XXIV.1 September 29 to October 26
In the book of the Great War, the chapter on the heroism of the German Army may only just have been written, but, with regard to the last fearful struggle, it is written with the blood of our sons in letters that can never fade. What terrible demands were made in these few weeks on the physical strength and moral resolution of the officers and men of all Staffs and formations! The troops had now to be thrown from one battle into another. It was seldom that the so-called days in rest billets were enough to allow us to reorganize the decimated or scattered units and supply them with drafts, or distribute the remains of divisions we had broken up among other formations. Both officers and men were certainly beginning to tire, but they always managed to find a new impulse whenever it was a question of holding up some fresh enemy attack. Officers of all ranks, even up to the higher Staffs, fought in the front lines, sometimes rifle in hand. The only order issued in many cases was simply "Hold out to the last."
"Hold out!" What a renunciation after so many glorious days of brilliant victories. To me, the vision of such deathless heroism can never be clouded by a few cases of despondency and failure. In such a conflict, which meant the renunciation of our hopes and the absence of any feeling of victorious progress, human weaknesses inevitably play a larger part than at other times.
We had not the men to form a continuous line. We could only offer resistance in groups, large and small. It was only successful because the enemy, too, was visibly tiring. He seldom attempted a large operation unless his tanks had opened a way or his artillery had extinguished every sign of German life. He did not storm our lines directly, but gradually slipped through their many gaps. It was on this fact that I based my hope of being able to hold out until the efforts of our enemies were paralyzed.
Unlike the enemy, we had no fresh reserves to throw in. Instead of an inexhaustible America, we had only weary allies who were themselves on the point of collapse.
How long would our front be able to stand this colossal strain? I was faced with the question, the worst of all questions: When must the end be? If we turn in such cases to history, the great tutor of mankind, what we find is an exhortation to courage, not to caution. When I turned my gaze to the face of our greatest king the answer I received was, "Hold out." Yet times had certainly changed from what they were a hundred and sixty years before. Not a professional army, but the whole nation in arms was making war, was swallowed up in war, and bled and suffered. But men have remained fundamentally the same, with all their strength and weakness. Calamity would overtake him who showed himself weak when strength was required. I was willing to take responsibility for anything, but never for that.
Thus for us another battle was raging side by side with those in the field. The other battlefield was in our hearts. In this mighty conflict we stood alone. We had nothing to guide us but our own convictions and conscience, nothing to support us but hope and faith. With me, they were still strong enough to enable me to support others.
It was on September 28th that this inward battle raged most fiercely. Though German courage on the Western Front still denied our enemies a final breakthrough, though France and England were visibly tiring and America's oppressive superiority bled in vain a thousand times, our resources were patently diminishing. The worse the news from the Far East, the sooner they would fail altogether. Who would close the gap if Bulgaria fell out once and for all? We could still do much, but we could not build up a new front. It was true that a new army was in process of formation in Serbia, but how weak these troops were! Our Alpine Corps had scarcely any effective units, and one of the Austro-Hungarian divisions which were on their way was declared to be totally useless. It consisted of Czechs, who would presumably refuse to fight. Although the Syrian theater lay far from a decisive point of the war, the defeat there would undoubtedly cause the collapse of our loyal Turkish comrades, who now saw themselves threatened in Europe again. What would Rumania, or the mighty fragments of Russia do? All these thoughts swept over me and forced me to decide to seek an end, though only an honorable end. No one would say it was too soon.
In pursuance of such thoughts, and with his mind already made up, my First Quartermaster-General came to see me in the late afternoon of September 28th. I could see in his face what had brought him to me. As had so often happened since August 22, 1914, our thoughts were at one before they found expression in words. Our hardest resolve was based on convictions we shared in common.
In the afternoon of September 29th, we held a conference with the Foreign Secretary. He described the situation in a few words. Hitherto all attempts at a friendly compromise with our enemies had failed, and there was no prospect of getting into touch with the leaders of the hostile states through negotiations or mediation on the part of neutral powers. The Secretary of State then described the internal situation. Revolution was standing at our door, and we had the choice of meeting it with a dictatorship or concessions. A parliamentary government seemed to be the best weapon of defense.
