During the two preceding months there had been a constant series of strikes and explosions in munitions plants and industrial works, and public opinion was now thoroughly aroused. The feeling that Germany and Austria were thus through their agents virtually carrying on warfare in the United States was intensified by the revelations of Dr. Joseph Goricar, formerly an Austrian consul, but a Jugoslav who sympathized with the Entente; according to his statement every Austrian consul in the country was "a center of intrigue of the most criminal character." His charges came at the moment when Americans were reading that the number of strikes in munitions plants was unparalleled, no less than one hundred and two in a few months, of which fifty were in Bridgeport, which was known to be a center of German activities. Explosions and fires at the plants of the Bethlehem Steel Company and the Baldwin Locomotive Works, and at the Roebling wire-rope shop in Trenton were of mysterious origin.

To what extent explosions in munitions plants were the result of German incendiarism and not of an accidental nature, it is difficult to determine. But the Department of Justice was so thoroughly convinced of the far-reaching character of German plots that President Wilson, in his annual message of December, 1915, frankly denounced the "hyphenates" who lent their aid to such intrigues. "I am sorry to say that the gravest threats against our national peace and safety have been uttered within our own borders. There are citizens of the United States ... who have poured the poison of disloyalty into the very arteries of our national life; who have sought to bring the authority and good name of our Government into contempt, to destroy our industries wherever they thought it effective for their vindictive purposes to strike at them, and to debase our politics to the uses of foreign intrigue." His attack drew forth the bitter resentment of the foreign language press, but was hailed with delight in the East, where German intrigues aroused as great excitement against the Fatherland as the submarine campaign. Nor was it calmed by the continuance of fires and explosions and the evident complicity of German officials. During the spring of 1916 a German agent, von Igel, who occupied the former offices of von Papen, was arrested, and the activities of Franz von Rintelen, who had placed incendiary bombs on vessels leaving New York with food and supplies for the Allies, were published. Taken in conjunction with the sinking of the Sussex, German plots were now stimulating the American people to a keen sense of their interest in the war, and preparing them effectively for a new attitude toward foreign affairs in general.

It was inevitable that such revelations should have created a widespread demand for increased military efficiency. The nation was approaching the point where force might become necessary, and yet it was in no way prepared for warfare, either on land or sea. During the first months of the war the helplessness of the United States had been laid bare by General Leonard Wood, who declared that we had never fought a really first-class nation and "were pitifully unprepared, should such a calamity be thrust upon us." The regular army "available to face such a crisis" would be "just about equal to the police forces of Boston, New York, and Philadelphia." The "preparedness movement" thus inaugurated was crystallized by the formation of the National Security League, designed to organize citizens in such a way "as may make practical an intelligent expression of public opinion and may ensure for the nation an adequate system of national defense." Pacifists and pro-Germans immediately organized in opposition; and the movement was hampered by President Wilson's unwillingness to cooeperate in any way. He was flatly opposed, in the autumn of 1914 and the spring of the following year, to compulsory military service: "We will not ask our young men to spend the best years of their lives making soldiers of themselves." He insisted that the American people had always been able to defend themselves and should be able to continue to do so without altering their military traditions. It must not be forgotten that at this time Wilson still believed in absolute isolation and refused to consider force as an element in our foreign policy. His attitude was sufficient to render fruitless various resolutions presented by Congressman Augustus P. Gardner and Senator George E. Chamberlain, who proposed improvements in the military system. Congress was pacifically-minded. This was the time when many Congressmen were advocating an embargo on arms, and so far from desiring to learn how to make and use munitions of war they concentrated their efforts on methods of preventing their export to the Allies.

The preparedness movement, none the less, spread through the country and the influence of the National Security League did much to inform the public. In the summer of 1915 there was organized at Plattsburg, New York, under the authority of General Wood, a civilian camp designed to give some experience in the rudiments of military science. It was not encouraged by the Administration, but at the end of the year the President himself confessed that he had been converted. He was about to abandon his policy of isolation for his new ideal of international service, and he realized the logical necessity of supporting it by at least a show of force. Mere negative "neutrality" no longer sufficed. His fear that greater military strength might lead to an aggressive spirit in the country had been obliterated by the attacks of submarines and by the German plots. He admitted frankly that he had changed his mind. "I would be ashamed," he said, "if I had not learned something in fourteen months." To the surprise of many who had counted upon his pacific tendencies to the end, he did what he had not heretofore done for any of his policies; he left his desk in Washington and took to the platform.

During January and February, 1916, President Wilson delivered a succession of speeches in Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Louis, and other places in the upper Mississippi Valley, emphasizing his conversion to preparedness. Aware that his transformation would be regarded as anti-German and tending to draw the United States into the conflict, he apparently sought out pro-German and pacifist centers, and for the first time utilized something of the traditional "patriotic" style to rouse those citizens who, as yet, failed to appreciate the significance of the international situation. "I know that you are depending upon me to keep the nation out of war. So far I have done so, and I pledge you my word that, God helping me, I will—if it is possible. You have laid another duty upon me. You have bidden me see that nothing stains or impairs the honor of the United States. And that is a matter not within my control. That depends upon what others do, not upon what the Government of the United States does, and therefore there may be at any moment a time when I cannot both preserve the honor and the peace of the United States. Do not exact of me an impossible and contradictory thing, but stand ready and insist that everybody that represents you should stand ready to provide the means for maintaining the honor of the United States." And later: "America cannot be an ostrich with its head in the sand. America cannot shut itself out from the rest of the world.... Do you want the situation to be such that all the President can do is to write messages, to utter words of protest? If these breaches of international law which are in daily danger of occurring should touch the very vital interests and honor of the United States, do you wish to do nothing about it? Do you wish to have all the world say that the flag of the United States, which we all love, can be stained with impunity?" What a transformation from those days of December, 1914, when he believed that military preparation would prove that the American people had been thrown off their balance by a war with which they had nothing to do! And what a revelation of the wounds inflicted by the barbed taunts cast against the President for his patience in the writing of diplomatic notes!

Had the President carried his enthusiasm into actual accomplishment and provided for effective military and naval preparation, his claim to the title of great statesman would be more clear. Unfortunately when it came to forcing Congress to take the necessary steps, he failed. The inertia and reluctance of pacifist or partisan representatives would have been broken by Roosevelt. But Wilson did mere lip-service to the principle of military efficiency. The bills introduced in Congress were denounced by military experts as half-measures likely to produce no efficient result, and the President, who in most matters was determined to dominate, in this permitted congressional committees to have their way. The protests of the Secretary of War, Lindley M. Garrison, led to his resignation; and (most curious development) the President replaced him by a man, Newton D. Baker, who, whatever his capacity, was generally known as a pacifist. Wilson's intelligence told him that military preparation was necessary, if his policy of international service was to be anything more than academic; but his pacific instincts prevented him from securing real military efficiency.

An example of the unreadiness of the United States was furnished in the late spring and summer of 1916, when relations with Mexico became strained almost to the breaking point. President Wilson's handling of the knotty Mexican problem had been characteristic. He had temporized in the hope that anything like a break might be avoided and was resolutely opposed to formal armed intervention. But after refusing to recognize Huerta, who had gained his position of provisional president of Mexico through the murder of Madero, in which he was evidently implicated, the President had ordered the occupation of Vera Cruz by United States troops in retaliation for the arrest of an American landing party and Huerta's refusal to fire an apologetic salute. Huerta was forced to give up his position and fled, but the crisis continued and American-Mexican relations were not improved. The country was left in the hands of three rival presidents, of whom Carranza proved the strongest, and, after an attempt at mediation in which the three chief South American powers participated, President Wilson decided to recognize him. But Mexican conditions remained chaotic and American interests in Mexico were either threatened or destroyed. In the spring of 1916 an attack on American territory led by a bandit, Francisco Villa, again roused Wilson to action. He dispatched General John J. Pershing across the border to pursue and catch Villa. The expedition was difficult, but well-conducted; it extended far south of the frontier and provoked the protests of Carranza. At the moment when Pershing's advance guard seemed to have its hands on the bandit, orders were given to cease the pursuit.

