On April 7, 1865, I became a second-lieutenant in the 3rd Regiment of Foot Guards. The regiment belonged to those troops which had been reorganized when the number of active units was greatly increased in 1859-60. When I joined it the young regiment had already won its laurels in the campaign of 1864. The historic fame of any military body is a bond of unity between all its members, a kind of cement which holds it together even in the worst of times. It gives place to an indestructible something which retains its power even when, as in the last great war, the regiment has practically to be reconstituted time after time. The old spirit very soon permeates the newcomers.
In my regiment, which had been formed out of the 1st Regiment of Foot Guards, I found the good old Potsdam spirit, that spirit which corresponded to the best traditions of the Prussian Army at that time. The Prussian Corps of Officers in those days was not blessed with worldly goods — a very good thing. Its wealth consisted of its frugality. The consciousness of a special personal relation to the King — "feudal loyalty," as a German historian has put it — permeated the life of the officer and compensated for many a material privation. This ideal point of view was of priceless advantage to the army. The words "I serve" took on a quite special meaning.
It is frequently said that this point of view has led to the isolation of the officer from the other professional classes. Personally I have not found the sentiment of exclusiveness more noticeable among the officer class than in any other profession, the members of which keep to themselves and prefer the society of their equals. A picture, very accurate in its broad outlines, of the spirit of the Prussian Corps of Officers in those days may be found in a book on the War Minister, von Roon. In that work the Officer Corps is shown as an aristocratic professional class, very exclusive and jealous, but not in any sense hidebound or remote from ordinary life. Nor was it without a sprinkling of liberal elements. The new ideal of a severe professional training had revolted against the old ideal of broad humanitarianism. It found its most zealous representatives in the sons of the old monarchical-conservative stock of Prussia. It had been borne along by a strong conviction of the power of the state and by the Frederickian tradition, which longs to give Prussia an ever greater role in the world through her army.
At the time I joined the regiment, which was then stationed at Danzig, the political events of the following months were already casting their shadows before. It was true that mobilization had not yet been ordered, but the decree for the increase of establishments had already been issued and was in course of execution.
In face of the approaching decisive conflict between Prussia and Austria our political and military ideas traveled over the tracks of Frederick the Great. It was in that train of thought when we were in Potsdam, to which the regiment was transferred immediately when our mobilization was complete, that we took our grenadiers to the tomb of that immortal sovereign. Even the Order of the Day which was issued to our army before the invasion of Bohemia was inspired by thoughts of him, for its closing words ran: "Soldiers, trust to your own strength, and remember that your task is to defeat the same foe which our greatest King once overthrew with his small army."
From the political point of view we realized the necessity of settling the question of Prussian or Austrian supremacy, because within the framework of the union, as then constituted, there was no room for two great powers to develop side by side. One of the two had to give way, and as agreement could not be reached by political methods the guns had to speak. But beyond that train of ideas there was no question of any national hostility against Austria. The feeling of community of race with the German elements in the Danube Monarchy, which at that time still predominated, was far too strong to allow sentiments of hostility to prevail. The course of the campaign proved the truth of this time after time. On our side we generally treated our prisoners as fellow countrymen with whom we were only too glad to resume friendly relations after our little dispute had been fought out. The inhabitants of the enemy's country, especially the Czech population, showed themselves well disposed towards us, so much so that in our billets we lived and acted much as we did while on manoeuvres at home.
In this war we trod in the footsteps of Frederick the Great — in actual fact as well as in a metaphorical sense. The Guard Corps, for example, in invading Bohemia from Silesia by way of Branau was taking a route that had often been taken before. And the course of our first action, that at Soor, led us on June 28th into the same region and in the same direction — from Eipel on Burkersdorf — against the enemy as that in which, on September 30, 1747, Prussia's Guard had moved forward in the centre of the great king's army which was advancing in the rigid line of that time during the Battle of Soor.
Our 2nd Battalion, of which I was commanding the first skirmishing section (formed out of the third rank in accordance with the regulations of those days), had no opportunity that day of appearing in the front line, as we formed part of the reserve, which had already been separated from the rest before the battle, as the tactical methods of those days decreed. But all the same, we had found an opportunity of exchanging shots with Austrian infantry in a wood northwest of Burkersdorf. We had made some prisoners, and later on we drove off and captured the transport of about two squadrons of enemy Uhlans who were resting, all unsuspecting, in a glen. Among the transport we found, inter alia, the regimental safe, which was handed over, large supplies of bread, which our Grenadiers brought into our camp at Burkersdorf stuck on their bayonets, and the regimental diary which was kept in the same book as that of the Italian campaign of 1859. About twelve years ago I came across an old gentleman from Mecklenburg who was a lieutenant in the service of Austria in one of those very squadrons of Uhlans. He confided to me that in this affair he had lost his brand-new Uhlan uniform which he was to wear at the entry into Berlin.
As I had had so little to do at Soor I had to be content with having smelt powder and gone through some of the emotional experiences which are the lot of the soldier when he first comes face to face with the enemy.
Straight from the excitement of battle, I was familiarized on the very next day with what I may call the reverse side of the medal. I was assigned the sad duty of taking sixty grenadiers to search the battlefield and bury the dead — an unpleasant task, which was all the more difficult because the corn was still standing. By dint of enormous exertions and at times passing other units by running in the ditches by the roadside, I and my men caught up my battalion about midday. The battalion had already joined the main body of the division and was on the march to the south. I came up just in time to witness the storming of the Elbe crossing at Königinhof by our advance guard.
On June 30th I was brought face to face with the sober realities of war's more petty side. I was sent with a small escort to take about thirty wagons, full of prisoners, by night to Tartenau, get a load of food supplies for the empty wagons, and bring them all back to Königinhof. It was not before July 2nd that I was able to join my company again. It was high time, for the very next day summoned us to the battlefield of Königgrätz.