Was it really the best? We knew what an immense strain we should put on our country with the steps we took to secure an armistice and peace, steps which would very naturally cause extreme anxiety about the situation at the front and our future. At such a moment, which meant the death of so many hopes, a moment in which bitter disillusionment would go hand in hand with even deeper anger, and every man was looking for some nucleus of stability in the state organism, ought we to let political passions be converted into some more violent agitation?
What direction would that agitation take? Surely not the direction of stability, but that of further chaos! Those who had sown the unholy weeds in our soil would be thinking that the time of harvest had arrived. We were on the slippery path.
Was it possible to believe that by concessions at home we could make an enemy less exacting who had not yielded to our sword? Ask those of our soldiers who, trusting in the alluring promises of our foes, voluntarily laid down their arms! The enemy's mask fell at the same moment as the Germans lowered their weapons. The German who let himself be deceived was treated not a whit better than his comrade who defended himself to the last gasp.
We had also to fear that the formation of a new government would further postpone a step which we had already delayed as long as possible. As a matter of fact, we had not taken it a moment too soon. Would it come too late as a result of the reorganization of the state?
Such were my anxious thoughts. They were entirely shared by General Ludendorff.
As the result of our conference, we placed our proposals for a peace step before His Majesty. It was my duty to describe the military situation, the seriousness of which was realized by the Emperor, to provide a foundation for the necessary political action. His Majesty approved our proposals with a strong and resolute heart.
As before, our anxieties for the army were mingled with cares for the homeland. If the one did not stand firm the other would collapse. The present moment was to prove this truth more clearly than ever before.
My All-Highest War Lord returned home, and I followed him on October 1st. I wanted to be near my Emperor in case he should need me in these days. Nothing was farther from my thoughts than to wish to control political developments. I was ready to explain the whole situation to the new government which was in process of formation and answer their questions to the full extent that I thought possible. I hoped I could fight down pessimism and revive confidence. Unfortunately, the state had already been shaken too greatly for me to achieve my purpose as yet. I myself was still firmly convinced that, in spite of the diminution of our forces, we could prevent our enemy from treading the soil of the Fatherland for many months. If we succeeded in doing so the political situation was not hopeless. Of course it was a tacit condition for this success that our land frontier should not be threatened from the east or south and that the public at home stood firm.
Our peace offer to the President of the United States went forth in the night of October 4-5. We accepted the principles he had laid down in January of this year for a "just peace."
Our next concern was with the further operations. The failing energies of the troops, the steady diminution of our numbers and the repeated irruptions of the enemy compelled us on the Western Front gradually to withdraw our troops to shorter lines. What I told the leaders of the government on October 3rd can be put in the following words: As far as possible we are clinging to enemy soil. The operations and actions are of the same character as all others since the middle of August. A diminution of the enemy's offensive capacity is accompanying the deterioration of our own fighting powers. If the enemy delude themselves into believing that we shall collapse, we ourselves may make the mistake of hoping that the foe may become completely paralyzed. Thus there could be only one finale unless we succeeded in creating one last reserve from the resources of our people at home. A rising of the nation would not have failed to make an impression on our enemies and on our own army. But had we still enough life left in us for that? Would the mass still possess the spirit of self-sacrifice? In any case our attempt to bring such a reserve to the front was a failure.
The homeland collapsed sooner than the army. In these circumstances we were unable to offer any real resistance to the ever-increasing pressure of the President of the United States. Our government cherished hopes of moderation and justice. The German soldier and the German statesman went different ways. The gulf between them could no longer be bridged. My last effort to secure cooperation is revealed in the following letter of October 24, 1918:
"I cannot conceal from your Grand-Ducal Highness that in the recent speeches in the Reichstag I missed a warm appeal for goodwill to the army, and that it caused me much pain. I had hoped that the new government would gather together all the resources of the whole nation for the defense of our Fatherland. That hope has not been realized. On the contrary, with few exceptions they talk only of reconciliation and not of fighting the enemies which threaten the very existence of our country. This has had first a depressing and then a devastating effect on the army. It is proved by serious symptoms.
If the army is to defend the nation, it needs not only men but the conviction that it is necessary to go on fighting, as well as the moral impetus this great task demands.
Your Grand-Ducal Highness will share my conviction that realizing the outstanding importance to be attached to the moral of the nation in arms, the government and the representatives of the nation must inspire and maintain that spirit in both the army and the public at home.
To your Grand-Ducal Highness, as the head of the new government, I make an earnest appeal to rise to the height of this holy task."
