The Childrens' Story of the War, Volume 2 (of 10) / From the Battle of Mons to the Fall of Antwerp.

Polish Soldiers of the old days crossing the River Dneister.

(From the picture by the Polish artist Juliusz Kossak.)

"With open heart and brotherly hand Great Russia advances to meet you. She believes that the sword with which she struck down her enemies at Grünewald[23] is not yet rusted. From the shores of the Pacific to the North Sea the Russian armies are marching. The dawn of a new life is beginning for you, and in this glorious dawn is seen the sign of the Cross, the symbol of suffering, and of the resurrection of peoples."

Cannot you imagine the joy of the Poles, not only of Russia, but of Germany and Austria, when they heard these glad tidings? The Poles of Germany have always been badly treated by the Germans, and they were immediately won over to the side of Russia by this proclamation. When the day of victory arrives Germany will have to give up Prussian Poland, and Austria will have to give up Galicia; and these provinces, together with Russian Poland, will constitute the new kingdom which will rise again after being torn asunder and beaten to the dust for a hundred and fifty years.

The Poles are by no means the only subject race of the Great Russians. There are the Lithuanians and the Finns in the west and north-west, the Tartars and Bashkirs in the east, and the Kalmucks, a Mongol people, who live beyond the Volga. In addition to these peoples, there are the races of the Caucasus, and the many others who inhabit Asiatic Russia. Some five million Jews also live in the Empire, chiefly in the south-west and in Poland.

The armies of Russia are mainly recruited from the peasants. In Northern Russia the peasant is generally a tall, well-built man, with fair hair and blue eyes. In the south, as a rule, he is darker. In civil life the men wear loose shirts belted round the waist, cloth putties on the legs, and, in summer, shoes of plaited straw on the feet. They also wear peaked caps and loose knickerbockers of thin cloth. On Sundays and feast-days they dress in shirts of the brightest colours—red, blue, yellow, and salmon-pink. In winter they wear big top-boots, made of gray felt, and brown leather greatcoats, lined with sheepskin. The women do not wear hats but handkerchiefs over their heads.

The peasant thinks of himself as a member of a family, and addresses his fellows as father, brother, son, or child. He lives in a one-storied house, built of logs and thatched with straw. Inside the house there is a large high stove, on which the family sleep. On the table you will always see the samovar, a large brass urn filled with boiling water for making the tea which is so largely drunk. Meat is seldom seen, the usual fare being porridge made of buckwheat or millet, cabbage soup, and black bread. Formerly a great deal of vodka, a spirit distilled from rye, maize, or potatoes, was consumed, and this was manufactured and sold by the Government. Since the war broke out the Tsar has shut up the Government vodka shops throughout Russia. This is a great step forward, and it will certainly do much to benefit the people in body, mind, and pocket. The Government is sacrificing much money in thus striving to improve the habits of the people, for nearly one-third of its total revenue was formerly obtained from the sale of vodka. After eight months of war the Russian Minister of Finance was able to say that, owing to the shutting down of the Government drink shops, the workmen of the country were able to produce from thirty to fifty per cent. more than formerly. Our French allies have also taken a similar step by forbidding the sale of a very poisonous spirit known as absinthe.[24]

The Russian peasant can do little work during the long winter, when the land is in the grip of ice and snow, so that he has a long period of enforced idleness every year. Perhaps for this reason he does not love continuous work. But he can, if he chooses, do a large amount of hard labour in a short space of time. When, for instance, he is putting out a village fire, or working in the fields, or intent on finishing a job, he will work like an inspired giant. At other times he is inclined to be lazy and happy-go-lucky. As a rule, you will find the peasants independent in their views—shrewd, full of common sense, and much attached to the old ways. They are very stubborn, and nothing can move them when they have made up their minds to resist.

CHAPTER VII.

