navy's nets and traps, and her thousands of patrol boats made the submarine commanders' task ever more difficult. Within a few weeks after the latest German policy was in effect the Allies could again breathe easy. Casualties at sea continued, but there was no general destruction as had been promised.

The principal achievement of Italy's navy in the war has been the protection of her coast line. Indisputably she has dominated the Adriatic, bottling up the Austrian fleet at Pola. Not a single engagement, worthy the name, has been fought in that narrow strip of water, only forty-five miles wide at its southern extremity, ninety at the northern end and 110 at the widest point. Across this limited space Italy has transported about 200,000 troops, with the loss of but two transports, the Mari Chiaro and the Umberto, both of which were small. A good part of the Serbian and Montenegrin armies were carried to places where they might recuperate, and a considerable force of her own troops landed on the coast of Albania. This was accomplished in defiance of Austria's numerous submarines, which never have achieved anything like the success of the German undersea craft.

After Italy's entrance into the war Austrian squadrons of light cruisers and destroyers shelled several coast cities. But these attacks soon ceased and all of the 500 miles of Italy's Adriatic shore, dented as it is with small harbors and flanked by many islands, has been strangely immune from enemy depredations. This is a tribute to the Italian navy that cannot be easily explained. The Italian censorship, stricter than that of any other belligerent power, has let through almost nothing about her naval activities. The Austrians simply have refused to fight, preferring to keep their warcraft safe in the harbor at Pola rather than risk the fortune of battle.

During the period under review in this volume the Italians lay and waited for their foe as they had done for weary months. Nothing happened. A few merchant ships, sailing vessels for the most part, were torpedoed, but there was no attempt by the Austrians to sink enemy warships. Italy kept up her vigil and the Austrians dozed in their strong harbor at Pola.

When Bulgaria cast her lot with Germany the Russian Black Sea fleet shelled Dedeagatch and other Bulgarian coast cities, damaging fortifications, destroying shipping in the harbors and causing a few casualties among troops and citizens. These demonstrations were taken to herald a landing of soldiers on the Bulgar coast, but this expected event never developed. Russia, having abundant troubles in other quarters, has been in no position to undertake an invasion of her newest foe's territory.

While allied vessels were pounding the forts at the Dardanelles it was reported several times that the Russians would cooperate in a grand assault, endeavoring to reduce the Black Sea defenses of the Ottoman capital. The fortifications there were shelled a few times and various cities on the Asiatic shore of the Turks have been bombarded. But all of this work was desultory, having no special purpose and accomplishing little. Turkish shipping was driven from the Black Sea in the early days of the war, although a few transports and supply vessels have made the hazardous trip to Trebizond and other Turkish ports. The Russian fleet has taken heavy toll among such craft and to all purposes pinned the Turk to his side of the sea, while enjoying all of its privileges.

The successful operations of the Russian Caucasian army in the first months of 1916 and the movement down the Black Sea coast was aided by the fleet, which brought supplies across the sea to newly won points and prepared the way for an attack upon Trebizond. That city is of considerable importance, being a military base and having a number of industries. It was a busy port before the war began and would be a valuable rallying point for future operations against Constantinople. All signs indicated a Russian offensive with Trebizond as its immediate objective. The harbor's fortifications already had been damaged by the Russian fire, and the fleet undoubtedly could cooperate in any attack upon the city.

The Turkish navy, like the Austrian, kept to home waters. Scarcely a month passed that engagements were not reported between the Goeben and Breslau with vessels of the enemy. Many of these were circumstantial, one of which recounted a long range fight between the Goeben and Russian warships, in which the Goeben was said to have been severely damaged. According to subsequent reports a great hole in her hull was patched with cement, armor plate being unavailable in Constantinople.

Losses inflicted upon British shipping up to the end of February, 1916, were slightly under 4 per cent of the vessels flying the British flag, and a shade more than 6 per cent in point of tonnage. The loss of the other Allies, on a basis of tonnage, was as follows: France, 7 per cent; Russia, 5 per cent; and Italy, 4-1/2 per cent.