It was too late. Politics demanded a victim. The victim was forthcoming on October 25th.
In the evening of that day I left the capital, whither I had gone with my First Quartermaster-General to confer with our All-Highest War Lord, and returned to Headquarters. I was alone. His Majesty had granted General Ludendorff's request to be allowed to resign and refused my own. Next day I entered what had been our common office. I felt as if I had returned to my desolate quarters from the graveside of a particularly dear friend. Up to the present moment — I am writing this in September 1919 — I have never again seen my loyal helper and adviser during these four years. In thought I have visited him a thousand times and always found him present in my grateful heart.
XXIV.2 October 26 to November 9
At my request my All-Highest War Lord appointed General Groener as my First Quartermaster-General. The general had become well known to me through holding previous posts during the war. I knew that he possessed a wonderful organizing talent and a thorough knowledge of the domestic situation at home. The time we were now to spend together brought me ample proofs that I was not mistaken in my new colleague.
The problems which faced the general were as difficult as thankless. They demanded ruthless energy, utter self-denial, and renunciation of all glories but that of duty faithfully done, and the gratitude of none but his colleagues for the time being. We all know how great and critical was the work which awaited him. Affairs began to go from worse to worse. I will attempt to describe them in outline only.
In the East, the last attempts at resistance of the Ottoman Empire were collapsing: Mosul and Aleppo fell, practically undefended, into the hands of the enemy. The Mesopotamian and Syrian armies had ceased to exist. We had to evacuate Georgia, not under military pressure, but because our economic plans there could not be realized, or at any rate made profitable. The troops which we had sent to help with the defense of Constantinople were withdrawn. The Entente did not attack it from Thrace. Stamboul was not destined to fall by some mighty deed of heroism or impressive manifestation of military power. I do not know the reason. It may lie in certain military considerations which were concealed from our understanding at the time. It is possible, too, that political motives played the dominant role in the decisions of the Entente.
All our other German reinforcements which were in Turkey were drawn in the direction of Constantinople. They left the land we had defended side by side, enjoying the respect of the chivalrous Turk with whom we had fought shoulder to shoulder in his life and death struggle. The outburst against us which now took place came from those circles which now saw their plans materializing and hoped by their manifestations of hatred of us to have a first claim on the good feeling of the newcomers. The true Ottoman knew that we stood ready to help not only in the present conflict but also with the subsequent reorganization of his country. Enver and Talaat Pasha left the scene of their labors, insulted by their opponents but otherwise without a stain on their character.
Our last troops were withdrawn from Bulgaria also. They were followed by the gratitude and honorable recognition of many, feelings which found their most vivid expression in a letter which the former Commander-in- Chief of the Bulgarian Army wrote to me about this time. I could not resist the impression that the lines expressed something which I had thought I detected so often in the words of this honorable officer: "Had I been politically free, my military actions would have been different." The revelation had come too late in his case, as in many others.
The political structure of Austria-Hungary went to pieces at the same time as her military organization. She not only abandoned her own frontiers, but deserted ours as well. In Hungary rose the spectre of revolution, inspired by hatred of the Germans. Can that be considered surprising? Was not this hatred an ingredient of Magyar pride? During the war, the Hungarian had certainly had other sentiments when the Russian was knocking at his frontier. Mighty knocks and many of them! With what joy were the German troops greeted; with what devotion were they looked after, nay pampered, when it was a question of helping to overthrow Serbia! What an enthusiastic reception we met with when we appeared on the scene to reconquer Transylvania! Gratitude is a rare blossom in human life, even rarer in political.
On the other hand in Rumania we often met with open expressions of gratitude. The Rumanian appreciated that without the destruction of Russia the free development of his country could never have been realized.
If certain circles in Germany now bring up the hatred of our former allies as a reproach against us and a proof of our mistaken political and military principles, they forget that outbursts of hatred against an ally could also be heard in the enemy camp. Had not French soldiers insulted and shaken their fists at their English brothers in arms under our very eyes? Had not Frenchmen shouted to us: "Against you with England today; with you against England tomorrow!" In March 1918, had not an angry French private, pointing to the ruins of the Cathedral of St. Quentin, cried out to an English soldier who had been taken prisoner at the same time: "You did that"?