The following night I went out on a patrol with my platoon in the direction of the fortress of Josephstadt, and on the morning of July 3rd we were in our outpost camp, wet and cold and apparently unsuspecting, by the southern outskirts of Königinhof. Soon the alarm was given, and shortly after we received the command to get our coffee quickly and be ready to march. Careful listeners could hear the sound of guns in the southwest. Opinions as to the reasons for the alarm being given were divided. The generally accepted view was that the 1st Army, under Prince Frederick Charles, which had invaded Bohemia from Lausitz — we formed part of the 2nd Army commanded by the Crown Prince — must have come into contact with a concentrated Austrian corps somewhere.
The order to advance which now arrived was greeted with joy. The Guardsmen, green with envy, remembered the brilliant victories which had previously been won by the 5th Corps, under General von Steinmetz, on our left. In torrents of rain and bathed in perspiration, though the weather was cold, our long columns dragged themselves forward along the bottomless roads. A holy ardour possessed me, and reached the pitch of fear lest we should arrive too late.
My anxiety soon proved to be unnecessary. After we had ascended from the valley of the Elbe wo could hear the sound of guns ever more clearly. Further, about eleven o'clock we saw a group of the higher Staff on horseback standing on an eminence by the roadside and gazing south through their glasses. They were the Headquarters Staff of the 2nd Army, under the supreme command of our Crown Prince, subsequently the Emperor Frederick. Some years later General von Blumenthal, his Chief of Staff at that time, gave me the following account of what transpired at that moment: "Just when the 1st Guards Division was passing us on the impossible roads I was asking the Crown Prince to give me his hand. As he looked at me questioningly I added that I wished to congratulate him on the victory that had been won. The Austrian artillery fire was now directed everywhere to the west, a proof that the enemy was held by the 1st Army along the whole line, so that we should now take him in the flank and partly in the rear. In view of this position it only remained for us to order the Guard Corps to advance to the right, and the 6th Corps to the left of a hill by Horonowes, crowned by two huge lime trees which were visible in the far distance in spite of the mist. The 1st and 5th Corps, which were still on their way to the battlefield, would have to follow these corps. Scarcely any other orders were required from the Crown Prince that day."
Our advance took us at first straight across country; then we deployed, and before long the first shells began to arrive from the heights by Horonowes. The Austrian artillery justified its old excellent reputation. One of the first shells wounded my company commander, another killed my wing N.C.O. just behind me, while shortly after another fell into the middle of the column and put twenty-five men out of action. When, however, the firing ceased and the heights fell into our hands without fighting, because they were only an advanced position lightly held by the enemy for the purpose of surprise and gaining time, there was quite a feeling of disappointment among us. It did not last for long, for we soon had a view over a large part of a mighty battlefield. Somewhat to our right heavy clouds of smoke were rising into the dull sky from the positions of our 1st and the enemy's army on the Bistritz. The flashes of the guns and the glow of burning villages gave the picture a peculiarly dramatic colouring. The mist, which had become much thicker, the high corn, and the formation of the ground apparently hid our movements from the enemy. The fire of the enemy batteries which soon opened on us from the south, without being able to stop us, was therefore remarkably innocuous. Later on most of them were captured after putting up a brave defense. And so we pressed on as fast as the formation of the country, the heavy, slippery ground, and the corn, rape, and beet would allow. Our attack, organized according to all the rules of war then in vogue, soon lost cohesion. Individual companies, indeed individual sections, began to look for opponents for themselves. But everyone pressed on. The only coordinating impulse was the resolution to get to close quarters with the enemy.
Between Chlum and Nedelist our half battalion — a very favorite battle formation in those days — advancing through the mist and high-standing corn, surprised some enemy infantry coming from the south. The latter were soon forced to retire by the superior fire of our needleguns. Following them with my skirmishing section in extended order, I suddenly came across an Austrian battery, which raced past us with extraordinary daring, unlimbered and loosed off case-shot at us. A bullet which pierced my helmet grazed my head, and for a short time I lost consciousness. When I recovered we went for that battery. We captured five guns, while three got away. I felt a proud man and gave a sigh of relief when, bleeding from a slight wound in the head, I stood by my captured gun.
But I had little time to rest on my laurels. Enemy jager, easily recognizable by the feathers in their caps, sprang up from among the wheat. I beat them off and followed them up to a sunken road.
As luck would have it, this, my first battle experience, became known in Austria during the last great war. A retired Austrian officer, a veteran of 1866, wrote to me from Reichenberg in Bohemia that at the Battle of Königgrätz he had been a regimental cadet in the battery I had attacked, and illustrated his statement with a sketch map. As he added a few kind words I thanked him warmly, and so between the two former enemies a most friendly exchange of letters took place.
When I reached the sunken road to which I have referred I took a good look round. The enemy jager had vanished in the rain and mist. The villages in the neighborhood — Westar was immediately in front, Rosberitz on my right, and Sweti on my left — were obviously still in possession of the enemy. Fighting was already going on for Rosberitz. I was quite alone with my section. Nothing was to be seen of our people behind me. The detachments in close order had not followed me southwards, and appeared to have veered to the right. I decided to bring my isolation on that far-flung battlefield to an end by following the sunken road to Rosberitz. Before I reached my goal several more Austrian squadrons shot past us, not noticing me and my handful of men. They crossed the sunken road at a level place just ahead of me, and shortly after, as the sound of lively rifle fire showed me, came into contact with some infantry north of Rosberitz, whom I could not see from where I was. Soon a number of riderless horses swept back past us, and before long the whole lot came pelting by again in wild confusion. I sent a few shots after them, as the white cloaks of the riders made an excellent target in the poor light.