How heavy the hand of war has fallen upon neutrals may be judged from a comparison of sea casualties. Italy lost twenty-one steamers with a gross tonnage of 70,000 in the period before the reader, while Norway, a neutral, lost fifty steamers having an aggregate tonnage of 96,000, more than 25 per cent larger. Total allied shipping losses numbered 481 steamships having a tonnage of 1,621,000, and fifty-seven sailing vessels, with a tonnage of 47,000. One hundred and forty-six neutral craft were sunk, whose tonnage reached 293,375, while sailing vessels to the number of forty-two, with a tonnage of 24,001, were lost. Germany's methods cost innocent bystanders among the nations almost one-fifth of the damage done to her foes' commercial fleets.

Inclusive of trawlers, 980 merchant craft had been sunk by the end of February, of which 726 were vessels of good size. It was destruction upon a scale never seen before, an economic pressure that made former wars seem mere tournaments. And Germany's most desperate attempts failed to accomplish her end—the halting of allied commerce. Although it was mathematically certain that a percentage of the ships sailing every day would be torpedoed, the world's trade went on in the usual channels.

There was a brighter side to the situation. "After more than a year of war," says a British admiralty statement, "the steam shipping of Great Britain increased eighty-eight vessels and 344,000 tons. France at the end of 1915 was only short nine steamers and 12,500 tons of the previous year's total. Italy and Russia both show an increase in tonnage.

"It is therefore clear that the shortage of tonnage is due not to the action of submarines, but to the great requirements of the military and naval forces. The latest published statement of these show that they are demanding 3,100 vessels."

Another turn was given to the controversy over sea laws during the first quarter of 1916 by the arming of many British and a considerable proportion of Italian passenger vessels. Earlier in the war a few British ships came into New York harbor with guns aboard, but they were forced to abandon the plan because of American protests. The second attempt was different and so were the circumstances. Germany had shown a disregard for the helplessness of passenger craft that did not permit of forcible objection to the adoption of defensive methods by such vessels. The Italians, in particular, displayed a resolute spirit. Diplomatic hints had no weight at Rome and one after another the Italian liners came into New York with trim three-inch pieces fore and aft. They had a most suggestive look and were manned by crews trained in the navy. Not since the days of open piracy had armed merchant ships been seen in American waters. Their presence recalled the time when every ship that sailed was prepared to fight or run as necessity might dictate.

Germany flatly refused to consider merchantmen with guns aboard as anything but warships, and gave notice that she would sink them without warning. Once more the relations of Germany and the United States reached a point that bordered on an open break. Although this never quite happened, the United States temporizing and the kaiser's agents granting just enough to prevent a rupture, the situation was exceedingly delicate. American contentions ultimately were met by the promise that armed craft would not be attacked unless they made an offensive move. This left things as they had been before. There was no world court to decide what an offensive move meant, nor to enforce a decision.

The White Star line announced in the closing week of February, 1916, that passenger service between the United States and England would be discontinued until further notice. This meant that all of the company's ships had been requisitioned for the carrying of munitions. It betokened a more intensive preparation for the prosecution of the war by England and her Allies. It also pointed to the swelling tide of supplies flowing from America.

France was to sustain the supreme affliction of the war at sea on February 26, 1916. La Provence was sunk that day. She had sailed from Marseilles with 3,500 soldiers and a crew of 500 men, bound for Saloniki. A torpedo sent her to the bottom, along with 3,300 of those on board, representing the greatest tragedy of the sea in history. The attack took place in the Mediterranean and the big liner plunged beneath the waves in less than fifteen minutes after she had been struck.

Few vessels enjoyed such fame as the La Provence. Built in 1905, she broke the transatlantic record on her first trip across, defeating the new Deutschland of the Hamburg-American line in a spectacular dash that brought her from Havre to New York hours ahead of the best previous record. With a registry of 19,000 tons and engines generating 30,000 horsepower she was a ship of exceptional grace. Not until the Lusitania came into service did the La Provence surrender her distinction of being the fastest vessel afloat, and strangely enough both she and the Lusitania were to fall victims of German submarines.

