The little book of the war: The Americans as Helpers

Chapter 10

The Americans as Helpers

It is one thing to become an ally, and quite another to have an army prepared to make our proffered alliance of value. After the indifference with which Germany met American protests in regard to the sinking of the Lusitania and the U-boat warfare, the thinking people of the country realized that war would probably be forced upon us. In the summer of 1915 training camps were formed at Plattsburg and elsewhere; and there business men, college professors and students, lawyers, authors, publishers, and others spent a month in learning how to be soldiers. Here was the “intensive training” of which we hear so much. The only difference between this and ordinary training is that in the intensive there is no dawdling; every man has a reason for doing his best, and he does it. The result at Plattsburg was that in one month many hundreds of men learned about warfare and the use of arms what would ordinarily have required four months of training. They were not prepared to command armies in battle, but they were prepared to train raw troops in the manual of arms, to teach them how to care for their health in a campaign, and, perhaps most valuable of all, to inspire them with a fuller appreciation of team work, with an eagerness to serve their country and a comprehension of, the nobility of such service.

An army was raised by “selective draft,” that is, composed of strong, well men upon whom, as far as possible, no one was dependent for support, and who were not engaged in work necessary to the war, such as shipbuilding, munition-making, etc. To every soldier or sailor the Government gave a life insurance policy, in amounts varying up to $10,000; the premiums, amounting to 80 or 90 cents a month on each $1000, to be taken from his pay. The Government also gave him the privilege of taking out additional insurance up to another $10,000 at the same rates that he would pay in time of peace. For each $1000 of this he pays about $8 a year.

The preparations ordered by the Government were enormous. As one small detail, 45,000,000 yards of cotton cloth had to be purchased, besides 21,000,000 yards of drilling; the building of ships, aeroplanes, and submarine chasers was ordered. Cantonments, or camps wherein our troops may live and be trained for the army, had to be built; and it is no small matter to build almost in a night sixteen wooden cities capable of housing some 40,000 men each, with water-supply, drainage, electric lights and power, barracks, hospitals, stables, sheds, shops, and storehouses. The average cantonment has twenty miles of sewer and forty miles of water mains. In these cantonments the men are taught not only to know the manual of arms, but to dig trenches, to handle guns and take care of them, to use bayonets, hand grenades, and bombs, to keep clean, to care for their feet, to stand and run and walk in the least fatiguing manner, to obey orders, and, as one detail, to learn that the salute is a mark, not merely of the deference of a private to an officer, but of the respect due to the uniform of the United States. The prescribed form is for the man of lower rank to salute first, but if the officer neglected to return the salute, he would be punished.

Before the summer of 1918 had come to an end, some 3,300,000 American boys were under arms, half of them in France and the other half in training camps. Command of the Allied forces had been put into the hands of General Foch, whom Marshal Joffre called “the first strategist in Europe.” Week after week Foch repulsed the drives of the Germans, holding firmly to his positions. At length the hour came for which he had been planning and preparing. He now took the offensive; blow followed blow, and from the middle of July the Germans have been in retreat. Territory has been gained, of course, but the greatest gain has been the defeat of Germany’s plans to win the war before the end of 1918. From all directions come praises of the bravery of the American boys. The Germans had not supposed it possible for a few months’ training to make the Americans into acceptable soldiers; but these same boys, fresh from college and farm and workshop, have held their own against the flower of the German army, the famous “Prussian Guards” and the Bavarian Guards, veterans of many battles.

Immigrants have been coming to this country in vast numbers, and we have not taken sufficient pains to see that they learned to speak English. Now that many of them are in our army, they must learn to understand orders at least, and therefore the cantonments have classes for them. A visitor to one of these classes thus pictures a lesson:—

“In one of these groups one of the exercises for the evening consisted in practicing the challenge when on sentry duty. Each pupil of the group (there were four of Italian and two of Slavic birth) shouldered in turn the long-handled stove shovel and aimed it at the teacher, who ran along the side of the room as if to evade the guard. The pupil called out in broken speech: ‘Halt! Who goes there?’ The answer came from the teacher: ‘Friend.’ And then, in as yet unintelligible English (the voices of innumerable ancestors struggling in their throats to pronounce it), the words: ‘Advance and give the countersign.’”