When I reached Rosberitz I found the situation there very critical. Sections and companies of different regiments of our division were dashing themselves furiously against very superior forces of the enemy. At first there were no reinforcements behind our weak detachments. The bulk of the division had been drawn away to the village of Chlum, situated on a height, and was violently engaged there. My half battalion, which I had been lucky enough to rejoin at the eastern outskirts of Rosberitz, was therefore the first reinforcement.
I really cannot say which was the more surprised, the Austrians or ourselves. However, the enemy masses concentrated and closed in on us from three sides in order to recover complete possession of the village. Fearful as was the effect of the fire from our needleguns, as each wave collapsed a fresh one came to take its place. Murderous hand-to-hand fighting took place in the streets between the thatched cottages on fire. All idea of fighting in regular units was lost. Everyone shot and stabbed at random to the best of his ability. Prince Anthony of Hohenzollern was seriously wounded and collapsed. Ensign von Woyrsch — now a field-marshal — remained with a handful of men by the prince while the battle swayed this way and that. The prince's gold watch was handed over to me to prevent its falling into the hand of enemy looters. Before long we were in serious danger of being cut off. Austrian bugles were being blown in a side street which came out behind us, and we could hear the roll of the enemy's drums, which made a more hollow sound than ours. We were hard pressed in front as well, and there was nothing for it but to retire. We were saved by a burning roof which had fallen into the street and formed a barrier of flame and thick smoke. We escaped under its protection to the shelter of a height just northeast of the village.
We were furiously disappointed, and refused to withdraw any further. As the most senior officer present, Major Count Waldersee of the 1st Regiment of Foot Guards — who fell before Paris in 1870 at the head of the "Queen Augusta" Guard Grenadier Regiment — ordered the two standards we had to be planted in the ground. The men flocked to them, and the units were reorganized. Reinforcements were already coming up from the rear, and so, with drums beating, we all stormed forward once more against the enemy, who had contented himself with recovering possession of the village. However, he soon evacuated it in order to conform to the general retreat of his army.
In Rosberitz we found the Prince of Hohenzollern again, but unfortunately he shortly afterwards succumbed to his wounds in hospital at Königinhof. The enemy had carried off his faithful guard as prisoners with them. I lost several grenadiers from my section in that way. They had defended themselves very bravely in a brickworks. Two days later, as we were pitching our camp southwest of the fortress of Königgrätz in the course of our march to the south, these men came up and rejoined us. The commandant of the fortress had sent them out in the direction of the Prussian campfires in order to be relieved of the responsibility of feeding them. They were lucky enough to strike their own unit at once.
In the evening of the battle we proceeded to Westar, and remained there until we left the battlefield for good. The doctor wanted to send me to hospital on account of my head wound, but as I expected there would be another battle behind the Elbe I contented myself with poultices and a light bandage, and for the rest of the march had to wear a cap instead of my helmet.
The feelings which assailed me on the evening of July 3rd were of a very special kind. Next to thankfulness to our Lord God, the dominant emotion was a certain proud consciousness that I had cooperated in a feat which added a new page of glory to the history of the Prussian Army and our Prussian Fatherland. We had not yet appreciated the full extent of our victory, but it was already clear to us that it was a very different matter from the previous battles. I had kind thoughts for my fallen and wounded comrades. My section had lost half its strength — sufficient proof that it had done its duty.
When we crossed the Elbe by a temporary bridge at Pardubitz on the evening of July 6th the Crown Prince was waiting there for the regiment, and gave us his thanks for our behavior in the battle. We thanked him with loud cheers and continued our march, proud of the praise lavished upon us by the commander-in-chief of our army, who was also the heir to the Prussian throne, and prepared to follow him to further battlefields.
However, the rest of the campaign brought us nothing but marches, certainly no events worth mentioning. The armistice which followed on July 22nd found us in lower Austria about thirty miles from Vienna. When we began our homeward march soon after, we were accompanied by an unwelcome guest, cholera. We only got rid of it by degrees, and then not before it had exacted a large toll of victims from our ranks.
We remained a few weeks on the Eger. During that period I met my father in Prague. As a member of the Order of St. John he was employed in a hospital on the battlefield of Königgrätz. We did not let slip such an opportunity of visiting the neighboring battlefield of our great king. To our intense surprise we found that adjacent to the monument to Field-Marshal Count Schwerin (who fell at Prague) erected by the State of Prussia after the War of Liberation, there was another which the Emperor Joseph II, a great admirer of Frederick the Great, had had erected to the memory of his enemy hero.
In the course of the last war I was again specially reminded of the visit to this battlefield. There was a close parallel between the situation of Prussia in 1757 and that of Germany in 1914. Just as Kolin followed Prague, so the failure of our great offensive in the battle of the Marne, which followed a succession of victories, involved a fateful prolongation of our Fatherland's fight for existence. But while the conclusion of the Seven Years' War showed us a mighty Prussia, we behold a shattered Germany at the end of the four years' desperate struggle. Have we been unworthy of our fathers?
Continuing our march home, we crossed the frontiers of Bohemia and Saxony on September 2nd, and on the 8th the frontier of the Mark of Brandenburg at the Grosenhain-Elster road. A triumphal arch greeted us. We marched through it on our homeward way to the strains of "Heil dir im Siegerkranz." I need not try to describe our feelings!
On September 20th we made our triumphal entry into Berlin. The grand review followed on what is now the Konigsplatz, but was then a sandy parade-ground. The site of the present General Staff building was occupied by a timber yard, which was connected with the town by a lane bordered with willows. Starting from the parade-ground, the troops marched under the Brandenburger Tor, up the Linden to the Opernplatz. Here took place the march past His Majesty the King. Blücher, Scharnhorst, and Gneisenau looked down from their pedestals. They might well be pleased with us!
My battalion had assembled in the Floraplatz in order to take its place in the column. It was here that my commanding officer handed me the Order of the Red Eagle, 4th Class, with swords, and told me to put it on at once, as the new decorations were to be worn for the triumphal march. As I looked about me, apparently in some embarrassment, an old lady stepped out of the crowd of spectators and fastened the decoration to my breast with a pin. So whenever I have crossed the Floraplatz in later years, whether walking or riding, I have always gratefully remembered the kind Berlin lady who once gave the eighteen-year-old lieutenant his first order there.