When the torpedo that cost so many lives exploded within the hull of the La Provence, killing a good part of the engineroom crew, it was seen that only a few of her large company could escape. Lifeboats, rafts, and the makeshift straws to safety that could be seized upon in emergency accommodated a bare 700 and odd men. The troops gathered on the upper decks and sang the "Marseillaise" as the great hull settled in the water. Officers embraced their men, some indulged in a last whiff of tobacco, others prayed for the folks at home. Commandant Vesco stood on the bridge and directed the launching of the few boats that got away. Then, as the vessel came even with the waves, he tossed his cap overboard and cried: "Adieu, my boys." As one man they answered:

"Vive la France."



PART V—THE WAR ON THE EASTERN FRONT



CHAPTER XIX

SUMMARY OF FIRST YEAR'S OPERATIONS

After the last days of that fateful July, 1914, had passed, bringing mobilization in Austria-Hungary, Serbia, and Russia, and the outbreak of war between the former two countries, the dance of death was on. On August 1, 1914, Germany ordered the general mobilization of its armies, and on the same day declared war against Russia. Within a few days the first Russian advance into East Prussia began under the leadership of Grand Duke Nicholas, who, by a special order of the czar, had been made commander in chief of all Russian forces on August 3, 1914. Germany, fully occupied with its advance into Belgium and France, offered hardly any resistance, and its forces, consisting almost exclusively of the few army corps permanently stationed along its eastern border and reenforced only by local reserves, advanced only in a few places, and there only for short distances, into Russian territory.

On August 5, 1914, Austria-Hungary, too, declared war against Russia, and the next day brought immediately engagements along the frontier of the two countries, which, however, did not develop seriously for some time. The Russian advance into East Prussia had reached Marggrabova by the 15th, and from then on proceeded fairly rapidly during the following week. Memel, Tilsit, Insterburg, Koenigsberg, and Allenstein—to name only a few of the more important cities of East Prussia—were either threatened with occupation by the Russian forces or had actually been occupied by them. The entire Mazurian Lake district in the southeast of the Prusso-Russian border region was overrun with Russian troops. But about August 22, 1914, Germany awoke to the danger of the Russian invasion. General von Hindenburg was put in command in the east, and in the battle of Tannenberg, which lasted from August 22 to 27, 1914, inflicted a disastrous defeat on the Russian armies, capturing tens of thousands of its soldiers and driving as many more to their deaths in the swamp lands of the Mazurian Lakes. Not only did this end for the time the Russian invasion of Germany, but the latter country's armies followed the retreating enemy a considerable distance into his own territory.

But although such important points as Lodz and Radomsk were occupied during the last days of August and the first days of September, the German advance into South Poland quickly collapsed. In the meantime the Russians had successfully invaded Galicia, and by September 3, 1914, the Austro-Hungarians evacuated Lemberg. In the north, too, the Russian forces had resumed the offensive and once more were invading East Prussia. But they were again beaten back by Von Hindenburg on September 10-11, 1914, and, four days later, on September 15, 1914, suffered another serious defeat in the Mazurian Lakes. The Galician invasion, however, was meeting with great success. By September 16, 1914, the important Austrian fortress of Przemysl—sixty miles west of Lemberg—had been reached and its siege begun. By September 26, 1914, the Russians had reached the Carpathian Mountains and were flooding the fertile plains of the Bukowina, threatening an imminent invasion of Hungary itself.

