XX.1 The "Great Battle" in France
Shortly before we left Spa, His Majesty issued the order for the first great battle. I will quote the material portion of this order in full to save a detailed description of our plans. By way of explanation, I may remark that the preparations for the great battle are indicated by the rubric "Michael," and that the day and hour of the attack were only inserted when we knew for certain that our preparations were complete.
Main Headquarters
10-3-18
By His Majesty's Orders:
1. The Michael attack will take place on the 21.3. The first attack on the enemy's lines is fixed for 9.40 a.m.
2. The first great tactical objective of the Crown Prince Rupprecht's Army Group is to cut off the English in the Cambrai salient and reach the line Croisilles (southeast of Arras)—Bapaume—Péronne. If the attack of the right wing (17th Army) proceeds favorably this army is to press on beyond Croisilles.
The further task of this Army Group is to push forward in the general direction Arras—Albert, keep its left wing on the Somme at Péronne and intensifying its pressure on the right wing, compel the retirement of the English front facing the 6th Army also, and release further German troops from trench warfare for the general advance...
3. The German Crown Prince's Army Group will first gain the line of the Somme south of the Omignon stream (this flows into the Somme south of Péronne) and the Crozat Canal (west of La Fère). By pushing on rapidly the 18th Army (right wing of the Crown Prince's Army Group) is to secure the crossings of the Somme and the Canal. . . ,
The tension in which we had left Spa in the evening of March 18th had increased as we arrived at our new headquarters at Avesnes. The beautiful bright weather of early spring which we had been enjoying had changed. Violent rainstorms swept over the country. They did full justice to the nickname which the French had given to Avesnes and its neighborhood. In themselves, clouds and rain were by no means unwelcome to us in these days. They would probably shroud our final preparations. But had we really any grounds for hoping that the enemy had not got wind of what we were about? Here and there the hostile artillery had been particularly wide-awake and lively. But the firing had then died down. From time to time enemy airmen at night had tried to observe the most important of our roads with the help of light-balls and turned their machine guns on all suspected movements. But all this supplied no definite data on which to answer the question: "Can our surprise succeed?"
The reinforcements earmarked for the attack entered the assembly trenches in the final few nights. The last trench mortars and batteries were brought up. The enemy did not interfere to any appreciable extent! At different points parties volunteered to drag heavy guns right up to our wire and there conceal them in shell holes. We believed that we ought to be venturesome if we could thereby guarantee that the attacking infantry should have artillery support in their passage through the whole enemy defensive system. No hostile countermeasures hindered this preparatory work.
The weather was stormy and rainy almost the whole day on March 20th. The prospects for the 21st were uncertain. Local mist was probable. But at midday we decided definitely that the battle should begin in the morning of the following day.
The early morning hours of March 21st found the whole of Northern France, from the coast to the Aisne, shrouded in mist. The higher the sun mounted into the sky the thicker the fog became. At times it limited the range of vision to a few yards. Even the sound waves seemed to be absorbed in the grey veil. In Avesnes we could only hear a distant indefinite roll of thunder coming from the battlefield, on which thousands of guns of every calibre had been belching forth fury since the early hours of the morning.
Unseeing and itself unseen, our artillery had proceeded with its work. It was only our conscientious preparation which offered any guarantee that our batteries were being really effective. The enemy's reply was local, fitful, and of varying violence. It looked as if he were groping about for an unseen enemy rather than systematically fighting a troublesome foe.
It was therefore still uncertain whether the English were not fully prepared with their defense and expecting our attack. The veil which hid everything did not lift. About 10 a.m. our brave infantry advanced into the very heart of it. At first we received only vague reports, recitals of objectives reached, contradictions of previous reports, recalls. It was only gradually that the atmosphere of uncertainty cleared and we were in a position to realize that we had broken through the enemy's first line at all points. About midday the mist began to dissolve and the sun to triumph.
By the evening hours we were able to piece together a definite picture of what had been accomplished. The armies on the right wing and the center of our battlefront were to all intents and purposes held up in front of the enemy's second position. The army on the left had made immense progress beyond St. Quentin. There was no doubt that the right wing was faced with the stoutest opposition. The English had suspected the danger which was threatening them from the north and brought up all their available reserves to meet it. On the other hand the left wing had had relatively the easiest task, apparently as the result of a wholesale surprise. In the north our losses had been larger than we expected. Otherwise they were in accordance with anticipation.
