COUNTERATTACK! No troops, no leader in the field can ever have received such news with more joyous satisfaction than I felt when I realized that the time for such a measure had at length arrived.
I have previously described our situation before the spring of 1917 as a stage of strategic "stand to." Of course, this does not mean that our reserves were closely concentrated like the masses of Napoleon when he awaited the attack of his foes who were closing in on him from all sides in the autumn of 1813. The immense distances which we had to cover forbade a system of that kind. On the other hand, the capacity of our railways made it possible to collect widely distributed reserves and carry them quickly to a point selected for an offensive.
The defensive battles in the West had been a heavy drain on our available reserves. A comparison of numbers and the difficulties of this front made a counteroffensive there with what was left out of the question. On the other hand these reserves seemed sufficient to enable us to turn the situation in the East once and for all in our favor, and thereby precipitate the political collapse of our adversary on that side. Russia's foundations had become rotten. The last manifestations of force of the now republican army were only the result of an artificially produced wave, a wave which no longer welled up from the depths of the nation. But in a great struggle of nations, when the national army is once in process of decay, complete collapse is inevitable. Such being my conviction, it was my opinion we could now achieve decisive results in Russia even with moderate resources.
It is easy to understand that there were voices which even now warned us against employing our available reserves in an offensive. It must be admitted that this was not so easy a question to decide as may appear now, when we look back upon the course of events. At the time we made the decision we had to face a good many anxieties and risks. It was even then clear that the English attack of June 7th at Wytschaete and Messines was but the prelude to a much greater military drama which, carrying on the work then begun, would have its background in the great stretch of Flanders on the north. We had also to anticipate that France, too, would resume her attack as soon as her army had recovered from the serious disaster of the spring offensive.
It was undoubtedly a risk to take troops from the West — it was a question of six divisions — but a risk similar to that we had taken in 1916 in our attack on Rumania. On that occasion, of course, it had been a ease of imperious necessity. Now we did it of our own free will. But in both cases the venture had been based on our unshakable confidence in our troops. Dissentient voices were raised against our plan on other grounds besides that of the general military situation. As a result of the enemy's experiences with our defense, some among us doubted the possibility of a really great offensive victory. I remember how, just before the opening of our counteroffensive on the Galician front, we were warned that with the troops we had concentrated we could not hope for more than a local success — that means the production of a salient in the enemy lines such as our opponents had so often created in their offensives at the first rush. Was that our goal? Then had we not better renounce the whole operation?
Among opinions on this side there was another that was quite plausible: we ought to keep our land forces principally on the defensive and otherwise wait until our U-boats had fulfilled our hopes. There was something very alluring in this idea. According to such reports as we had then received, the result of the U-boat warfare had already exceeded all expectations. Its effects must therefore soon make themselves felt. Yet I was not able to give my consent to that proposal. The military and political situation in the East now demanded something more than that we should stand still for months and simply look on. We feared that if our counterblow did not follow hard on the heels of Kerensky's attack, the war party in Russia would once more get the upper hand. There is no need for me to describe the reaction such an event would have on our country and our allies.
While Kerensky strove in vain to get the mass of his still effective troops to break through the Austro-Hungarian lines — which had meanwhile been propped up by German troops — we concentrated a strong force southwest of Brody, that is on the flank of the Russian breakthrough, and on July 19th attacked in a southeasterly direction towards Tarnopol. Our operation struck a part of the Russian line which had little capacity for resistance, and, indeed, had been exhausted in the previous attack. The Russian troops were quickly scattered to the winds, and Kerensky's whole offensive collapsed at a blow. Nothing but a hasty retreat of the Russian troops on the north, and more particularly on the south, of our point of irruption saved the Russian Army from a catastrophe. Our whole Eastern Front in Galicia and right south into the Carpathians was soon in movement, pursuing the retreating enemy. By the end of August almost the whole of Galicia and the Bukovina were clear of the foe. It was told that in these following-up actions the Austro-Hungarian field artillery had particularly distinguished itself. With exemplary boldness it had gone on ahead of its own infantry and hard on the heels of the Russians. I had learned to admire this splendid arm at Königgrätz in 1866, and therefore rejoiced doubly at this fresh proof of its fame on our side.