The first week of October, 1914, brought a third invasion of East Prussia which, however, did not extend as far as the two preceding it, and which was partly repulsed before October was ended. In the meantime Austria had called upon Germany for immediate help in Galicia, and by October 2, 1914, strong German-Austrian forces had entered Poland in order to reduce the Russian pressure on Galicia, reaching the Upper Vistula on October 11, 1914, and advancing against Poland's capital, Warsaw. On the same day the siege of Przemysl was lifted, after a Russian attempt to take it by storm had been successfully beaten off a few days earlier. Throughout the balance of October, 1914, the heaviest kind of fighting took place in Galicia and the Bukowina. In the latter district the Austro-Hungarian troops were successful, and on October 22, 1914, reoccupied Czernovitz in the northeastern part of the province.

By November 7, 1914, the Russians were back again in East Prussia, but encountered determined resistance and suffered a series of defeats. However, although they were repulsed in many places, they succeeded in retaining a foothold in many others. At the same time very strong Russian forces had advanced from Novo Georgievsk across the Vistula toward the Prussian provinces of Posen and Silesia. In the face of these the Austro-Hungarian-German forces immediately gave up their attempted advance against Warsaw and retreated beyond their own borders into Upper Silesia and West Galicia. By the middle of November an extensive Russian offensive was under way along the entire front. Nowhere, however, did it meet with anything but passing success. In East Prussia and in North Poland the Germans won battle after battle and steadily advanced against Lodz. About November 22, 1914, it looked as if the tide was going to turn in favor of the Russian arms. One German army group seemed completely surrounded to the northeast of Lodz. But, although losing a large part of its effectiveness, it managed to break through the Russian ring and to connect again with the other German forces by November 26, 1914. At the same time heavy fighting occurred around Cracow and in the Bukowina where the Russians again occupied Czernovitz on November 27, 1914.

Lodz fell on December 6, 1914. On the 7th the Russians were again repulsed in the Mazurian Lakes region. Throughout that month and January, 1915, very severe fighting took place in the Carpathian Mountains, and by the end of January, 1915, the Austro-Hungarian forces were in possession of all the passes, but had not been able to drive the Russians from the north side of the mountains. In the meanwhile the Russians were pressing their attacks against East Prussia with renewed vigor and greatly augmented forces, and by February 7, 1915, had again advanced to the Mazurian Lakes. In a battle lasting nine days, Von Hindenburg once more defeated the Russian army and drove it back into North Poland, inflicting very heavy losses. At the end of another week, February 24, 1915, the Russians had been driven out of the Bukowina.

Von Hindenburg had followed up his new success at the Mazurian Lakes with a drive into North Poland, undoubtedly with the object of invading Courland. Hardly had it gotten under way when the Galician fortress of Przemysl was forced to surrender on March 22, 1915. This not only gained for the Russians a large booty in prisoners, munitions, and equipment, but also released the great army that had been besieging the fortress. It was thrown immediately against the Austro-Hungarian forces in Galicia, who were driven back again rapidly into the Carpathian Mountains. Again Austria appealed to Germany for help. General von Mackensen was sent to the rescue with an army made up largely from troops taken from Von Hindenburg's forces. Thereby the latter again was forced to stop further operations in the north. Von Mackensen's combined Austro-Hungarian-German armies had an immense supply of guns and munitions, both of which were beginning to run short in the Russian army. With these they blasted away Russian line after line, driving the Russians finally almost completely out of Galicia, after retaking Przemysl on June 3, 1915, and Lemberg on June 24, 1915.

In the north, in the meantime, the Germans had received reenforcements filling the gap that Von Mackensen's Galician operations had caused. With these they invaded Courland while other forces landed on the Gulf of Riga. With these two groups they pushed south and soon connected with Von Hindenburg's army before Novo Georgievsk and Warsaw. The latter had been there practically ever since early in January, 1915, when after the fall of Lodz it had gradually advanced against Poland's capital, but was held within seven miles of it along the Bzura and Rawka Rivers, where many bloody engagements were fought.

At the same time that these two groups formed a junction Von Mackensen came up with his forces from the south, taking Zamost and Lublin and investing Ivangorod. Immediately the drive for Warsaw began from all sides. Pultusk, on the Nareff, fell on July 25, 1915, and on July 30, 1915, the Russians began the evacuation of Warsaw and retreated toward a very strongly fortified line that had been prepared and ran from Kovno south through Grodno and Brest-Litovsk.



