XVII.1 In the West
While we were delivering the final blows against Russia and bringing Italy to the very brink of military collapse, England and France were continuing their attacks on the Western Front. There lay the greatest danger of the whole year's campaign for us.
The Flanders battle flamed up at the end of July. I had a certain feeling of satisfaction when this new battle began, in spite of the extraordinary difficulties it involved for our situation on the Western Front and the danger that any considerable English successes might easily prejudice our operations in the other theaters. As we anticipated, England was now making her supreme effort in a great and decisive attack upon us even before the assistance coming from the United States could in any way make itself felt. I thought I could detect the effects of the U-boat campaign, which were compelling England to obtain a military decision this year and at any cost.
From the point of view, not of scale, but of the obstinacy which the English displayed and the difficulties of the ground for the defenders, the battles which now began in Flanders put all our battles on the Somme in 1916 completely in the shade. The fighting was now over the marshes and mud of Flanders instead of the hard chalk of the Artois. These actions, too, developed into one of the long drawn-out battles with which we were already so familiar, and in their general character represented an intensification of the sombre scenes peculiar to such battles. It is obvious that these actions kept us in great and continual anxiety. In fact, I may say that with such a cloud hanging over our heads we were seldom able to rejoice wholeheartedly over our victories in Russia and Italy.
It was with a feeling of absolute longing that we waited for the beginning of the wet season. As previous experience had taught us, great stretches of the Flemish flats would then become impassable, and even in firmer places the new shell holes would fill so quickly with ground water that men seeking shelter in them would find themselves faced with the alternative: "Shall we drown or get out of this hole?" This battle, too, must finally stick in the mud, even though English stubbornness kept it up longer than otherwise.
The flames of battle did not die down until December. As on the Somme, neither of the two adversaries could raise the shout of victory in Flanders.
As the Flanders battle was drawing to a close, a fierce conflict unexpectedly blazed up at a part of the line which had hitherto been relatively inactive. On November 20th we were suddenly surprised by the English near Cambrai. The attack at this point was against a portion of the Siegfried Line which was certainly very strong from the point of view of technical construction, but was held by few troops and those exhausted in previous battles. With the help of their tanks, the enemy broke through our series of obstacles and positions which had been entirely undamaged. English cavalry appeared on the outskirts of Cambrai. At the end of the year, therefore a breach in our line appeared to be a certainty. At this point a catastrophe was averted by German divisions which had arrived from the East, and were more or less worn out by fighting and the long journey. Moreover after a murderous defensive action lasting several days we succeeded in quickly bringing up comparatively fresh troops, taking the enemy's salient in flank by a counterattack, and almost completely restoring the original situation at very heavy cost to the enemy. Not only the Army Headquarters Staff on the spot, but the troops themselves and our railways had performed one of the most brilliant feats of the war.
The first considerable attack on our side in the West since the conduct of operations was entrusted to me had come to a victorious conclusion. Its effect on me personally was as strong and invigorating as on our troops and their leaders. I felt it as a release from a burden which our defensive strategy on the Western Front had placed upon my shoulders. For us, however, the success of our counterattack involved far more than mere satisfaction. The element of surprise which had led to our success contained a lesson for the future.
With the Battle of Cambrai, the English High Command had departed from what I might call the routine methods which hitherto they had always followed. Higher strategy seemed to have come into its own on this occasion. The pinning down of our main forces in Flanders and on the French front was to be used facilitate a great surprise blow at Cambrai. It must be admitted that the subordinate commanders on the English side had not been equal to the demands and possibilities of the situation. By neglecting to exploit a brilliant initial success they had let victory be snatched from them, and indeed by troops which were far inferior to their own, both in numbers and quality. From this point of view our foe at Cambrai deserved his thorough defeat. Moreover, his High Command seemed to have failed to concentrate the resources required to secure the execution of their plans and their exploitation in case of success. Strong bodies of cavalry assembled behind the triumphant leading infantry divisions failed, even on this occasion, to overcome the last line of resistance, weak though it was, which barred the way to the flanks and rear of their opponents. The English cavalry squadrons were not able to conquer the German defense, even with the help of their tanks, and proved unequal to decorating their standards with that victory for which they had striven so honorably and so often.