After the war Hanover was assigned to the 3rd Guards Regiment as peace station. The intention was to pay the former capital a special compliment. We were not pleased to be sent there, but when the hour of parting struck, twelve years later, as the regiment was transferred to Berlin, there was not a man in its ranks who did not regret leaving it. I myself had to leave the beautiful town as early as 1873, but I had then grown so fond of it that I took up residence there after my retirement from the service later on.
We had soon made friendships in our new station. Of course, many Hanoverians held completely aloof from us for political reasons. We never condemned anyone for loyalty to the hereditary reigning House, however deep was our conviction that the union of Hanover with Prussia was essential. We regarded Guelph feeling as hostile only where, as illustrated by the conduct of individuals, it showed that it did not bear its sorrow with dignity, but expressed it in ill-mannered behavior, insults, or insubordination.
As the years rolled by we made ourselves ever more at home in Hanover, which, in the happiest way, seems to have all the advantages of a big town with none of its disadvantages. A lively, aristocratic social life, which attained its climax after the war with France when their Highnesses Prince Albert of Prussia and his wife resided there for several years, alternated with visits to the excellent Court Theatre which was made very cheap to the young officer. Splendid parks and one of the finest of German forests, the Eilenriede, surround the town, and in them we could enjoy ourselves, walking or riding in our spare time. And if, instead of going to the autumn exercises of the Guard Corps at Potsdam, we attended manoeuvres in the province, we gradually got to know and appreciate the peculiar charm of all Lower Saxony from the mountains to the sea. The Waterloo Platz was the scene of such duties as there were. It was there that for three years I trained my successive batches of recruits, and had my first quarters — living and sleeping room — in one of its barracks. Even today, whenever I visit that part of the town, I go back in thought to the golden hours of youth. Almost all my comrades of that time have joined the great army. Quite recently I have had an opportunity of seeing Major von Seel (retired), who was my company commander for many years. I owe this man of more than eighty years more than I can say.
In the summer of 1867 His Majesty the King visited Hanover for the first time. When he arrived I was in the guard of honor which was drawn up before the palace in George's Park, and my War Lord made me happy by asking me on what occasion I had won the Order of Swords. In later years, after I had also won the Iron Cross in 1870-71, my Kaiser and King has often asked me the same question when I have been reporting for transfer or promotion. I always thought of this first occasion with the same joy and pride as possessed me then.
The political, military, and social circumstances of Hanover became ever more stable. Before long this new province, too, was to prove on many a bloody battlefield that it was equally part and parcel of Prussia!
When the war of 1870 broke out I took the field as adjutant of the 1st Battalion. My Commanding Officer, Major von Seegenberg, had gone through the campaigns of 1864 and 1866 as a company commander in the regiment. He was a war-hardened old Prussian soldier of irresistible energy and tireless concern for the welfare of his troops. The relations between us were good on both sides.
The opening of the campaign brought my regiment, as indeed the whole Guard Corps, bitter disappointment, inasmuch as we marched for weeks and yet did not come into contact with the enemy. It was not until after we had crossed the Moselle above Pont-Ã -Mousson and nearly reached the Meuse that the events west of Metz on August 17th summoned us to that neighborhood. We turned north, and after an extraordinarily tiring march reached the battlefield of Vionville in the evening of that day. Relics of the fearful struggle of our 3rd and 10th Corps on the day before met our eyes at every turn. Of the military situation as a whole we knew next to nothing. Thus it was in an almost complete mental fog that on August 18th we marched from our camp at Hannonville, west of Mars la Tour, and reached Doncourt about midday. Although this was a relatively short march, it required an enormous effort owing to the fact that it was carried out in close mass formation, and that we unfortunately crossed the Saxon (12th) Corps. Besides, the heat was terrific, the dust awful, and we had been unable to get enough water since the previous day. On the march I had visited the cemetery of Mars la Tour to see the grave of a cousin of mine in the 2nd Guard Dragoons who had fallen; and I availed myself of the opportunity of riding over the ground across which the 38th Infantry Brigade and the 1st Guard Dragoon Regiment had made their attack. Groups, in places whole mounds, of corpses, both Prussian and French, showed what a murderous encounter had taken place only quite a short distance away from us.
We halted at Doncourt, and began to think of cooking a meal. Rumours ran round that Bazaine had marched west and so got away. The enthusiasm of the previous day had somewhat waned. Suddenly a tremendous cannonade started in the east. The 9th Corps had got into touch with the enemy. The "stand to" cheered us all up. Our nerves began to brace themselves up again and our hearts to beat faster and stronger. We resumed our march to the north. The impression that we were on the eve of a great battle grew stronger from minute to minute. We went on, and quite close to Batilly received orders to unfurl our colors. This was done to the accompaniment of a threefold "hurrah!" What a moving moment that was! Almost simultaneously some Guard batteries galloped past us, going east towards the enemy's positions. The main features of the battle became more distinct. From the heights of Amanweiler right to St. Privat thick, heavy clouds of smoke were rising. Enemy infantry and artillery were posted there in several successive lines. For the time being their fire was directed with extreme fury against our 9th Army Corps. Its left wing was apparently commanded, by the enemy. We could not make out more.
To avoid a frontal attack against the enemy's lines we took a gulley which ran parallel to the enemy's front for about three miles, and turned north to Ste. Marie aux Chenes. This village had been attacked and captured by the advance guard of our division and part of the 12th Corps, which was marching on Auboue on our left. After the capture of Ste. Marie our brigade deployed immediately south of the village and on a front facing it. We rested. Truly a peculiar kind of rest! Stray bullets, from enemy riflemen pushed forward from St. Privat, fell here and there among our formations in close order. Lieutenant von Helldorf, of the 1st Guards Regiment, was shot quite close to me. His father, commanding a battalion of the same regiment, had fallen, also not far from where I stood, at Rosberitz in the Battle of Königgrätz in 1866. Several men were wounded.