The opponents of the Administration had some excuse for laughing at the "inglorious and ineffectual war" thus waged. It had failed to result in the capture of Villa and it gave rise to serious danger of an open break with Mexico. On the 21st of June an attack at Carrizal by Carranza's troops resulted in the capture of some United States cavalrymen and the mobilization of the national guard troops for the protection of the border. But President Wilson was not to be drawn into intervention. He might be compelled to exercise force in carrying out his ideals of international service against an international criminal like Germany; he would not use it against a weaker neighbor and particularly at the moment when the United States must be free to face European complications. But the Mexican crisis proved definitely the weakness of the military system. Though the regulars who accompanied Pershing proved their worth, the clumsy inefficient mobilization of the National Guard, on the other hand, indicated as plainly as possible the lack of trained troops and officers.

The President's determination not to intervene in Mexico probably assured him many votes in the pacifist regions of the Middle West in the presidential election of 1916. That he would be renominated by the Democrats was a foregone conclusion. He had alienated the machine leaders by his strict domination of Congress and the party; if he had permitted certain political leaders to distribute offices for necessary organization interests, he had seen to it, none the less, that the Democratic bosses had no share in the determination of policies. Still they could not hope to prevent his nomination. Whatever chance the party might have in the coming election lay in the personal strength of Wilson with the masses. In the South and the districts west of the Mississippi he was regarded as the greatest Democrat since Jackson. His patience in dealing with Germany, as with Carranza, convinced them of his desire for peace; the slogan, "He has kept us out of war," was a powerful argument in those regions. His attitude towards labor had been friendly, so that the support of the unions in the large industrial centers might be expected. Placards were posted showing a poor man's family with the caption, "He has protected me and mine," in answer to the Republican posters which showed a widow and orphans (presumably of a drowned American citizen) and the caption, "He has neglected me and mine." The remnants of the Progressives, who were not purely Roosevelt supporters, were attracted by Wilson's legislative programme and record of accomplishment. He could look to an independent vote such as no other Democrat could hope for.

Despite this strength, the Republican leaders, if they could succeed in effecting a reunion of their party, awaited the results of the election with confidence. They counted chiefly upon the personal unpopularity of Wilson on the Atlantic seaboard and the normal Republican vote in the industrial centers of the Middle West. His foreign policy, east of the Mississippi, was generally looked upon as anaemic and nebulous. He had permitted, so the Republicans contended, the honor of the country to be stained and Americans to be destroyed, without effective action. His early opposition to preparedness and the half-hearted measures of army reform had proved his weakness, at least to the satisfaction of Republican stump orators. He had won the hearty dislike of the bankers, the manufacturers, and the merchants by his attacks on capitalist interests and by his support of labor unions. The Clayton Act, which exempted strikes from Federal injunctions, and the Adamson Act, which granted, under threat, the immediate demands of the striking railroad employees, were cited as clear proof of his demagogic character. Furthermore, while he alienated the pro-Entente elements in New England and the Eastern States, he had drawn upon himself the hatred of the German-Americans by his attacks upon hyphenates and his refusal to accept an embargo on American munitions.

Had the Republicans been willing to accept Theodore Roosevelt, victory would probably have come to them. He alone could have gathered in the Progressive and independent vote, and that of the Pacific coast, which ultimately went to Wilson. But the Old Guard of the Republicans refused to consider Roosevelt; they could not take a man who had broken party lines four years before; above all they wanted a "safe and sane" President, who would play the political game according to rule—the rule of the bosses—and they knew that were Roosevelt elected they could not hope to share in the spoils. The Republican convention ultimately settled upon Charles E. Hughes, who certainly was not beloved by the bosses, but who was regarded as "steadier" than Roosevelt. The latter, in order to defeat Wilson, refused the offer of the Progressives, practically disbanded the party he had created, and called upon his friends to return with him to their first allegiance.

Hughes did not prove a strong candidate. Whereas Wilson had stated his position on the German-American problem plainly, "I neither seek the favor nor fear the displeasure of that small alien element among us which puts loyalty to any foreign power before loyalty to the United States," Hughes was ordered by his party managers not to offend foreign-born voters, and in his attempt to steer a middle course, gave a clear impression of vacillation. Many of those who had been most thoroughly disgusted with Wilson turned back to him again, as the weeks passed and Hughes more and more sought refuge in vague generalizations. In a campaign in which the issues were largely personal the Republican candidate's failure to evolve a constructive policy greatly weakened him, especially as Wilson had the advantage of the maxim that it is best not to change horses in the middle of the stream. Finally, Hughes did not prove adept in reconciling the Progressives. Indeed it was said to be a political gaucherie on his part, or that of his advisers, which alienated the friends of Governor Hiram Johnson of California and threw the electoral vote of that State to Wilson.

California turned the scale. When on the evening of the 7th of November the first returns came in and it was seen that Wilson had lost New York and Illinois, the election of Hughes was generally conceded. Even the New York Times and the World admitted Wilson's defeat. But the next morning, news from the west indicated that the President still had a chance. Later in the day the chance grew larger; he had won Ohio; Minnesota and California were doubtful. In both States voting was close; if Wilson won either the election would be his. It was not until the 11th of November that the returns from California definitely showed a small Wilson plurality, and only on the 21st that the Republicans finally abandoned hope. Wilson had secured 277 electoral votes to 254 for Hughes. He had been saved by the pacifist Middle and Far West, in combination with the South. But the victory meant something far different from peace at any price.



CHAPTER V

AMERICA DECIDES

The presidential campaign of 1916, taken in conjunction with the increasing tension of European relations, forced Wilson to a further development of his international ideals and a more definite formulation of the means by which to attain them. As we have observed, the spring of that year saw him reject the doctrine of isolation. "We are participants," he said on the 27th of May, "whether we would or not, in the life of the world. The interests of all nations are our own also. We are partners with the rest. What affects mankind is inevitably our affair as well as the affair of the nations of Europe and of Asia." This recognition of our interest in world affairs immediately took him considerably beyond the position he had assumed during the earlier stages of the submarine controversy. Until the spring of 1916 he had restricted his aims to the championship of neutral and human rights in time of war. But now he began to demand something more far-reaching, namely a system that would prevent unjust war altogether and would protect the rights of all peoples in time of peace. He insisted, in this same speech of the 27th of May, before the League to Enforce Peace at Washington, "First that every people has a right to choose the sovereignty under which they shall live.... Second, that the small states of the world have a right to enjoy the same respect for their sovereignty and for their territorial integrity that great and powerful nations expect and insist upon. And, third, that the world has a right to be free from every disturbance of its peace that has its origin in aggression and disregard of the rights of peoples and nations." These words sum up the gist of his international aims during the three following years. His later speeches are merely refinement of details.

In order that these ends might be secured it was necessary that some international system be inaugurated other than that which had permitted the selfishness of the great powers to produce war in the past. In his search for a concrete mechanism to realize his ideals and secure them from violation, Wilson seized upon the essential principles of the League to Enforce Peace, of which William Howard Taft was president. The basis of permanent peace, Wilson insisted, could be found only by substituting international cooeperation in place of conflict, through a mobilization of the public opinion of the world against international lawbreakers: "an universal association of the nations to maintain the inviolate security of the highway of the seas for the common and unhindered use of all the nations of the world, and to prevent any war begun either contrary to treaty covenants or without warning and full submission of the causes to the opinion of the world—a virtual guarantee of territorial integrity and political independence." These were the principles and methods which formed the keynote of his foreign policy until the end of the Peace Conference. The first part of the programme, that which concerned the security of the seas and which originated in the particular circumstances of 1915, faded from his sight to a large extent; the second portion, more general in its nature, became of increasing importance until, as Article X of the League Covenant, it seemed to him the heart of the entire settlement.

The unselfish nature of his idealism, as well as his continued detachment from both camps of the belligerents, was obvious. "We have nothing material of any kind to ask for ourselves," he said, "and are quite aware that we are in no sense or degree parties to the present quarrel. Our interest is only in peace and in its future guarantees." But noblesse oblige, and we must serve those who have not had our good fortune. "The commands of democracy are as imperative as its privileges are wide and generous. Its compulsion is upon us.... We are not worthy to stand here unless we ourselves be in deed and truth real democrats and servants of mankind."