The results of the day seemed to me satisfactory. Such was also the opinion of the General Staff officers who had followed the troops and were now returning from the battlefield. Yet only the second day could show whether our attack would now share the fate of all those which the enemy had made upon us for years, the fate of finding itself held up after the first victorious breakthrough.
The evening of the second day saw our right wing in possession of the second enemy position. Our center had even captured the third enemy line, while the army on the left wing was in full career and now miles away to the west. Hundreds of enemy guns, enormous masses of ammunition and other booty of all kinds were lying behind our lines. Long columns of prisoners were marching eastwards. The destruction of the English troops in the Cambrai salient could not be achieved, however, as, contrary to our expectations, our right wing had not pushed on far and quickly enough.
The third day of the battle made no change in the previous impressions of the course of events. The heaviest fighting was on our right wing, where the English defended themselves with the greatest obstinacy and were still maintaining themselves in their third line. On the other hand, we had gained more ground in our center and also on the left wing. This day the Somme had been reached south of Péronne, and indeed crossed at one point.
It was this day, March 23rd, that the first shells fell into the enemy's capital.
In view of the brilliant sweep of our attack to the west, a sweep which put into the shade everything that had been seen on the Western Front for years, it seemed to me that an advance on Amiens was feasible. Amiens was the nodal point of the most important railway connections between the two war zones of Central and Northern France (the latter being mainly the English sphere of operations) which had the line of the Somme as a definite boundary. The town was thus of very great strategic importance. If it fell into our hands, or even if we succeeded in getting the town and its neighbourhood under effective artillery fire, the enemy's field of operations would be cleft in twain and the tactical breakthrough would be converted into a strategical wedge, with England on one side and France on the other. It was possible that tbe strategic and political interests of tbe two countries might drift apart as the result of such a success. We will call these interests by the names of Calais and Paris. So forward against Amiens!
We did indeed go forward, and with giant strides. And yet it was not quick enough for active imaginations and glowing wishes. For we had to fear that the enemy also would realize the peril in which he now stood, and would do everything in his power to avert it. English reserves from the northern wing, French troops drawn from the whole of Central France were hastening to Amiens and its neighbourhood. It was also to be expected that the French High Command would take our advance in flank from the south.
The evening of the fourth day saw Bapaume in our hands. Péronne and the line of the Somme south of it was already well behind our leading divisions. We were once more treading the old Somme battlefield. For many of our men it was rich in proud, if serious memories, and for all who saw it for the first time it spoke straight to the heart with its millions of shell holes, its confused medley of crumbling and overgrown trenches, the majestic silence of its desolate wastes and its thousands of graves.
Whole sections of the English front had been utterly routed and were retiring, apparently out of hand, in the direction of Amiens. It was the progress of the army on our right wing which was first held up. To get the battle going again at this point we attacked the hills east of Arras. The attempt only partially succeeded, and the action was broken off. Meanwhile our center had captured Albert. On the seventh day our left wing, guarding against French attacks from the south, pressed forward through Roye to Montdidier.
The decision was therefore to be sought more and more in the direction of Amiens. But here also we found the resistance stiffening, and our advance became slower and slower. The hopes and wishes which had soared beyond Amiens had to be recalled. Facts must be treated as facts. Human achievements are never more than patchwork. Favorable opportunities had been neglected or had not always been exploited with the same energy, even where a splendid goal was beckoning. We ought to have shouted into the ear of every single man: "Press on to Amiens. Put in your last ounce. Perhaps Amiens means decisive victory. Capture Villers—Bretonneux whatever happens, so that from its heights we can command Amiens with masses of our heavy artillery!" It was in vain. Our strength was exhausted.
The enemy fully realized what the loss of Villers—Bretonneux would mean to him. He threw against our advancing columns all the troops he could lay hands on. The French appeared, and with their massed attacks and skillful artillery saved the situation for their allies and themselves.
