[Sidenote: French take Sailly-Saillisel.]

On September 12 and 18, 1916, further gains were made to the east of the Les Boeufs-Gueudecourt line and east of Le Sars, and some hundreds of prisoners were taken. On these dates, despite all the difficulties of ground, the French first reached and then captured the villages of Sailly-Saillisel, but the moment for decisive action was rapidly passing away, while the weather showed no signs of improvement. By this time, too, the ground had already become so bad that nothing less than a prolonged period of drying weather, which at that season of the year was most unlikely to occur, would suit our purpose.

[Sidenote: New line established.]

In these circumstances, while continuing to do all that was possible to improve my position on my right flank, I determined to press on with preparations for the exploitation of the favorable local situation on my left flank. At midday on October 21, 1916, during a short spell of fine, cold weather, the line of Regina Trench and Stuff Trench, from the west Courcelette-Pys road westward to Schwaben Redoubt, was attacked with complete success. Assisted by an excellent artillery preparation and barrage, our infantry carried the whole of their objectives very quickly and with remarkably little loss, and our new line was firmly established in spite of the enemy's shell fire. Over one thousand prisoners were taken in the course of the day's fighting, a figure only slightly exceeded by our casualties.

[Sidenote: Part of Regina trench carried.]

On October 23, 1916, and again on November 5, 1916, while awaiting better weather for further operations on the Ancre, our attacks on the enemy's positions to the east of Les Boeufs and Gueudecourt were renewed, in conjunction with French operations against the Sailly-Saillisel heights and St. Pierre Vaast Wood. Considerable further progress was achieved. Our footing at the crest of Le Transloy Spur was extended and secured, and the much-contested tangle of trenches at our junction with the French left at last passed definitely into our possession. Many smaller gains were made in this neighborhood by local assaults during these days, in spite of the difficult conditions of the ground. In particular, on November 10, 1916, after a day of improved weather, the portion of Regina Trench lying to the east of the Courcelette-Pys road was carried on a front of about one thousand yards.

[Sidenote: Enemy losses.]

Throughout these operations the enemy's counterattacks were very numerous and determined, succeeding indeed in the evening of October 23, 1916, in regaining a portion of the ground east of Le Sars taken from him by our attack on that day. On all other occasions his attacks were broken by our artillery or infantry and the losses incurred by him in these attempts, made frequently with considerable effectives, were undoubtedly very severe.

[Sidenote: Preparations for attack on the Ancre.]

On November 9, 1916, the long-continued bad weather took a turn for the better, and thereafter remained dry and cold, with frosty nights and misty mornings, for some days. Final preparations were therefore pushed on for the attack on the Ancre, though, as the ground was still very bad in places, it was necessary to limit the operations to what it would be reasonably possible to consolidate and hold under the existing conditions.

[Sidenote: Permanent line of enemy fortifications.]

The enemy's defenses in this area were already extremely formidable when they resisted our assault on July 1, 1916, and the succeeding period of four months had been spent in improving and adding to them in the light of the experience he had gained in the course of our attacks further south. The hamlet of St. Pierre Divion and the villages of Beaucourt-sur-Ancre and Beaumont Hamel, like the rest of the villages forming part of the enemy's original front in this district, were evidently intended by him to form a permanent line of fortifications, while he developed his offensive elsewhere. Realizing that his position in them had become a dangerous one, the enemy had multiplied the number of his guns covering this part of his line, and at the end of October introduced an additional division on his front between Grandcourt and Hebuterne.

[Sidenote: Barrage to cover infantry.]

At 5 o'clock on the morning of November 11, 1916, the special bombardment preliminary to the attack was commenced. It continued with bursts of great intensity until 5.45 o'clock on the morning of November 13, 1916, when it developed into a very effective barrage covering the assaulting infantry.

[Sidenote: St. Pierre Divion taken.]

At that hour our troops advanced on the enemy's position through dense fog, and rapidly entered his first-line trenches on almost the whole front attacked, from east of Schwaben Redoubt to the north of Serre. South of the Ancre, where our assault was directed northward against the enemy's trenches on the northern slopes of the Thiepval Ridge, it met with a success altogether remarkable for rapidity of execution and lightness of cost. By 7.20 a.m. our objectives east of St. Pierre Divion had been captured, and the Germans in and about that hamlet were hemmed in between our troops and the river. Many of the enemy were driven into their dugouts and surrendered, and at 9 a.m. the number of prisoners was actually greater than the attacking force. St. Pierre Divion soon fell, and in this area nearly 1,400 prisoners were taken by a single division at the expense of less than 600 casualties. The rest of our forces operating south of the Ancre attained their objectives with equal completeness and success.

[Sidenote: Objectives reached on right bank of Ancre.]

North of the river the struggle was more severe, but very satisfactory results were achieved. Though parties of the enemy held out for some hours during the day in strong points at various places along his first line and in Beaumont Hamel, the main attack pushed on. The troops attacking close to the right bank of the Ancre reached their second objectives to the west and northwest of Beaucourt during the morning, and held on there for the remainder of the day and night, though practically isolated from the rest of our attacking troops. Their tenacity was of the utmost value, and contributed very largely to the success of the operations. At nightfall our troops were established on the western outskirts of Beaucourt, in touch with our forces south of the river, and held a line along the station road from the Ancre toward Beaumont Hamel, where we occupied the village. Further north the enemy's first-line system for a distance of about half a mile beyond Beaumont Hamel was also in our hands. Still further north—opposite Serre—the ground was so heavy that it became necessary to abandon the attack at an early stage, although, despite all difficulties, our troops had in places reached the enemy's trenches in the course of their assault.

[Sidenote: Beaumont carried.]

Next morning, at an early hour, the attack was renewed between Beaucourt and the top of the spur just north of Beaumont Hamel. The whole of Beaumont was carried, and our line extended to the northwest along the Beaucourt road across the southern end of the Beaumont Hamel spur. The number of our prisoners steadily rose, and during this and the succeeding days our front was carried forward eastward and northward up the slopes of the Beaumont Hamel spur.

[Sidenote: Allies command Ancre Valley.]

The results of this attack were very satisfactory, especially as before its completion bad weather had set in again. We had secured the command of the Ancre Valley on both banks of the river at the point where it entered the enemy's lines, and, without great cost to ourselves, losses had been inflicted on the enemy which he himself admitted to be considerable. Our final total of prisoners taken in these operations, and their development during the subsequent days, exceeded 7,200, including 149 officers.

[Sidenote: Enemy kept on alert.]

Throughout the period dealt with in this dispatch the role of the other armies holding our defensive line from the northern limits of the battle front to beyond Ypres was necessarily a secondary one, but their task was neither light nor unimportant. While required to give precedence in all respects to the needs of the Somme battle, they were responsible for the security of the line held by them and for keeping the enemy on their front constantly on the alert. Their role was a very trying one, entailing heavy work on the troops and constant vigilance on the part of commanders and staffs. It was carried out to my entire satisfaction, and in an unfailing spirit of unselfish and broad-minded devotion to the general good, which is deserving of the highest commendation.

[Sidenote: Great number of raids.]

Some idea of the thoroughness with which their duties were performed can be gathered from the fact that in the period of four and a half months from July 1, 1916, some 360 raids were carried out, in the course of which the enemy suffered many casualties and some hundreds of prisoners were taken by us. The largest of these operations was undertaken on July 19, 1916, in the neighborhood of Armentieres. Our troops penetrated deeply into the enemy's defenses, doing much damage to his works and inflicting severe losses upon him.

[Sidenote: Main objects of offensive achieved.]

The three main objects with which we had commenced our offensive in July had already been achieved at the date when this account closes, in spite of the fact that the heavy Autumn rains had prevented full advantage from being taken of the favorable situation created by our advance, at a time when we had good grounds for hoping to achieve yet more important successes.

Verdun had been relieved, the main German forces had been held on the western front, and the enemy's strength had been very considerably worn down.

[Sidenote: Ample compensation for sacrifices.]

Any one of these three results is in itself sufficient to justify the Somme battle. The attainment of all three of them affords ample compensation for the splendid efforts of our troops and for the sacrifices made by ourselves and our allies. They have brought us a long step forward toward the final victory of the allied cause.

[Sidenote: German failure at Verdun.]