The Cossacks are found in Siberia and in ten governments of Russia in Europe, where they hold lands on what is called military tenure—that is, instead of paying rent they give service in the army whenever called upon to do so. You will remember that under the feudal system, which was formerly in force in England, men who held land of the king were forced to provide him with so many soldiers for so many days in the year. The Cossacks hold their lands under somewhat the same system. They find their own horses, uniforms, and equipment, and they are required to serve from their eighteenth to their thirty-eighth year. They are born to the saddle, and are indeed lost without a horse. They ride steeds as hardy as themselves, and there is no trick of horsemanship with which they are not familiar. Cossacks, for example, will charge down on the enemy shielding themselves by hanging between the body of the horse and the foe. They have a reputation for being brutal and cruel, because they have been largely used by the Government in putting down riots and other risings of the people. Nevertheless they are good-natured and long-suffering. Here are two proverbs about Cossacks which give you a clue to their character: "A Cossack will starve, but his horse will have eaten his fill;" "The Cossack's brother is Death."

Now let me tell you something about the Russian army, for it is, perhaps, Germany's most dangerous foe. In peace time its total strength is about 1,500,000 of all ranks, and its war strength is 5,500,000; but this by no means represents the number of men which Russia can put into the field at a pinch. Every Russian is supposed to serve in the army from his twentieth to his forty-third year. Generally speaking, he serves four years if in the cavalry and three years if in the infantry or artillery, and then is drafted into the Reserve for fifteen or fourteen years, during which period he undergoes two trainings of six weeks each. But Russia, with her vast population of 171 millions, does not need all these men in ordinary times, so she lets off large numbers of them, and thus has not so large an army as her vast population would lead us to suppose. No one can exactly say how many men she could put into the field, but probably it is at least about fifteen millions. You will remember that Herr von Jagow, the German Secretary of State, spoke of Russia's "inexhaustible supplies of men." But we must remember that while her man-power is so great, she has many difficulties to overcome in providing transport over her enormous country, and in furnishing her soldiers with arms and ammunition. Probably about seven million men represents the number which she can actually equip, arm, and feed at the front.

About ten years ago the Russians fought the Japanese in Manchuria and were badly beaten, chiefly because the officers were not well trained, and were much given to drink. Since that time the whole army has been thoroughly overhauled, re-armed, and reorganized, and it is now the equal of any army in the world. Russia has done away with her drunken, incapable officers, and has replaced them by smart, sober, intelligent men. Her General Staff is very capable, and at the head of the army is the Grand Duke Nicholas, a giant of six feet eight inches in height, who is one of the most hard-working generals ever known. His soldiers love him, and he is untiring in caring for their comfort.

Cossacks on Active Service.    Photo, Daily Mirror.

The great strength of the Russian army lies in its discipline and endurance. Napoleon used to say that you were never sure when a Russian soldier was dead, and it is so to-day. Russian soldiers are dour and dogged, and will bear any amount of hardship and punishment without losing heart; like Wellington's men in the Peninsular,[25] they will go anywhere and do anything. They regard this war as a Holy War; they are full of enthusiasm for it, and ask no greater privilege than to fight and die for "Holy Russia." The moment the Cossacks of Siberia received the order to mobilize, they telegraphed to the Grand Duke Nicholas, "We are coming, Father Commander."

Russian Infantry at a Review.    Photo, Topical Press.

I will close this chapter with a noble letter written by a Russian mother to her soldier son. You will be impressed by her warm patriotism and the high ideal which she sets before her boy. Especially you will notice that she urges him not to be led away by "blind vengeance." What a contrast between her attitude and that of the Kaiser, who encouraged his men to repeat the burning and butchery of Attila! Here is the letter:—

"Your father was killed very far from us, and I send you upon the sacred duty of defending our dear country from the vile and dreadful enemy. Remember you are the son of a hero. My heart is oppressed, and I weep when I ask you to be worthy of him. I know all the fateful horror of these words, what suffering it will be for me and you, but I repeat them. We do not live for ever in this world. What is our life? A drop in the ocean of beautiful Russia. We shall not exist always, but she must flourish for ever. I know that we shall be forgotten, and our happy descendants will not remember those who sleep in 'brothers' graves' [soldiers' graves]. With kisses and blessings I parted from you. When you are sent to perform a great deed, don't remember my tears, but only my blessings. God save you, my dear, bright, loved child. Once more: it is written everywhere that the enemy is cruel and savage. Don't be led by blind vengeance. Don't raise your hand against a fallen foe, but be gracious to those whose fate it is to fall into your hands."