With us human nature was urgently voicing its claims. We had to take breath. The infantry needed rest and the artillery ammunition. It was lucky for us that we were able to live to a certain extent on the supplies of the beaten foe. Otherwise we should not even have been able to cross the Somme, for the shattered roads in the wide shell-hole area of the first enemy position could only have been made available after days of work. Even now we did not give up all hope of capturing Villers—Bretonneux. On April 4th, we made another attempt to drive the enemy from the village. The first reports of the progress of our attack on that day were very promising, but the next day brought a reverse and disillusionment at this point.
Amiens remained in the hands of the enemy, and was subjected to a long-range bombardment which certainly disturbed this traffic artery of our foe but could not cut it.
The "Great Battle" in France was over!
XX.2 The Battle on the Lys
Among the battle proposals for the opening of the 1918 campaign we had contemplated and worked out an attack on the English positions in Flanders. The fundamental idea behind this plan was that we should attack the great easterly bulge of the English northern wing on both sides of Armentières, and by pressing forward in the general direction of Hazebrouck cause the whole line to collapse. The prospects which opened for us if we made good progress in such an operation were very alluring, but the execution of the attack was faced with most serious obstacles. In the first place, it was clear that we were dealing with the strongest English group at this point. This group, concentrated in a comparatively confined area, was quite in a position to bring our attack to a standstill after it had made but little progress. Such an enterprise would therefore face us with the very danger we were most anxious to avoid. To that must be added the difficulties of the ground on either side of Armentières over which we had to attack. In the first place, there were the low-lying meadows of the Lys, several miles broad, and then the river itself to be crossed. In winter this low-lying area was to a large extent flooded, and in spring it was often nothing but a marsh for weeks on end — a real horror for the troops holding the trenches at this point. North of the Lys the ground gradually rose, and then mounted sharply to the great group of hills which had its mighty pillars at Kemmel and Cassel.
It was perfectly hopeless to think of carrying out such an attack before the valley of the Lys was to some extent passable. In normal circumstances of weather, we could only expect the ground to become dry enough by the middle of April. But we thought we could not wait until then to begin the decisive conflict in the West. We had to keep the prospects of American intervention steadily before our eyes. Notwithstanding these objections to the attack, we had the scheme worked out, at any rate in theory. In this working out we provided for the eventuality that our operation at St. Quentin would compel the enemy's leaders to withdraw large reserves from the group in Flanders to meet our breakthrough there.
This eventuality had materialized by the end of March. As soon as we saw that our attack to the west must come to a standstill, we decided to begin our operations on the Lys front. An inquiry addressed to the Army Group of the Crown Prince Rupprecht elicited the reply that, thanks to the dry spring weather, the attack across the valley of the Lys was already feasible. The enterprise was now taken in hand by the Army Headquarters Staff and the troops with amazing energy.
On April 9th, the anniversary of the great crisis at Arras, our storm troops rose from their muddy trenches on the Lys front from Armentières to La Bassée. Of course they were not disposed in great waves, but mostly in small detachments and diminutive columns which waded through the morass which had been upheaved by shells and mines, and either picked their way towards the enemy lines between deep shell holes filled with water or took the few firm causeways. Under the protection of our artillery and trench-mortar fire, they succeeded in getting forward quickly in spite of all the natural and artificial obstacles, although apparently neither the English nor the Portuguese, who had been sandwiched in among them, believed it possible. Most of the Portuguese troops left the battlefield in wild flight, and once and for all retired from the fighting in favor of their allies. It must be admitted that our exploitation of the surprise and the Portuguese failure met with the most serious obstacles in the nature of the ground. It was only with the greatest difficulty that a few ammunition wagons were brought forward behind the infantry. Yet the Lys was reached by the evening and even crossed at one point. Here again the decision was to be expected only in the course of the next few days. Our prospects seemed favorable. On April 10th, Estaires fell into our hands and we gained more ground northwest of Armentières. On the same day our front of attack was extended to the region of Wytschaete. We again stormed the battered ruins of the much-fought-for Messines.