The desperate struggle for the possession of Verdun had invested that place with a moral and political importance out of all proportion to its military value. Its fall would undoubtedly have been proclaimed as a great victory for our enemies, and would have shaken the faith of many in our ultimate success. The failure of the enemy to capture it, despite great efforts and very heavy losses, was a severe blow to his prestige, especially in view of the confidence he had openly expressed as to the results of the struggle.

[Sidenote: Eastward movement of German troops checked.]

Information obtained both during the progress of the Somme battle and since the suspension of active operations has fully established the effect of our offensive in keeping the enemy's main forces tied to the western front. A movement of German troops eastward, which had commenced in June as a result of the Russian successes, continued for a short time only after the opening of the allied attack. Thereafter the enemy forces that moved east consisted, with one exception, of divisions that had been exhausted in the Somme battle, and these troops were already replaced on the western front by fresh divisions. In November the strength of the enemy in the western theatre of war was greater than in July, notwithstanding the abandonment of his offensive at Verdun.

[Sidenote: Somme offensive relieved Verdun.]

It is possible that if Verdun had fallen large forces might still have been employed in an endeavor further to exploit that success. It is, however, far more probable, in view of developments in the eastern theatre, that a considerable transfer of troops in that direction would have followed. It is therefore justifiable to conclude that the Somme offensive not only relieved Verdun but held large forces which would otherwise have been employed against our allies in the east.

The third great object of the allied operations on the Somme was the wearing down of the enemy's powers of resistance. Any statement of the extent to which this has been attained must depend in some degree on estimates.

There is, nevertheless, sufficient evidence to place it beyond doubt that the enemy's losses in men and material have been very considerably higher than those of the Allies, while morally the balance of advantage on our side is still greater.

[Sidenote: Enemy resistance feebler.]

During the period under review a steady deterioration took place in the morale of large numbers of the enemy's troops. Many of them, it is true, fought with the greatest determination, even in the latest encounters, but the resistance of still larger numbers became latterly decidedly feebler than it had been in the earlier stages of the battle. Aided by the great depth of his defenses and by the frequent reliefs which his resources in men enabled him to effect, discipline and training held the machine together sufficiently to enable the enemy to rally and reorganize his troops after each fresh defeat. As our advance progressed, four-fifths of the total number of divisions engaged on the western front were thrown one after another into the Somme battle, some of them twice, and some three times; and toward the end of the operations, when the weather unfortunately broke, there can be no doubt that his power of resistance had been very seriously diminished.

[Sidenote: Prisoners and guns taken.]

The number of prisoners taken by us in the Somme battle between July 1 and November 18, 1916, is just over 38,000, including over 800 officers. During the same period we captured 29 heavy guns, 96 field guns and field howitzers, 136 trench mortars, and 514 machine guns.

* * * * *

The war fell with special severity upon the people of the poorer classes in Russia, many of whom, upon the advance of the German and Austrian armies, were compelled to flee from their homes in a practically destitute condition. A graphic description of the pitiable plight of these unfortunate people is given in the following pages.



RUSSIA'S REFUGEES

GREGORY MASON

Copyright, Outlook, January 19, 1916.

[Sidenote: A Russian freight train with passengers.]

Near Moscow, on a siding of the railway that runs from Moscow to Warsaw through Smolensk, was a string of thirteen freight cars, the short, chunky Russian kind—barely half as long as the American—looking as flimsy, top-heavy, and unwieldy as houseboats on wheels. No locomotive was tied to the string, and from the windward side, where the cars were whitewashed by the biting blizzard that had already stopped all traffic with its drifted barricades, they had the desolate look of stranded empties. But the leeward door of each car was open a few inches, permitting the egress of odors that told any one who chanced to pass that the big rolling boxes were loaded with human freight, closely packed and long on the journey.

[Sidenote: Old women at work.]

I pushed the door of one car back and looked in. At first in the semi-gloom nothing was visible, but gradually, against a crack in the opposite car wall that let through a streak of gray light with a ribbon of snow that rustled as it fell on the straw-covered floor, there grew the dull silhouette of two old women, who sat facing each other in the straw, laboriously pounding corn into flour in a big earthen bowl between them.

[Sidenote: Emaciated children and dead babies.]

The young Pole who was with me climbed into the car and probed its recesses with a spear of light from a pocket flash-lamp. The old women stopped pounding to lift toward us wrinkled faces that expressed fear and hate when the tiny searchlight was turned on their dim, blinking eyes. Another pair of hags in a far corner, propped against a bale of hay and bound together like Siamese twins in a brown horse-blanket, moved their eyes feebly, but nothing more. They were paralyzed. A score of children that had been huddled here and there in the straw in twos and threes for warmth's sake came slowly to life and crowded around us, lifting a ring of wan, emaciated little faces. Three, too feeble to stand, sat up and stared at the strange light. The bodies of four small babies moved not at all—were, in fact, lifeless.

[Sidenote: Refugees from Poland.]

[Sidenote: Herded like cattle by soldiers.]

These people were refugees from a rural part of Poland, made homeless by the Russian military decree which ordered the destruction of all buildings and the removal of all civilians from the rearward path of the Muscovite army as it fell back before the battering attacks of the Germans from Warsaw to Dwinsk. For ten days these four old women and twenty-seven children had been in that car, with no fire, few warm clothes, and only a little dried meat, corn flour, and water to sustain life in them. This the meager fare had failed to do in the case of the four youngest. Since they had been herded into that cold box like cattle by soldiers at the station to which they had driven or walked from their blazing homes, they had been moved eastward daily in the joggling car, which traveled slowly and by fits and starts, unvisited by any one, not knowing their destination, and now too low in mind and body to care.

[Sidenote: Children forget their families.]

The two old creatures who were paralyzed when they had been dumped into the car were now apparently dying; several of the children swayed with weakness as they stood, clutching at the biscuits and sweet chocolate which we drew from our pockets. Five of them were grandchildren of one of the paralytics, three designated one of the wrinkled flour-makers by the Polish equivalent of "granny," but none of the others knew where their parents were, and six of them had forgotten their own family names or had never known them.

[Sidenote: Moscow and Petrograd overcrowded.]

The other twelve cars were like this one except that all of them had at least two or three—and usually six or seven—feeble, crackly-voiced old men with their complement of women and children, and one contained three young fellows of twenty who had probably smuggled themselves into the car and who cringed when my Polish interpreter lunged on them with his rapier of light and retreated into a corner where two cows stood with necks crossed in affection. These youths knew they had no business in that car, for even in the chaos of retreat the word had been passed among the civilian refugees: "Women, children, and old men first in the cars; young men can walk." But there have not been enough cars even for the weak, the very young, and the very aged, and thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, have found their graves along the slushy, muddy roads they were following toward Petrograd and Moscow from the occupied provinces of Poland and the Baltic. These people in the freight cars at least had had transportation and a crude kind of shelter. But of the two million refugees who are overcrowding Moscow and Petrograd, to the great detriment of the health average of the two Russian capitals, many thousands came there several hundred weary miles on foot. And others, less determined or weaker, are still straggling in or are lingering by the way, some of the latter dying and some finding shelter in small towns between the twin big cities and the front.

[Sidenote: Millions of refugees.]

[Sidenote: People of all ranks and stations.]

Some estimates place the number of Russian refugees at from ten to fifteen million; thirteen million is the estimate of the Tatiana Committee, one of the most influential relief organizations in Russia, named after the second daughter of the Czar, who is its honorary head. By race the refugees are principally Poles, Jews, Letts, and Lithuanians, but they come from all ranks and stations of life, rich and poor alike, now all poor, thrown from their homes with nothing but the clothes on their bodies by the grim chances of war.

[Sidenote: Thousands must starve and freeze.]

In times of peace and prosperity the sudden impoverishment of such a large mass of people would tax the relief and charity of Russia to the limit; but now, when all food prices are from one hundred to three hundred per cent higher than before the war—when even the well-to-do have difficulty to get enough bread, sugar, and coal—it is inevitable that thousands of these homeless ones should starve and freeze to death. Thousands have already suffered this fate, but hundreds of thousands, perhaps a million or more, will die this way before spring unless relief comes quickly and bountifully from abroad, for Russia cannot cope with the emergency alone. Unless Russia's allies or neutrals begin at once to pour into Russia a stream of food to fill the stomachs of these hungry, homeless ones, this will be the bitterest winter in Russian history, a winter whose horrors will far transcend the terrible winter of 1812, when Napoleon ravaged Poland and sacked Moscow.