So it is that these men of foreign birth are learning the language of the country which has given them a home and which they are preparing to defend.

Americans who have gone to France have not all been expert linguists, and amusing stories come back to us of their struggles with the French language. One is said to have wondered why so many Frenchmen named their dogs “Ici” (here). Another wanted to tell his peasant hostess that her cow had wandered away, but could say only, “Madame du Tait promenades”; and there is also the pathetic tale of a sturdy Australian who wanted a bath, but knew no French except “Bonjour.”

In our navy officers and men had received a thorough and systematic training, and were quite accustomed to being prompt and efficient. It is now, in man power, five times as large as it was before the war; but its needs are great, for it has the task of protecting our coast, of convoying merchantmen and troop ships, of helping our allies to destroy submarines, and of being ready at a moment’s notice for anything that may need to be done. Only first-class men can find any place in the navy. Every ship maintains a school, and any man who is willing to work can acquire the education necessary for a commissioned officer.

All this preparation for war has been enormously costly. We no longer talk about hundreds of thousands of dollars, we talk about millions and billions. Every bit of wood or iron or platinum must be paid for, every workman who drives a nail into a ship must have his wages. Where does the money come from? The Government pays the bills, but the Government has no money except what it gets from the people, and there are in general only two ways in which it can get it from them. One is by taxation, and the other is by “Liberty Loans,” that is, by selling government bonds or promises to pay. This is the safest investment in the land. Manufacturers and railroads and all sorts of companies might fail, but the Government would be the last thing in the country to fail. A bond is exactly as safe as a bank bill, and in one respect it is of more value, namely, the bond draws interest, and the bank bill does not. Not every one can put $50 into even so safe an investment as a government bond; and therefore War Savings Stamps were issued at $4.12, which in 1923 will be redeemed by the Government at $5. There are also Thrift Stamps at 25 cents each. Sixteen of these, with the addition of a few cents, will purchase a War Savings Stamp.

The Government builds the cantonments, pays the troops, and feeds and clothes them; but a very large amount of money is spent on troops which is the free gift of the people at home to those who will defend them and their rights abroad. Much of this money goes through various organizations. One of these is the Young Men’s Christian Association. When this Association asked for volunteers, this is what it said:—

“This is no call to ninnies and milksops. The Y.M.C.A. needs real men, preferably men who have had some broad and grueling experience of life; men of education, yes; but, above that, men capable of understanding, sympathy, and an indefinite deal of hard, exacting work. Men who can turn a Ford inside out; men who can play the piano and lead five hundred others in singing; men who are trained in athletics; men six feet high and three feet wide and eighteen inches thick; men who understand what Christianity really means; men with humor and leadership who have been earning a hundred dollars a week and are willing to live on ten dollars a week. In other words, MEN.”

The Y.M.C.A. does its best for the soldier boys both here and across the ocean. It provides “huts,” which are sometimes a comfortable building that will hold several thousand, sometimes a tiny shed carefully camouflaged from the eyes of the enemy, and sometimes a dug-out twenty-five feet under ground; but whatever the hut may be, it is always a place where the men are welcome, where they can rest, play games, write letters, read magazines, see moving pictures and minstrel shows, and listen to concerts and phonographs. It opens classes and gets books for those who wish to study or read. It cheers up the man who is blue and discouraged and lonely, arranges talks by bright and interesting lecturers, and good strong religious talks, often by men who know what it is to be under fire. The secretaries of the “Y” are sometimes in as much danger as the men; and when a secretary hands a half-frozen soldier a cup of hot coffee, it may have been made at the risk of the secretary’s life.

Often a Y.M.C.A. secretary rather enjoys attempting the impossible, and he usually succeeds. One evening the secretary at one of the cantonments learned that four hundred men were to start on a two-days march the following day. It took quick work, but when the men arrived, in the afternoon, there stood a 40 x 60 foot tent with piano, tables, chairs, couches, graphophones, stationery, games, the daily papers, bats, balls, gloves, etc. Even a telephone had been installed, and souvenir postals from the nearest town were on sale.

The Y.M.C.A. is a Protestant organization, and the Knights of Columbus is a Roman Catholic. Mass is celebrated in the Knights of Columbus building, and is not in the huts, unless a priest borrows one for the purpose; but the work of the two organizations is exactly the same, and one description applies to both. Every man in camp is invited to both buildings at all times, and is just as free to go to one secretary as to the other.