That the United States might be drawn into the conflict evidently seemed possible to the President, despite pacific whispers that came from Germany in the spring and summer of 1916. There was a note of apprehension in his speeches. No one could tell when the extremist faction in Berlin might gain control and withdraw the Sussex pledge. The temper of Americans was being tried by continued sinkings, although the exact circumstances of each case were difficult to determine. The attacks made by the German U-53 immediately off the American coast and the deportation of Belgian civilians into Germany made more difficult the preservation of amicable relations. In view of the possibility of war Wilson wanted to define the issue exactly. "We have never yet," he said at Omaha, a peace center, on the 5th of October, "sufficiently formulated our programme for America with regard to the part she is going to play in the world, and it is imperative that she should formulate it at once.... It is very important that the statesmen of other parts of the world should understand America.... We are holding off, not because we do not feel concerned, but because when we exert the force of this nation we want to know what we are exerting it for." Ten days later at Shadowlawn he said: "Define the elements, let us know that we are not fighting for the prevalence of this nation over that, for the ambitions of this group of nations as compared with the ambitions of that group of nations; let us once be convinced that we are called in to a great combination to fight for the rights of mankind and America will unite her force and spill her blood for the great things which she has always believed in and followed." He thus gave warning that the United States might have to fight. He wanted to be certain, however, that it did not fight as so many other nations have fought, greedily or vindictively, but rather as in a crusade and for clearly defined ideals.

His reelection gave to the President an opportunity for bringing before the world his international aims. He purposed not merely to end the existing conflict but also to provide a basis for permanent peace and the security of democracy. During the early summer of 1916 he had received from Berlin hints that his mediation would not be unacceptable and it is possible that he planned at that time new efforts to bring the war to a close. But such a step was bound to be regarded as pro-German and in the state of opinion immediately after the Sussex crisis would have produced a storm of American protests. Then the entrance of Rumania into the war so encouraged the Entente powers that there seemed little chance of winning French and British acceptance of mediation. The presidential election further delayed any overt step towards peace negotiations. Finally the wave of anti-German feeling that swept the United States in November, on account of Belgian deportations, induced Wilson to hold back the note which he had already drafted. But it was important not to delay his pacific efforts over-long, since news came to Washington that unless Germany could obtain a speedy peace the extremist group in Berlin would insist upon a resumption of "ruthless" submarine warfare. In these circumstances, early in December, the President prepared to issue his note.

But Germany acted more rapidly. Warned of Wilson's purpose the Berlin Government, on December 12, 1916, proposed negotiations. The occasion seemed to them propitious. Rumania had gone down to disastrous defeat. Russia was torn by corruption and popular discontent. On the western front, if the Germans had failed at Verdun, they were aware of the deep disappointment of the Allies at the paltry results of the great Somme drive. German morale at home was weakening; but if the Allies could be pictured as refusing all terms and determined upon the destruction of Germany, the people would doubtless agree to the unrestricted use of the submarine as purely defensive in character, even if it brought to the Allies the questionable assistance of America. The German note itself contained no definite terms. But its boastful tone permitted the interpretation that Germany would consider no peace which did not leave Central and Southeastern Europe under Teuton domination; the specific terms later communicated to the American Government in secret, verified this suspicion. A thinly veiled threat to neutral nations was to be read between the lines of the German suggestion of negotiations.

Although it was obvious that he would be accused of acting in collusion with Germany, President Wilson decided not to postpone the peace note already planned. He looked upon the crisis as serious, for if peace were not secured at this time the chances of the United States remaining out of the war were constantly growing less. If he could compel a clear definition of war aims on both sides, the mutual suspicion of the warring peoples might be removed; the German people might perceive that the war was not in reality for them one of defense; or finally the Allies, toward whom Wilson was being driven by the threats of German extremists, might define their position in such terms as would justify him before the world in joining with them in a conflict not waged for selfish national purposes but for the welfare of humanity. Issued on December 18, 1916, his note summed up the chief points of his recently developed policy. It emphasized the interest of the United States in the future peace of the world, the irreparable injury to civilization that might result from a further continuance of the existing struggle, the advantages that would follow an explicit exposure of belligerent purposes, and the possibility of making "the permanent concord of the nations a hope of the immediate future, a concert of nations immediately practicable."

As a step towards peace the note was unsuccessful. Germany was evasive. There was nothing her Government wanted less than the definite exposure of her purposes that Wilson asked. Her leaders were anxious to begin negotiations while German armies still held conquered territories as pawns to be used at the peace table. They would not discuss a League of Nations until Germany's continental position was secured. The Allies on the other hand would not make peace with an unbeaten Germany, which evidently persisted in the hope of dominating weaker nationalities and said no word of reparations for the acknowledged wrongs committed. Feeling ran high in England and France because Wilson's note had seemed to place the belligerents on the same moral plane, in its statement that the objects on both sides "are virtually the same, as stated in general terms to their own people and to the world." The statement was verbally accurate and rang with a certain grim irony which may have touched Wilson's sense of humor. But the Allies were not in a state of mind to appreciate such humor. Their official answer, however, was frank, and in substance accepted the principles of permanent peace propounded by Wilson. It was evident to most Americans that the main purpose of Germany was to establish herself as the dominating power of the continent and possibly of the world; the aim of the Allies, on the other hand, seemed to be the peace of the world based upon democracy and justice rather than material force.

The President's attempt thus cleared the air. It made plain to the majority of Americans that in sympathy, at least, the United States must be definitely aligned with Great Britain and France. Furthermore the replies of the belligerents gave to Wilson an opportunity to inform the world more definitely of the aims of the United States, in case it should be drawn into the war. This he did in a speech delivered to the Senate on January 22, 1917. America would play her part in world affairs, he said, but the other nations must clearly understand the conditions of our participation. The basis of peace must be the right of each individual nation to decide its destiny for itself without interference from a stronger alien power. "I am proposing as it were, that the nations should with one accord adopt the doctrine of President Monroe as the doctrine of the world: that no nation should seek to extend its polity over any other nation or people, but that every people should be left free to determine its own polity, its own way of development, unhindered, unthreatened, unafraid, the little along with the great and powerful." Instead of the old system of alliances there should be a general concert of powers: "There is no entangling alliance in a concert of powers. When all unite to act in the same sense and with the same purpose, all act in the common interest and are free to live their own lives under a common protection." As the result of such a concert no one power would dominate the sea or the land; armaments might safely be limited; peace would be organized by the major force of mankind. As a guarantee of future justice and tranquillity the terms that settled the present war must be based upon justice and not be of the sort ordinarily dictated by the victor to the vanquished. It must be a "peace without victory." Thus while Wilson warned Germany that her ambitions for continental domination would not be tolerated, he also warned the Allies that they could not count upon the United States to help them to crush Germany for their selfish individual purposes.

This speech, despite the unfortunate phrase, "peace without victory," was hailed in all liberal circles, amongst the Allies and in the United States, as a noble charter of the new international order. Wilson had expressed the hope that he was "speaking for the silent mass of mankind everywhere who have as yet had no place or opportunity to speak their real hearts out concerning the death and ruin they see to have come already upon the persons and the homes they hold most dear." This hope was doubtless realized. The first reaction in France and England was one of rather puzzled contempt, if we may judge by the press. But the newspaper writers soon found that what Wilson said many people had been thinking, and waiting for some one to say. Hall Caine wrote to the Public Ledger, "Let President Wilson take heart from the first reception of his remarkable speech. The best opinion here is one of deep feeling and profound admiration." From that moment Wilson began to approach the position he was shortly to hold—that of moral leader of the world.

The President had been anxious to make plain his principles, before the United States became involved in the conflict through the withdrawal of German submarine pledges, as well as to convince the world that every honest effort possible had been made to preserve the peace. He was only just in time. Already the advocates of ruthlessness in Berlin had persuaded the Kaiser and Bethmann-Hollweg. They recognized that the resumption of unrestricted submarine warfare meant, in all probability, the intervention of the United States, but they recked little of the consequences. On January 16, 1917, the Kaiser telegraphed: "If a break with America is unavoidable, it cannot be helped; we proceed." The same day the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Zimmermann, telegraphed to the German Minister in Mexico, instructing him to form an alliance with Mexico in the event of war between Germany and the United States, and to offer as bribe the States of New Mexico, Arizona, and Texas; he also suggested the possibility of winning Japan from her allegiance to the Entente and persuading her to enter this prospective alliance.

On the 31st of January, von Bernstorff threw off the mask. The German Ambassador informed our Government of the withdrawal of the Sussex pledge. On and after the 1st of February, German submarines would sink on sight all ships met within a delimited zone around the British Isles and in the Mediterranean. They would permit the sailing of a few American steamships, however, provided they followed a certain defined route to Falmouth and nowhere else, and provided there were marked "on ship's hull and superstructure three vertical stripes one meter wide, to be painted alternately white and red. Each mast should show a large flag checkered white and red, and the stern the American national flag. Care should be taken that during dark, national flag and painted marks are easily recognizable from a distance, and that the boats are well lighted throughout." Other conditions followed. There might sail one steamship a week "in each direction, with arrival at Falmouth on Sunday and departure from Falmouth on Wednesday." Furthermore the United States Government must guarantee "that no contraband (according to the German contraband list) is carried by those steamships." Such were the orders issued to the United States. No native American could escape the humor of the stipulations, which for a moment prevented the national irritation from swelling into an outburst of deep-seated wrath.