[Sidenote: Great Britain must bolster weaker allies.]

Great Britain, who is holding up some of her weaker allies in many ways, sweeping mines from the White Sea for Russia, and with France bolstering the remnant of the Belgian army in Flanders, is doing much to alleviate the suffering of Russia's refugees by unofficial action. The Great Britain to Poland Fund, organized and supported by such prominent Britons as Lady Byron, Viscount Bryce, the Duke of Newcastle, the Earl of Rosebery, and the Lord Mayor of London, at the instance of Princess Bariatinsky, who is better known as the famous Russian actress, Madame Yavorska, is feeding between 4,000 and 7,000 refugees daily at Petrograd, Moscow, Minsk, and at several small towns close to the front.

[Sidenote: The Petrograd "Feeding Point."]

[Sidenote: Sheds for shelter.]

The Petrograd "Feeding Point" is a long, hastily built shed of unfinished lumber a stone's-throw from the Warsaw station. This site was well selected, for the long stone railway station, open at both ends like an aviation hangar, is the center of refugee population in the Czar's city. Not only were several hundred homeless men, women, and children sleeping on the cold stone floors of the draughty station, but other hundreds were lying about in odd corners here and there, in empty trucks and freight cars, lying within a few feet of where the crowded refugee train had left them, with no hope or ambition to make them move on. Still other hundreds, more fortunate than these, were sheltered in three sheds, similar to the "Refugees' Restaurant" in their unfinished board construction, which had been built by the Government. Each of these sheds, about thirty by sixty feet in dimensions, housed between two and three hundred persons. This crowding was made possible by the presence of platforms built one above another in triple or quadruple deck "nests" about the room, where people of both sexes and of all ages slept, cooked and ate such food as they could beg, and lay all day long with expressionless, bulging eyes, half stupefied in the stifling stench of the place.

[Sidenote: Lines before the feeding stations.]

Twice a day a line formed before the door of the feeding station of such persons as were known to have no private food supply, and when the door opened they surged in, getting brass tickets at the threshold which each one exchanged in the far end of the room for a large square piece of Russian chorny khleb—black bread—and a steaming bowl of good old English porridge served to them by the bustling ladies of the British Colony. Only enough were admitted at a time to fill the double row of board tables, yet every day from 1,000 to 1,400 were fed.

[Sidenote: The gayety of hungry youth.]

It was interesting to stand at the elbow of the buxom, indefatigably good-natured English lady who wielded the porridge spoon and watch the long, hungry file which melted away toward the tables when it reached the tall, bottomless urn that held the fragrant, steaming cereal. First came a dozen boys and girls who had lost their parents but not the irresistible gayety of hungry youth in the presence of food.

[Sidenote: A one-time rich man.]

[Sidenote: Bitterness toward the Government.]

They took their bread and porridge without even a mumbled "Spassiba"—thanks—and shouldered each other for seats at the tables. Then came a blind old man led by his two grandsons. His thanks were pathetically profuse. Next another graybeard, carrying an ivory cane and wearing a handsome fur coat, the only indications of his recent high station in provincial society except the unmistakable reserve and dignity of gentility. After him was a handsome Lett, who had been a station agent in Courland till his station was dynamited in the Russian retreat. None of the children gave any thanks for the food; in fact, hardly any one did except the very old. The attitude of the others seemed to be that of people who were getting only a small part of their just due. Perhaps that was because they may not have realized that they were being fed by England, not by Russia, and toward Russia all of them were bitter even those who lived in the shelters the Government had built. This bitterness was indicated by the refusal of most of them to accept work proffered them by provincial or municipal officials.

[Sidenote: No wish to begin over.]

Their attitude is that, inasmuch as the Government has deliberately wiped out their homes and destroyed their means of livelihood, it is the Government's duty to support them in comfortable idleness. They seem to feel that it is adding insult to injury to ask them to begin over again in a new environment and work for their living. I asked a young Lettish railway man, living in one of the board barracks near the Warsaw station, why he had refused an offer of employment in the railway yards hard by.

"Why should I work for Russia?" he asked, bitterly. "Russia has taken from me my pretty home, my good job, and my wife and two children, who died on the road in that awful blizzard recently. Why should I work for Russia?"

"But you will starve if you do not," I suggested.

[Sidenote: Gloomy resignation.]

"Nichevo!"—it doesn't matter—he muttered, in gloomy resignation.

[Sidenote: A great mistake.]

[Sidenote: Everything destroyed.]

The majority of the refugees feel the way this man does. I do not refer to the refugees who left their homes voluntarily through fear of the advancing Germans, but to that greater number who were forced to leave by the compulsion of their own Government, which deliberately destroyed their homes as a military measure. Every Russian, even the military officers who were responsible for this policy of destruction, now realize that the adoption of that policy was one of the greatest mistakes Russia has made during the war. For it has cost her the support of a large and important body of Letts, Poles, Jews, and Lithuanians. The theory was that to leave large masses of civilians behind the forward-pushing German lines would provide Germany with a large number of spies, as well as with sustenance for its armies. To some extent, too, it was believed that buildings left standing in the Russian retreat might serve as protection and cover for German artillery. So everything was destroyed—farm-houses, barns, churches, schools, orchards, even haystacks. Whenever the Russian lines retracted before the unbearable pounding of the terrible German guns, they left only a desert for the Kaiser's men to cross.

[Sidenote: Loss too great to be compensated by gain.]

War is not a parlor game. A great deal of destruction is inevitable in the nature of war, and sometimes in wars of the past commanders have deliberately laid waste large sections of beautiful country to handicap the enemy, and the results have justified this destruction. A ten per cent social and economic loss is gladly borne by a nation at war for a ninety per cent military gain. Perhaps a commander is even justified in inflicting a forty-nine per cent social and economic loss on his country for a fifty-one per cent military gain. But the deliberate ravaging of Poland and the Baltic provinces was a ninety per cent social and economic loss for a ten per cent military gain—something that is never justifiable.

[Sidenote: Relief should meet refugees.]

It is very difficult for a general to remember that there are other factors in war besides the military factors, and we must not be too severe in our criticism of the Russian General Staff because it saw only the ten per cent military gain and overlooked the ninety per cent political and economic loss. The order which made a desert of thousands of square miles of the best territory in Russia was countermanded, anyway, but not until the harm had been done. But now the only concern of Russia and of the friends of Russia should be to confine the damage to the irremediable minimum. To that end it is necessary to handle the great streams of refugees intelligently. The influx into Petrograd and Moscow should be stopped. Relief organization should go out from these cities toward the front, stop the refugees where they meet them, and there make provision for them to spend the winter. To this purpose hundreds and thousands of sleeping barracks and soup kitchens like those in Petrograd must be built along the provincial highways. Thousands of these people will never again see the familiar environment where they have lived all their lives, even if Russia regains her lost provinces. But more of them will be able to return eventually, and there will be less suffering among them this winter, if they are stopped where they are and are not allowed to flow into the two Russian capitals, so terribly overcrowded already, and into the colder country north and east of Petrograd and Moscow.

[Sidenote: Russia unable to handle situation.]

I understand that this policy has been adopted by the Tatiana Committee. But Russia alone cannot handle the situation; she must have generous aid from outside.

[Sidenote: America a synonym for service.]

A young American, Mr. Thomas Whittemore, who was in Sofia when Bulgaria went to war, left there declining an invitation of the Queen of Bulgaria to head a branch of the Red Cross, because his sympathies were with the Allies, and is now in Russia working out a programme for the relief of Russia's refugees under the auspices of the Tatiana Committee. He is out on the roads in an automobile constantly, meeting the incoming human flotsam and jetsam of war, and his recommendations will have the weight of authority. America has become a synonym for service in France, Belgium, and Servia, but thus far America has done next to nothing for Russia. Shall America, who responded so splendidly to the appeal of Belgium and Servia, ignore the needs of the stricken people of Poland and the Baltic provinces, whose sufferings are greater than the sufferings of the Belgians, certainly as great as the sufferings of the Servians?

[Sidenote: War's most moving sight.]

There are many pathetic things in war—soldiers wasted with disease, blasted in arm and leg with explosive shell, withered in eye and lung by the terrible gas; but none of these things is so moving as the sight of little children, homeless, parentless, and with clothing worn and torn by travel, sleeping in empty freight cars, cold railway stations, or on the very blizzard-swept sidewalks of Russian cities, and slowly dying because they have no food.