I turned the situation over in my mind. Away to the east, almost on the right flank of our present front, lay St. Privat, crowning a gentle sloping hill and connected with Ste. Marie aux Chenes, about a mile and a quarter away, by a dead-straight road bordered with poplars. The country north of this road was for the most part concealed by the trees, but gave the same impression of lack of cover as that south of the road. On the height itself an almost unearthly silence reigned. Our eyes strove involuntarily to pierce the secrets we suspected there. Apparently it was not thought necessary on our side to try and pierce the veil by reconnaissance. So we remained quietly where we were.
About half-past five in the afternoon our brigade received orders to attack. We were to press forward in a northerly direction on the east side of Ste. Marie, and when we had crossed the road, wheel to attack St. Privat. The thought that these skilful movements could be taken in the right flank from St. Privat sprang to one's mind at once.
Just before our brigade rose up, the whole neighborhood of St. Privat sprang to life and shrouded itself in the smoke of lines of French infantry. What had happened was that the 4th Guards Brigade, which was not in our division, was already pressing on south of the road. For the time being the whole force of the enemyâs fire was turned against it. These troops would have been reduced to pulp in a very short time if we, the 1st Guards Brigade, had not immediately attacked north of the road, and thereby taken the burden off them. Indeed, it seemed almost impossible to get forward at all. My commanding officer rode forward with me to reconnoitre the country ahead and give the battalion its route direction within the orbit of the brigade. A hurricane of continuous fire now swept over us from every quarter. Yet we had to try and execute the movement which had been begun. We managed at length to cross the road. Once across, the compact columns formed a front against the enemy lines, and in open order stormed forward towards St. Privat. Every man tried his hardest to get to close quarters with the enemy in order to use his rifle, which was inferior to the chassepot. The sight was as terrible as impressive. The ground behind the mass surging forward, as if against a hailstorm, was strewn with dead and wounded, and yet the brave troops pressed on without stopping. They were gradually deprived of their officers and N.C.O.s, who had to be replaced by the best of the fusiliers and grenadiers. As I was riding forward I saw the general of the Guard Corps, Prince Augustus of Wurtemberg, on horseback at the outskirts of Ste. Marie. He was following the terrible crisis in which his splendid regiment was involved and looked like being destroyed. It is said that just opposite him Marshal Canrobert was standing at the entrance to St. Privat.
To get his battalion out of the vortex of the masses northeast of Ste. Marie and give it the necessary room to fight, my commanding officer did not make it form a front against St. Privat, but at first made it follow a fold of the ground, and continue the original movement to the north. We had thus a certain amount of cover, but we made so great a detour that after wheeling we formed the left wing of the brigade. In these circumstances we managed, with increasing losses, to get halfway to Ste. Marie Roncourt.
Before we could prepare to envelop St. Privat we had to see what the situation was at Roncourt, which the Saxons from Aboue did not yet seem to have reached. I rode forward, found the village unoccupied either by friend or foe, but noticed that there was French infantry in the quarries east of the village. I was successful in getting two companies of my battalion into Roncourt in time. Soon after the enemy made a counterattack from the quarry, but was beaten off. It was now possible for the two other companies, no longer anxious about their flanks and rear, to turn against the northern exit from St. Privat to relieve — at least to some extent — the fearful frontal attack of the rest of the brigade. Later, after Roncourt had been occupied by parts of the 12th Corps, the two companies we had used there were brought up.
Meanwhile the bloody struggle continued uninterruptedly in the front.
On the enemy's side it was an unceasing storm of rifle-fire from several lines of infantry, fire which strove to make all life impossible on the broad, exposed field of attack. On our side it was a line — a line with innumerable gaps — formed by remnants of units which did not merely cling to the ground, however, but strove time after time to close with the enemy in spasmodic rushes. I held my breath as I watched the scene in utter anguish lest an enemy counterattack should hurl our men back. But except for an attempt to break out with cavalry north of St. Privat, an attempt which did not survive the first charge, the French did not leave their positions.
There was now a pause in the infantry action. Both sides were exhausted and lay facing one another, firing but seldom. The halt in the hostilities on the battlefield was so marked that I rode along the firing line from the left wing almost to the centre of the brigade without feeling I was running any risk. Now, however, our artillery which had been brought up began its work of preparation, and before long fresh forces, the 2nd Guards Brigade from Ste. Marie, made their appearance among the fast vanishing remnants of the 4th and 1st, while Saxon reinforcements approached from the northwest. The pressure on the tortured infantry was sensibly relieved. There, where death and ruin seemed the only prospect, a fresh battle spirit seemed to stir, a new will to victory was born, which reached its heroic climax in a fierce charge at the enemy. It was an indescribably moving moment when our foremost lines rose for the final assault just as the sun was going down. No orders urged them on. Spiritual enthusiasm, a stern resolve to conquer and the holy lust of battle drove them forward. This irresistible impetus carried everything away with it. The bulwark of the foe was stormed as darkness descended. A fierce exultation seized all our men.
The softer sides of human emotion came to the surface when, late in the evening, I counted the remnants of our battalion and on the next morning visited the yet smaller fragments of the other units of my regiment. At such times we think not only of the victory that has been won, but of the price which has been paid for it. The 3rd Guards Regiment had suffered losses of 36 officers and 1,060 non-commissioned officers and men, of which 17 officers and 306 men were killed. All the Guards infantry regiments had similar losses to show. During the last great war the losses in battle of our infantry regiments repeatedly reached the level of those suffered by the Guards at St. Privat. I was able to appreciate from my own experience what that meant to the troops. What a mass of the best, frequently irreplaceable, human energy has sunk into the grave. And, on the other hand, what a superb spirit must have lived in our people to enable them to keep our army resolute in a struggle lasting years!