Russian Artillery.    Photo, Record Press.

CHAPTER VIII.

On page 59 you will see a map of Eastern Germany and Western Prussia. I want you to examine this map very carefully, because it shows the region in which the bulk of the fighting between the Russians and the Germans has so far taken place.

Follow the dotted line which shows the boundary between the two countries. You see that it zigzags south, then curves west, and straggles southward again to the border of Austria. As a rule, the boundary line between two countries follows, partly or wholly, some such natural barrier as a range of mountains or the course of a river. The Russo-German boundary, however, runs along neither mountains nor rivers. There are no mountains until you reach the Carpathians, about three hundred and eighty miles south of Königsberg; the whole region is a flat plain with scarcely a hill to break its monotony. Innumerable rivers wind their way across the country, and in wet weather overflow their banks and turn wide districts into one vast slough. The boundary line, however, does not follow these rivers, but cuts right across them. The dotted line which marks off Russian from German territory is purely artificial, and for this reason we may almost leave it out of account.

You will notice that the great river which flows right across this region is the Vistula, which we will now follow from its source to the German boundary near Thorn. So widespread are the various arms of this river, that we might call the region the "Land of the Vistula"—the name by which Poland was known of old. The river rises in Silesia, on the northern slopes of the Carpathians. It flows through a mountain valley, and then turns east and north-east, and forms part of the frontier between Austria and Germany. Next it runs through the Austrian territory of Galicia, and passes by the old Polish capital of Cracow.

Let us pause a moment and see something of this historic city. You notice, at once, that it blocks the road along the Vistula valley into Silesia, and that an invader must capture it before he can proceed to enter that province. Cracow has been a strong fortress for two and a half centuries, and now is surrounded by a circle of forts which the Austrians have strongly garrisoned. For two and a half centuries it was the capital of Poland. The finest of its thirty-nine churches is the Cathedral of Stanislaus, which stands on a rocky hill to the south-west of the old town. It was the crowning-place of the Polish kings, and within its walls are the tombs of several of the great Poles of history. Paintings, sculptures, and other objects of art adorn the cathedral, which dates from the middle of the fourteenth century. There is also a university with a rich library, and a Polish museum of art. About two and a half miles to the north-west of the city is a mound of earth a hundred feet high, which was thrown up between 1820 and 1823 in honour of Kosciuszko,[26] the great Polish hero. Because of its position, Cracow is the natural market for the exchange of goods between Silesia, Hungary, and Russia. There are coal and zinc mines in the neighbourhood.

Leaving Cracow the river runs north-east, and for about one hundred miles forms the boundary between Austria and Russian Poland. At the town of Sandomir the Vistula is joined by the San, which rises on the northern slopes of the Carpathians and flows past the fortress and busy manufacturing town of Przemysl.[27] About fifty miles to the east of Przemysl, on the railway which runs from Odessa on the Black Sea into Silesia, we find Lemberg, an old city which is now a busy place of trade, because it stands in the broadest part of the Galician plain, with excellent communications north, south, east, and west.

This picture gives you an idea of a typical landscape in Poland. Notice the difficulties which the Russians have had to overcome in bringing up food and ammunition to their armies.
Photo, Daily Mirror.