* * * * *

Rumania hesitated long before entering the war. The sympathies of her people were strongly with the Allies, for military and economic reasons connected with German domination of her resources made her actual military participation with the Allied Armies difficult and dangerous. The decision, however, was made in the late summer of 1916, and an attack was made by the Rumanian army against Austrian forces. This was followed by successes which continued until Bulgaria began hostilities against the Rumanian army. Shortly after, a German army under General Mackensen against Rumania was started which ended in the capture of Bucharest in December, 1916.



THE TRAGEDY OF RUMANIA

STANLEY WASHBURN

Copyright, Atlantic Monthly, December, 1917.

[Sidenote: What it meant for Rumania to fight.]

More than a year has now elapsed since Rumania entered the war. What is meant for this little country to abandon neutrality is not generally realized. Here in America we know that so long as the British fleet dominated the seas we were safe, and that we should have ample opportunity to prepare ourselves for the vicissitudes of war and to make the preparations that are now being undertaken and carried out by the administration of President Wilson. Canada and Australia likewise knew that they were in no danger of attack.

[Sidenote: War's terrible cost.]

But the case of Rumania was far different. She knew with a terrible certainty that the moment she entered the war she would be the target for attack on a frontier over twelve hundred kilometres long. The world criticized her for remaining neutral, and yet one wonders how many countries would have staked their national future as Rumania did when she entered the war. In a short fourteen months she has seen more than one half of her army destroyed, her fertile plains pass into the hands of her enemies, and her great oil industry almost wiped out. To-day her army, supported by Russians, is holding with difficulty hardly twenty per cent of what, before the war, was one of the most fertile and prosperous small kingdoms of Europe.

[Sidenote: Why nations went to war.]

[Sidenote: America's reasons.]

When America entered the war she assumed, in a large measure, the obligations to which the Allies were already committed. It seems of paramount importance under these circumstances that the case and the cause of Rumania be more thoroughly understood in this country. Other countries entered the war through necessities of various sorts. America committed herself to the conflict for a cause which even the cynical German propaganda, hard as it has tried, has been unable to distort into a selfish or commercial one. We are preparing to share in every way the sacrifices, both in blood and wealth, which our allies have been making these past three years. And as our reward we ask for no selfish or commercial rights, nor do we seek to acquire extension of territory or acquisition of privilege in any part of the world. We have entered the war solely, because of wrongs committed in the past, and with the just determination that similar wrongs shall never again be perpetrated. No country and no people on this globe are more responsive to an obligation, and more determined to fulfill such an obligation when recognized, than are the American people.

[Sidenote: The author in Rumania.]

For nearly two years prior to the entrance of Rumania into the war I had been attached to the Russian Imperial Staff in the field, as special correspondent of the London "Times." I went to Rumania in September, 1916, directly from the staff of the then Tsar, with a request from the highest authority in Russia to the highest command in Rumania that every opportunity for studying the situation be given me. These letters gave me instant access to the King and Queen of Rumania, to the Rumanian General Staff, and to other persons of importance in the Rumanian administration. I remained in that country until late in the autumn, motoring more than five thousand kilometres, and touching the Rumanian front at many places. My opinion, then, of the Rumanian cause is based on first-hand evidence obtained at the time.

[Sidenote: An interview with the King.]

When I arrived in Rumania, in September, the army was still at the high tide of its advance in Transylvania and the world was lauding without stint the bravery and efficiency of Rumanian troops. Two days after my arrival I lunched with the King, and had the first of a series of interviews with him on the status of the case of Rumania. Inasmuch as without the consent of its sovereign the entrance of Rumania into the war would have been impossible, I should first present the King's view of her case as His Majesty, after several conversations, authorized me to present it.

[Sidenote: The King of Rumania decides for war.]

The King himself, as all the world knows, is a Hohenzollern. His personal feelings must, therefore, in a measure, be affected by the fact that most of his relatives and friends are fighting on the German side. There is, however, not the slightest evidence to indicate that he has ever allowed the fact of his German blood to weigh against the true interests of Rumania. A conversation which illustrates the attitude of the King at this time is one which the Princess ——, one of the most clever and best-informed women in Rumania, related to me in Bucharest. The day before the declaration of war the most pro-German of the Rumanian ministers, who had the name of being the leader of the pro-German party in the capital, spent several hours putting forth every effort to prevent the declaration of war by the King. The minister, making no headway, finally said, "The Germans are sure to win. Your Majesty must realize that it is impossible to beat a Hohenzollern." The King replied, "I think it can be done, nevertheless." To this the defender of the German cause answered, "Can you show me a single case where a Hohenzollern has been beaten?" The King replied, "I can. I am a Hohenzollern, and I have beaten my own blood instincts for the sake of Rumania."

[Sidenote: Personality of the King of Rumania.]

One beautiful autumn afternoon, at the royal shooting-box outside of Bucharest, the King talked freely about his motives and the cause of his people. We had finished luncheon and he had dismissed his suite. He and the Crown Prince and myself were left in the unpretentious study. Here, over a map-strewn table, it was the custom of the King to study the problems of the campaign. A tired, harassed-looking man of about sixty, clad in the blue uniform of the Hussars of his Guard, he paced the floor, and with deep emotion emphasized the case of his country and the motives which had induced Rumania to enter the war.

This earnest presentation of his opinion I placed in writing at that time, and the sentences quoted here were a part of the statement published in the London "Times." So far as I know, this is the only occasion on which the King outlined in a definite way his personal view of the Rumania case.

His Majesty began by laying stress on the necessity for interpreting Rumania truthfully to the world, now that her enemies were doing their utmost to misrepresent her; the necessity for understanding the genius of the people and the sacrifices and dangers which the country faced. He urged that Rumania had not been moved by mere policy or expediency, but that her action was based on the highest principles of nationality and national ideals.

[Sidenote: The nation moved by ties of race and blood.]

[Sidenote: The Bulgar a menace.]

"In Rumania as in Russia," said the King, "the tie of race and blood underlies all other considerations, and the appeal of our purest Rumanian blood which lies beyond the Transylvanian Alps has ever been the strongest influence in the public opinion of all Rumania, from the throne to the lowest peasant. Inasmuch as Hungary was the master that held millions of our blood in perpetual bondage, Hungary has been our traditional enemy. The Bulgar, with his efficient and unquestionably courageous army, on a frontier difficult to defend, has logically become our southern menace, and as a latent threat has been accepted secondarily as a potential enemy."

[Sidenote: German friendship an asset.]

[Sidenote: Rumania's long frontier.]

After stating that, although at the beginning of the war Rumanian sympathy had leaped instantly to France and England, the Rumanians had realized that, economically, the friendship of Germany was an asset in the development of Rumanian industries, the King added that, nevertheless, as the Great War progressed, there had developed in Rumania a moral issue in regard to the war. The frightfulness and lawlessness practiced by the Central Powers had a profound effect upon the Rumanian people, and the country began to feel the subtle force of enemy intrigue endeavoring to force her into war against her own real interests. Let us remember, when we would criticize Rumania for her early inactivity, that she was, in the words of her King, "a small power with a small army surrounded by giants"; that she had a western frontier 1,000 kilometres long—greater than the English and French fronts combined—and a Bulgarian frontier, almost undefended and near her capital, stretching for other hundreds of kilometres on the south. With Russia in retreat, Rumania would have been instantly annihilated if she had acted. She had to wait till she could be reasonably sure of protecting herself and of being supported by her allies. She waited not a moment longer.

[Sidenote: Prisoners and noncombatants well-treated.]

After pointing out the great risks which Rumania had run, as a small country, and the deterring effect of the fate of Serbia and Belgium, the King continued, "Notwithstanding the savagery with which the enemy is attacking us and the cruelty with which our defenseless women and children are being massacred, this government will endeavor to prevent bitterness from dominating its actions in the way of reprisals on prisoners or defenseless noncombatants; and to this end orders have been issued to our troops that, regardless of previous provocation, those who fall into our hands shall be treated with kindness; for it is not the common soldiers or the innocent people who must be held responsible for the policy adopted by the enemy governments."

The interview ended with the King's assurance that Rumanians would not falter in their allegiance to England the just, to France, their brother in Latin blood, and to Russia, their immediate neighbor.