On August 19th we buried our dead, and in the afternoon of the 20th we marched away to the west. On the way our divisional commander, Lieutenant-General von Pape, gave us thanks for our victory, but laid special emphasis on the fact that we had only done our bounden duty. He concluded with these words, "In short, what applies to us is the old soldier's hymn: 'Whether thousands to left, Or thousands to right, Of all friends bereft, A soldier must fight.' " Our reply was a thunderous cheer for His Majesty the King.
Whatever military criticisms may be levelled at the Battle of St. Privat, they detract in no way from its inward grandeur. That grandeur lies in the spirit with which the men bore the terrible crisis for hours on end and finally overcame it victoriously. That feeling was thenceforth paramount in our minds whenever we remembered August 18th. The stern mood which had possessed our men throughout the battle soon faded away. In its place came a sense of pride in individual prowess and collective achievement which lives today. Once more, in the year 1918, and again on hostile soil, I celebrated the anniversary of St. Privat with the 3rd Guards Regiment of which I was once more a member by the favor of my King. Many "old gentlemen" who fought with me in 1870, among them Major von Seel, whom I have mentioned, had come from home to the front for the anniversary. It was the last time that I was to see the proud regiment!
I hear that the monuments to the Prussian Guard on the heights of St. Privat have now been thrown down by our enemies. If it really is so, I do not believe that German heroism can be degraded by acts of that kind. Many a time have I seen German officers and men standing before French monuments, even those on German soil, and giving expression to their respect for an enemy's achievements and sacrifices.
After the battle the commander of my battalion, as the only unwounded staff officer, took over the command of the regiment. I remained his adjutant in his new post.
The course of the operations which came to such a memorable conclusion at Sedan brought little of note in my way. We were present at the prelude, the Battle of Beaumont, on August 30th, but being in the reserve were only spectators. On September 1st also, I followed the course of the battle mainly in the role of a looker-on. The Guard Corps formed the northeastern section of the iron ring which closed in on MacMahon's army during that day. In particular the 1st Guards Brigade was held in readiness behind the heights east of the Givonne valley from the morning to the afternoon. I used this period of inactivity to visit the long line of Guard batteries posted at the edge of the heights. They were firing across the valley at the French lying on the wooded heights on the far side. From this point we had a comprehensive view of the whole region from the Forest of Ardennes to the valley of the Meuse. I felt as if I could almost touch the heights of Illy and the French positions west of the Givonne stream, including the Bois de la Garonne. The catastrophe to the French Army thus developed practically before my eyes. I was able to observe how the German ring of fire gradually closed in on the unhappy enemy and watch the French making heroic efforts, though these were doomed to failure from the start, to break through our encircling lines by thrusts at different points.
The battle had a quite special interest for me. The fact is that on the previous day, as we were going through Carignan, a talkative French harnessmaker from whom I had bought a riding whip as we passed had told me that the French Emperor was with his army. I had handed this piece of news on, but no one would believe it. On the day of the battle, when speaking of the destruction of the enemy which was becoming more complete from minute to minute, I remarked: "Napoleon too is stewing in that cauldron." My remark was greeted with laughter. My triumph was great when my statement was subsequently confirmed.
That day my regiment took no more active share in the battle. About three o'clock in the afternoon we followed the 1st Guards Regiment over the Givonne sector. By that time the bottom had been knocked out of the French resistance by the fire of our artillery, coming as it did from all sides. All that remained to be done was to press the enemy back into Sedan to convince him once and for all that further resistance was perfectly hopeless. The picture of destruction which I beheld during this process from the northeastern edge of the Bois de la Garonne surpassed all the horrors that had ever met my gaze, even on the battlefield.
Between four and five we went back to our bivouac. The battle was over. Only towards evening a shell flew by and a bullet whistled over our heads. When we looked towards the edge of the forest a scowling Turco waved his rifle threateningly at us and disappeared with great bounds into the darkness of the trees.
Never, either before or since, have I spent the night on a battlefield with the same feeling of quiet satisfaction as possessed me now. For after "Now thank we all our God" had resounded through the darkness, every man lay down to dream of a speedy end to the war. Of course, we were bitterly deceived so far as that was concerned. The war continued. There are those among us who have represented the continuation of the French resistance after the battle of Sedan as merely a piece of useless French self-mutilation. I was not able to share that view, for I cannot but approve the far-reaching views which animated the dictators of France at that time. In my opinion the fact that the French Republic took up arms at the point where the Empire had been compelled to lay them down was not only a proof of ideal patriotic spirit, but of far-seeing statesmanship as well. I firmly believe, even today, that if France had abandoned her resistance at that moment she would have surrendered the greatest part of her national heritage, and with it her prospects of a brighter future.
In the morning of September 2nd we had a visit from the Crown Prince, who brought us the first news of the capture of Napoleon and his army, and in the afternoon it was followed by that of our king and military leaders. It is impossible to form any conception of the unexampled enthusiasm with which the monarch was received. The men simply could not be kept in the ranks. They swarmed round their dearly-loved master, and kissed his hands and feet. His Majesty saw his Guards for the first time in the campaign. With tears streaming down his face he thanked us for all we had done at St. Privat. This was indeed a rich reward for those fateful hours! Bismarck was also in the King's suite. In Olympian calm he was riding at the end of the cavalcade, but he was recognised and received a special cheer, which he accepted with a smile. Moltke was not present.
In the morning of September 3rd my regiment received an order to advance on Sedan and drive any French who happened to be outside the fortress within its walls. The idea of this was to prevent the large bodies of our enemy who were roving round the outskirts from being tempted to pick up the enormous numbers of rifles that were lying about, and make the attempt, however hopeless, to cut their way through. I rode on ahead through the Bois de la Garonne to the heights immediately above the town. There I discovered that the "Red-Trousers," which added such a picturesque touch to the landscape, were merely harmless searchers for cloaks and coats which they wanted to take with them into captivity.