Our offensive came to a standstill on the frontier of Moldavia. No one regretted it more than I did. We were in the most favorable strategic position imaginable to effect the occupation of this last part of Rumania by continuing our advance. Judging by the political situation in Russia at the moment, the Rumanian Army would unquestionably have dissolved if we had compelled it to abandon the country altogether. How could a Rumanian king and a royal Rumanian Army have remained in existence on revolutionary Russian soil? However, thanks to the destruction of the stations by the retreating Russians, our communications had become so difficult that with a heavy heart we had to renounce the further prosecution of the operations at this point. A later attempt on our part to shatter the Rumanian Army in Moldavia was unsuccessful. We adhered to our decision not to let go of Russia until she had been finally eliminated in a military sense, even though the commencement of the drama in Flanders was claiming our attention and, indeed, filling us with increasing anxiety. If we could not destroy the Russian Army in Wolhynia and Moldavia we must do so at some other part of the front. Riga seemed a peculiarly favourable point, a militarily and politically sensitive point, at which Russia could be hit. At Riga the Russian northern wing formed a mighty flank position, more than forty miles deep and only twenty wide along the coast to the western bank of the Dvina. It was a position which threatened our whole front, both strategically and tactically. This situation had irritated us in previous years when I was Commander-in-Chief in the East. Both in 1915 and 1916 we had planned to break through this salient somewhere near its base, and thereby deal a great blow at its defenders.
On paper this seems a simple enough operation, but it was not so simple in practice. The spearhead must be driven northwards across the broad Dvina above Riga. It is true that in the course of the war great rivers had certainly not lived up to their imposing reputation as obstacles. Had not General von Mackensen crossed the mighty Danube in full view of the enemy? We could therefore face the prospect of crossing the smaller Dvina with a light heart, but the great drawback to the operation lay in the fact that the strongly-held Russian trenches lay on the far bank, so that the Dvina formed a kind of moat.
However, on September 1st our bold attack succeeded, as the Russians abandoned their trenches on the bank during our artillery preparation. Moreover, the occupants of the great flanking salient west of the river withdrew, marching day and night, through Riga to the east, thus for the most part evading capture.
Our attack at Riga aroused the liveliest fears in Russia for the safety of Petersburg. The capital of the country was in a panic. It felt itself directly threatened by our attack on Riga. Petersburg, still the intellectual center of Russia, fell into a condition of extreme nervous anxiety which made calm and practical thinking impossible. Otherwise the citizens would merely have taken compasses and measured the distances which still separated our victorious troops at Riga from the Russian capital. It was not only in Russia, but also in our own country, that imagination became very vivid about this affair and forgot space and time. Even among us there were great illusions about an advance on Petersburg. It goes without saying that no one would have been more pleased to carry out such an advance than I. I well understood the anxiety of our troops and their leaders to continue our invasion, at least as far as Lake Peipus. But we had to renounce all these ideas, alluring though they undoubtedly were. They would have tied down too many of our troops — and for too long — in a region with which our future plans were not concerned. Our thoughts had now returned from the Gulf of Riga to the coast of the Adriatic. But of that more anon.
But if we could not continue our advance to Petersburg and thereby keep the nerve center of Russia at the highest tension until collapse was inevitable, there was still another way by which we could attain that end — the way of the sea. At our instigation our fleet accepted our suggestion with loyal devotion. Thus originated the decision to capture the island of Oesel lying at the entrance to the Gulf of Riga. From that point we should directly threaten the Russian naval harbor of Reval and intensify our pressure on nervous Petersburg without employing any large forces.
The operation against Oesel stands out in this war as the one completely successful enterprise on either side in which an army and a fleet cooperated. The execution of our plans was rendered so doubtful by bad weather at the outset that we were already thinking of disembarking the troops on board. The arrival of better weather then enabled us to proceed with the venture. From that point everything went like clockwork. The Navy answered to the high demands which we had to make on it in every direction. We succeeded in possessing ourselves of Oesel and the neighboring islands. In Petersburg nerves were more shaken than ever. The structure of the Russian front became ever looser. It became clearer with every day that passed that Russia was too shaken by internal agitation to be capable of any military demonstration within a measurable time. Everything that still held fast in this turmoil was gradually being swept away by the red flood. The pillars of the state were crumbling stone by stone.
Under our last blows the colossus not only trembled, but split asunder and fell. But we turned to a new task.