The next day brought us more successes and fresh hopes. Armentières was evacuated by the enemy and we captured Merville. From the south we approached the first terrace of the great group of hills from which our opponent could see our whole attack and command it with his artillery. From now on progress became slower. It soon came to a stop on our left wing, while our attack in the direction of Hazebrouck was slowly becoming paralysed. In our center we captured Bailleul and set foot on the hills from the south. Wytschaete fell into our hands, but then this first blow was exhausted.
The difficulties of communication across the Lys valley which had to be overcome by our troops attacking from the south had been like a chain round our necks. Ammunition could only be brought up in quite inadequate quantities, and it was only thanks to the booty the enemy had left behind on the battlefield that we were able to keep our troops properly fed.
Our infantry had suffered extremely heavily in their fight with the enemy machine-gun nests, and their complete exhaustion threatened unless wre paused in our attack for a time. On the other hand, the situation urgently exacted an early decision. We had arrived at one of those crises in which the continuation of the attack is extremely difficult, but when the defense seems to be wavering. The release from such a situation can only come from a further attack and not by merely holding on.
We had to capture Mount Kemmel. It had lain like a great hump before our eyes for years. It was only to be expected that the enemy had made it the key to his positions in Flanders. The photographs of our airmen revealed but a portion of the complicated enemy defense system at this point. We might hope, however, that the external appearance of the hill was more impressive than its real tactical value. We had had experiences of this kind before with other tactical objectives. Picked troops which had displayed their resolution and revealed their powers at the Roten-Turm Pass, and in the fighting in the mountains of Transylvania, Serbian Albania, and the Alps of Upper Italy, might once more make possible the seemingly impossible. A condition precedent to the success of our further attacks in Flanders was that the French High Command should be compelled to leave the burden of the defense in that region to their English Allies. We therefore first renewed our attacks at Villers-Bretonneux on April 24th, hoping that the French commander's anxiety about Amiens would take precedence of the necessity to help the hard-pressed English friends in Flanders. Unfortunately this new attack failed. On the other hand, on April 25th the English defense on Mount Kemmel collapsed at the first blow. The loss of this pillar of the defense shook the whole enemy front in Flanders. Our adversary began to withdraw from the Ypres salient which he had pushed out in months of fighting in 1917. Yet to the last Flemish city he clung as if to a jewel which he was unwilling to lose for political reasons.
But the decision in Flanders was not to be sought at Ypres, but by attacking in the direction of Cassel. If we managed to make progress in that quarter, the whole Anglo-Belgian front in Flanders would have to be withdrawn to the west. Just as our thoughts had soared beyond Amiens in the previous month, our hopes now soared to the Channel Coast. I seemed to feel how all England followed the course of the battle in Flanders with bated breath. After that giant bastion, Mount Kemmel, had fallen, we had no reason to flinch from the difficulties of further attacks. It is true that we had received reports about the failure of certain of our units. Mistakes and omissions had occurred on the battlefield. Yet such mistakes and omissions are inherent in human nature. He who makes the fewest will remain master of the battlefield. We were now the master and intended to remain so. Victories such as we had gained at Kemmel not only elate the troops who actually win them, but revitalize the spirits of whole armies. Therefore on! We must have Cassel at least! From that vantage point the long-range fire of our heaviest guns could reach Boulogne and Calais. Both towns were crammed full with English supplies, and were also the principal points of debarkation of the English armies. The English army had failed in the most surprising fashion in the fight for Kemmel. If we succeeded in getting it to ourselves at this point, we should have a certain prospect of a great victory. If no French help arrived, England would probably be lost in Flanders. Yet in England's dire need this help was once more at hand. French troops came up with bitter anger against the friend who had surrendered Kemmel, and attempted to recover this key position from us. It was in vain. But our own last great onslaught on the new Anglo-French line at the end of April made no headway.
On May 1st we adopted the defensive in Flanders, or rather, as we then hoped, passed to the defensive for the time being.