The intervention of my regiment was therefore unnecessary — a few patrols from other troops which were encamped nearby were all that was required. When I rode back with this news to my regiment, which was coming up behind, I saw a cloud of dust in the woods on the road going north. A French military doctor who was standing in front of Querimont Farm (which had been converted into a hospital), and accompanied me part of the way, told me that in that cloud of dust was the Emperor Napoleon, who was on his way to Belgium with a guard of Black Hussars. If I had reached that road a few minutes earlier I should have been an eye-witness of the historic spectacle.
In the evening of that day we left the battlefield and returned to our quarters. Then, after a dayâs rest, we resumed our march on Paris. Our advance brought us first over the battlefield of Beaumont, and then through districts which, have been the scene of fateful encounters in the last great war. On September 11th and 12th the regiment was at Craonne and Corbeny, two pretty little villages lying at the foot of the Mont d'Hiver. Once more, on May 28, 1918, I stood on that same Mont d'Hiver with my All-Highest War Lord, while the battle of Soissons—Rheims was in progress. I told His Majesty that I had encamped there forty-eight years before. The two villages were now little more than heaps of rubbish. The house at the corner of the marketplace of Corbeny in which I had had my quarters had vanished under rubble and ashes. The Mont d'Hiver, which was a green, partly wooded ridge in 1870, was now nothing but a bare, steep chalk cliff from which guns, the spade and the entrenching tool had removed every vestige of soil. What a melancholy return, even in that hour of triumph.
On September 19th, from the plateau of Gonesse, five miles northeast of St. Denis, we had our first glimpse of the French capital. The gilded domes of the Invalides and other churches sparkled in the morning sunlight. I am sure that when the Crusaders gazed for the first time on Jerusalem their feelings were the same as ours when we saw Paris lying at our feet. We started off at three o'clock in the morning, while it was still dark, and spent the entire day — a beautiful autumn day — lying in the stubble fields ready to intervene if we or the neighbouring divisions met with difficulty in placing and occupying our outpost line. It was not until late in the afternoon that we got back to billets. We remained for some time in quarters at Gonesse, a place which enjoys some historical note from the fact that in 1815 Blücher and Wellington, who had reached Paris, met here to discuss the future course of the operations.
Instead of a complete and speedy victory, we were to be faced with many months of thoroughly exhausting and thankless investment operations, which were but seldom interrupted on our front by any noteworthy sortie. Their monotony was first broken about Christmas, when the bombardment of the forts made things a little more lively in a military sense.
The middle of January brought me a special event. I was sent, with a sergeant, as representative of my regiment to the proclamation of the Emperor at Versailles. I received the order in question in the evening of January 16th. Before the night was out I was to get to Margency, twelve miles away, where the Headquarters Staff of the Meuse Army had made arrangements for the billeting of all deputations coming from the east. From there we were to proceed to Versailles on the 17th, passing through St. Germain. I could not negotiate the distance — about twenty-five miles — on horseback, as I had my kit to take with me. I therefore promptly planted myself, with my sergeant and soldier servant, on the transport wagon of the Body Company of the 1st Guards Regiment, which happened to be where I was and had also been summoned to Versailles. Off we went at a snail's pace in the dark, freezing night to Margency, where a warm fireside, a good bed of straw and tea were awaiting us.
Early on the 18th the commander of the Body Company told me that he had just received orders not to proceed to Versailles but to return to the regiment. Fortunately another comrade took me and my servant in his dogcart, and my sergeant met with a welcome reception somewhere else. So we trotted off on a bright winter morning to our next stage, St. Germain. But there is no such thing as a lasting compact with fate. Our dogcart, piled high with our belongings, suddenly lost a wheel and pitched the whole lot of us on to the road. Fortunately we soon came across a field smithy which repaired the damage, so that we were able to join the rest of our fellow travelers at breakfast in the Pavilion d'Henri Quatre, splendidly situated on the terrace above the Seine.
It was a peculiar collection of carriages which made its entrance into Versailles as the sun was setting. There were representatives of every type of vehicle which could be scraped up from the chateaux, villas, and farms round Paris. The greatest sensation was made by a potato-wagon the driver of which was celebrating the day by displaying a huge Prussian flag — there was no German flag as yet — to right and left of his seat. I soon found myself in a good billet in the Avenue de Paris kept by a cheerful old lady, and in the evening we all assembled for an excellent supper — a luxury we had not known for ages — in the Hotel des Reservoirs.
The ceremony of the 18th is familiar enough. I have countless impressions of it. It goes without saying that the personality of my all-gracious King and master had the most inspiring and yet the most touching effect upon me. His calm and simple, yet commanding presence gave the ceremony a greater sanctity than all external pomp. The affectionate enthusiasm for the illustrious sovereign was fully shared by all present, no matter to what German tribe they belonged. Indeed our South German brothers gave the most vociferous expression to their joy at the foundation of the "German Empire." For historic reasons we Prussians were somewhat more reserved, for we had learned to know our own value at a time when Germany was but a geographical expression. That cannot be said in future!
For the evening of the 18th the generals present in Versailles were invited to His Majesty's table in the Prefecture. The rest of us were the Emperor's guests at the Hotel de France.
January 19 began with an inspection of the old French royal palace with its proud collection of pictures immortalizing the glories of France. We also visited the great park. Then the sudden thunder of cannon from the town burst upon us. The garrison of Versailles had already received the alarm and was on the march. What had happened was that the French had made their great sortie from Mont Valérien. We watched the battle for a considerable time in the capacity of idle spectators. In the afternoon we started out on our homeward journey, and late that night I reached the headquarters of my regiment at Villers le Hoi, five miles north of St. Denis, thankful that I had been privileged to witness the great historic event and do honor to him who was now my emperor.