From Sandomir the Vistula runs north and north-west across the high plateau of Southern Poland, in a broad valley hemmed in by wooded bluffs. Passing the Russian fortress of Ivangorod on its right bank, it afterwards receives the river Pilica on its left bank, and crosses the plain of Central and Northern Poland. About thirty miles north of the confluence with the Pilica is Warsaw,[28] the most important town in the whole of Russian Poland. It is a beautifully situated city, and before the war was one of the brightest and gayest places in Western Europe. A glance at the map will show you why it is so important both to the Russians and to the Germans. It is the meeting-place of three great Russian railways, by which alone men and ammunition can be carried swiftly into Russian Poland. Warsaw also commands the main stream of the Vistula, which the Russians largely use for transport. Were it to be captured, the communications of the Russians would be cut, and they would be powerless to meet the foe in Poland. Were the Germans to seize it and hold it, they could keep the Russians so far back from their frontier that all fear of invasion through Poland would vanish. Warsaw is the chief stronghold of Poland, and is one of the strongest citadels in Europe.

North of Warsaw the Vistula swings round to the west, and at the fortress of Novo Georgievsk receives the river Bug, which rises not far from Lemberg, and sweeps across the plain to the east of, and almost parallel with, the Vistula for more than two hundred miles. A right bank tributary of the Bug, the river Narew,[29] is worth notice, because along it we find a chain of Russian forts. About thirty miles west of Novo Georgievsk the Vistula receives on its left bank the sluggish river Bzura, which rises within a short distance of the Warta[30] or Warthe, a northward and westward flowing tributary of the German river Oder. The Vistula now sweeps north-west past Plock, and enters Prussia some ten miles above Thorn.

If you look carefully at Russian Poland, you will see that it forms a salient which projects into Germany and Austria for about two hundred miles from north to south, and two hundred and fifty miles from east to west. To the north of this salient is East Prussia, and to the south of it is the Austrian province of Galicia. Russian Poland can be entered by an enemy from the north, from the west, and from the south. If you look at the position of the forts (marked by stars on the map) you will see how Russia has prepared to meet invasions from these directions. A chain of forts from Novo Georgievsk north-east to Grodno on the Niemen bars the way into Russia from East Prussia. Warsaw and Ivangorod hold the line of the Vistula against an invasion from the west, and Ivangorod and Brest Litovski on the Bug stand in the road of troops advancing from Galicia. All these fortresses are linked up by railways.

The Polish Theatre of War.

When you examine the map you will be sure to notice that in all this western part of Russia there are but few railways for so large an area of country. There are also few good roads, for the country is so swampy that they are difficult to make and to keep passable. Without good roads and railways a modern army cannot keep the field; it cannot march, and it cannot supply itself with the necessary provision for men and guns. The general who has good roads and railways at his command can bring his men quickly and without great fatigue to the desired positions; he can move them rapidly to the points where he means to make his attacks, and he can supply himself promptly and continuously with food and ammunition. He can also bring up reinforcements rapidly, and carry his wounded and prisoners to the rear. Without good roads and railways he is greatly hampered. You can easily see that the Russian commander-in-chief has great difficulties to overcome because of the lack of good roads and railways in Poland.

When, however, we turn to the German side of the frontier, quite a different picture presents itself. The Germans have always paid great attention to military railways, and have planned and constructed them throughout the empire with great diligence and foresight. It was by means of their splendid system of railways that they were able to mobilize their troops so quickly, and fling them without an hour's delay into Belgium. Behind the eastern frontier of Poland they have two double lines of railway, and these are united into a perfect gridiron by criss-cross lines. By means of this railway system they can carry their troops rapidly to any part of the frontier, and can readily supply themselves with food and ammunition. As we shall see later, the German generals have been able to transfer their men from the north to the south by railway, and have thus been enabled to carry out rapid movements which are quite impossible to the Russians.

Before I close this rather dull but very necessary chapter, I must tell you something about the two provinces which form the northern and part of the southern boundaries of Russian Poland. Let us look first at the country which lies between the Lower Vistula and the Lower Niemen, the region in which the Germans and Russians first came to blows. Along the coast, which is lined with sand dunes, you see two lagoons almost entirely cut off from the Baltic Sea by tongues of land. Into the westward of these the Vistula and the Pregel discharge themselves; by means of the other lagoon the river Memel finds its way to the sea.