It is estimated that at least 50,000 Jews are in the American army, and to add to their comfort and give them the services of their own faith, the Young Men’s Hebrew Association and the order of B’nai B’rith have been most active. In the cantonments the rooms of the Y.M.C.A. are thrown open for the use of the Jewish chaplains; and Protestants, Roman Catholics, and Jews work together in sincere harmony and appreciation of one another’s value.

The Red Cross is known wherever there is war or fire or famine or earthquake or any suffering that needs its help. To respect its flag is not only common decency, but it is international law, which forty-three nations have solemnly agreed to observe. To fire upon a Red Cross ship or hospital is an atrocious crime; yet this crime has been committed by the Germans over and over. Of course, in the European war the Red Cross is on hand. Large numbers of the best doctors and nurses have entered its work, and by their skillful treatment have saved thousands of lives. Prisoners worked by Germany until they are feeble and helpless are sent back to France to die; but the Red Cross cares for them and restores them to health if possible.

The Red Cross specializes in emergencies. Nearly 7,000,000 slings, bandages, hammocks, etc., were asked for, and within two weeks they were on their way. One hundred and seventy Americans were rescued from a ship torpedoed on the French coast. A telegram went to Paris, and on the instant a worker started for the spot, telegraphed to Washington the names of the survivors, lent money to those who had lost their own, and saw to it that the injured were well cared for. A more startling summons was received by a Red Cross official in Paris. It said, “750 children have been thrust upon my hands.” It is no wonder that it added, “Send help.” These were children from a town under bombardment. Gas bombs were used, and as the children were too young to wear gas masks, they had been hurried away. The day after the reception of the telegram, eight Red Cross workers were on hand, and in an amazingly short time the little folk were clean and comfortable and well cared for. Each nation has its own branch of the Red Cross. The Red Cross in France not only cares for the children and the sick, but it sees to it that the families of soldiers do not starve. It teaches young mothers how to care for their babies. It has even established lines of transportation. The railroads had more than they could do, and the Red Cross, without regard to weather or red tape or anything else, set lines of motor trucks to work, and before long was doing its own transporting both promptly and well.

The Omaha Indians of this country have a chapter of the Red Cross, and early in 1918 they held an auction sale for its benefit. After a prayer the bidding began, and it was reckless bidding, for every Indian was ready to open his purse wide to buy chickens, pigs, corn, goats, preserved fruit—no matter what—so long as the money went to help the soldiers. The Indians from the first have been deeply interested in the war. “I have heard of a peaceful people brought low by mighty guns,” said an aged chief. He promptly sold a load of corn and sent twenty dollars to the Belgian Minister at Washington, who responded by a note thanking him “not alone for his gift of money, but more particularly for the kindness of an understanding heart.” The Indians fully appreciated the need of Liberty Loans and to the first three they subscribed $13,000,000. Who was it that said the only good Indian was a dead Indian?

Since the war began, societies without number have been formed to help the suffering people of Europe. One of the oldest is that of the “American Fund for French Wounded.” We have never forgotten that France came to our help in Revolutionary days, when we were struggling—not with the people of England—they were never against us—but with an obstinate and short-sighted sovereign. Moreover, to help France was to keep the enemy from our own shores. So it was that surgical dressings, garments of all needed varieties, and all sorts of hospital supplies went to France from the “French Wounded” by thousands, and did much to strengthen the old friendship between the two countries.

The Society of Friends does not as a whole approve of fighting, but it does approve of helping to build up again. Friends have gone to France, Italy, Russia, wherever there is need, and there is need everywhere. They make an old chateau into a hospital, a former barracks into a children’s home, they run a factory for making the most practical sort of artificial limbs and also one to make furniture for the people who are coming back to their ruined homes. They sew and nurse and care for refugees. Every week they send great cases of clothing across the water, and they do not forget to slip in boxes of candy for the little folk. The Friends go to the barren and ragged country where once stood neat little villages and happy homes. They repair the cottages or set up portable ones, and give to the suffering refugees a hope of having once more a home.