XX.3 The Battle of Soissons—Rheims
After the conclusion of the battles in Flanders, we still adhered to the plans we had chosen for the attainment of our great goal. Of course we intended to proceed with our task of "shaking the hostile edifice by closely connected partial blows in such a way that sooner or later the whole structure would collapse." Thus were our plans described in a memorandum drawn up at that time. Twice had England been saved by France at a moment of extreme crisis. Perhaps the third time we should succeed in gaining a decisive victory over this adversary. The attack on the English northern wing remained as before the leit motiv of our operations. I believed that the war would be decided if this attack were successfully carried through. If we reached the Channel Coast we should lay hands directly on England's vital arteries. In so doing we should not only be in the most favorable position conceivable for interrupting her maritime communications, but our heaviest artillery would be able to get a portion of the South Coast of Britain under fire. The mysterious marvel of technical science, which was even now sending its shells into the French capital from the region of Laon, could be employed against England also. The marvel need only be a little greater to get the heart of the English commercial and political world within its range from the coast near Calais. That would be a serious prospect for Great Britain, not only for the moment, but for her whole future! These triumphs of the art of Krupp can now be constructed anywhere. Whether they are to be regarded as a guarantee of peace or an incitement to war the future must decide. England, with her far-seeing views and extreme sensitiveness to the peril threatening her in the future, has already thought this all out. Perhaps, in secret, France too has already drawn the appropriate inference. It is obvious that between friends utterance could not be given to such thoughts. Yet each of them feels the weapon in the pocket of the other!
In May 1918, it was our immediate business to attempt to separate the two friends in Flanders once more. England was easier to beat when France was far away. If we faced the French with a crisis on their own front, they would withdraw the divisions which were now in line on the English front in Flanders. The greatest possible haste was necessary, or the reinforced enemy might snatch the initiative from us. A dangerous enemy irruption into our defensive fronts, which were not very strong, would have thrown out our calculations and perhaps upset them altogether. The sensitive point of the French front was the direction of Paris. At the time the political atmosphere of Paris seemed to be heavily charged. Our shells and attacks from the air had hitherto not produced the explosion, but we had reason to hope that there would be an explosion if we advanced our lines nearer to the city. From the information at our disposal the French defenses in the region of Soissons were particularly lightly held, yet here the ground was extremely unfavorable for attack.
When I paid my first visit to Laon at the beginning of the year 1917, I walked on the terrace of the Prefecture which is in the southern part of this peculiarly sited hill town. The whole region around me was exposed to full view on this splendid spring morning. Bounded by two groups of hills on the west and east, the landscape stretched away to the south and there ended in a mighty wall, the Chemin des Dames. One hundred and three years before, after days of violent fighting south of the Marne, Prussian and Russian forces under the command of Blücher had crossed the heights of the Chemin des Dames from the south, and after the murderous action at Craonne had been drawn up for battle against the great Corsican in the immediate neighbourhood of Laon. In the night of March 9-10, 1814, the battle on the eastern slopes of the steep hills of Laon had been decided in favour of the allies.
It was on the heights of the Chemin des Dames that the French spring offensive of 1917 had been brought to naught. Fighting had raged on this position for weeks with varying fortune, and then silence had reigned. In October 1917, however, the right shoulder of this ridge, northeast of Soissons, had been stormed by the enemy and we were forced to evacuate the Chemin des Dames and establish our defenses behind the Ailette.
Our troops had now to attack once more over the slopes of the Chemin des Dames. The success of this enterprise depended even more on surprise than had been the case with our previous offensives. If we failed in this respect, our attack would break down on the northern face of the high ridge. However, our surprise completely succeeded.
I will venture to give the peculiar explanation which was put forward to account for our success. An officer who had taken part in the preparations on the Ailette expressed the opinion that the croaking of the frogs in the streams and damp meadows had been so loud that it was impossible to hear the sounds made by the approach of our bridging trains. Others may think what they like about this piece of news, but I can at any rate give the assurance that I had not been previously irritating my informant with chestnuts from my sporting experiences! Another and more illuminating explanation to account
for the success with which we concealed the preparations for our attack was given by a captured enemy officer. According to his story, on the day before our attack began a Prussian non-commissioned officer was brought in who had been captured in a raid. In reply to the question whether he could tell anything about a German attack he spoke as follows: "There will be a tremendous German bombardment in the early morning hours of May 27th. However, it will only be a feint, for the German infantry attack which will follow it will only be carried out by a few volunteer detachments. The morale of the German troops has been so shaken by their fearful losses at St. Quentin and in Flanders that the infantry has qpenly resisted the orders for a general attack." The officer said quite frankly that this report had seemed to him entirely credible, so that on May 27th he had awaited the development of events with perfect unconcern. Perhaps these reminiscences of mine will come to the knowledge of that brave German soldier. I press his hand in thought and thank him on behalf of the whole army, to which he rendered so priceless a service, and in the name of the many hundreds, perhaps thousands, of his brave comrades whose lives he saved by his presence of mind. The deception of the enemy officer would not, perhaps, have been so complete if hostile propaganda, with its silly exaggeration of our previous losses, had not prepared the ground for belief in the story of the Prussian non-commissioned officer. Thus propagandist lies and exaggerations prove a boomerang from time to time.