A large map would show you that these rivers form deltas at their mouths, and this clearly proves that the country is flat and low-lying. The rivers are sluggish, and the slightest obstacle causes them to change their beds. The deserted channels remain as stagnant pools and marshes, and in course of time have become filled with peat. A bird's-eye view of this region shows a maze of water-courses, swamps, lakes, peat bogs, dense forests, and green meadows. Farther south the country rises to a low plateau, which is literally pitted with lakes, amongst which is the Spirding See, forty-six square miles in extent, the largest inland lake in Prussia. Some of these lakes are wide and shallow, with hard gravel floors, but others are simply a film of water above yards of mud. Bogs abound, and it is very hard to tell where the meadows end and the swampy ground begins. On the map you will notice that the lake district is called the Masurian Lake Region; it receives this name from the Masures, a section of Poles who have long inhabited the country. Round about the lakes are thick, dark forests, in which wolves, lynxes, and elks are still found and hunted.

In the valleys of the Pregel and Memel there is fertile soil, in which rye, oats, and potatoes are grown; but for the rest the country is largely sterile moor and bog. East Prussia is the headquarters of German horse-breeding, and there is a great Government establishment for this purpose a few miles to the east of Gumbinnen.[31] East Prussia has for many years past been a favourite hunting-ground of the Kaiser.

From this brief description you will clearly understand that East Prussia is neither a rich nor a very attractive country; yet it is the very apple of the Prussian eye. You will remember that it was stolen from Poland by Frederick the Great in 1772. When he was only Elector of Brandenburg he was King of East Prussia. Königsberg, which you will find near the mouth of the Pregel, was the first capital of the kings of Prussia, and to them it is almost a sacred city. They still have a residence in Königsberg, and are still crowned[32] in its cathedral. Every year the victory of Sedan is celebrated in Königsberg with great rejoicings. Most of the great Prussian families who have given their sons to the Prussian army have estates in East Prussia, where they are lords of the soil. Their farm-servants, though supposed to be free, are really their serfs, and are kept down with a heavy hand. The Kaiser and his nobles regard East Prussia as the very citadel of their power, and to lose it would be their ruin.

Insterburg.    Photo, Exclusive News Agency.

From what has been said about East Prussia you would suppose it to be the last region in which the Russians would willingly fight battles. Why, then, did they invade it? I think for two reasons. First, because they could push into it very rapidly; and, secondly, because they knew that, immediately it was attacked, the Germans must come to its rescue. You know that the German General Staff believed that six weeks at least would elapse before the Russian mobilization could be completed. In that time they hoped to beat France so thoroughly that a few army corps would be sufficient to hold her down. Then they meant to swing their victorious troops to the eastern theatre of war, and overwhelm the Russians in the same way. Such was their calculation; but, like so many of their calculations, it went all wrong.

The Russians mobilized in sixteen days, and they had sufficient troops ready for the field on 3rd August, less than three days after the declaration of war. They could not send these troops against the western Polish front, because they were not strong enough in numbers, and they were then by no means sure that the Poles would not rise against them. They could, however, fling them into East Prussia, which was, as it were, on their doorstep. This they did, and though the invasion finally ended in defeat, it served a good purpose, for the Germans had to withdraw a number of their army corps from France and hurry them eastward to defend their beloved East Prussia. The Belgians by their gallant fight had upset the German programme; the withdrawal of these corps from the western front played further havoc with it, and no doubt did much to save France.

Russian Troops entraining for the Frontier.    Photo, Record Press.

Now let us look for a moment at the province of Silesia, which, you will remember, Frederick the Great wickedly tore from Maria Theresa in the year 1741.[33] You will see from the map on page 38 of our first volume that Silesia forms a wedge between Bohemia and Hungary on the south, and Russian Poland on the east. Whoever holds Silesia can turn the line of the Oder, and pass behind the barrier fortresses which Germany has built upon her eastern front. He also holds the road northward to Berlin and southward to Vienna. At all costs the Germans must defend Silesia, not only because it is the key to Germany from the south-east, but because it is the German Lancashire, a great industrial province which supplies the empire with much of its cotton, linen, woollen, and metal manufactures. Should this province be captured, Germany would suffer a blow from which she could hardly recover.