"With confidence in the justice of our cause, with faith in our allies, and with the knowledge that our people are capable of every fortitude, heroism, sacrifice, which may be demanded of them, we look forward soberly and seriously to the problems that confront us, but with the certainty that our sacrifices will not be in vain, and that ultimate victory must and will be the inevitable outcome. In the achievement of this result the people of Rumania, from the throne to the lowliest peasant, are willing to pay the price."

[Sidenote: Rumanians realized their danger.]

When it is realized that these conversations took place in September and the first days of October, it must be clear, I think, that neither the King nor the Queen had ever felt that Rumania entered the war in absolute security, but that they always realized the danger of their situation and moved only because their faith in the Allies was such as to lead them to believe that they had at least a fair chance to cooperate with them without the certainty of destruction.

To emphasize further the fact that both realized this danger even before the war started, I would mention one occasion some weeks later, when the fear of the German invasion of Rumania was becoming a tangible one. During a conversation with the King and the Queen together, in regard to this menace, the Queen turned impulsively to the King and said, "This is exactly what we have feared. We, at least, never imagined that Rumania was going to have an easy victory, and we have always felt the danger of our coming into the war."

The King looked very tired and nervous, having spent all that day with the General Staff weighing news from the front which was increasingly adverse. "Yes," he said, as he pulled his beard, "we were never misled as to what might happen."

So much then for the psychology of the sovereigns of Rumania as I received it from their own lips.

[Sidenote: Russian efforts to aid Rumania.]

Ever since the loss of Bucharest the world has been asking why Rumania entered the war. It seems to be the general opinion that her action at that time was unwarranted and that she had been betrayed. There has even been a widely circulated report that Germany, through the King, has intrigued to bring about this disaster. Again, I have heard that the Russian High Command had purposely sacrificed Rumania. At this time, when much of the evidence is still unattainable, it is impossible for me to make absolutely authoritative statements, but immediately after leaving Rumania I spent three hours with General Brussiloff discussing the situation. A few days later I had the privilege of meeting the former Tsar at Kieff (to whom the Queen had given me a letter), and I know from his own lips his feelings in regard to Rumania. Subsequently, I was at the headquarters of the Russian High Command and there learned at first hand the extraordinary efforts that Alexieff was making to support Rumania. The British efforts to cooperate with Rumania and prevent disaster I knew thoroughly at that time.

[Sidenote: Lack of vision and foresight.]

I never saw the slightest evidence that either Russia or her allies had any intention whatever of disregarding their duties or their responsibilities to this little country. That there was lack of vision and foresight on all sides is quite apparent. But that there was bad faith on the part of any of the contracting parties I do not believe. It is probably true that the reactionary government in Petrograd was glad to see the Rumanian disaster, but it must be realized that this was a military situation primarily, and that ninety per cent of it in the first three months was in the hands, not of the Petrograd politicians but of the military authorities at the front. Brussiloff and Alexieff are men incapable of intrigue or bad faith. The Emperor, with whom I talked at Kieff, and the Grand Duchess Maria Pavlowna nearly wept at the misfortune of Rumania, and I am certain that the former Tsar was in no way a party to any breach of faith with this little ally.

[Sidenote: Military conditions prior to Rumania's venture.]

[Sidenote: Failure of Germans at Verdun.]

I have said that there was not bad faith toward Rumania on the part of the Allies when they induced her to enter the war, and that there was not lack of intelligence on the part of Rumania when she followed their advice. In order to understand the point of view of the Allies it is necessary to have clearly in mind the military conditions existing in the whole theatre of operations during the six months prior to Rumania's fatal venture. In February the Germans had assembled a large portion of their mobile reserves for their effort against Verdun. The constant wastage of German human material continued almost without intermission into May, with spasmodic recurrences up to the present time. Hundreds of thousands of Germans were drawn from the visible supply of enemy manhood by these offensives. By early May the failure of the Verdun venture had probably become manifest to the German High Command, and there is evidence that they were commencing to conserve their troops for other purposes.

[Sidenote: General Brussiloff's offensive.]

On the 5th of June there began in Galicia and Volhynia the great offensive of General Brussiloff which lasted, almost without intermission, on one or another part of his front, until October. By the middle of June this drive of the Russians began to divert German troops for the defense of Kovel. In July started the British-French offensive in the West.

[Sidenote: German troops diverted to Eastern front.]

With their reservoirs of men already greatly reduced by the Verdun attacks, the Germans, by the middle of July, were compelled to find supports to meet the continuous offensives on both the Eastern and Western fronts. I cannot estimate the number of troops required by them against the French and British, but I do know that between the 5th of June and the 30th of August a total of thirty divisions of enemy troops were diverted from other fronts against Brussiloff alone. This heavy diversion was the only thing that prevented the Russians from taking Kovel in July and forcing the entire German line in the East. So continuous and pressing were the Russian attacks that more than two months elapsed before the enemy could bring this offensive to a final stop on the Kovel sector. Enemy formations arriving were ground up in detail as fast as they came, and by the middle of July it was clear to us, who were on the fighting line in Volhynia, that the Germans were having extraordinary difficulties in filling their losses from day to day. In June their first supports came by army corps; in July they were coming by divisions; and early in August we checked the arrival of single regiments, while the Austrians were often so hard pressed that they sent isolated battalions to fill the holes in their lines.

[Sidenote: Teuton losses.]

In the meantime the Russians had cleared the Bukovina of the enemy. It was believed that Rumania could put in the field twenty-two divisions of excellent troops. The enemy losses in prisoners alone, up to the first of September, from Brussiloff's offensive, were above four hundred thousand and over four hundred guns. It seemed then that these extra twenty-two divisions thrown in by Rumania could meet but little resistance.

[Sidenote: The Allied plan of operation.]

[Sidenote: Munitions to come daily from Russia.]

In order that the Rumanian attempt to cooperate might be safeguarded in the highest degree, a coordinated plan of operations on the part of the Allies was agreed upon with Rumania. The allied force in Saloniki under General Sarrail was to commence a heavy offensive intended to pin down the Bulgarian and Turkish forces to the southern line, thus protecting the Rumanian line of the Danube. Brussiloff's left flank in Galicia was to start a drive through the Bukovina toward the Hungarian plain, thus relieving the Rumanians from any pressure on the south. A Russian force of fifty thousand men in the Dobrudja was to protect the Rumanian left. This, in view of the apparent shortage of enemy reserves, seemed to protect the army of Rumania on both flanks in its advance into Transylvania. In addition Rumania was to receive certain shipments of munitions of war daily from Russia. It was the opinion of the military advisers in Rumania that under no circumstances could the Germans divert against her within three months more than sixteen divisions, while some of the experts advising her placed the number as low as ten.

[Sidenote: Bulgar and Austrian attack.]

[Sidenote: Rumanians on defensive.]

Now let us see what happened. For some reason, which I do not know, the offensive on the south was delayed, and when it did start it attained no important results nor did it detain sufficient enemy troops in that vicinity to relieve Rumania. On the contrary, heavy forces of Bulgars and Austrians immediately attacked the line of the Danube, taking the Rumanian stronghold of Turtekaia, with the bulk of the Rumanian heavy guns. In order to safeguard Bucharest, then threatened, the Rumanians were obliged to withdraw troops from their Transylvania advance, which up to this time had been highly successful. These withdrawals represented the difference between an offensive and a defensive, and the Transylvania campaign potentially failed when Bucharest was threatened from the south.

[Sidenote: Defense in Dobrudja falls.]

The Russian expedition in the Dobrudja, which was supported by a Rumanian division and a mixed division of Serbs and Slavs, partially recruited from prisoners captured by the Russians, failed to work in harmony, and the protection of the Rumanian left became, after the capture of Turtekaia, a negligible factor which ultimately collapsed entirely. Thus we see in the beginning that through no bad faith the southern assets on which Rumania depended proved to be of little or no value to her.

[Sidenote: The case with Brussiloff's army.]

There still remained the Russian agreement to cooperate in Galicia and the Bukovina. I can speak of this situation with authority because I had been on the southwestern front almost without intermission since June, and know that there was every intent on the part of Brussiloff to carry out to the limit of his capacity his end of the programme. The success of this, however, was impaired by a situation, over which he had no control, which developed in Galicia in September. It must not be forgotten that all the Russian troops on the southwestern front had been fighting constantly for nearly three months. When I came through Galicia on my way to Rumania I found Brussiloff's four southern armies engaged in a tremendous action. Early in September they had made substantial advances in the direction of Lemberg, and were in sight of Halicz on the Dniester when they began to encounter terrific and sustained counter-attacks.