CHAPTER XX

THE FALL OF THE NIEMEN AND NAREFF FORTRESSES

The 5th of August, 1915, was a fateful day for the Russian armies. The fall of Warsaw, on that date, was confirmed by the occupation of Poland's ancient capital by German forces under the command of Prince Leopold of Bavaria, brother of King Ludwig III of Bavaria and son-in-law of Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria-Hungary. This in itself would have been a severe setback to the Russian arms. But the consequences which this event was bound to have were of even greater importance.

In an earlier part of this work we heard at some length of the arrangement of Russia's girdle of fortresses which—to repeat only the most important—stretched from Kovno in the north through Oliha, Grodno, Ossovetz, Lomza, Osholenka, and Novo Georgievsk to powerful Warsaw and from there to the south and east to Ivangorod and Brest-Litovsk. These permanent fortifications were supported by strong natural barriers or obstacles in the form of rivers. The Niemen, Bobr, Nareff, Vistula and Bug, with their interminable windings, made more difficult to cross in some places by extensive swamp lands, had, together with the fortified places, offered ideal means for strong defense. Again and again, throughout the first thirteen months of the war, German and Austrian troops had driven the Russian forces back to these defensive lines—but no farther. Behind this shelter the Russians were able to recuperate from the severest reverses and, thanks to a very extensive and comparatively scientific network of railways, reserves and reenforcements could be brought up from interior points until armies which apparently had been beaten to a standstill emerged again, stronger than ever in number and equipment, to undertake a new offensive against the German masses.

Just previous to the fall of Warsaw the eastern front, roughly speaking, was formed by the two sides of an equilateral triangle, with the northern side starting from a point on the Gulf of Riga, about forty miles northwest of Riga, and with the southern side starting from Chotin on the River Dniester in Russian Bessarabia, very close to the point where that Russian province touches Rumania and Galicia. The apex was at Warsaw. When this apex caved in with the withdrawal of the Russians, it followed logically that something had to happen to the two lines that met there. That the Russians retreated from Warsaw on account of some insurmountable difficulties which made the further holding of this most important center impossible, is quite clear. It has been established by now, almost beyond all doubt, that this step became necessary because of insufficient munitions. But whether this is so or not, it still remained true that whatever caused their retreat from Warsaw would exert a similar influence on their capacity to hold their second line of permanent fortifications. And events immediately following the fall of Warsaw proved this contention. Backward and backward fell the Russian lines during the following weeks until by the end of October, 1915, the two sides of the erstwhile triangle had disappeared entirely, and the Russian front was found now along the base of the triangle stretching from Riga through Friedrichstadt, through a point somewhat west of Dvinsk, thence almost due south, skirting Pinsk slightly to the east, and again running south in front of Rovno, entering Galicia at a point about halfway between Zlochoff and Tarnopol, and following, slightly to the west, the River Sereth to a point on the Dniester only a few miles west from where it had ended in August, 1915.

How immense a loss this involved for the Russians can be easily seen by a glance at a map. The territory that fell into German hands exceeded 50,000 square miles, with millions of inhabitants, containing some of the most valuable railway lines from a strategic point of view, and including besides Warsaw such important places as Mitau, Kovno, Vilna, Grodno, Bialystok, Brest-Litovsk, Ivangorod, Cholm, Kovel, Pinsk. Though the Russians destroyed many of the railways, drove off men and cattle alike, and moved vast quantities of supplies, equipment, and valuables of all kinds, the time and the facilities at their disposal were so insufficient that the victorious German armies were bound to find still untold quantities of all these. The outbreak of winter, it is true, finally halted the German advance, the force of which gradually would have spent itself anyhow on account of the ever-lengthening lines of communication with its bases. In spite of this, however, it is next to miraculous that the Russians were at all able to form a new line and to withdraw beyond this line, after all, the largest part of their forces. This accomplishment was only a renewed proof of the remarkable ability of the Russian leaders at least along one line—the orderly withdrawal of immense masses. It also showed once more the wonderful resiliency of the Russian armies and the immense advantages which are to be derived from a practically inexhaustible supply of men.