The college boys were prompt in looking about to see what they could do for the country in her hour of need. Many enlisted. Some entered aviation, some drove ambulances for the wounded, often a college sent half her students to the army or navy. Others formed companies and were drilled by army officers so as to be ready when their time should come. Soon it was plain that with the Allies depending upon us for food and so many of our men in the army, some one must do farmwork. Thousands of boys from colleges and high schools set to work and helped to raise corn and potatoes and whatever else would help to keep hunger away.

College girls, too, were thinking hard. They knit and sewed and gave their spending money for the soldiers and sailors. War courses in hygiene were promptly arranged. Canning, first aid, food conservation, and care of the sick were soon added to their studies. Several colleges for women sent each an ambulance or more to the field. Many college girls spent their summer vacation doing farmwork—not the kind that is composed of one hour in the field and three in a hammock, but eight hours a day of real work for the season. “I didn’t raise my hand to be a blister,” said one, looking ruefully at her palm; but evidently she changed her mind, for she and every other girl of her group worked till the end of the summer. In the spring of 1918 Vassar announced that as soon as commencement was over the college buildings and grounds would become a great training camp for college women from twenty-one to thirty-one years of age who wished to become trained nurses. This is the college women’s Plattsburg, and just as at Plattsburg men were rapidly and “intensively” trained to become officers, so at this training camp for nurses the summer’s work was arranged to count for one year in the three-years course for registered nurses. Before the middle of May five hundred had applied for admission, and a waiting list was begun.

The Salvation Army has from the first been at the front in war work. It has no wealthy members, but during the first year of the war the American branch raised $25,000 for the troops. It has no office hours, and even when the drivers of the supply wagons come in at unearthly times in the morning, biscuits, hot coffee, doughnuts, and sometimes even pies are waiting with a word of cheer and appreciation for every man. “Salvationists go,” said Commander Evangeline Booth, “to comfort and encourage in every way possible—with rest rooms, refreshment bars, recreation arrangements; with song, with music, with dispatching and securing messages to and from the boys’ homes, with the Bible, with affection, with advice, with teaching, with prayer, and with a glad spirit.” A soldier who had lost his way and was creeping cautiously about in the darkness described the joy that he felt when he heard singing,—

“Then we’ll roll the old chariot along,
And we won’t drag on behind,”—

and realized that he was close to a Salvationist tent. It is the rule for the military salute to be given to men only, but the French troops at Rheims always gave it to two women officers of the Salvation Army who fearlessly remained in town and served them in every possible way. The climax came when the hungry soldiers brought a whole ox for the two women to cook for them over a small gas stove and an oil lamp. It was done within twenty-four hours, and surely women who could accomplish that feat deserved the salute of at least one army.

The Boy Scouts had decided, even before we entered the war, what they could do to help. They carry no guns, but it is not the man with the gun who does all the work of a great war. Not every one realizes that there are about 200,000 on the lists of the Boy Scouts, besides 350,000 young men who have had the valuable Boy Scout training, to say nothing of 50,000 men who have been connected with them as advisers and scout masters. More than half a million of boys and men who have been trained to see and hear exactly, to think quickly, and to know what to do in an emergency, is a valuable asset for any country, whether in war or out of it. In war a Scout can render first aid to the sick or injured. He can send messages by wire, wireless, or wigwagging, he can carry a message promptly and repeat it accurately, and he can get through places where a man cannot. He can work on a farm; he can act as guard of property and give alarm in case of danger. All these things he has often done, and when the United States entered the war, the Boy Scouts was one of the few organizations that were prepared to do their part from the first.

Girl Scouts, too, and Camp-Fire Girls had promised to be loyal, and when war came, they translated their promise of loyalty into service. Their work was not limited to carrying pretty knitting-bags by any means, for they offered themselves promptly to the Red Cross for orders, and the work assigned them was not always agreeable. From Eastport, Maine, to Portland, Oregon, they swept workroom floors and picked oakum. In New York they opened a Red Cross workroom of their own. In Philadelphia they raised by a bazaar $800 for buying knitting yarn. They have learned the best methods of canning, and some of them have been specially trained to teach these things to schools, clubs, and churches. In short, “wherever a girl’s size war job has offered itself, these Girls have taken it on.” Both they and the Boy Scouts have been excellent solicitors for the Liberty Loans, and both fully deserve to wear a badge on which is written “America first.”