The English attack at Cambrai for the first time revealed the possibilities of a great surprise attack with tanks. We had had previous experience of this weapon in the spring offensive, when it had not made any particular impression. However, the fact that the tanks had now been raised to such a pitch of technical perfection that they could cross our undamaged trenches and obstacles did not fail to have a marked effect on our troops. The physical effects of fire from machine guns and light ordnance with which the steel colossus was provided were far less destructive than the moral effect of its comparative invulnerability. The infantryman felt that he could do practically nothing against its armored sides. As soon as the machine broke through our trench lines, the defender felt himself threatened in the rear and left his post. I had no doubt that though our men had had to put up with quite enough already in the defense, they would get on level terms even with this new hostile weapon, and that our technical skill would soon provide the means of fighting tanks, and, moreover, in that mobile form which was so necessary.
As was to be expected, the French did not stand idly by and watch the attacks of their English ally in the summer and autumn. In the second half of August they attacked us at Verdun and on October 22nd northeast of Soissons. In both cases they captured a considerable portion of the trench systems of the armies at those points and caused them important losses. But, speaking generally, the French High Command confined themselves to local attacks in the second half of the year. They were undoubtedly compelled to do so by the appalling losses they had suffered in the spring, losses which made it seem inadvisable to subject their troops to any similar disastrous experiences.
XVII.2 The Balkans
Hostile attacks on the Bulgarian front in Macedonia during the later summer months of 1917 had made no difference to the general situation in that theater. Apparently Sarrail had no considerable objective in these operations. On the contrary, he seemed to have imposed remarkable limits on himself, so much so that from the point of view of the whole war his troops might hardly have been there at all.
It was at this time that Bulgaria watched the Greek mobilization with ever-increasing anxiety. The news we ourselves received from Greece left it doubtful whether Venizelist would succeed in creating an effective force. For a long time even the so-called Venizelist Divisions were nothing more than a collection of supers who preferred the role of hero in the Macedonian theater to the actual battles of heroes. The real, sound heart of the Greek people was always averse to supporting a domestic policy of open disloyalty. Bulgaria's anxieties were based, perhaps, on memories of the events of 1913.
XVII.3 Asia
I will now turn to the course of events in Asiatic Turkey. To omit them would, in my opinion, be a crime against our brave and loyal ally. Moreover, such an omission would mean an unfinished picture of the mighty drama, the scenes of which extended from the Northern seas to the shores of the Indian Ocean. Here again I will concern myself less with the description of events than with a discussion of their interdependence.
The fancies of our armchair strategists did not confine themselves merely to plans of campaign in Central Europe, but were frequently lost in the distances of the Far East. The products of these imaginings frequently came into my own hands. As a rule, in their letters the authors confined themselves to "general principles," in order "not to take up too much of my precious time," and were kind enough to think that the rest could be left to me. But in most cases we were urged to lose no time! One such strategist among our young hopefuls wrote to me one day: "You must see that this war will be decided at Kiliz. So send all our armies there." The first business was to find out where Kiliz was. It was at length discovered in the temperate zone north of Aleppo.
However novel this young man's idea may seem, it contained a large element of sound strategic instinct. Perhaps not the course of the whole war, but certainly the fate of our Ottoman ally, would have been settled out of hand if England had secured a decision in that region, or even seriously attempted it. Possession of the country south of the Taurus would have been lost to Turkey at a blow if the English had succeeded in landing in the Gulf of Alexandretta, and from there striking east. In so doing they would have severed the main artery of all Trans-Taurian Turkey, through which fresh blood and other revitalizing forces flowed to the Syrian, Mesopotamian, and a part of the Caucasian armies. The quantity of blood and the virtue of the forces were small enough, it is true, but they would enable the Ottoman armies to prolong their resistance for a long time yet to the enemy operations and offensives, which were insufficiently prepared and in many cases feebly and inefficiently carried out.
The protection of the Gulf of Alexandretta was entrusted to a Turkish army which contained scarcely a single unit fit to fight. Every man who could be of use in the fighting line was gradually transferred to Syria or Mesopotamia. Moreover, coast protection by artillery at this point was more a figment of the Oriental imagination than a military reality. Enver Pasha exactly described the situation to me in the words: "My only hope is that the enemy has not discovered our weakness at this critical spot."