Almost as remarkable as the compactness and efficiency of the Russian retreat was the swiftness and insistency of the German advance. Throughout the German offensive leading up to and following the fall of Warsaw the German armies in the north and center of the eastern front cooperated closely with the Austrian forces in the south. This must be borne in mind as well as the fact that for this entire campaign the General Staffs of the Central Powers had conceived one plan, according to which all their armies proceeded. This frequently necessitated the halting of the advance on one or more points in order to enable some other army at some other point to overcome obstacles which had proved more difficult. Considering the immense extent of the eastern front—which from considerably over 700 miles at the beginning of August, 1915, gradually shortened to about 600 miles by the end of October, 1915—it is little short of marvelous that the German-Austrian offensive should at no time have lost its cohesion. In order to get a clearer perspective of the somewhat complicated operations of a large number of separate army units, we will divide the entire eastern front into three sections and follow separately the operations of each.

In the north—from the Gulf of Riga to Novo Georgievsk—Marshal von Hindenburg was in command. Under him there were four armies, each under a German general: that under Von Buelow in the extreme north; that under Von Eichhorn to the south of the former and facing the Niemen River and the fortress of Kovno; the two other armies under Von Scholtz and Von Gallwitz—the latter the farthest south—were to attack the Nareff-Bobr line between Novo Georgievsk and Lomza.

The central group was under the command of Field Marshal Prince Leopold of Bavaria and was reenforced by another army under General von Woyrsch, which previous to the fall of Warsaw had been fighting more independently somewhat to the south and, a day before the fall of Warsaw, had forced the strong fortress of Ivangorod on August 4, 1915.

The southern group was originally exclusively Austro-Hungarian. But during the early summer of 1915 a German army under General von Mackensen had been sent into Galicia to cooperate with the Austrian forces in freeing Przemysl and Lemberg after they had assisted in throwing back the left wing of the Russian forces then fighting in Galicia and in forcing them to relinquish their hold on the mountain passes of the Carpathians. This problem having been solved, these mixed Austro-Hungarian-German forces were rearranged and reenforced, and, under the command of Von Mackensen, were to attack the retreating Russians around Brest-Litovsk. The left wing of this group was under the command of Archduke Joseph Ferdinand. To the southeast of this entire group was another army under the Austrian General Pflanzer-Baltin, which in the early summer (1915) had driven the Russians out of the Bukowina.

On August 8, 1915, the attack on Kovno was begun. At the same time the German forces advanced against Lomza and still farther south advanced nearer and nearer to the Warsaw-Bialystok-Vilna-Petrograd railroad, their main objective for the present. All these advances found serious opposition at the hands of the Russians, who successfully attempted to hold up the enemy everywhere in order to insure the safety of their retreating armies. On August 10, 1915, the Russians attempted an unsuccessful sortie from Kovno. Farther south, as far as Lomza, the Russian forces continued their retreat, fighting continuous rear-guard actions for the purpose of delaying the hard-pressing enemy, who, however, gradually came closer and closer to the Nareff-Bobr line. Of course the losses on both sides throughout this continuous fighting were severe. The Russians lost thousands of men by capture, for although they succeeded in withdrawing, practically intact, the principal parts of their armies before the Germans could come up in strong enough numbers to risk attacks, smaller detachments here and there lost contact with the main body and fell in the hands of the Germans and Austrians, so that there passed hardly a day when the official reports did not contain some claims about a few thousand men having been captured.