There seems to have been little hesitation on the part of the President. On April 19, 1916, he had warned Germany that unrestricted submarine warfare meant a severance of diplomatic relations. Now, on February 3, 1917, addressing both houses of Congress, he announced that those relations had been broken. Von Bernstorff was given his papers and the American Ambassador, James W. Gerard, was recalled from Berlin. No other course of action could have been contemplated in view of the formality of the President's warning and the definiteness of Germany's defiance. Despite the protests of scattered pacifists, the country was as nearly a unit in its approval of Wilson's action as its heterogeneous national character permitted. All the pent-up emotions of the past two years found expression in quiet but unmistakable applause at the departure of the German Ambassador.

The promptitude of the President's dismissal of von Bernstorff did not conceal the disappointment which he experienced from Germany's revelation of her true purposes. He seems to have hoped to the end that the German liberals would succeed in bringing their Government to accept moderate terms of peace. Even now he expressed the hope that Germany's actions would not be such as to force the United States into the War: "I refuse to believe that it is the intention of the German authorities to do in fact what they have warned us they will feel at liberty to do.... Only actual overt acts on their part can make me believe it even now." But "if American ships and American lives should in fact be sacrificed by their naval commanders in heedless contravention of the just and reasonable understandings of international law and the obvious dictates of humanity, I shall take the liberty of coming again before the Congress to ask that authority be given me to use any means that may be necessary for the protection of our seamen and our people in the prosecution of their peaceful and legitimate errands on the high seas. I can do nothing less. I take it for granted that all neutral governments will take the same course." He was careful, moreover, to underline the fact that his action was dictated always by a consistent desire for peace: "We wish to serve no selfish ends. We seek merely to stand true alike in thought and in action to the immemorial principles of our people.... These are the bases of peace, not war. God grant we may not be challenged to defend them by acts of willful injustice on the part of the Government of Germany!"

But Germany proceeded heedlessly. Warned that American intervention would result only from overt acts, the German Admiralty hastened to commit such acts. From the 3d of February to the 1st of April, eight American vessels were sunk by submarines and forty-eight American lives thus lost. Because of the practical blockade of American ports which followed the hesitation of American shipping interests to send boats unarmed into the dangers of the "war zone," President Wilson came again to Congress on the 26th of February to ask authority to arm merchant vessels for purposes of defense. Again he stressed his unwillingness to enter upon formal warfare and emphasized the idealistic aspect of the issue: "It is not of material interests merely that we are thinking. It is, rather, of fundamental human rights, chief of all the right of life itself. I am thinking not only of the rights of Americans to go and come about their proper business by way of the sea, but also of something much deeper, much more fundamental than that. I am thinking of those rights of humanity without which there is no civilization.... I cannot imagine any man with American principles at his heart hesitating to defend these things."

Blinded by prejudice and tradition, a handful of Senators, twelve "willful men," as Wilson described them, blocked, through a filibuster, the resolution granting the power requested by the President. But the storm of popular obloquy which covered them proved that the nation as a whole was determined to support him in the defense of American rights. The country was stirred to the depths. The publication of the plans of Germany for involving the United States in war with Mexico and Japan came merely as added stimulus. So also of the story of the cruelties heaped by the Germans on the American prisoners of the Yarrowdale. There was so much of justice in the cause that passion was notable by its absence. When finally on the 17th of March news came of the torpedoing of the Vigilancia without warning, America was prepared and calmly eager for the President's demand that Congress recognize the existence of a state of war.

The demand was made by Wilson in an extraordinary joint session of Congress, held on the 2d of April. In this, possibly his greatest speech, he was careful not to blur the idealistic principles which, since the spring of 1916, he had been formulating. War existed because Germany by its actions had thrust upon the United States the status of belligerent. But the American people must meet the challenge with their purpose clearly before them. "We must put excited feeling away. Our motive will not be revenge or the victorious assertion of the physical might of the nation, but only the vindication of right, of human right, of which we are only a single champion.... The wrongs against which we now array ourselves are no common wrongs; they cut to the very roots of human life." He went on to define the objects of the war more specifically, referring to his earlier addresses: "Our object now, as then, is to vindicate the principles of peace and justice in the life of the world as against selfish and autocratic power and to set up amongst the really free and self-governed peoples of the world such a concert of purpose and action as will henceforth ensure the observance of those principles." Democracy must be the soul of the new international order: "A steadfast concert for peace can never be maintained except by a partnership of democratic nations. No autocratic government could be trusted to keep faith within it or observe its covenants.... Only free peoples can hold their purpose and their honor steady to a common end and prefer the interests of mankind to any narrow interest of their own." Because the existing German Government was clearly at odds with all such ideals, "We are glad, now that we see the facts with no veil of false pretense about them, to fight thus for the ultimate peace of the world and for the liberation of its peoples, the German people included: for the rights of nations great and small and the privilege of men everywhere to choose their way of life and of obedience. The world must be made safe for democracy. Its peace must be planted upon the tested foundations of political liberty."

Wilson thus imagined the war as a crusade, the sort of crusade for American ideals which Clay and Webster once imagined. He was in truth originating nothing, but rather resuscitating the generous dreams which had once inspired those statesmen. In conclusion, he reiterated his love of peace. "But the right is more precious than peace, and we shall fight for the things which we have always carried nearest our hearts,—for democracy, for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own governments, for the rights and liberties of small nations, for a universal dominion of right by such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace and safety to all nations and make the world itself at last free." At the moment of the declaration of war Wilson was still the man of peace, and the war upon which the nation was embarking was, in his mind, a war to ensure peace. To such a task of peace and liberation, he concluded in a peroration reminiscent of Lincoln and Luther, "we can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured. God helping her, she can do no other."

How many Americans caught the real significance of Wilson's thought with all its consequences is doubtful. The country certainly looked upon the war as a crusade. But there was in the national emotion much that did not accord with the ideals of Wilson. The people hated Germany for the sinking of the Lusitania and all the other submarine outrages, for her crimes in Belgium, for the plots and explosions in this country, for the Zimmermann note, and finally for her direct and insulting defiance of American rights. They recognized that the Allies were fighting for civilization; they sympathized with the democracies of Europe, of which, since the Russian revolution of March, the Allied camp was composed, and they wanted to help them. They feared for America's safety in the future, if Germany won the war. Most Americans entered the struggle, therefore, with a sober gladness, based partly on emotional, partly on quixotic, and partly on selfish grounds. But nearly all fought rather to beat Germany than to secure a new international order. Hence it was that after Germany was beaten, Wilson was destined to discover that his idealistic preaching had not fully penetrated, and that he had failed to educate his country, as completely as he believed, to the ideal of a partnership of democratic and peace-loving peoples as the essential condition of a new and safe world.



CHAPTER VI

THE NATION IN ARMS

When Congress declared that the United States was in a state of war with Germany, on April 6, 1917, the public opinion of the country was unified to a far greater extent than at the beginning of any previous war. The extreme patience displayed by President Wilson had its reward. When the year opened the majority of citizens doubtless still hoped that peace was possible. But German actions in February and March had gone far towards the education of the popular mind, and the final speeches of the President crystallized conviction. By April there were few Americans, except those in whom pacifism was a mania, who were not convinced that war with Germany was the only course consistent with either honor or safety. It is probable that many did not understand exactly the ideals that actuated Wilson, but nine persons out of ten believed it absolutely necessary to fight.

But, however firmly united, the country was completely unprepared for war in a military sense, and must now pay the penalty for President Wilson's opposition to adequate improvement of the military system in 1915 and for the half-hearted measures taken in 1916. Total military forces, including regular army, national guard, and reserves amounted to hardly three hundred thousand men and less than ten thousand officers. Even the regular army was by no means ready for immediate participation in the sort of fighting demanded by the European war; and, even if adequate troops were raised, the lack of trained officers would create the most serious difficulties. No wonder that the German General Staff ranked the United States, from the military point of view, somewhere between Belgium and Portugal. Furthermore, military experts had been discouraged by the attitude of the Administration. The Secretary of War, Newton D. Baker, had failed, either through lack of administrative capacity or because of pacifistic tendencies, to prepare his department adequately. He had done nothing to rouse Congress or the nation from its attitude of indifference towards preparation. By faith a pacifist, he had been opposed to universal military service. An extreme liberal, he distrusted the professional military type and was to find it difficult to cooeperate with the captains of industry whose assistance was essential.