The Government, of course, provides for the care of its animals in the war, but many emergencies arise in which a private society can act much more quickly. Therefore, the Secretary of War invited the American Humane Association to aid in this work, and the American Red Star was promptly organized. More than six hundred anti-cruelty societies were eager to help, and even the natives of Alaska are contributing generously and wearing Red Star buttons with the utmost pride and satisfaction. The Red Star, like the Red Cross, “specializes in emergencies,” and at times of immediate need officers are free to call for whatever is needed. Their requests have ranged all the way from blankets and bandages to a veterinary hospital, and every one has been promptly filled.

The American Library Association is doing a fine work in providing books for the men in camp and “over there.” Not rubbish, of course, but books of value in all lines are in demand. In one camp there are seven hundred college boys. Some colleges give credit for study done in camp, and the boys want up-to-date college textbooks. Many foreigners want simple books for beginners in English. Good novels, interesting histories and biographies, especially on French subjects, are called for. The Association collects money for books, and every public library is a station to which books for the soldiers may be sent.

So it is that every person in the land who has any genuine love for his country is trying to help her. Well-known artists are designing posters and doing rough camouflage work; actors and musicians are using their popularity to gain dollars for the soldiers, and using their talents to entertain them in the camps; men with heavy business cares are neglecting these and devoting their time and ability to the needs of the Government. “My country asks me to help her,” may well be the proud slogan of those who help make munitions, or drive nails into ships, or save food from careless waste, or do their bit in any other way. Even little children are helping to win the war; and this is right, for the war is waged expressly for their sake. Every man in the trenches of the Allies is fighting for them. “You must always remember,” one brave soldier wrote home to his boys and girls, “that your father came into this great war for the sake of all little children. The grown folk will not stay here many years longer, and it would not have been difficult for them to make some sort of peace that would endure for a time. They are not struggling for themselves, but to make the world safe for their children and the children of those children. “The glory of the Present is to make the Future Free”—and this is why we are in the war.

There is only one thing worse than war, and that is to stand one side when we ought to be fighting. We have not taken up arms for revenge, or to gain land or wealth or power. We have entered this war to make sure that right rather than might shall rule. It is a struggle between truth and falsehood, between mercy and cruelty, between freedom and slavery. It is a struggle that we have got to win.

“For right is right, since God is God;
And right the day must win;
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin.”

The little book of the war: The Crumbling of Russia

Chapter 9

The Crumbling of Russia

In 1916, the Allies had attacked the Central Powers on all sides, and they planned to do this again in 1917, but on a larger scale. There were great hopes that this course would bring the war to an end. Before anything could be done, however, an event came to pass in Russia which gave the Allies great encouragement and delighted every lover of freedom.

Russia had a strong army, and when the war broke out the Russian troops showed themselves fine soldiers. But again and again they lost thousands of lives because of the lack of ammunition. Then their favorite commander, the Grand Duke Nicholas, was transferred to a much less important position than he had been holding. A strong pro-German was made Prime Minister, and there was reason to believe that the Czarina herself was at the head of a pro-German movement. The soldiers had suspected that the failure to send them ammunition had been caused partly because the government officials were inefficient, and partly because they meant to make money, no matter what happened to the soldiers. But far back of these grievances was the fact that the Russian people had hardly any part in their own government.

The Czar and his officials had built up a strong army, and felt safe in its protection to do what they chose; but one Sunday morning in March, 1917, there were such crowds in the streets of Petrograd that the military and especially the Cossacks, who were the special dependence of the Czar, were ordered to shoot at them to make them disperse. The Cossacks fired as ordered, but they used blank cartridges, while the crowds cheered. A regiment of soldiers commanded to shoot the people, shot their officers instead. The Duma was the nearest approach in Russia to a parliament, and the Czar had ordered it to dissolve.

Instead of this, the Duma sent him a telegram, saying, “The hour has struck. The will of the people must prevail,” and shut him up in his palace. The Duma announced promptly that the Russian people would stand by the Allies; but liberty was so new to the Russians that they did not know what to do with it. They did not understand that freedom does not mean freedom to do whatever you choose, regardless of the rights of others, and they seemed to have the notion that if only they stopped fighting, everybody would be friendly. German influence was as strong as ever, and the anarchists, who believe in having no government at all, became powerful. Kerensky, who led the new government, did his best, but a new party, the Bolsheviki, overthrew his rule, declaring openly that they meant to make peace with Germany.

