Encouraged by the interest which has been taken in many quarters in my daily life during the Great War, I will now attempt to describe the course of an ordinary day at our Headquarters. I must ask all those who have no liking for such trivialities in the middle of great world events to skip the next few pages. These details are not essential to a proper understanding of the mighty epoch.
It was impossible to think of a regular routine for our Army Headquarters, with each hour mapped out, during the war of movement in East Prussia and Poland in the autumn of 1914. It was only when our Headquarters was transferred to Posen in November 1914 that greater regularity began to be observed in our official and — if such a thing exists in war — unofficial life. Later on our longer stay at Lötzen was particularly favorable for the organisation of a strictly regulated routine.
My appointment as Chief of the General Staff of the Field Army made no material difference to the methods of business we had established and found satisfactory, although in many respects more important and pressing activities took up our time.
I usually began the day's business at about nine o'clock — that is, after the morning reports had come in — by visiting General Ludendorff in order to discuss with him any changes in the situation and issue the necessary instructions. As a rule this did not mean a long conference. The military situation was always present to both our minds and we knew each other's thoughts. The decisions were, therefore, usually a matter of a few sentences. Indeed, very often a few words were all that was required to establish that mutual understanding which served the general as a basis for his further working-out of the plans.
After this conference I used to go for a walk for about an hour, accompanied by my adjutant. Occasionally I asked visitors at Headquarters to join me in my morning walk, in the course of which I heard their sorrows as well as their suggestions, and chastened many an anxious soul before he hurled himself upon my First Quartermaster-General to pour out his heart about his wishes, hopes, and schemes to that authority whose business it was to go into further details.
After my return to the office I had further conferences with General Ludendorff, and then received the personal reports of my departmental heads in my own office.
Apart altogether from official duties, I had to deal with a mass of personal correspondence. There was quite a large number of people who considered themselves compelled to open their hearts to me in writing about every conceivable occurrence, or acquaint me with their views. It was perfectly impossible for me to read them all myself. I had to employ the services of a special officer for the purpose. Poetry as well as prose figured in this correspondence. Enthusiasm and the reverse were displayed in every possible degree. It was often very difficult to see any connection between the requests made to me and my official position. To take only two of hundreds of examples, it has never been clear to me what I, as Chief of the General Staff, had to do with the removal of refuse in a provincial town — no doubt very necessary in itself, or with the loss of the certificate of baptism of a German lady from Chile. Yet in most cases the writers called on me to help. There is no doubt that written requests of this kind were a proof of a touching, in many cases somewhat naive, confidence in my personal influence. I was only too glad to help, at least with my signature, when time and circumstances permitted. But as a rule I considered it my duty to refrain from intervening personally.
About midday I was regularly summoned to make my report to His Majesty the Emperor. At this conference General Ludendorff described the situation. When more important decisions had to be taken I made the report myself and requested the Emperor's approval of our plans whenever that was necessary. The Emperor's great trust in us made a special royal approval unnecessary except in vital questions. For the rest His Majesty usually satisfied himself with hearing our reasons when new operations were proposed. I never remember any differences of opinion which were not composed by my War Lord before the conference was over. The Emperor's wonderful memory for situations was of the greatest help to us at these reports. His Majesty not only made the most careful study of the map but was in the habit of making sketches himself. The time of our daily report to the Kaiser was frequently also employed in conferences with representatives of the government.
After the conclusion of the report to the Kaiser my immediate Staff joined me at the luncheon table. The time spent on the meal was cut down to what was absolutely necessary. I attached importance to my officers having time to get a little recreation afterwards or getting away from work in some other way. To my continual personal regret, I could not consent to an extension of the mealtime, even when we had guests with us. Regard for the maintenance of the efficiency of my colleagues had to come before social graces. For the majority of these officers a sixteen-hour day was the rule. And this in a war lasting years! Thus we at Main Headquarters were compelled to use our human material to the extreme limit of capacity just as much as the men in the trenches.
The afternoon passed in much the same way as the morning. The longest break for all of us was dinner, which began at eight. After the meal we used to sit round in groups in neighboring rooms until General Ludendorff gave the signal to break up, at half-past nine punctually. Conversation in our circle was usually very lively. It was perfectly free and absolutely frank, and covered all topics and occurrences that concerned us directly or were of general interest. Nor was there any lack of high spirits. I considered it a duty to my colleagues to encourage this side. It was a pleasure to see that our visitors were obviously surprised by our quiet confidence on the one hand and the spontaneity of our conversation on the other.