The battle began on May 27th, and everything went brilliantly. At the outset we were bound to anticipate that our attack would come to a halt on the Aisne—Vesle line and would be unable to get beyond that sector. We were therefore not a little surprised when we received a report about midday on the opening day that smoke from German shrapnel could already be seen on the southern bank of the Aisne and that our infantry would cross the same day.
The center of our complete tactical breakthrough reached the Marne from Château-Thierry to Dormans in a few days. Our wings wheeled towards Villers-Cotterêts on the west, and on the east against Rheims and the hilly region south of that city. Our booty was colossal, for the whole area of concentration of the French spring offensive of 1917 was in our hands with its immense supplies of all kinds. The construction of new roads and hutments for thousands of men, as well as much else, furnished a proof of the immense scale on which the French had then prepared their attack in many months of strenuous labor. We had made short work of the affair! It was during these days that I paid a visit to the battlefields of Laon. Since the winter of 1917 life there had certainly lost its almost peaceful character. A few days after our huge guns had opened fire on Paris from the forests of Crepy, west of Laon, enemy batteries in the valley of the Aisne had begun to fire upon the unfortunate town. I do not mean to suggest that the enemy raged against his own flesh and blood without sound military reasons. They believed that the ammunition required for our batteries which were thus annoying Paris had to pass through Laon, and it was a very natural mistake. As they fired at the station a large number of big shells fell into the town, which wag still thickly populated, and, moreover, enemy airmen dropped bombs at all hours of the day. Those of the afflicted inhabitants who could not tear themselves from their homes, threatened with destruction as they were, had to live in cellars or dugouts, and offered a picture of wholesale misery such as we had had to witness for the same reason at other points behind our Western Front without being able to do anything. On the very first day of the attack the enemy long-range guns in the valley of the Aisne had been captured, and with that the bombardment of Laon had come to an end. A member of one of their guns' crews was taken through the town as a prisoner. He requested to be allowed to visit the quarter which had been bombarded, as he was interested to see where the shots from his gun had fallen. What an extraordinary revelation of the depths to which a heart hardened in war can sink!
I must readily admit that the war did not always have that effect, even with our enemies. They too knew what it was to feel the throbbing of a human heart after a hand-to-hand struggle. Of the examples of which I heard I will give just one. It was on March 21st in St. Quentin, which was still under heavy English fire. German columns were blocking the bombarded streets which were being shelled. Enemy prisoners coming from the battle and carrying our wounded were forced to halt. They laid their burdens down. A severely wounded German private, far nearer death than life, raised his stiffening arm and groaned to his bearer who was bending over him: "Mutter, Mutter." The English ear understood the German sound. The Tommy knelt down by the side of the grenadier, stroked his cold hand, and said: "Mother, yes; Mother is here!"
I myself saw the workings of deep human feeling on these battlefields. In company with a German general I was walking on the heights west of Craonne just after these had been stormed. He bent over all the unburied enemy dead and covered their faces, a tribute to the majesty of death. He looked after the living also, supplied such of the wounded as had remained behind, because they were too weak to move, from his own stock, and arranged for their comfortable transport. I had had an opportunity earlier on to observe the real humanity of this German. In the March of this year in his company I was driving past some columns of enemy prisoners on which his serious gaze was fixed in deep thought. When we reached the head of one of these columns he had a halt called and spoke to the assembled enemy officers a few words of praise of the bravery of their troops, consoling them with the reflection that the bitterest fate — that of capture — was often the lot of those who had showed the greatest courage. His words seemed to produce a great effect, especially on a very tall young officer who, in intense emotion, had been hanging his head as if from shame. The thin form now straightened itself like a young fir tree freed from the weight of snow, and its grateful glance met the eyes — of my Emperor!