South of the Niemen the Russians attacked Von Eichhorn's army along the Dvina River, but were thrown back with severe losses. On August 11, 1915, Von Scholtz's group occupied the bridgehead at Vilna, which had been stubbornly defended until the Russian retreat had progressed far enough to make its further possession unessential. The same forces succeeded in crossing the Gac River, south of the Nareff, capturing during three days' fighting almost 5,000 men. Von Gallwitz with his army stormed on the same day Zambroff and then pressed on through Andrzejow toward the east. South of the Nareff, toward the Bug and Brest-Litovsk, the fighting continued throughout the following days. Wherever possible the Russians resisted, and every little stream was used by them to its utmost possibilities in delaying the advance of the enemy. On August 13, 1915, a strongly fortified position in the Forest of Dominikanka fell into German hands. On the same day an outlying fortified position north of Novo Georgievsk had to surrender and other forces fighting between the Nareff and Bug reached the Slina and Nurzets Rivers. The latter was crossed late on August 15, 1915, after the most severe kind of fighting.

Kovno's garrison attempted on that day another unsuccessful sortie, resulting in the capture of 100 men and in slight gains on the part of the besieging forces. The latter success was also repeated before Novo Georgievsk. By this time the general retreat, and the ever-increasing pressure on the part of the advancing enemy made itself felt even in the most northern part of the Russian line. There, as well as in the farthest south of the line, the least changes took place. But on August 15, 1915, German troops attacked the Russians near Kupishky, at the point where the original Russian front turned toward the southwest, and threw them back successfully in a northeasterly direction, capturing at the same time some 2,000 officers and men.

August 17, 1915, marks the beginning of the end for Kovno and Novo Georgievsk. On that day both of these fortresses lost some of their outlying forts, and before Kovno alone 4,500 Russians and over 200 guns fell into the hands of the Germans. During the night of August 18, 1915, Kovno fell, after having been defended most valiantly against the ever-repeated attacks on the part of the Germans under General von Eichhorn. It was one of the strongest Russian fortresses, with eleven outlying forts on both sides of the Niemen, commanding this river at the point where it turns from its northerly course toward the west and defending the approach to Vilna from the west. Over 400 guns and vast quantities of supplies and equipment as well as about 4,000 officers and men made up the booty. On the same day additional forts of Novo Georgievsk fell, although the fortress itself still held out. The fall of Kovno, expected and discounted as it undoubtedly was by the Russians, was a serious blow. It now became absolutely necessary to withdraw all their forces in that sector beyond the Niemen, in order to avoid their being cut off by German columns advancing from Kovno to the south along the east bank of the Niemen. This need found expression in the immediate withdrawal of the Russians from the line Kalvarya-Suvalki. For the Germans an additional advantage arose in their ability to establish contact between Von Hindenburg's forces in Poland and Von Buelow's army in Courland and thereby remove all possibility of having the latter's right wing enveloped.

As if the fall of Kovno had given a new impetus to the Germans, their attacks on Novo Georgievsk were now renewed with redoubled vigor. On August 20, 1915, this last of the important strongholds of the Niemen-Nareff-Vistula line fell, although the less important fortresses of Olita, Grodno, and Ossovetz were still in Russian hands. There, too, large numbers of men and guns and immense amounts of equipment and supplies were the rewards of the victor. It is said that the total number of men taken before and in Novo Georgievsk aggregated 85,000, while the number of guns exceeded 700. While the town was still burning from the final bombardment—in which some of the famous Austrian mortars of heavy caliber participated—the German Emperor, accompanied by Field Marshal von Hindenburg, General von Falkenhayn, Chief of the German General Staff, General von Beseler and many other high officers, entered this latest conquest of his victorious armies, over which he later held a review.