Russia had failed us. She had broken all her promises to the Allies never to make a separate peace with Germany; but most thinking people realized that the Bolsheviki did not represent the Russian people as a whole, but only one party, and were more desirous of helping Russia to find herself than angry with her, though, of course, they were bitterly disappointed. With Russia making no opposition, many German troops could be released from the East and brought to the West, and so there was no longer any hope of ending the war in 1917. This was a dark moment, but it was of this very moment that the following story was told. It seems that some officers of a certain Belgian battery of artillery, relieved from active duty for four days, were at supper in their dug-out late one evening when a loud knocking was heard at the street door of the farmhouse overhead. As the story-teller puts it:—

“Presently the Colonel’s orderly showed in a mud-begrimed dispatch-rider, who, after saluting, handed the Colonel a sealed envelope. We were all electrified and could hardly wait to hear the news contained in this urgent dispatch.

“The Colonel, drawing a little closer to him one of the bottles holding a lighted candle, tore open the envelope and proceeded to read.

“Heavens, what a long time did he study that paper! Was he ever going to share the news with us? We tried to read it from his eyes. Was it good or was it bad? Were we to ‘attack at dawn,’ or did it mean ‘retreat’? Perhaps it contained news about his son, who was reported ‘missing’ in October, 1914, and whom he would not believe dead. But the Colonel was slow to solve our questions. For what seemed to us an interminably long time he sat there staring at that sheet of white paper. The old alarm clock on the table ticked the seconds, and I wondered whether it was not my heart that was beating so loudly. At last he showed some signs of action. The Colonel had sat down in order to be near the light; now he rose. For a second or so longer he stood there with large, wide-opened eyes staring straight in front of him, and then he announced, in a slow and trembling voice:—

“GENTLEMEN, AMERICA IS OUR ALLY.”

Russia had given soldiers, but, brave as they were, they could not be depended upon, for no one knew at what moment the Russian officials would do something or leave something undone that would make all their bravery of little value. The United States had no troops ready to send, but it could lend money by millions of dollars, while Russia had been a borrower. Our navy, however, could give at once a most valuable service; it could help dispose of the German submarines.

More and more countries declared war, and all on the side of the Allies. Cuba, Panama, Siam, Liberia, China, Brazil, all joined in the struggle for freedom. Siam’s declaration said that she was opposing countries “showing contempt for the principles of humanity and of respect for small nations.” Diplomatic relations were broken off by Bolivia, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Haiti, Costa Rica, Peru, Uruguay, Ecuador. This was chiefly because of Germany’s piratical warfare and her scorn of small nations. There was much indignation at the trickery of the German charge d’affaires in Argentina, for he had induced the Swedish Legation to send as their own correspondence cipher cablegrams recommending, for instance, that Argentine vessels should either be spared altogether or else “spurlos versenkt,” that is, sunk without a trace. Not all these countries had any idea of fighting, but all wished to protest against the methods and aims of Germany.

Greece had by treaty agreed to help Serbia if she was attacked by another power; and when the capture of the Dardanelles was planned, the Premier Venizelos promptly invited the French and English to land at the Greek port of Saloniki and help his country to keep her word. The Greek people favored the Allies, but King Constantine had been educated in Berlin and had married a sister of the Kaiser. His sympathies were with the Central Powers, and he refused to keep the treaty, declaring that the country should be neutral. He dismissed the Premier, although, since Venizelos possessed the confidence of Parliament, this was contrary to the constitution. Venizelos now established a provisional government at Saloniki. There was much reason to fear, first, that the unity of Greece would be destroyed; and, second, that if Germany should offer sufficient inducement to the King, even his so-called neutrality would vanish. The Allies now interfered on three grounds: first, Greece had been made a kingdom through their efforts; second, they had placed the present dynasty upon the throne; and, third, they had guaranteed a constitutional government. They called upon Constantine to resign, permitting him to name one of his family as successor. He named Alexander, his second son. Alexander recalled Venizelos, and in a few days the Greeks formally entered the war on the side of the Allies.