With a view to broadening our front of attack we had extended the right wing of our attack west to the Oise even while the battle in the Marne salient was still in progress. The attack was only partially successful. Another which we made from the Montdidier—Noyon line in the direction of Compiègne on June 9th only got halfway to that town. Moreover, our efforts in the direction of Villers-Cotterêts yielded no better results. We were thus led to the conclusion that in the Compiègne—Villers-Cotterêts region we had the main enemy resistance before us, to break which we had not the resources at our disposal.
By way of conclusion, let me sum up my description of the Soissons—Rheims battle with the comment that the fighting had carried us much farther than had originally been intended. Once more unexpected successes had filled us with fresh hopes and given us fresh objectives. That we had not completely attained these objectives was due to the gradual exhaustion of the troops we employed. It was not in keeping with our general intentions that we should employ more divisions in the operation in the region of the Marne. Our gaze was still directed steadfastly at Flanders.
XX.4 Retrospect and Prospects at the End of June 1918
From the military point of view, what we had accomplished in the three great battles completely put in the shade everything that had been done in offensive operations in the West since August 1914. The greatness of the German victories was clearly shown by the extent of the ground gained, the amount of booty, and the bloody losses inflicted on the enemy. We had shaken the structure of the enemy resistance to its very foundation. Our troops had shown themselves in every respect equal to the great demands we had made upon them. In weeks of offensive fighting the German soldier had proved that the old spirit had not been paralyzed in the years of defense, but that it had risen to the heights of the moral elation of 1914 as soon as the word "Forward" was given. The impetuosity of our infantry had not failed to produce its effect on the foe. "What an admirable and gallant infantry you have!" said an enemy officer to one of my General Staff officers. In close cooperation with the infantry their sister arms had stood in the front in all situations. A single common impulse had permeated the whole organism, down to the last private on the last ammunition wagon. Had they not all pressed forward to play their part, lend their aid and share the emotions of the great event? How often had we not heard the shouts of triumph, the songs of victory and the fervent prayers of gratitude? I myself had once more enjoyed on these battlefields that spirit which charmed me like a breath from my faraway youth. The span of a man's life separated me from those days, but my man's heart and my German soldier's instincts had remained unchanged. Our brave boys in the old blue coat had spoken and sung in the camps of Königgrätz and Sedan exactly as our field-greys were now speaking and singing in the great battles for our Fatherland and our existence, our Emperor and our Empire.
Unfortunately everything we had done had not hitherto been enough to wound our adversaries to death in a military and political sense. There was no sign of surrender on the enemy's part. On the contrary, each military defeat seemed only to strengthen the enemy's lust for our destruction. This impression was in no wise diminished by the fact that here and there the voice of moderation was heard in the hostile camp. The dictatorial authority of the political organisms against which we were fighting was on the whole in no way injured. They held the wills and the resources of their nations together as if with iron bands, and by more or less autocratic methods suppressed the capacity for harm of all who dared to think differently from the tyrants in power. To me there was something very impressive in the working of these autocratic powers. They kept their own hopes alive and turned the attention of their peoples mainly to the gradual relaxation of our efforts. In their opinion, these efforts were gradually bound to collapse. Hunger in the German homeland, the fighting at the front, the poison of propaganda, bribery, pamphlets from the air, internal dissensions had hitherto failed to bring us to destruction. Now another factor was at work: the help of America. We had made the acquaintance of her first trained troops at Chateau-Thierry. They had attacked us there, and had proved themselves clumsily but firmly led. They had taken our weak units by surprise, thanks to their numerical superiority.
With the appearance of the Americans on the battlefield the hopes which the French and English had so long cherished were at length fulfilled. Was it remarkable that the enemy statesmen were now less inclined than ever for a peaceful compromise with us? The destruction of our political and economic existence had long been decided upon, even though they tried to conceal this intention under threadbare and sophistical professions of moderation. They used such phrases only when it served their propagandist ends, either of making the necessary bloodshed tolerable to their own peoples or of destroying the resolution of our nation. Thus for us the end of the war was not in sight.