[Sidenote: Efforts to cooperate with Rumania.]

That the force of this may be understood I would mention the case of the army attacking Halicz. When I first went to the southwestern front in June, there were facing this army three Austrian divisions, three Austrian cavalry divisions, and one German division. In September, at the very moment when Brussiloff was supposed to be heavily supporting Rumania, there were sent against this same army—on a slightly extended front—three Austrian divisions, two Austrian cavalry divisions, two Turkish divisions, and nine German divisions. The army on the extreme Russian left, whose duty it was to participate in the offensive in the Bukovina, had made important advances toward Lemberg from the south, and just at the time that Rumania entered the war it also was subjected to tremendous enemy counter-attacks. For several weeks it held its position only with the greatest difficulty and by diverting to itself most of the available reserves. Something more than one army corps did endeavor to cooperate with Rumania, but the situation I have described in Galicia made it impossible for sufficient supports to reach the Bukovina offensive to enable it to fulfill its mission.

[Sidenote: Reasons for delay in munitions.]

Thus we see that after the first month of the campaign the cooperative factors which alone had justified Rumania's entering into the war had proved to be failures. The arrival of material from Russia was delayed because, after Turtekaia was taken, a new Russian corps was sent to the Dobrudja to stiffen up that front. The railroad communications were bad and immediately became congested by the movements of troops, thus interfering with the shipping of badly needed material. I have since heard the Russian reactionary government charged with purposely holding up these shipments; but I am inclined to believe that my explanation of the cause of the delays in the arrival of material is the correct one.

[Sidenote: Allies underestimated German force.]

The greatest mistake on the part of the Allies was their estimate of the number of troops that the Germans could send to Rumania during the fall of 1916. As I have said, experts placed this number at from ten to sixteen divisions, but, to the best of my judgment, they sent, between the 1st of September and the 1st of January, not less than thirty. The German commitments to the Rumanian front came by express, and the Russian supports, because of the paucity of lines of communication, came by freight. The moment that it became evident what the Germans could do in the way of sending troops, Rumania was doomed.

[Sidenote: Russians too late to save Bucharest.]

The move of Alexieff and the Russian High Command in the middle of October, which is one of tangible record and not of opinion, should absolutely eliminate the charges of bad faith on the part of Russia, for he immediately appropriated for the support of Rumania between eight and ten army corps, which were instantly placed in motion, regardless of the adverse condition their absence caused on his own front. It is quite true that these troops arrived too late to save Bucharest; but that they came as quickly as possible, I can assert without reservation, for I was on the various lines of communication for nearly a month and found them blocked with these corps, which represented the cream of the Russian army, to make good the moral obligations of Russia to Rumania. In November I had a talk with Brussiloff, who authorized me to quote him as follows on the Rumanian situation:

[Sidenote: Rumania feels bitterness of defeat.]

H.Q.—S.W.F.—Nov. 7.

Rumania is now feeling for the first time the pressure of war and the bitterness of defeat; but Rumania must realize that her defeats are but incidents in the greater campaign; for behind her stands great Russia, who will see to it that her brave little ally, who has come into the war for a just cause, does not ultimately suffer for daring to espouse this cause for which we are all fighting. I can speak with authority when I state that, from the Emperor down to the common soldier, there is a united sentiment in Russia that Rumania shall be protected, helped, and supported in every way possible. Rumanians must feel faith in Russia and the Russian people, and must also know that in the efforts we are making to save them sentiment is the dominant factor, and we are not doing it merely as a question of protecting our own selfish interest and our left flank.

[Sidenote: No wanton breach of faith.]

It seems to me that the evidence I have submitted above clears the Allies, including Russia, of any wanton breach of faith toward Rumania, though the failure of their intention to relieve her certainly does not diminish their responsibility toward her in the future.

[Sidenote: Germans on defensive in the north.]

In the final analysis the determining factor in the ruin of Rumania was the failure of the Allies to foresee the number of troops the Germans could send against them. Their reasoning up to a certain point was accurate. In July, August, and for part of September it was, I believe, almost impossible for the Germans to send troops to Transylvania, which accounts for the rapidity of the Rumanian advance at the beginning of their operations. The fallacy in the Allied reasoning seems to me to have been that every one overlooked certain vital factors in the German situation. First, that she would ultimately support any threat against Hungary to the limit of her capacity, even if she had to evacuate Belgium to get troops for this purpose. For with Hungary out of the war it is a mate in five moves for the Central Empires. Second: the Allies failed to analyze correctly the troop situation on the eastern front, apparently failing to grasp one vital point. An army can defend itself in winter, with the heavy cold and snows of Russia sweeping the barren spaces, with perhaps sixty per cent of the number of troops required to hold those identical lines in summer. It should have been obvious that, when the cold weather set in in the north, the Germans would take advantage of this situation, and by going on the defensive in the north release the margin representing the difference in men required to hold their lines in summer and in winter. Possibly the same condition applies to the west, though I cannot speak with any authority on that subject. Apparently this obvious action of the Germans is exactly what happened. When their northern front had been combed, we find forces subtracted piecemeal from the north, reaching an aggregate of thirty divisions, or at least nearly fifteen divisions more than had been anticipated. The doom of Rumania was sealed.

[Sidenote: Retreating armies must reach defenses.]

What happened in the Russian effort to support Rumania is exactly what has occurred in nearly all the drives that I have been in during this war. An army once started in retreat in the face of superior forces can hold only when supported en bloc or when it reaches a fortified line. The Germans with all their cleverness and efficiency were not able to stop the Russian offensive of 1916 until they had fallen back on the fortified lines of the Stokhod in front of Kovel. In the Galician drive against the Russians in 1915, the armies of the Tsar were not able to hold until they reached the San River, on which they fought a series of rear-guard actions.

[Sidenote: Russian corps on Sereth line.]

So it was in Rumania. The Russian corps arriving on the installment plan were swept away by the momentum of the advancing enemy, who could not be halted until the fortified line of the Sereth was reached.

[Sidenote: Rumanians played the game.]

[Sidenote: Russia in chaos.]

Whether one blames the Allies for lack of vision or not, I think one must at least acquit Rumania of any responsibility for her own undoing. Her case as represented by the King seems a just and sufficient reason for her having entered the war. Her action during the war has been straightforward and direct, and I have never heard of any reason to believe that the King or the Rumanian High Command has ever looked back in the furrow since they made the decision to fight on the side of the Allies. They followed the advice given them as to their participation in the war. They have played the game to the limit of their resources and to-day stand in a position almost unparalleled in its pathos and acuteness. In front of them, as they struggle with courage and desperation for the small fragment of their kingdom that remains, are the formations of the Turks, Bulgars, Austrians, Hungarians, and Germans, with Mackensen striving to give them a death-blow. Behind them is Russia in chaos. German agitators and irresponsible revolutionists have striven in vain to destroy the morale of their army and shake their faith in their government and their sovereign. It is estimated that three million Rumanian refugees have taken shelter behind their lines. Their civil population, or that portion of it which remains, will this winter be destitute of almost every necessity of life.

[Sidenote: Obligation of Allies to Rumania.]

This, then, is the case of Rumania, and if we and the other Allies have not a moral obligation to the King and Queen and the government of that little country, to support them in every way possible, then surely we have no obligation to any one.

Sentiment, however, is not the only factor in the Rumanian case. There is also the problem of sound policy. In spite of all her distress and her discouragements Rumania has been able to save from the wreckage, and to reconstruct, an army which it is said can muster between three and four hundred thousand men.

[Sidenote: Rumanian army well drilled.]

These soldiers are well drilled by French officers, filled with enthusiasm and fighting daily, and are even now diverting enemy troops toward Rumania which would otherwise be available for fighting British, French, and American troops in the west.

The Rumanians are the matrix of the Russian left flank, and if, through lack of support and the necessities of life, they go out of the war, the solidity of the Russian left is destroyed and the capture of Odessa probably foreordained.

A few hundred million dollars would probably keep Rumania fighting for another year. It is a conservative estimate to state that it will take ten times that amount, and at least six months' delay, to place the equivalent number of trained American troops on any fighting front.

[Sidenote: Every assistance should be given.]