There is another but a less important reason why Silesia must be held by the Germans. Silesia is, as it were, a wedge between the Slav peoples of the east and those of Bohemia. Should Russia conquer Silesia, she would be able to join hands with the Slavs of Bohemia, and it is possible that they might rise in her favour. These Czechs,[34] as they are called, formerly dwelt in the Carpathians, but were driven westward into Bohemia about 570 A.D. They number about eight millions, and they speak a Slavonic language. About 37 per cent. of the population of Bohemia consists of Germans, and between them and the Czechs there is a bitter race enmity, which has grown greatly in recent years.

CHAPTER IX.

Believing that the Russians would be unable to attack them for several weeks, the Germans had left but three army corps to defend East Prussia. Imagine their surprise when, as early as 3rd August, bands of Cossacks came spurring across the border, raiding the frontier posts, and driving off their garrisons. The inhabitants of the villages were terrified at the very name of Cossack, and fled at their approach. These Cossack raids heralded the approach of two Russian armies. On 7th August a swarm of aeroplanes flew across the border near Suwalki,[35] and soon afterwards General Rennenkampf's army set foot on German soil. Rennenkampf was a dashing soldier, who had made a reputation in the war against Japan, and his army was just as eager and enthusiastic as he was. In the ranks were large numbers of young volunteers belonging to the best families of Russia, and it is said that it included some women who had cut off their hair and had enlisted as men. Rennenkampf marched north-east to strike at the railway which you see on the map running from Kowno[36] to Königsberg. His first object was to reach Insterburg, the junction of all the railways in East Prussia. If this town could be captured, Königsberg itself might be besieged.

At the same time another Russian army, under General Samsonov, who had won renown as the commander of the Siberian Cossacks in the war with Japan, began to push into East Prussia from Mlava,[37] which you will find close to the border line, at the south of the Masurian Lake Region. He had a large force, probably consisting of five army corps, and his object was to march northward along the fringes of the lake district towards Königsberg. Now let us see how these two armies carried out their mission.

Rennenkampf first met the enemy in force at Gumbinnen, about fifteen miles to the east of Insterburg. All round the town there are great pine woods, between which are fields of rye, studded with windmills. The Germans had entrenched themselves near the town, and had cut down thousands of trees, which they had piled up in front of their trenches to form obstacles.

The battle began on Sunday morning, 16th August. Again and again the Russians charged the trenches, and again and again they were beaten back. A fierce artillery duel raged, and it was soon clear that the Russian guns and gunners could more than hold their own against the Germans. All day the white-tunicked infantry of the Tsar hammered at the German trenches in front, while their comrades were working steadily round the left flank. Towards sunset the Germans found themselves almost enveloped; they were forced to retreat, and began streaming back towards the town, with the Cossacks hard on their rear. The retreat soon became a rout, and many prisoners and machine guns were captured.

The Cossacks vigorously followed up the flying foe, and swept all before them, cutting and thrusting at the little knots who vainly offered resistance, fighting their way through blazing villages, and keeping the beaten Germans on the run. Try as they might, the Germans could not stay the torrent of the Russian advance. They tried to rally at Insterburg, their next line of defence, but all in vain, and were obliged to fall back for safety on the fortress of Königsberg. As they retreated a new peril appeared, and their flight became so rapid that they were obliged to abandon food, stores, ammunition, and guns.

The Tsar and his Commander-in-Chief, the Grand Duke Nicholas.
Photo, Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd.

What was this new peril? While Rennenkampf was attacking the enemy, Samsonov's army had advanced northward with as much speed as the difficult nature of the ground would permit, and on 20th August his vanguard came upon the 20th German Corps strongly entrenched on a line about forty miles to the south-east of Königsberg. The Russians advanced as furiously and as doggedly as they had done at Gumbinnen, and, aided by their artillery, carried the German trenches with hand grenades[38] and the bayonet. About eleven next morning the German right was turned, and the left fled towards the south-west, while the remainder, hotly pursued by Cossacks, hurried towards Königsberg. When the news of this defeat reached the Germans who were retreating farther north, and they learnt that a new army was on their flank, they hastened with all speed towards Königsberg.