In the middle of June the general military situation had materially changed for the worse for the Quadruple Alliance. After a promising beginning the Austro-Hungarian offensive in Italy had failed. Although our adversaries there were not strong enough to turn the failure of the Austro-Hungarian enterprise to greater advantage, the collapse of the offensive was accompanied by consequences which were worse than if it had never been attempted. Our ally's misfortune was also a disaster for us. The enemy knew as well as we did that with this attack Austria-Hungary had thrown her last weight into the scales of war. From now onwards the Danube Monarchy ceased to be a danger for Italy. We must certainly anticipate that Italy would now be unable to refuse the urgent solicitations of her allies and would herself send troops to the decisive theater in the West, not only to prove the existence of a political united front, but to play a really effective part in the coming battle. If we were not to take this fresh burden on our own shoulders, we must make efforts to get Austro-Hungarian divisions sent to our Western Front. For us, this was the main motive for our request for immediate direct reinforcements from Austria-Hungary. We did not expect any great effect from these reinforcements, at any rate at first. The fate of the whole Quadruple Alliance hung more than ever on the strength of Germany.
The question was whether our resources would be sufficient to secure a victorious conclusion of the war. I have already spoken of the brilliant achievements of our troops. Before I can answer that question I must turn to another and less pleasing side.
With all my affection for our soldiers and gratitude for what they had done, I could not entirely close my eyes to those defects in the structure of our army which had been revealed in the course of the long war. The lack of a sufficient number of well-trained commanders of the lower ranks had made itself very much felt in our great offensive battles. Battle discipline had occasionally gone to pieces. It was natural enough in itself that a private, finding himself in the middle of plentiful supplies in an enemy depot, should thoroughly enjoy food and other delicacies which he had not tasted for a very long time. But he should never have been allowed to do so at the wrong time, and thereby neglect his duties. Quite apart from the damaging effect of such behavior on the spirit of the troops, there was also the danger that favorable situations would not be exploited, and indeed would be allowed to turn to our disadvantage.
The battles had made further great gaps in our ranks, gaps that could not be filled up. Many an infantry regiment needed reconstruction from top to bottom. Generally speaking the material available was no longer of the same value as the old. The weaknesses of the situation at home were frequently mirrored in the moral of the recruits who came to us in the field. It is true that public opinion at home had been greatly revitalized in many quarters by the influence of our military victories. The news from the front was followed with the greatest anxiety, and the public hoped for a rapid and successful conclusion of the fearful conflict. Hunger, the loss of life and the feeling of apprehension seemed not to have been in vain, and much was forgotten or endured with manly stoicism as long as a happy end of the colossal trial seemed to be approaching. Thus the victories of the army made good many of the omissions of our political leadership. But the starting point for the process of demoralization which was to destroy our whole national organism was provided by the unpatriotic passions of a certain section of the German people who were permeated by political notions which had degenerated as the result of self- interest and self-seeking. These were men whose shaken nerves and moral depravity prompted them to regard the victory of the enemy as the herald of peace and happiness for the Fatherland, men who could see nothing but good in the camp of the enemy and nothing but evil in our own. Trotsky had certainly not wasted his words on the desert air of Brest-Litovsk. His political heresies had swarmed over our frontier posts and found numerous admirers among all classes and from the most varying motives. Enemy propaganda continued its work in public and private. It invaded every department of our activities. Thus the diminution of the will to resist in our people and army threatened to join with the enemy's lust for our destruction to compass our ruin. Military victory seemed to provide the only way out of so critical a situation. To reach a successful end by that means was not only my unshakable resolve but also my sure hope. For such a triumph it was essential that we should not lose the initiative. That meant we must remain on the offensive. We should find ourselves under the hammer the minute we let it slip from our hands.
We could fight on so long as the homeland gave us the physical and moral forces which were still at her disposal. So long as she retained her courage and her confidence in final victory and so long as our allies did not fail us. Such were my thoughts and sentiments as I turned to the development of our further plans.