It is, I think, obvious that from the point of view of sound military policy, as well as moral and ethical obligation, every American whose heart is in this war should be behind the President of the United States without reserve, in any effort he may make or recommend, in extending assistance to Rumania in this the hour of her greatest peril.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Germany's treatment of prisoners of war.]

Prisoners taken by the Germans were overworked and disciplined with much insolence and cruelty. For infractions of their iron rules the Germans inflicted the severest penalties. The food supplied was insufficient and of very poor quality, so that men might actually have starved had it not been for boxes sent from home through the Red Cross. In the following chapter, a Canadian soldier, who finally escaped after three unsuccessful attempts, describes the life of prisoners and other workers in the Westphalian coal mines.



SIXTEEN MONTHS A WAR PRISONER

PRIVATE "JACK" EVANS

Copyright, Forum, May 1918.

I was in Germany as prisoner of war from June, 1916, to September, 1917.

[Sidenote: Captured at third battle of Ypres.]

[Sidenote: A giant shell blows up the dugout.]

My story starts with my capture at the third battle of Ypres. The Fourth Canadian Mounted Rifles were in the front line at Zillebeke. We had been terribly pounded by German artillery, in fact, almost annihilated. After a hideous night, morning, June 2, 1916, dawned beautiful and clear. At 5.30 I turned in for a little sleep with four other fellows who made up the machine-gun crew with me. Lance Corporal Wedgewood, in charge of the gun, remained awake to clean it. I had just got into a sound sleep when it seemed as if the whole crust of the earth were torn asunder in one mammoth explosion, and I found myself buried beneath sandbags and loose earth. I escaped death only by a miracle and managed to dig my way out. A giant shell had blown up our dugout. Two of the boys were killed.

"We're in for it," said Wedgewood. "They'll keep this up for a while and they'll come over. We must get the gun out."

[Sidenote: German barrage almost wipes out the Fourth.]

The gun had been buried by the explosion, but we managed to get it out and were cleaning it up again when another trench mortar shell came over. It destroyed all but 300 rounds of ammunition. Then the bombardment started in earnest. Shells rained on us like hailstones. The German artillery started a barrage behind us that looked almost like a wall of flame; so we knew that there was no hope whatever of help reaching us.

Our men dropped off one by one. The walls of our trench were battered to greasy sand heaps. The dead lay everywhere. Soon only Wedgewood, another chap, and myself were left.

"They've cleaned us out now. The whole battalion's gone," he said.

As far as we could see along the line there was nothing left, not even trenches—just churned-up earth and mutilated bodies. The gallant Fourth had stood its ground in the face of probably the worst hell that had yet visited the Canadian lines and had been wiped out!

It was not long before the other fellow was finished by a piece of shrapnel. I was wounded in the back with a splinter from a shell which broke overhead and then another got me in the knee. I bled freely, but luckily neither wound was serious. About 1.30 we saw a star shell go up over the German lines.

"They're coming!" cried Wedgewood, and we jumped to the gun.

[Sidenote: The two men remaining fire the machine gun.]

The Germans were about seventy-five yards off when we got the gun trained on them. We gave them our 300 rounds and did great damage; the oncoming troops wavered and the front line crumpled up, but the rest came on.

[Sidenote: Captured by Germans.]

What followed does not remain very clearly in my mind. We tried to retreat. Every move was agony for me. We did not go far, however. Some of the Germans had got around us and we ran right into four of them. We doubled back and found ourselves completely surrounded. A ring of steel and fierce, pitiless eyes! I expected they would butcher us there and then. The worst we got, however, was a series of kicks as we were marching through the lines in the German communication trenches.

[Sidenote: The night in a stable at Menin.]

We were given quick treatment at a dressing station and escorted with other prisoners back to Menin by Uhlans. The wounded were made to get along as best they could. We passed through several small towns where the Belgian people tried to give us food. The Uhlans rode along and thrust them back with their lances in the most cold-blooded way. We reached Menin about 10 o'clock that night and were given black bread and coffee—or something that passed by that name. The night was spent in a horse stable with guards all around us with fixed bayonets. The next day we were lined up before a group of German officers, who asked us questions about the numbers and disposition of the British forces, and we lied extravagantly. They knew we were lying, and finally gave it up.

[Sidenote: In cattle trucks to Duelmen camp.]

During the next day and a half, traveling in cattle trucks, we had one meal, a bowl of soup. It was weak and nauseating. We took it gratefully, however, for we were nearly starved.

[Sidenote: Food bad and insufficient.]

Finally we arrived at Duelmen camp, where I was kept two months. The food was bad, and very, very scanty. For breakfast we had black bread and coffee; for dinner, soup (I still shudder at the thought of turnip soup), and sometimes a bit of dog meat for supper, a gritty, tasteless porridge, which we called "sand storm." We used to sit around with our bowls of this concoction and extract a grim comfort from the hope that some day Kaiser Bill would be in captivity and we might be allowed to feed him on "sand storm."

[Sidenote: The American Ambassador's visit.]

While I was at Duelmen we had quite a number of visitors. One day Mr. Gerard, the American Ambassador, appeared. He looked us over with great concern and asked us a number of questions. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked as he was leaving.

"See if you can get them to give us more food," one of us begged.

"I shall speak to the camp commander about it," promised Mr. Gerard.

I do not doubt that he did so—but there was no change in the menu and no increase in the quantities served.

[Sidenote: Arrival at the coal mine.]

After two months at Duelmen prison camp we got word that we were to be sent to work on a farm. We conjured up visions of open fields and fresh air and clean straw to sleep in and perhaps even real food to eat. They loaded fifty of us into one car and sent us off, and when we reached our farm we found it was a coal mine!

As we tumbled off the train, stiff, weary, and disappointed, we were regarded curiously by a small group of people who worked in the mines. They were a heavy looking lot—oldish men with beards, and dull, stolid women. They regarded us with sullen hostility, but there was no fire in their antagonism. Some of the men spat and muttered "Schweinhunds!" That was all.

[Sidenote: The prison camp.]

We were marched off to the "Black Hole." It was a large camp with large frame buildings, which had been erected especially for the purpose. There was one building for the French prisoners, one for the Russians, and one for the British and Canadian contingent. Barbed wire entanglements surrounded the camp and there were sentries with drawn bayonets everywhere.

[Sidenote: Heavy work and slender rations.]

We were greeted with considerable interest by the other prisoners. There were about two hundred of our men there and all of them seemed in bad shape. They had been subjected to the heaviest kind of work on the slenderest rations and were pretty well worn out.

[Sidenote: A strike for safeguards.]

Some of us were selected for the mine and some were told off for coke making, which, as we soon learned, was sheer unadulterated hell. I was selected for the coke mine and put in three days at it—three days of smarting eyes and burning lungs, of aching and weary muscles. Then my chum, Billy Flanagan, was buried under an avalanche of falling coal and killed. There were no safeguards in the mine and the same accident might occur again at any time. So we struck.

[Sidenote: Kept at "attention" thirty-six hours.]

The officers took it as a matter of course. We were lined up and ordered to stand rigidly at "attention." No food was served, not even a glass of water was allowed us. We stood there for thirty-six hours. Man after man fainted from sheer exhaustion. When one of us dropped he was dragged out of the ranks to a corner, where a bucket of water was thrown over him, and, as soon as consciousness returned, he was yanked to his feet and forced to return to the line. All this time sentries marched up and down and if one of us moved he got a jab with the butt end of the gun. Every half hour an officer would come along and bark out at us:

"Are you for work ready now?"

Finally, when some of our fellows were on the verge of insanity, we gave in in a body.

[Sidenote: Awakened at 4 a. m.]

[Sidenote: Turnip soup the chief article of diet.]

After that things settled down into a steady and dull routine. We were routed out at 4 o'clock in the morning. The sentries would come in and beat the butts of their rifles on the wooden floor and roar "Raus!" at the top of their voices. If any sleep-sodden prisoners lingered a second, they were roughly hauled out and kicked into active obedience. Then a cup of black coffee was served out to us and at 5 o'clock we were marched to the mines. There was a dressing room at the mine where we stripped off our prisoners' garb and donned working clothes. We stayed in the mines until 3.30 in the afternoon and the "staggers"—our pet name for the foremen—saw to it that we had a busy time of it. Then we changed back into our prison clothes and marched to barracks, where a bowl of turnip soup was given us and a half pound of bread. We were supposed to save some of the bread to eat with our coffee in the morning. Our hunger was so great, however, that there was rarely any of the bread left in the morning. At 7 o'clock we received another bowl of turnip soup and were then supposed to go to bed.