The fruitless sortie from Mont Valérien was France's last great effort. It was followed on the 26th by the capitulation of Paris and on the 28th by the general armistice. Immediately after the surrender of the forts our brigade was pushed forward into the western bend of the Seine between Mont Valérien and St. Denis. We found good, well-furnished billets just on the bank of the river, opposite Paris and close to the Pont de Neuilly.
There I had an opportunity to make at least a nodding acquaintance with Paris. In the morning of March 2nd I went for a ride in the company of an orderly officer of the Guard Hussars, across the Pont de Neuilly, to the Arc de Triomphe. I could not keep away from it any more than my friend Bemhardi, then lieutenant of Hussars and the first man to enter Paris, had been able to the day before. Then I rode down the Champs Elysees, through the Place de la Concorde and the Tuileries to the Louvre, and finally returned home along the Seine and through the Bois de Boulogne. Throughout my ride I let the historical monuments of the past of a great enemy produce their full effect upon me. The few inhabitants who showed themselves adopted an attitude of aloofness.
Although I am little inclined to cosmopolitanism I have always been free from prejudice towards other nations. Though their peculiarities are somewhat foreign to me, I do not fail to see their good side. I admit that the temperament of the French nation is too vivacious, and therefore too capricious for my taste. On the other hand the elan which these people display in a fashion all their own even in times of crisis has a particular attraction for me.
But what I appreciate most of all is the fact that strong personalities can produce such an effect on the masses and subject them so completely to their influence that the French nation is able to lay aside every kind of private interest, even to the point of complete self-sacrifice, out of devotion to a patriotic ideal. In contrast to this I must mention the behavior of the French to defenceless prisoners in the last war, behavior which frequently approached sheer sadism and could not be condoned on the ground of their vivacious temperament.
The day after my visit to Paris the Guard Corps had the high honor and immense joy of being paraded at Longehamps before His Majesty the Kaiser and King. The war-tried regiments defiled in the old Prussian manner before their war lord, at whose command they were ever ready to give their lives for the protection and glory of the Fatherland.
There was no longer any question for us of a proper march through Paris, that having been assigned previously to other army corps, because the preliminary peace had meanwhile been signed and Germany had no mind to force a foe, whom she had beaten in honorable fight, to drink the cup of humiliation to the dregs.
It was before Paris too that we celebrated His Majesty's birthday on March 22nd. It was a lovely, warm spring day, and we had a field service in the open air, a salute of guns from the forts, and banquets for both officers and men. The cheerful prospect of a speedy return home, our duty loyally done, doubled our enthusiasm.
But we were not to leave France quite so soon as we hoped, for at first we had to remain on the northern front of Paris in and around St. Denis, and were thus witnesses of the struggle between the French Government and the Commune.
Even during the siege we had been able to follow the first developments of the new revolutionary movement. We knew of the insubordination displayed by certain circles of political extremists towards the Governor of Paris. When the armistice was concluded the revolutionary movement began to show its head even more openly. Bismarck had said to the French plenipotentiaries: "You came by revolution and a second revolution will sweep you away." It looked as if he were going to be right.
Speaking generally, our interest in this revolution was small at first. It was only from the beginning of March, when the Commune began to get the upper hand and the development of events seemed to point to an open conflict between Paris and Versailles, that we paid more attention. And now while German corps isolated the capital of France on the north and east, in a certain sense as the allies of the Government troops, the latter began their long and weary attack on Paris from the south and west. Events outside the walls of the fortress could best be followed from the heights above the Seine at Sannois, four miles northwest of Paris. Certain commercially-minded Frenchmen had established telescopes there which they allowed, on payment, any German soldier to use who wished to see the drama of a civil war. I myself made no use of these facilities, but contented myself with getting a peep at what was going on in Paris from a top window in the Cerf d'Or Hotel at St. Denis (when I reported for the daily orders there), or when I went out riding on the island in the Seine by St. Denis. Tremendous fires from the end of April revealed the track of the fighting in the centre of the town. I remember that on May 23rd, in particular, I had the impression that the whole of the inner quarters of Paris were threatened with destruction.
Refugees painted the situation in the city in the most lurid colours, and the facts did not seem in any way to fall short of the descriptions. Arson, looting, the murder of hostages, in short all those diseases (now called Bolshevism) which are symptomatic of a body politic broken in war were already of common occurrence. The threat of a released Communist leader: "The government hasn't the courage to have me shot, but I shall have the courage to shoot the government," seemed about to be put into practice. How completely the once so strong and sensitive national feeling of the French had been extinguished by the Communists is shown by the following declaration: "We glory in bayoneting our government in the back under the enemy's nose." It will be seen that the Bolshevist system for the regeneration of the world, the system of which we too have had recent experience, cannot even lay claim to originality.
At long last I saw the end of the Commune one day from my top window in St. Denis. Outside the main walls of Paris Government troops surrounded Montmartre, and from its northern declivity, then unbuilt on, stormed the commanding height which was the last bulwark of the insurgents.
It seems to me a bitter irony of fate that the only political party in Europe which then glorified the movement, in complete ignorance of the true facts as I must presume, is today compelled to take the sharpest measures against Bolshevist attempts in our own Fatherland. It is a further proof of what doctrinaire prejudice can lead to until corrected by practical experience.
With the warning example of the events I have just described before our eyes we turned our backs on the French capital at the beginning of June, and after three days in the train reached our happy, victorious Fatherland.
This time the entry into Berlin was made from the Tempelhofer Feld. For the occasion representatives of all the German troops were present in addition to the Guard Corps. My hope of a third triumphal entry through the Brandenburg Gate, a hope I long cherished not for my own sake but for that of my Kaiser and King and my country, was not to be fulfilled!