Thus with a President and War Secretary, both of whom had been instinctively opposed to a large army and who had expressed their fear of the development of a militaristic spirit, and with a majority in Congress favoring the traditional volunteer system, adherence to which had cost the British thousands of lives that might better have been used at home, the building of an effective army seemed a matter of extreme doubt. Great credit must go to both President Wilson and Secretary Baker for sinking their natural instincts and seeking, as well as following, the advice of the military experts, who alone were capable of meeting the problems that arose from a war for which the nation was not prepared.

The President must face not only the special problems caused by unreadiness, but also the general difficulties which confront every American war-President and which had tried nearly to the breaking-point even the capacity of Lincoln. The President of the United States in time of war is given the supreme unified command of the army and navy. But while the responsibility is his, actual control often rests in the hands of others. Members of Congress always take a keen interest in army matters; many of them have been or are militia-men. They have always opposed a single army which could be recruited, trained, and operated as a unit, and approved the system of State militia which makes for decentralization and gives to the separate States large influence in the formation of military policy. Even the President's control of the Federal army, regulars and volunteers, is limited by the decentralized organization of the different army bureaus, which depend upon Congress for their appropriations and which operate as almost independent and frequently competing units. The creation of a single programme for the army as a whole is thus a task of extreme difficulty.

President Wilson, as historian, was well aware of the tremendous price that had been paid in past wars for such decentralization, accompanied as it was, inevitably, by delays, misunderstandings, and mistakes. He was determined to create a single cooerdinating command, and his war policies were governed from beginning to end by this purpose. He set up no new machinery, but utilized as his main instrument the General Staff, which had been created in 1903 as a result of the blunders and confusion that had been so painfully manifest in the Spanish War. When the United States entered the World War the General Staff had by no means acquired the importance expected by those who had created it.[3] But to it the President turned, and it was this body enlarged in size and influence that ultimately put into operation Wilson's policy of centralization. It was in accordance with the advice of the men who composed the General Staff that the President elaborated the larger lines of the military programme, and they were the men who supervised the operation of details.

[Footnote 3: In April, 1917, the General Staff consisted of fifty-one officers, only nineteen of whom were on duty in Washington. Of these, eight were occupied with routine business, leaving but eleven free for the real purpose for which the staff had been created—"the study of military problems, the preparation of plans for national defense, and utilization of the military forces in time of war."]

None of the processes which marked the transition of the United States from a peace to a war basis are comprehensible unless we remember that the President was constantly working to overcome the forces of decentralization, and also that the military programme was always on an emergency basis, shifting almost from week to week in accordance with developments in Europe.

The original programme did not provide for an expeditionary force in France. During the early days of participation in the war it was generally believed that the chief contributions of the United States to Allied victory would not be directly upon the fighting front. If the United States concentrated its efforts upon financing the Allies, furnishing them with food, shipping, and the munitions which had been promised—so many persons argued—it would be doing far better than if it weakened assistance of that sort by attempting to set up and maintain a large fighting force of its own. The impression was unfortunately prevalent in civilian circles that Germany was on her last legs, and that the outcome of the war would be favorably settled before the United States could put an effective army in the field. Military experts, on the other hand, more thoroughly convinced of German strength, believed that the final campaigns could not come before the summer of 1919, and did not expect to provide a great expeditionary force previous to the spring of that year if indeed it were ever sent. Thus from opposite points of view the amateur and the professional deprecated haste in dispatching an army to France. From the moment the United States entered the war, President Wilson certainly seems to have resolved upon the preparation of an effective fighting force, if we may judge from his insistence upon the selective draft, although he did not expect that it would be used abroad. But it may be asked whether he did not hope for the arrangement of a negotiated peace, which if not "without victory" would at least leave Germany uncrushed. It is probable that he did not yet perceive that "force to the utmost" would be necessary before peace could be secured; that realization was to come only in the dark days of 1918.

A few weeks after America's declaration of war, however, France and Great Britain dispatched missions led by Balfour, Viviani, and Joffre, to request earnestly that at least a small American force be sent overseas at once for the moral effect upon dispirited France. The plea determined the President to send General Pershing immediately with a force of about two thousand, who were followed in June and July, 1917, by sufficient additional forces to make up a division. Wilson had been authorized by Congress, under the Selective Service Act, to send four volunteer divisions abroad under the command of Roosevelt. But he refused to interfere with the plans of the military experts, who strongly objected to any volunteer forces whatever. Neither the valiant ex-President nor the prospective volunteers were trained for the warfare of the moment, and their presence in France would bring no practical good to the Allied cause; moreover the officers whom Roosevelt requested were sorely needed in American training camps.

General Pershing, to whom was now entrusted the military fortunes of the American army abroad, was an officer fifty-seven years old, who had undergone wide military and administrative experience in Cuba and the Philippines; he had been given extraordinary promotion by President Roosevelt, who had jumped him from the rank of captain to that of Brigadier General; and he had been selected to lead the punitive force dispatched in pursuit of Villa in the spring of 1916. Distinguished in appearance, with superb carriage, thin lips, and squarely-chiselled chin, he possessed military gifts of a sound rather than brilliant character. A strict disciplinarian, he failed to win from his troops that affection which the poilus gave to Petain, while he never displayed the genius that compelled universal admiration for Foch. Neither ultimate success nor the stories of his dramatic remarks (as at the grave of La Fayette: "La Fayette, we are here!") succeeded in investing him with the heroic halo that ought to come to a victorious commander. As time passes, however, Pershing takes higher rank. His insistence upon soldierly qualities, his unyielding determination to create American armies under an independent command, his skill in building up a great organization, his successful operations at St. Mihiel and in the Meuse-Argonne drive, despite faulty staff work—all these facts become more plain as we acquire perspective. If historians refuse to recognize him as a great general, they will surely describe his talents as more than adequate to the exigencies of the military situation.

The sending of the Pershing expedition did not at once alter fundamentally the original programme for raising an army of about a million men to be kept in the United States, as a reserve in case of emergency. There was no intention of sending to France more troops than would be needed to keep filled the ranks of the small expeditionary force. But the urgent representations of the Allies and reports from American officers induced a radical change in policy. The latter emphasized the unsound military position of our Allies and insisted that the deadlock could be broken and the war won only by putting a really effective American army beside the French and British by the summer of 1918. A programme was drawn up in France and sent to the War Department, according to which an army of thirty divisions should be sent abroad before the end of that year. Throughout 1917 this plan remained rather a hope than a definite programme and it was not until early in 1918 that it was officially approved. It was thus of an emergency character and this fact combined with the indefiniteness prevalent during the autumn of 1917 to produce extreme confusion. In July, 1918, an eighty-division programme was adopted and more confusion resulted. Furthermore the entire problem was complicated by the question as to whether or not ships could be found for transportation. It had been assumed that it would take six months to transport five hundred thousand troops. But in May, 1918, and thereafter nearly three hundred thousand troops a month were carried to France, largely through tonnage obtained from the British. Such a development of transportation facilities was not and could not be foreseen. It increased the confusion. In the face of such difficulties, the problems of man-power, training, and supplies had to be met and ultimately solved, largely through the centralization carried into effect by the General Staff.

The problem of man-power had been carefully considered during the weeks that preceded our entrance into the war and the declaration of war found the Government prepared with a plan for a selective draft. On the 7th of April, the day after the declaration of war, President Wilson insisted that "the safety of the nation depended upon the measure."

Congress, however, was slow to accept the principle of conscription, and the President encountered fierce opposition on the part of the advocates of the volunteer system, who were led by men of such influence as Speaker Champ Clark, House Leader Claude Kitchin, and the chairman of the House Committee on Military Affairs, Stanley H. Dent. The President was inflexible, declaring that the Administration would not "yield an inch of any essential parts of the programme for raising an army by conscription," and exercised his personal influence to its fullest extent in order to secure a favorable vote. He was ably seconded by Julius Kahn, the ranking Republican member of the House Military Committee, who was himself born in Germany. The failure of House and Senate to agree on the matter of age liability delayed action for some weeks. Finally, on May 18, 1917, what is popularly known as the Selective Service Act became law.