Was there really any probability that the enemy would not discover this critical weakness at the Gulf of Alexandretta? I did not think so. Nowhere did the hostile intelligence service find fewer obstacles and greater possibilities of assistance among the medley of nationalities than in Syria and Asia Minor. It seemed impossible that the English High Command should not know the true state of the coast defenses in this theater. Moreover, England had no reason to fear that in pushing east from the Gulf of Alexandretta she would be treading on a hornets' nest. There were no hornets. If ever there was a prospect of a brilliant strategic feat, it was here. Such a campaign would have made an enormous impression on the whole world, and unquestionably have had a far-reaching effect on our Turkish ally.
Why did England never make use of her opportunity here? Perhaps her experiences in the Dardanelles had sunk too deeply into her soul. Perhaps there was too great anxiety about our U-boats for anyone on the enemy's side to venture on such an enterprise.
Some day history will perhaps clear up this question also. I say " perhaps," for it is not likely that England mil ever clear it up herself. We obtained an insight into the main current of British thought by an expression let fall by a high English naval officer at the time of the Fashoda affair. In reply to a question as to his prospective idea of the role to be played by the English fleet in the Mediterranean in case of an Anglo-French war, he said: "I have the strictest instructions not to stake England's Trafalgar fame."
The fame of Trafalgar is great and well deserved. It is that kind of metaphorical jewel which goes to make a nation's most priceless treasure. England knew how to preserve this jewel and to keep it ever in the brightest light before the admiring eyes of the whole world. It is true that many shadows have been cast over that jewel in the Great War. The Dardanelles is one example. And further shadows were to follow in the battles against the German Navy, the strongest and blackest being Skagerrak. England will never forgive us the eclipse of the fame of Trafalgar!
England renounced the idea of a bold thrust into the heart of her Turkish adversary and proceeded with her costly and tedious efforts to bring about the collapse of Turkish dominion south of the Taurus by gradually driving back the Ottoman armies. The capture of Bagdad at the beginning of the year was the first great and promising step towards the realization of this war aim. On the other hand the attack at Gaza in the spring had failed, and the English had to begin all over again. But for the time being further military operations were paralysed under the leaden weight of the summer heat.
The loss of Bagdad was painful for us and, as wre well believed, still more painful for all thinking Turkey. How often had the name of the old city of the Caliphs been mentioned in Germany in previous years? How many dreams had been associated with it, dreams which it would have been better to cherish in silence rather than shout all over the world in the impolitic German way?
The general military situation was not further affected by events in Mesopotamia, but the loss of Bagdad was a sore point for German foreign policy. We had guaranteed the Turkish Government the territorial integrity of the Empire, and now felt that, in spite of the generous interpretation of this contract, our political account was heavily overdrawn by this new great loss.
Enver Pasha's request for German help in order to recover Bagdad was therefore welcomed by all of us, not the least because the Turkish High Command had always shown itself willing to assist us in the European theater. At Enver's suggestion the conduct of the new campaign was to be put in German hands, not because the assistance of German troops was contemplated on any considerable scale, but because the Turkish Generalissimo considered it essential that the military prestige of Germany should preside over the enterprise. But the success of the scheme was inconceivable unless we managed to overcome the enormous difficulties of supply due to the appalling length of the lines of communication. A Turkish commander would have come to grief over this essential preliminary.
On the suggestion of the Turks, His Majesty the Emperor entrusted the conduct of this extraordinarily difficult operation to General von Falkenhayn. In May 1917, the general, to familiarize himself with the elements of his problem, visited Mesopotamia and Syria, as well as Constantinople. The visit to Syria was necessary because General von Falkenhayn could not possibly operate against Bagdad unless he had an absolute guarantee that the Turkish front in Syria would hold. For there could be no doubt that the Bagdad enterprise would soon be betrayed to England, and that such news must provoke an English attack on Syria.