The continued retreat of the Russian army and the menacing and ever-increasing pressure of the advancing Germans, of course, could have only one result on the fate of the few positions which were still held by the Russians by now west of the Vilna-Grodno-Bialystok line. Unless they were willing to risk the loss of large numbers of troops by having their lines of retreat cut off, it became necessary to withdraw as many as their means of transportation and their efforts to delay the Germans permitted. As a result the fortified town of Ossovetz on the Bobr was evacuated and occupied by the Germans on August 23, 1915. A few miles south, beyond the Nareff, Tykotsyn suffered the same fate. In the latter instance the Russians lost over 1,200 men and 70 machine guns. Still farther south, near Bielsk, Russian resistance was not any more successful. East of Kovno the German advance was not as successful; at least the Russians were able in that region to delay the enemy to a greater extent, although the delay had to be bought dearly. But considering the short distance at which Vilna was located and the great importance of that city as a railroad center for the safe withdrawal of the Russian main forces, any effort that promised success was well worth even heavy losses. Throughout the following days the forces of the northern group pressed on relentlessly to the east and south, delayed here and there, but succeeding in forcing back the Russian troops step by step.



CHAPTER XXI

THE CONQUEST OF GRODNO AND VILNA

With the fall of Olita, Bialystok, and Brest-Litovsk, which took place on August 25-26, 1915, and is described in more detail in another chapter, the northern group under Von Hindenburg immediately increased its activities. In Courland, south of Mitau, near Bausk, heavy fighting took place, and the Russian lines, which had held their own throughout the entire retreat of the Russian armies in Poland, began to give way. At one other point the Russians had fought back inevitable retreat with special stubbornness, and that was due west of Grodno, in the neighborhood of Augustovo, which had seen such desperate fighting during and following the Russian invasion of East Prussia. But there, too, now the Germans began to make headway and were advancing against the Niemen and the last Russian stronghold on it, Grodno.

At about the same time that considerable activity developed at the utmost southern end of the line in eastern Galicia, operations of equal extent and of great importance took place at the extreme northern end, in the vicinity of Riga. On August 30, 1915, parts of Von Hindenburg's northern group, under General von Beseler, reached positions south of Friedrichstadt on the Dvina. Other troops under General von Eichhorn advanced to the northeast of Olita in the direction of Vilna, while still other forces farther south stormed the city of Lipsk, less than twenty miles west of Grodno, after having forced a crossing over the Vidra River, a tributary of the Sukelka. The fighting around Friedrichstadt continued throughout the last days of August, 1915. To the south of the Niemen the advance against the Grodno-Vilna railway continued without cessation. Whatever troops were not engaged in pursuing the retreating Russian forces were now being concentrated on the approaching attack against the last Russian fortress in Poland—Grodno. To the south of it, by August 31, 1915, they had reached Kuznitsa, on the Bialystok-Grodno railway. The investment of Grodno may be said to have begun with that day. It was then that the first reports came that heavy artillery had been brought up by the Germans and was throwing its devastating shells into the fortress from the western front. Little hope was left to the Russians for a successful resistance. For whenever these heavy guns had been brought into play before, they had blasted their way to the desired goal, no matter how strong or modern had been the defenses of steel and cement.

For the withdrawal of the Russians from Grodno there were available two railroads, one running north to Vilna and another running at first southeast to Mosty, and there dividing into two branches by both of which finally in a roundabout way either Minsk or Kieff could be reached. The Germans, of course, were eager to cut off these lines of retreat. The latter road was threatened by the forces approaching Grodno from the south. Before they reached it, however, troops from Von Hindenburg's group on September 1, 1915, cut the Grodno-Vilna railroad at Czarnoko. On the same day some of the western outer forts of Grodno fell, Fort No. 4 being stormed by North German Landwehr regiments and Fort No. 4a by other troops from Baden. In both cases the Russians resisted valiantly, with numerically so inferior garrisons that the Germans could report the capture of only 650 Russians. After the fall of these two fortified works the balance of the advanced western forts of Grodno were evacuated by the Russians. This, indeed, was the beginning of the end for the last great Russian fortress. On September 2, 1915, Grodno was taken by Von Hindenburg's army after a crossing over the Niemen had been forced. The Russians, however, again had managed to escape with their armies. The entire lack in the official German announcement of any reference to the Russian garrison of Grodno suggests that there was no garrison left by the time the Germans took the fortress. In spite of this fact, however, the Germans of course continued to capture Russians in fairly large quantities for, naturally, numerous detachments lost contact with the main body during the retreat.