This Act gave to the President power to raise the regular army by enlistment to 287,000 men, to take into the Federal service all members of the national guard, and to raise by selective draft, in two installments, a force of a million troops. All men between the ages of twenty-one and thirty, both inclusive, were registered on the 5th of June; this with the subsequent registration of men coming of age later, produced an available body of more than ten millions. And when in the following year, the draft age was extended to include all men between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, both inclusive, thirteen millions more were added. From this body the names of those who were to serve were drawn by lot. All men registered were carefully classified, in order that the first chosen might be those not merely best fitted for fighting, but those whose absence on the firing line would least disturb the essential economic life of the nation. Liberal exemptions were accorded, including artisans employed in industries necessary to war production and men upon whom others were dependent. On the 20th of July the first drawings were made, and by the end of the year about half a million of the drafted men, now called the National Army, were mustered in. In the meantime enlistments in the regular army and the national guard had raised the total number of troops to about a million and a quarter and of officers to more than one hundred thousand. Less than a year later, when the armistice was signed, the army included over three and a half millions, of whom nearly two millions were in France.

The real military contribution of the United States to allied victory lay in man-power. It could not of its own resources transport the troops nor equip them completely, but the raising of an enormous number of fresh forces, partially trained, it is true, but of excellent fighting caliber, made possible the maneuvers of Foch that brought disaster to German arms. When once these armies arrived in numbers on the battle-line in France, the realization of the inexhaustible man-power of America did more than anything else to revive the spirit of the Allies and discourage the enemy.

Infinitely more difficult than the problem of man-power were those of training and supplies. As we have seen, these problems were complicated by the decision to send abroad an effective fighting force, a decision which completely changed the entire military situation. The original plan of maintaining an army only in the United States, as a reserve, permitted the questions of camps, supplies, equipment, munitions, and training to be undertaken at comparative leisure. But if a large army was to be placed in France by 1918, these problems must be solved immediately and upon an emergency basis. Hence resulted the confusion and expense which nearly led to the breakdown of the whole programme in the winter of 1917-18. The War Department faced a dilemma. If it waited until supplies were ready, the period of training would be too short. On the other hand, if it threw the new draft armies immediately into the camps, assuming that the camps could be prepared, the troops would lack the wool uniforms and blankets necessary for protection, as well as the equipment with which to drill. The second alternative appeared the less dangerous, and in September the first draft calls were made and by December the camps were filled.[4]

[Footnote 4: The size of the army raised in 1917 demanded the building of enormous cantonments. Within three months of the first drawings sixteen complete cities of barracks had sprung up, each to accommodate 40,000 inhabitants. They had their officers' quarters, hospitals, sewage systems, filter plants, and garbage incinerators, electric lighting plants, libraries, theaters. By the 4th of September the National Army cantonments were ready for 430,000 men, two-thirds of the first draft. A single camp involved the expenditure of approximately $11,000,000. Camp Grant, at Rockford, Illinois, included 1600 buildings with space for 45,000 men and 12,000 horses. The water, which before use was tested and filtered, was supplied from six huge wells drilled 175 feet deep, carried through 38 miles of water main, and stored in reservoir tanks holding 550,000 gallons. For lighting purposes there were 1450 miles of electric wire, 1200 poles, 35,000 incandescent lamps. During the period of construction, 50 carloads of building material were daily unloaded, and for several weeks an average of 500,000 board feet of lumber set up daily. The entire construction of the camp demanded 50,000,000 feet of lumber, 700 tons of nails, 4,000,000 feet of roofing, and 3,000,000 square feet of wall board.]

Many apprehensions were fulfilled in fact, when the terrible winter weather came, the worst in years. The northern camps faced it with insufficient clothing. Pneumonia made its invasion. Artillerymen were trained with wooden guns; infantrymen with wooden rifles or antiquated Krags. But all the time the essential training proceeded and the calls for replacements sent by General Pershing in France were met.

The first and vital need was for officers to train the willing but inexperienced recruits. To meet this need a series of officers' training camps had been established in the spring of 1917 and continued for a year. Each camp lasted for three months, where during twelve hours a day the candidates for commissions, chiefly college graduates and young business men, were put through the most intensive drill and withering study. All told, more than eighty thousand commissions were granted through the camps, and the story of the battlefields proved at once the caliber of these amateur officers and the effectiveness of their training. Special camps, such as the school of fire at Fort Sill, carried the officers a step further, and when they went overseas they received in schools in France instruction in the latest experience of the Allied armies. The colleges of the country were also formed into training schools and ultimately about 170,000 young men, under military age, in five hundred institutions of learning, joined the Students' Army Training Corps.

In all the army schools French and British officers cooeperated as instructors and gave the value of their three years' experience on the fighting front. But the traditions of the American regular army, formulated in the Indian and frontier fights, rather than the siege methods of the trenches, formed the basic principles of the instruction; General Pershing was insistent that an offensive spirit must be instilled into the new troops, a policy which received the enthusiastic endorsement of the President. The development of "a self-reliant infantry by thorough drill in the use of a rifle and in the tactics of open warfare" was always uppermost in the mind of the commander of the expeditionary force, who from first to last refused to approve the extreme specialization in trench warfare that was advised by the British and the French.

The emergency nature of the military programme, resulting from the sudden decision to send a large army to France, the decentralization of army affairs, and the failure to prepare adequately in the years preceding entrance into the war—all these factors made a shortage of supplies in the training camps inevitable.

The first appropriation bill which was to provide the funds to purchase clothing, blankets, and other necessities was not passed until the 15th of June, leaving a pitifully brief space of time for the placing of contracts and the manufacture and transport of supplies. Many factories had to be built, and many delays resulted from the expansion of the Quartermaster Department, which had not been manned or equipped for such an emergency. The shortage of clothing was felt the more because of the extreme severity of the winter. After the initial difficulties had been passed supplies of this kind were furnished in profusion; but lack of preparation on the part of the War Department and the slowness of Congress to appropriate promptly produced a temporary situation of extreme discomfort and worse. The provision of food supplies was arranged more successfully. Soldiers would not be soldiers if they did not complain of their "chow." But the quality and variety of the food given to the new troops reached a higher degree than was reasonably to have been expected. The average soldier gained from ten to twelve pounds after entering the service. Provision was also made for his entertainment. Vaudeville, concerts, moving pictures formed an element of camp life, much to the surprise of the visiting French officers and Civil War veterans.

Americans naturally look back with pride to the making of their new army. The draft was accomplished smoothly and rapidly. Demonstrations against conscription, which in view of the Civil War draft riots had caused some apprehension, were almost unheard of and never serious. Of the three million called for service on the first draft, all but 150,000 were accounted for, and of those missing most were aliens who had left to enlist in their own armies. The problem of the slacker and of the conscientious objector, although vexatious, was never serious. The educative effect of the training upon the country was very considerable. All ranks and classes were gathered in, representing at least fifty-six different nationalities; artisans, millionaires, and hoboes bunked side by side; the youthful plutocrat saw life from a new angle, the wild mountaineer learned to read, the alien immigrant to speak English. Finally the purpose of the training was achieved, for America sent over a force that could fight successfully at the moment of crisis.

Amateur critics had assumed that the problem of raising an effective number of troops would prove far more difficult than that of producing the necessary equipment and munitions. It was generally believed that the industrial genius of America was such that American factories could provide all the artillery, small-arms, and aircraft that the armies could use. The most fantastic prophecies were indulged in. Experience showed, however, that it is easier to raise, train, and organize troops of superior sort in a brief period than it is to arm them. It stands as a matter of record that foreign artillery and machine guns alone made possible the attack on the St. Mihiel salient and the advance in the Argonne. As for military airplanes, had the Government relied upon those of American manufacture there would have been no American squadrons flying over the German lines previous to August, 1918, and not many between then and the signing of the armistice.

Such a statement should not imply blanket criticism of the Ordnance Department. The Government was perhaps slow, even after the United States entered the war, to realize the serious character of the military situation abroad and to appreciate the extent to which American aid would be necessary to allied victory. Hence the changes in the military programme which inevitably created confusion. But the decision to ensure against unforeseen disaster by preparing heavily for 1919 and 1920 and partially disregarding 1918 was based upon sound strategical reasoning. The war was brought to a close sooner than had been expected; hence the period of actual hostilities was devoted to laying down the foundations of a munitions industry, and the munitions actually produced, in the words of Assistant Secretary Crowell, "might almost be termed casual to the main enterprise, pilots of the quantities to come." Such a policy was possible because of the surplus production of the Allies. The latter stated that their production of artillery was such that they could equip all American divisions as they arrived in France during the year 1918.[5] This gave time "to build manufacturing capacity on a grand scale without the necessity of immediate production, time to secure the best in design, time to attain quality in the enormous outputs to come later as opposed to early quantities of indifferent class."