I can only hope that the expressions of hatred between ourselves and our former allies will gradually die away when the dark clouds lift which now veil the truth, and our former brothers in arms can once more gaze steadfastly at the scenes of glory we shared together, scenes in which German blood was poured out for the realization of their plans and dreams.
By the end of October, the collapse was complete at all points. It was only on the Western Front that we still thought we could avert it. The enemy pressure there was weaker, but weaker was our resistance also. Ever smaller became the number of German troops, ever greater the gaps in our lines of defense. We had only a few fresh German divisions, but great deeds could still have been done. Empty wishes, vain hopes. We were sinking, for the homeland was sinking. It could breathe no new life into us for its strength was exhausted!
On November 1st, General Groener went to the front. Our immediate concern was the withdrawal of our line of defense to the Antwerp—Meuse position. It was easy to decide but difficult to carry out the decision. Precious war material was within reach of the enemy in this line, but it was less important to save it than to get away the 80,000 wounded who were in our advance or field hospitals. Thus the execution of our decision was delayed by the feelings of gratitude which we owed to our bleeding comrades. It was plain that this situation could not last. Our armies were too weak and too tired. Moreover, the pressure which the fresh American masses were putting upon our most sensitive point in the region of the Meuse was too strong. Yet the experiences of these masses will have taught the United States for the future that the business of war cannot be learnt in a few months, and that in a crisis lack of this experience costs streams of blood.
The German battle line was then still connected with the lines of communication, the life-nerve which kept it in touch with the homeland. Gloomy pictures were certainly revealed here and there, but generally speaking the situation was still stable. Yet this could not last for long. The strain had become almost intolerable. Convulsions anywhere, whether at home or in the Army, would make collapse inevitable.
Such were my impressions in the first days of November.
Our fears of such convulsions began to be realized. There was a mighty upheaval in the homeland. The Revolution was beginning. As early as November 5th, General Groener hastened to the capital, foreseeing what must happen if a halt were not called, even at the eleventh hour. He made his way to his Emperor's presence and described the consequences if the army were deprived of its head. In vain! The Revolution was now in full career, and it was purely by chance that the general escaped the clutches of the revolutionaries on his way back to Headquarters. This was on the evening of November 6th.
The whole national organism now began to shake with fever. Calm consideration was a thing of the past. No one thought any longer about the consequences to the whole body politic, but only of the satisfaction of his own passions. These passions in turn began to foster the craziest plans. For could there be anything more crazy than the idea of making life impossible for the army? Has a greater crime ever had its origin in human thought and human hatred? The body was now powerless. It could still deal a few blows, but it was dying. Was it surprising that the enemy could do what he liked with such an organism, or that he made his conditions even harder than those he had published?
Nothing more was heard of all the promises which the enemy propaganda had announced. The vision of revenge appeared in all its nakedness. "Woe to the vanquished!" A phrase which springs from fear as well as hatred.
Such was the situation on November 9th. The drama did not conclude on this day, but took on new colors. The Revolution was winning. Let us not waste time on discussing the reasons. It first destroyed the very backbone of the army, the German officer. As a foreigner has said, it tore the hard-earned laurels from his brows and pressed the thorny crown of martyrdom to his bleeding head. The comparison is moving in its truth. May it speak straight to the heart of every German!
The visible sign of the victory of the new powers was the overthrow of the Throne. The German Imperial House also fell.
The abdication of the Emperor and King was announced even before he had made his decision. In these days and hours much was done in the dark which will not always evade the fierce light of history.
The suggestion was made that we should use the troops from the front to restore order at home. Yet many of our officers and men, worthy of the highest confidence and capable of long views, declared that our men would unhesitatingly hold the front against the enemy, but would never take the field against the nation.
I was at the side of my All Highest War Lord during these fateful hours. He entrusted me with the task of bringing the army back home. When I left my Emperor in the afternoon of November 9th, I was never to see him again! He went, to spare his Fatherland further sacrifices and enable it to secure more favorable terms of peace.
In the midst of this mighty military and political upheaval, the German Army lost its internal cohesion. To hundreds and thousands of loyal officers and men, it meant that the very foundations of their thoughts and feelings were tottering. They were faced with the hardest of all inward struggles. I thought that I could help many of the best of them to come to the right decision in that conflict by continuing in the path to which the wish of my Emperor, my love for my Fatherland and army, and my sense of duty pointed me. I remained at my post.