General von Falkenhayn came to the conclusion that the operation was possible. We therefore met the demands he made upon us. We restored to Turkey all the Ottoman troops which we were still employing in the European theater. The Ottoman Corps in Galicia left the German Army just as Kerensky's troops were withdrawing eastwards before our counteroffensive. It returned homewards accompanied by expressions of the liveliest gratitude on our part. The Turk had once more revived his ancient military fame in our ranks and proved himself a thoroughly effective instrument of war in our hands. I must, of course, admit that Enver Pasha had given up the very best troops he had available for the Eastern Front and Rumania. The quality of this corps could therefore not be taken as a standard of the efficiency and capacity of the whole Turkish Army. The unsparing work which our Army Headquarters Staff had devoted to the education and training of the Turkish troops, and more particularly their attention to their feeding and health, had borne fruit in fullest measure. How many of these rough children of nature had found friendship and fellow-feeling for the first time — and indeed for the last — under German protection.
I had hoped that the Ottoman Corps would form a particularly valuable element in the force earmarked for the expedition against Bagdad. Unfortunately these expectations were not fulfilled. No sooner were these troops out of range of our influence than they went to pieces again, thus proving what little effect our example had had on the Turkish officer. In comparison with the great mass of insufficiently trained and ineffective elements only a few individuals proved particularly brilliant exceptions. The Turkish Army would have required complete reorganization if it was really to become capable of the achievements which the sacrifices of the country required. The defects of its present condition were revealed most strikingly in an extremely high rate of wastage. This phenomenon was characteristic of every army which was insufficiently trained and had not been properly prepared for war. A really thorough training of the army saves the man power of a nation in case of war. What enormous proportions the rate of wastage reached in Turkey during the war appears from a piece of intelligence which reached me to the effect that in a single province of Anatolia the villages had been drained of every male inhabitant except boys and old men. This is credible enough when we remember that the defense of the Dardanelles cost the Turks about 200,000 men. How many of them succumbed to hunger and disease is unknown.
Apart from a number of officers who were lent for special employment, the German reinforcements for the Bagdad enterprise comprised the so-called "Asiatic Corps." There has been a certain amount of criticism in our country on the ground that we placed so splendid a corps at the disposal of the Turks for a distant objective instead of using these precious troops in Central Europe. However, the corps consisted of only three infantry battalions and a few batteries. The name "Asiatic Corps" was chosen in order to mislead the enemy. We have never known whether it really did so. With regard to this help it was less a question of the material reinforcement of our allies than of giving them moral and intellectual support — that is, resolution and experience. The peculiar character of the help we rendered was hit off exactly in an expression of the Tsar Ferdinand when, after the autumn battles of 1916 in Macedonia, he warned us against withdrawing all the German troops from the Bulgarian front: "My Bulgarians like to see spiked helmets, for the sight gives them confidence and a sense of security. They have everything else themselves." This again confirmed the experience which Scharnhorst once put into words when he said that the stronger will of the trained man is the more important for the whole operation than brute force.
The operations against Bagdad never materialized. Before the summer months were over it appeared that the English had completed all their preparations to attack the Turkish forces at Gaza before the wet season set in. General von Falkenhayn, who was permanently stationed in the East, became more and more convinced that the Syrian front would not prove equal to the strain of an English attack, which would doubtless be made in great superiority. Turkish divisions which had been earmarked for the operations against Bagdad had to be diverted to the south. The result of this was that the chance of a successful enterprise in Mesopotamia had vanished. At Enver Pasha's suggestion I accordingly agreed that all available reserves should be sent to Syria with the idea of taking the offensive ourselves before the English attacked. The German command hoped to improve the capacity of the railway and the administration of the Turkish districts to such an extent that a substantially larger number of troops could be supplied in this theater and provided with all the war material required.
Thanks to both political and military causes of friction, General von Falkenhayn lost a lot of precious time. At the beginning of November the English succeeded in taking the offensive at Beersheba and Gaza. The Turkish armies were driven north, and Jerusalem was lost at the beginning of December. It was not until the middle of this month that the Turkish lines were reestablished north of the line Jaffa—Jerusalem—Jericho.
Although we had feared that these Turkish defeats, and especially the loss of Jerusalem, would have a regrettable political reaction on the position of the existing government in Constantinople, nothing of the kind happened — at least, not to outward appearance. A remarkable atmosphere of indifference took the place of the agitation we feared.
I myself had no doubt that Turkey would never recover possession of Jerusalem and the holy places. This view was shared, though tacitly, at the Golden Horn also. Ottoman eyes were now turned in deeper longing than ever to other regions of Asia, seeking compensation for the lost provinces. Unfortunately, this was premature from the military point of view.