[Footnote 5: As a result of the agreement thus made the United States shipped overseas between the time of the declaration of war and the signing of the armistice only 815 complete pieces of mobile artillery, including all produced for France and Great Britain as well as for American troops. Of the 75's only 181 complete units were shipped abroad, the American Expeditionary Force securing 1828 from the French. Of the 155 millimeter howitzers none of American manufacture reached the front. French deliveries amounted to 747.—America's Munitions, 1917-1918 (Report of Benedict Crowell, Assistant Secretary of War), p. 90.]

The lack of preparation in the matter of machine guns has received wide publicity. In this, as in artillery, the deficiency was made good by the Allies up to the final weeks of the war. In April, 1917, the army possessed only a small number of machine guns entirely inadequate even for the training of the new troops and half of which would not take American service cartridges. Less than seven hundred machine rifles were on hand. Manufacturing facilities for machine guns were limited; there were only two factories in the United States actually producing in quantity. Orders for four thousand Vickers had been placed the preceding December, but deliveries had not been made by the beginning of April. Either because of jealousy in the department, or because of justifiable technical reasons, various experts demanded a better machine gun than any used by the Allies, and Secretary Baker took the responsibility of delaying matters so as to hold the competition recommended by a board of investigation. This competition was planned for May 1, 1917, with the result that we entered the war without having decided upon any type of machine gun, and it was not until some weeks later that the Browning was approved.

First deliveries of this gun could not be made until April, 1918, a year after the declaration of war. In the meantime, the War Department utilized existing facilities to the limit, and placed large orders for Colt, Lewis, and Vickers machine guns. But the heavy machine guns and automatic rifles used by our troops in the field were furnished by the French and the British until May, 1918. During that month and June the eleven American divisions that sailed were provided with American-made Vickers, although they still used the French-made Chauchat automatic rifles. After June, all American troops to sail received a full equipment of Brownings, both heavy machine guns and automatic rifles. Altogether 27,000 heavy Brownings and 29,000 light Brownings were shipped to the American Expeditionary Force, sufficient by the time of the armistice to equip completely all the American troops in France. They were not used in combat until the Meuse-Argonne battle, where they amply justified the faith of General Pershing.

The policy of delaying production in order to obtain the best quality was not followed in the case of the rifle, and the results unquestionably justified the plan, ultimately adopted, of accepting a slightly inferior type which could be produced at once in quantity. The American army rifle, the Springfield, was generally regarded as the most accurate the world had seen. Unfortunately there was little hope of expanding the production of Springfields sufficiently to meet the necessities of the new National Army. For several years previous to 1917 the Government, with myopic vision, had cut down expenditures for the manufacture of small-arms and ammunition, with the result that artisans skilled in making Springfields had been scattered. Even if the two factories that had been turning out Springfields could be restaffed, their combined production would be insufficient. Private plants could not be utilized for early quantity production, because of the time that would be taken in building up an adequate manufacturing equipment and training the artisans. Fortune intervened. It happened that three large American firms were about to complete important contracts for supplying Enfield rifles to the British Government. Their plants and skilled labor might be turned to account, but the Enfield was not regarded as satisfactory, principally because its ammunition was inferior to that taken by the Springfield. The War Department decided to attempt a change in the bore of the Enfield so that it would use Springfield cartridges, and to make other minor simplifications and improvements. The experiment proved successful to the highest degree. The modified Enfields were reported to be only slightly inferior to the Springfields and by the end of December, 1917, five thousand a day were being turned out. Altogether American manufactories produced during the war about two and a half million rifles, of which all but three hundred thousand were modified Enfields.

In the matter of airplane production the record is far less satisfactory. It is, perhaps, too early to distribute with justice the blame for the delays in production, and full cognizance should be taken of the difficulties which had to be overcome. But whatever explanations are to be found, it is an undeniable fact that not until August, 1918, three months before the armistice, was an American squadron equipped with American planes. The Allies had looked to America for the production of combat planes in quantity and Congress, responding to popular enthusiasm, had in the first days of the war appropriated more than half a billion dollars for their manufacture. An Aircraft Production Board was organized, with Howard E. Coffin as chairman, although the actual manufacture of the machines was under the supervision of the Signal Corps. Promises were made that by the spring of 1918 the Germans would be completely at the mercy of American airmen.

But difficulties developed. A new type of motor had to be produced, capable of serving in any kind of airplane; this was rapidly and successfully accomplished, and in July, 1917, the Liberty Motor was approved. But just as manufacturing was about to begin changes in the design were demanded, with ensuing delays. There was confusion between the jurisdiction of the Aircraft Board and that of the Signal Corps. The organization of the latter was less efficient than had been expected, and men who knew little or nothing of the technique of aircraft were placed in charge of production. When orders were given for planes to be constructed in France, seven thousand American machinists had to be sent over to release the French machinists who were to work on these contracts, with consequent delays to American production. Repeated alterations in the designs of airplanes must be made to meet changing requirements sent from the front, and large numbers of planes almost ready for delivery had to be scrapped. Two of the types manufactured proved to be unsatisfactory and were condemned, with an estimated loss of twenty-six million dollars. Finally the bitter cold of the winter made it difficult to secure the indispensable spruce from the northwestern forests, and lumbering operations were hampered by extensive strikes, which were said to have resulted from German intrigues.

General disappointment at the failure to produce airplanes in quantity by the spring of 1918 was the more bitter because of the high hopes that had been aroused by those in authority. Instead of confessing the serious nature of the delays, the War Department attempted to conceal not merely the mistakes made but the fact that airplanes could not possibly reach France in any numbers before the autumn of 1918. Thus when at last, in February, a single combat plane was completed and shipped, the War Department issued the statement: "The first American-built battle planes are to-day en route to France. This first shipment, although not in itself large, marks the final overcoming of many difficulties met in building up a new and intricate industry." When General Wood returned from France in March and reported that not one American-built plane was in action there, and when the Senate investigation committee unearthed the existence of all the delays, the disillusioned public gave vent to fierce criticism. It was to some extent calmed by the appointment, in April, of John D. Ryan, of the Anaconda Copper Company, as director of aircraft production for the army. By this time many of the most serious difficulties had been passed. When the armistice was signed about twelve thousand airplanes had been produced by American plants, of which a third were service-planes.[6]

[Footnote 6: Ayres. The War with Germany, 87-90.]

It is impossible here to trace the activities of the various departments in the herculean task of arming the nation. But one should not forget that there was much which never received wide publicity. The development of ordnance carried with it the manufacture of quantities of ammunition hitherto undreamt of, the building of railway and motorized artillery, the improvement of sight and fire-control apparatus, the making of all sorts of trench-warfare materiel. The Air Service had to concern itself with the manufacture of radio telephones, armament for airplanes, the synchronizing of machine guns to fire through propeller blades, airplane bombs, air photography, and pyrotechnics. The Chemical Warfare Service was busy with the making of toxic gases and gas defense equipment, using the peach stones and cocoanut shells which every one was asked to save. The enormous quantities of medical and dental supplies must be gathered by the Quartermaster Department, which also had charge of the salvage service and the thousand gargantuan household occupations, such as laundering and incineration of garbage, that went with the maintenance of the army in camp. The Signal Corps must produce wire, telegraphs, telephones, switchboards, radio equipment, batteries, field glasses, photographic outfits, and carrier pigeons.