After our evening gathering broke up we went back together to the office. The final reports of the day had arrived and the situation on the different fronts been marked on the map. One of the more junior Staff Officers explained it. It depended upon the events in the various theaters whether I had to have a further conference with General Ludendorff or could dispense with his services for the time being. The officers of my immediate Staff now resumed work. Frequently it was at this stage that the last data required for the drawing-up and issue of final orders were given, and it was from now onwards that the innumerable requests, suggestions, and proposals of the armies and other services streamed in. The day's work thus never ended before midnight. The reports of the heads of departments to General Ludendorff lasted pretty regularly into the early hours of the next day. There would have to be quite an exceptional lull at the front for my First Quartermaster-General to leave his office before midnight, although he was always back again by eight o'clock next morning. We were all delighted when General Ludendorff could allow himself to knock off a little earlier, although it was only a matter of hours.
Our whole life and work and all our thoughts and feelings were shared in common. Even now the memories of this time fill me with grateful satisfaction. Generally speaking, we remained a restricted circle. In view of the official routine, changes of personnel were naturally infrequent. It was occasionally possible to meet the urgent requests of the officers for at least temporary employment at the front. Moreover, occasions arose in which it was necessary to send officers to particularly important parts of our own fronts or those of our allies. But, generally speaking, the continuity of the very highly-organized and complicated system required that at least the senior officers should remain permanently at their posts at Main Headquarters.
The hand of death was also felt in our midst. As early as 1916, when I was Commander-in-Chief in the East, I had lost Major Kammerar as the result of a chill. He was my personal Adjutant, very dear to me, and universally esteemed. In October 1918, Captain von Linsingen succumbed to an attack of influenza, which at this time was claiming many victims at Main Headquarters. In spite of the urgent representations of the doctor and his comrades, Captain von Linsingen considered that he could not leave his post at that extremely critical time, and he carried on until he had to put his work down, physically exhausted and shaken with fever, too late to be saved. In him we lost a comrade who represented the highest in spirit as in character. His young wife did not arrive in time to close his eyes. Many of those who were temporarily attached to my Staff subsequently fell at the front.
This picture of our life would be incomplete if I said nothing of the visitors who came to us from all parts and at all times. I am not thinking now of our routine dealings with the many professional people who came into official touch with us, but rather of others who were brought to us by many other interests. I gladly opened my door and my heart to them so long as they treated me with the same frankness.
We had a large number of guests, and, in fact, had few days without them. Not only Germany and her Allies, but neutrals also sent us a considerable contingent. Our circle at table often gave me the impression of the most motley mixture of races, and it sometimes happened that a Christian Minister sat down side by side with a Mohammedan believer. People of all social classes and parties received a warm welcome. I was glad to give them my few hours of leisure. Of the statesmen I have a preference for Count Tisza, who visited me at Pless in the winter of 1916-17. His whole being spoke of his unbroken strength of will and the glowing fervor of his patriotism. Other politicians of all shades of opinion from our own and allied lands came on flying visits to me. Sometimes there was something strange to me in their ways of thought, but I appreciated their ardor in our great common cause. I remember so many words of glowing patriotism as we parted.
In my circle I pressed the hard and rough hands of artisans and working men, and their frank looks and straightforward words were a real pleasure to me. Representatives of our great industries and men of science introduced us to new discoveries and ideas and waxed enthusiastic over future economic plans. They certainly complained of the narrow-minded bureaucracy at home and the scanty resources put at their disposal for the exploitation of their ideas. On the other hand, bureaucrats grieved over the greed for gold of inventors for what they feared would turn out to be fantasies or mere airy schemes. I well remember the interesting questions of an official very high up in the Treasury service who wanted to know the cost of a shell of every calibre of gun, so that he could calculate the enormous cost of a battle. He spared me the result of his calculations, knowing, no doubt, that I would not limit the consumption of ammunition on that ground.
Other things besides necessities, cares, and ordinary duties found their way to us. Vulgar curiosity also sought admission. I have often laughed to myself over the different speeches with which an attempt at some sort of justification was made. Whether the result of such visits always came up to expectation I would not like to affirm in all cases. By way of contrast, many a splendid regimental officer, bearing the marks of hard fighting and a hard life, was a really welcome guest at our table. A few tales of trench life were far more eloquent than long written reports. The reality of what I myself had gone through in earlier years was brought vividly before my eyes. In this most terrible of all conflicts everything had indeed reached the level of the grotesque in comparison with previous wars! The few-hours battle of past times had become the titanic action lasting months, and human endurance seemed to have no limits.
Count Zeppelin was another of our guests at Pless, and affected us all with the touching simplicity of his manner. Even at that time he considered his airships an antiquated weapon. In his opinion it was the aeroplane which would control the air in future. The Count died soon after his visit, and thus never lived to see the disaster to his Fatherland. Happy man! Two other lords of the air who had gained laurels accepted my invitation — two invincible young heroes: Captain Bölcke and Captain von Richthofen. We liked the merry and modest ways of both of them. Honor to their memories. I had U-boat commanders also among my guests, among them Captain König, the commander of the commercial submarine Deutschland.
Thus no class and no clan were kept away from us, and I believe that we really often felt the common pulse of the army and our homeland, our allies and ourselves.