If it had not been for the parcels of food that we received from friends at home and from the Red Cross we would certainly have starved. We were able to eke out our prison fare by carefully husbanding the food that came from the outside.

[Sidenote: Citizen miners also complain about food.]

The citizens working in the mines when I first arrived were mostly middle-aged. Many were quite venerable in appearance and of little actual use. They were willing enough to work and work hard; but they complained continually about the lack of food.

That was the burden of their conversation, always, food—bread, butter, potatoes, schinken (ham)! They were living on meager rations and the situation grew steadily worse. The people that I worked with were in almost as bad a plight as we prisoners of war. In the course of a few months I could detect sad changes in them.

[Sidenote: German miners also severely disciplined.]

The German miners were quite as much at the mercy of the officers as we were. Discipline was rigid and they were "strafed" for any infraction of rules; that is, they were subjected to cuts in pay. Lateness, laziness, or insubordination were punished by the deduction of so many marks from their weekly earnings, and all on the say-so of the "stagger" in charge of the squad. At a certain hour each day an official would come around and hand each civilian a slip of paper. I asked one of my companions what it was all about.

[Sidenote: No bread tickets for those who do not work.]

"Bread tickets," he explained. "If they don't turn up for work, they don't get their bread tickets and have to go hungry."

The same rule applied to the women who worked around the head of the mine, pushing carts and loading the coal. If they came to work, they received their bread tickets; if they failed to turn up, the little mouths at home would go unfed for a day.

[Sidenote: German women at the mines.]

I often used to stop for a moment or so on my way to or from the pit head and watch these poor women at work. Some of them went barefoot, but the most of them wore wooden shoes. They appeared to be pretty much of one class, uneducated, dull, and just about as ruggedly built as their men. They seemed quite capable of handling the heavy work given them. There were exceptions, however. Here and there among the gray-clad groups I could pick out women of a slenderer mold. These were women of refinement and good education who had been compelled to turn to any class of work to feed their children. Their husbands and sons were at the front or already killed.

The food restrictions caused bitterness among all the mine workers. There were angry discussions whenever a group of them got together. For several days this became very marked.

"There's going to be trouble here," my friend, the English Tommy, told me. "These people say their families are starving. They will strike one of these days."

The very next day, as we marched up to work in the dull gray of the early morning, we found noisy crowds of men and women around the buildings at the mine. A ring of sentries had been placed all around.

[Sidenote: Bread strike of the citizen miners.]

"Strike's on! There's a bread strike all through the mining country!" was the whispered news that ran down the line of prisoners. We were delighted, because it meant that we would have a holiday. The authorities did not dare let us go into the mines with the civilians out; they were afraid we might wreck it. So we were marched back to camp and stayed there until the strike was over.

[Sidenote: The strikers win and new rules are formulated.]

The strike ended finally and the people came back to work, jubilant. The authorities had given in for two reasons, as far as we could judge. The first was the dire need of coal, which made any interruption of work at the mines a calamity. The second was the fact that food riots were occurring in many parts and it was deemed wise to placate the people.

But the triumph of the workers was not complete. The very next day we noticed signs plastered up in conspicuous places with the familiar word "Verboten" in bold type at the top. One of our fellows who could read German edged up close enough to see one of the placards.

"There won't be any more strikes," he informed us. "The authorities have made it illegal for more than four civilians to stand together at any time or talk together. Any infringement of the rule will be jail for them. That means no more meetings."

There was much muttering in the mine that day, but it was done in groups of four or less. I learned afterward, when I became sufficiently familiar with the language and with the miners themselves to talk with them, that they bitterly resented this order.

[Sidenote: Strike leaders disappear from the mine.]

I found that the active leaders in the strike shortly afterward disappeared from the mine. Those who could possibly be passed for military service were drafted into the army. This was intended as an intimation to the rest that they must "be good" in future. The fear of being drafted for the army hung over them all like a thunder cloud. They knew what it meant and they feared it above everything.

When I first arrived at the mine there were quite a few able-bodied men and boys around sixteen and seventeen years of age at work there. Gradually they were weeded out for the army. When I left none were there but the oldest men and those who could not possibly qualify for any branch of the service.

[Sidenote: Talks with the German miner.]

In the latter stages of my experience at the mine I was able to talk more or less freely with my fellow workers. A few of the Germans had picked up a little English. There was one fellow who had a son in the United States and who knew about as much English as I knew German, and we were able to converse. If I did not know the "Deutsch" for what I wanted to say, he generally could understand it in English. He was continually making terrific indictments of the German Government, yet he hated England to such a degree that he would splutter and get purple in the face whenever he mentioned the word. However, he could find it in his heart to be decent to isolated specimens of Englishmen.

I first got talking with Fritz one day when the papers had announced the repulse of a British attack on the western front.

[Sidenote: Fritz's view of British attacks.]

"It's always the same. They are always attacking us," he cursed. "Of course, it's true that we repulse them. They are but English and they can't break the German army. But how are we to win the war if it is always the English who attack?"

"Do you still think Germany can win?" I asked.

"No!" He fairly spat at me. "We can't beat you now. But you can't beat us! This war will go on until your pig-headed Lloyd George gives in."

"Or," I suggested gently, "until your pig-headed Junker Government gives in."

"They never will!" he said, a little proudly, but sadly too. "Every man will be killed in the army—my two sons, all—and we will starve before it is all over!"

[Sidenote: The Germans no longer hope for a big victory.]

The German citizens, in that section at least, had given up hope of being able to score the big victory that was in every mind when the war started. What the outcome would be did not seem to be clear to them. All they knew was that the work meant misery for them, and that, as far as they could see, this misery would continue on and on indefinitely. They had lost confidence in the newspapers. It was plain to be seen that the stereotyped rubber-stamped kind of official news that got into the papers did not satisfy them. Many's the time I heard bitter curses heaped upon the Hobenzollerns by lips that were flabby and colorless from starvation.

[Sidenote: News of unrestricted submarine warfare.]

There was much excitement among them when, early in 1917, the news spread that unrestricted submarine warfare was to be resumed. Old Fritz came over to me with a newspaper in his hand and his eyes fairly popping with excitement.

"This will end it!" he declared. "We are going to starve you out, you English."

"You'll bring America in," I told him.

"No, no!" he said, quite confidently. "The Yankees won't come in. They are making too much money as it is. They won't fight. See, here it is in the paper. It is stated clearly here that the United States will not fight. It doesn't dare to fight!"

But when the news came that the United States had actually declared war they were a sad lot. I took the first opportunity to pump old Fritz about the views of his companions.

"It's bad, bad," he said, shaking his head dolefully.

"Then you are afraid of the Americans, after all?" I said.

[Sidenote: Why Fritz was sorry to have America in the war.]

Fritz laughed, with a short, contemptuous note. "No, it is not that," he said. "England will be starved out before the Americans can come in and then it will all be over. But—just between us, you and me—most of us here were intending to go to America, after the war, where we would be free from all this. But—now the United States won't let us in after the war!"

I shall never forget the day that the papers announced the refusal of the English labor delegates to go to Stockholm. One excited miner struck me across the face with the open newspaper in his hand.

[Sidenote: Hatred of the English.]

"Always, always the same!" he almost screamed. "The English block everything. They will not join and what good can come now of the conference? They will not be content and the war must go on!"

[Sidenote: Shortage in necessities of life.]

The food shortage reached a crisis about the time that I managed, after three futile attempts, to escape. Frequently, when the people took their bread tickets to the stores they found that supplies had been exhausted and that there was nothing to be obtained. Prices had gone sky-high. Bacon, for instance, $2.50 and more a pound. A cake of soap cost 85 cents. Cleanliness became a luxury. These prices are indicative of the whole range and it is not hard to see the struggle these poor mine people were having to keep alive at all.

[Sidenote: Prisoners receive food from England.]

[Sidenote: Germans wonder at food of starving England.]

At this time our parcels from England were coming along fairly regularly and we were better off for food than the Germans themselves. Owing to the long shift we were compelled to do in the mines we fell into the habit of "hoarding" our food parcels and carrying a small lunch to the mines each day. These lunches had to be carefully secreted or the Germans would steal them. They could not understand how it was that starving England could send food abroad to us. The sight of these lunches helped to undermine their faith in the truth of the official information they read in the newspapers.