These two victories made the Russians masters of East Prussia. They occupied Tilsit, on the Niemen—where, you will remember, Napoleon and Alexander of Russia met on a raft in the river to make plans for dividing Europe between them[39]—and marched on Königsberg. There was great joy in Russia when these victories were reported, and on the 27th of August a sum of £20,000 was raised by the sale of flags in Petrograd,[40] to be given to the first Russian soldier who entered Berlin.

Now for the sequel. The loss of East Prussia was a bitter blow to the Kaiser and his nobility. The knowledge that this precious Prussian land was in the hands of the enemy could not be hidden from the German people, for there were crowds of refugees in the Berlin streets, bemoaning the loss of their farms and villages. Immediately the General Staff decided that East Prussia must be recovered at all costs. They had no need to look far for the general who was to undertake this task. There was only one soldier who could do it—von Hindenburg, a veteran of 1870, a tough, hardy man, although nearer seventy years of age than sixty. He had made a special study of East Prussia; it was his hobby, and he knew it like the palm of his hand. He had spent weeks for many years past in travelling over this wilderness of lake and marsh, sometimes on foot, sometimes in a motor car. He knew every road, every quagmire, and every bog-hole. He had tested every path by which an army could pass and every position where a gun could be brought to bear. There was not a charcoal burner or a forest ranger in the whole of East Prussia who knew the country so well as he. When it was proposed to drain the region and clear it of forests so that it might become a rich agricultural land, he went to the Kaiser and protested strongly. This eastern wilderness, he said, was worth many army corps and a dozen fortresses to Germany, for it was a great natural bulwark against Russia. The Kaiser listened to him, and the scheme was abandoned.

Von Hindenburg had on many occasions played the mimic game of war in East Prussia, for he had commanded the German armies during manoeuvres in this region. He used to divide his troops into two armies, the one wearing a white ribbon, the other a red ribbon. The "Reds" were the Russians; the "Whites" were the Germans. When the "Reds" knew that von Hindenburg was in command against them, they used to say, "To-day we shall have a bath." They knew that everything that they could do would be unavailing: whether they attacked from the left or from the right, whether they made a frontal attack, or whether they fell upon the "Whites" from the rear, whether they were few or many, the end was always the same. Von Hindenburg was sure to drive them into a place from which they could not extricate themselves. When the signal was given to break off the manoeuvres, the "Reds" were sure to be found standing up to the neck in water. No wonder the soldiers nicknamed him "Papa Coldbaths."

A new army was gathered at Danzig, composed of the troops which had retired south-west, of the troops in Königsberg who were carried to Danzig by sea, and of reinforcements picked up in various parts of Germany. Later on several army corps were withdrawn from the western theatre of war. Altogether, von Hindenburg had about 150,000 men with which to begin the reconquest of East Prussia. He pushed forward from the line of the Vistula by the three railways which you see marked on the map. Along these three lines he rushed men, guns, and ammunition with great speed.

Russian Infantry Officers saluting the Tsar.    Photo, Record Press.

You know that after the battle of Gumbinnen, Rennenkampf had advanced towards Königsberg, which is a very strong fortress with an open channel to the sea. He was now waiting for his siege train to arrive before beginning to attack it. Meanwhile Samsonov seemed as if he were bent on seizing the crossings of the Vistula. In order to do this he marched his troops south towards the important railway junction of Osterode, which stands on the margin of the lake region. He had five army corps—that is, about 200,000 men—but they could not deploy owing to the lakes and swamps which lay between the roads. His columns could not, therefore, come to the assistance of each other in case of attack.

Von Hindenburg chose his ground with all the local knowledge and skill which was expected of him. He extended his line from Soldau to the north-west of Allenstein, so that his front was barred by lakes and swamps, over which his artillery had a great sweep of fire. He made his front still stronger by a string of forts built of trees cut down in the forests. Then he stood on the defensive, and Samsonov began to attack him. Towards the end of August there was a great struggle, which is known by the Russians as the battle of Osterode, and by the Germans as the battle of Tannenberg, from the name of a little village on a fir-clad dune in the neighbourhood.