Upon its navy the United States has always relied chiefly for defense and in this branch of the service the country was better prepared for war in 1917 than in the army. Indeed when the nation entered the struggle many persons believed that the sole practical fighting assistance the United States should give the Allies would be upon the sea. Josephus Daniels, the Secretary of the Navy, was a Southern politician, of limited administrative experience and capacity. During the first years of his appointment he had alienated navy officers through the introduction of pet reforms and his frank advocacy of a little navy. Resiliency, however, was one of his characteristics and he followed President Wilson in 1916, when the latter demanded from Congress authority for an expansion in the navy which seemed only prudent in view of international conditions. Largely owing to the efforts of the Assistant Secretary, Franklin D. Roosevelt, the months immediately preceding the declaration of war witnessed strenuous preparations to render aid to the Allies in case the United States should participate. Thereafter Secretary Daniels tended to sink his personality and judgment in the conduct of the naval war and to defer to the opinion of various officers, of whom Admiral William S. Benson, Chief of Naval Operations was the most influential. When war was declared two flotillas of destroyers were at once sent to Queenstown to assist in chasing and sinking submarines, and were placed under the command of Admiral William S. Sims. Battleships and cruisers followed, though by no means with the expedition nor in the numbers desired by Sims, who believed that by using practically the entire naval force at once the submarine could be exterminated and the war ended.

At home, the Navy Department entered upon a process of expansion which increased its personnel from 65,000 to 497,000 when the armistice was signed. A rapid development in naval construction was planned, with emphasis upon destroyers. The effects of this programme became visible within a year; during the first nine months of 1918 no less than eighty-three destroyers were launched, as against sixty-two for the preceding nine years. Submarine chasers of a special design were built and many private yachts taken over and adapted to the war against the submarine. During the course of the war two battleships and twenty-eight submarines were completed. Expansion in naval shipbuilding plans was paralleled by the construction of giant docks; by camps sufficient for the training of two hundred thousand men; and by a naval aircraft factory from which a seaplane was turned out seven months after work on the factory was begun. Naval aviators returning from the Channel coasts superintended flying schools and undertook the patrol of our Atlantic seaboard.

If much of these military preparations was not translated into accomplishment before the war ended, it was because the United States was preparing wisely for a long struggle and it seemed necessary that the foundations should be broad and deep. "America was straining her energies towards a goal," said the Director of Munitions, "toward the realization of an ambition which, in the production of munitions, dropped the year 1918 almost out of consideration altogether, which indeed did not bring the full weight of American men and materiel into the struggle even in 1919, but which left it for 1920, if the enemy had not yet succumbed to the growing American power, to witness the maximum strength of the United States in the field." It was the knowledge of this preparation which, to some extent, helped to convince the German General Staff of the futility of further resistance and thus to bring the war to an early end.

The dependence of the United States upon the Allies for equipment and munitions does not deserve the vitriolic anathemas of certain critics. The country did not enter the struggle as if it expected to fight the war single-handed. Distribution of labor and supplies between the United States and the Allies was merely a wise and economic measure. At their own request, the Allies were furnished with that which they most needed—money, food, and man-power. In return they provided the United States with the artillery and machine guns which they could spare and which they could manufacture more cheaply and rapidly. Finally there is the outstanding fact, of which America may always be proud, that this heterogeneous democracy, organized, so far as organization existed, for the pursuits of peace, was able in the space of sixteen months, to provide an army capable of fighting successfully one of the most difficult campaigns of the war, and that which led directly to the military defeat of Germany.

The ultimate success of President Wilson's war policies could hardly have been achieved except by the process of centralization which he never lost from view. His insistence upon centralized responsibility and control in political matters was paralleled in the military field. Nothing illustrates this principle better than the centralization of the American Expeditionary Force under the absolute and unquestioned command of General Pershing. The latter was given free rein. The jealousies which so weakened the Union armies during the first years of the Civil War were ruthlessly repressed. No generals were sent to France of whom he did not approve. When the Allies threatened to appeal to Washington over Pershing's head, President Wilson turned a deaf ear.

In the United States, the President sought similar centralization through the General Staff. It was this body which prepared the different plans for the Draft Act, the Pershing expedition, and finally for the gigantic task of putting a million men in France by the summer of 1918. To the staff was given the formulation of the training programme along the lines recommended by Pershing. Always, however, it was hampered by the multiple responsibility that characterized the old-style army machine with its bureau chiefs competing with each other, with the navy, and with the Allies. Quartermaster Department, Ordnance Department, Signal Corps, and the other bureaus were uncooerdinated, and inevitable waste and inefficiency followed all their operations. It was the crisis that arose from the problem of supplies, in the winter of 1917, that furnished the President with the opportunity to cut red-tape and secure the centralization he desired. That opportunity came with the blanket powers bestowed upon him by the Overman Act, the full significance of which can only be appreciated after a consideration of the measures taken to centralize the industrial resources of the nation.



CHAPTER VII

THE HOME FRONT

On May 18, 1917, President Wilson issued a proclamation in which are to be found the following significant sentences:

In the sense in which we have been wont to think of armies there are no armies in this struggle, there are entire nations armed. Thus, the men who remain to till the soil and man the factories are no less a part of the army that is in France than the men beneath the battle flags. It must be so with us. It is not an army that we must shape and train for war—it is a Nation. To this end our people must draw close in one compact front against a common foe. But this cannot be if each man pursues a private purpose. All must pursue one purpose. The Nation needs all men, but it needs each man, not in the field that will most pleasure him, but in the endeavor that will best serve the common good. Thus, though a sharpshooter pleases to operate a trip-hammer for the forging of great guns, and an expert machinist desires to march with the flag, the Nation is being served only when the sharpshooter marches and the machinist remains at his levers. The whole Nation must be a team, in which each man shall play the part for which he is best fitted.

If President Wilson deserves severe criticism for his failure to endorse adequate plans of preparation for war while his country was at peace, he should be given due credit for his appreciation that the home front must be organized if the fighting front was to be victorious. He perceived clearly that it was necessary to carry into the industrial life of the nation that centralizing process which characterized his military policy. That the nation at home was made to feel itself part of the fighting forces and cooeperated enthusiastically and effectively in the organization of the national resources was not the least of the triumphs of the United States. Such organization demanded great sacrifice, not merely of luxuries or comforts, but of settled habits, which are difficult to break. It must necessarily be of an emergency character, for the United States possessed no bureaucratic system like that which obtains on the continent of Europe for the centralization of trade, manufactures, food production, and the thousand activities that form part of economic life. But the event proved that both the spirit and the brains of the American people were equal to the crisis.

The problem of cooerdinating the national industries for the supply of the army was complicated by the military decentralization described in the preceding chapter, which President Wilson was not able to remedy before the final months of the war. The army did not form or state its requirements as one body but through five supply bureaus, which acted independently and in competition with each other. Bids for materials from the different bureaus conflicted with each other, with those of the navy, and of the Allies. Not merely was it essential that such demands should be cooerdinated, but that some central committee should be able to say how large was the total supply of any sort of materials, how soon they could be produced, and to prevent the waste of such materials in unessential production. If the army was decentralized, American industry as a whole was in a state of complete chaos, so far as any central organization was concerned. On the side of business every firm in every line of production was competing in the manufacture of essential and unessential articles, in transportation, and in bidding for and holding the necessary labor. Mr. Wilson set himself the task of evolving order out of this chaos.

The President, as in the purely military problem where he utilized the General Staff as his instrument, prepared to adapt existing machinery, rather than to create a completely new organization. For a time he seems to have believed that his Cabinet might serve the function. But it was ill-adapted to handle the sort of problems that must be solved. It was composed of men chosen largely for political reasons, and despite much public complaint it had not been strengthened after Wilson's reelection. Franklin K. Lane, the Secretary of the Interior, was generally recognized as a man of excellent business judgment, willing to listen to experts, and capable of cooeperating effectively with the economic leaders of the country. His influence with the President, however, seemed to be overshadowed by that of Newton D. Baker and William G. McAdoo, Secretaries of War and of the Treasury, who had inspired the distrust of most business men. McAdoo in particular alienated financial circles because of his apparent suspicion of banking interest, and both, by their appeals to laboring men, laid themselves open to the charge of demagogic tactics. Robert Lansing, the Secretary of State, had won recognition as an expert international lawyer of long experience, but he could not be expected to exercise great influence, inasmuch as the President obviously intended to remain his own foreign secretary. Albert S. Burleson, Postmaster-General, was a politician, expert in the minor tactics of party, whose conduct of the postal and telegraphic systems was destined to bring a storm of protest upon the entire Administration. Thomas W. Gregory, the Attorney-General, had gained entrance into the Cabinet by means of a railroad suit which had roused the ire of the transportation interests. The other members were, at that time, little known or spoken of. Wilson spent much time and effort in defending his Cabinet members from attacks, and yet it was believed that he rarely appealed to them for advice in the formulation of policies. Thus the Cabinet as a whole lacked the very qualities essential to a successful organizing committee: ability to secure the cooeperation and respect of the industrial leaders of the country.