Von Hindenburg was in no hurry. He let the Russians wear themselves down by repeated attacks on his almost impregnable position, and then, when the right hour arrived, he counter-attacked. First, he forced back the Russian left, and cut it off from the one good road that led southwards to Russian Poland. Samsonov made a desperate effort to regain this road, and in order to do so was obliged to withdraw troops from his centre. He failed, and meanwhile his centre was pushed back into the terrible lake country to the east.

Von Hindenburg's attack on the Russian left was a feint to cover a great turning movement on the Russian right. All the time the fighting was proceeding on the left, the wily old general was busy preparing for another Sedan. Motor lorries, omnibuses, and taxi-cabs in large numbers had been collected from all parts of Germany, and these were filled with men, guns, and Maxims, and hurried north beyond Allenstein, in order to curve round the Russian right. The result was that Samsonov's right was pushed back into the almost roadless country where von Hindenburg had over and over again left the "Reds" of his manoeuvre days up to their necks in water.

I need not describe the battle in detail. By 28th and 29th August the bulk of the Russians were bundled into the mire of the swamps. As they retired, their guns sank up to the axle trees, and had to be abandoned. Horses struggled in the bogs, and whole regiments were driven into the lakes and drowned in the water or choked in the quagmires. Meanwhile the pitiless German guns were working terrible havoc on those who survived. The 31st of August was the final day of the battle. A bursting shell slew Samsonov and two of his corps commanders, while elsewhere several other Russian leaders were lying dead or wounded. The whole Russian army was smashed to ruin. Out of 200,000 men, no less than 140,000 were killed, wounded, or captured. The Germans took between 80,000 and 90,000 prisoners—about the same number which fell into their hands at Sedan. Not a Russian gun was saved, and the miserable remnants of the army crossed their own frontier as a mere rabble. Never was there a more complete and decisive victory. Von Hindenburg became the idol of the German people, and his triumph was well deserved. By his great skill and knowledge of the country he had hopelessly beaten a bigger force than his own.

Without losing a day, von Hindenburg pushed northwards in the attempt to cut off Rennenkampf's army. Rennenkampf, however, fell back steadily from Königsberg, and by rapid marching managed to reach the safety of the frontier forts.

So ends the tragic story of Russia's invasion of East Prussia. The whole campaign was a mistake. Russia was not yet ready for great adventures; she had tried to do too big a job with too small a force, and she had failed. Nevertheless she had not failed in vain; she had relieved the pressure on the Allies in the west, and had learned those lessons of bitter experience which were to serve her well in the future.

Now we must turn to the province of Galicia, which projects south of Russian Poland, just as East Prussia projects to the north. Early in August, while the Russians were conquering in East Prussia, the Austrians advanced two main armies, said to consist of more than a million men, into Russian Poland. The first of these armies pushed north-east, and met a smaller Russian army under General Ivanov, who gave way before it, and retired slowly eastwards towards the valley of the Bug. The 2nd Austrian Army, which was operating to the north and south of Lemberg, had, however, to meet two Russian armies—the more northerly one under General Ruzsky, the more southerly one under General Brussilov. These armies, each of which numbered about a quarter of a million men, came into touch with each other towards the end of August, and assailed the 2nd Austrian Army both from the north and from the east. Their object was to capture Lemberg, the key of the road and railway system of Eastern Galicia. Lemberg is not a fortress; its sole defence was the 2nd Austrian Army. During the last week of August Ruzsky's army fought its way across the Upper Bug, while Brussilov's army, after a fight which lasted nearly three days, stormed the Austrian trenches and entered the town of Tarnapol, where fierce hand-to-hand combats took place in the streets. Tarnapol was captured, and Brussilov, still fighting fiercely, crossed the Dneister and wheeled northwards to Lemberg.