There was now no hope that the war could be brought to an end in 1917, but the fighting had to go on, of course, for every loss to the enemy would make the later campaigns less difficult. The French had borne the brunt of the battles of the Marne and of Verdun, and now the English took the leading place and attacked the Germans in northeastern France and in Belgium. Here English, French, Canadians, and Belgians united. The most tremendous explosion of mines ever known was caused by a mine laid by the English, in which 1,000,000 pounds of high explosives were suddenly set off. Field Marshal Haig had a fashion of striking a blow now here, now there, just where it was not expected and of driving the Germans back at every attack. When the year was almost at an end, an advance upon the French town of Cambrai, held by the Germans, gave the armored tanks an opportunity to show what they could do. They waddled on unconcernedly, paying no attention to holes, small trees, or barbed wire, and apparently not seeing them at all. Some one said of a favorite tank, “If it cannot silence a machine gun in any other way, it can simply sit down upon it.” Against these monsters, nothing was of any power except a heavy siege gun brought to close range, not a particularly easy matter to manage. The Germans were forced to draw back in several places. As was their custom, they took pains to devastate every foot of the country over which they passed. The Allies were forced to retire somewhat, but, taken as a whole, the campaign in Flanders was in their favor.

On the Italian Front matters had been going on well through the summer. The Italians had captured many prisoners, they had taken mountains whose position made them of great value, and they had pushed on till only ten miles lay between them and Trieste. Then came the dropping-out of Russia. The Italians were splendid fighters, but German troops were set free, not only for the Western, but also for the Italian Front. German forces and guns were rushed to the rescue of Austria-Hungary. The Italians fought like the heroes they were. They were obliged to retreat slowly to the Piave River, but there they took their stand and faced the invaders. This halted the invasion, and England and France soon sent troops to Italy.

In 1916 the English were in Mesopotamia, trying to get to Baghdad; but when they reached Kut-el-Amara, they were forced to surrender or starve. They chose to surrender; but in 1917 they made a “whirlwind campaign “from Kut-el-Amara straight to Baghdad. There was a three-days battle, the Turks were completely routed, and the English soldiers were free to dream as many dreams as they liked about the good Caliph, Haroun al Raschid. But the capture of Baghdad gave more than the pleasure of dreaming; it produced a strong effect upon the people of the Orient generally. The failure of 1916 had jostled the English from their pedestal of power in the East, but now they were restored in the eyes of the Orientals.

More than six hundred miles from Baghdad, across the Syrian Desert, is the most famous country of the world, Palestine, where Jesus was born. In the southern part of Palestine is Beersheba, and people use the expression “from Dan to Beersheba,” meaning from one end of a land to the other. Near Beersheba were English troops under General Allenby, and they soon captured the place. The story of the war in the East is now connected at every turn with Bible history, for the English next took Gaza, and Gaza is where the Old Testament story says that Samson took hold of the two middle pillars of the prison and brought the building down upon his enemies and himself. It was on the road between Gaza and Jerusalem that the Apostle Philip met the treasurer of Queen Candace riding in his chariot and reading some of the prophecies of the Old Testament, and on his invitation took a seat beside him and explained to him that they referred to Jesus.

After a number of fights the Turks fell back on Jerusalem, while the English pushed on after them, the right moving up directly from Beersheba, the left marching up the Mediterranean coast to Joppa, where Saint Peter visited Simon the tanner. Joppa was captured, and soon the English were only three and a half miles from Jerusalem. A line of hills lay between them, but in two weeks they had crossed these and were before the gates of the city. The Turks were obliged to evacuate it, and retreated to the northward. In 1898 the Kaiser had visited Jerusalem, and a break was made in the walls so that he might ride in where no one had ever ridden before. The English troops entered in no such fashion. They dismounted before the Jaffa (Joppa) Gate, and walked into the Holy City as simply and reverently as the pilgrims of centuries ago.

Jerusalem has had a strange and varied history. It has been captured again and again—by Egypt, Babylon, Persia, Macedonia, Rome, and in the seventh century by the Mohammedans. In 1096 the series of expeditions called crusades began whose object was to rescue the Holy Land from the Turks. Jerusalem was captured and was Christian for a century. Then it was taken by Saladin, Sultan of Egypt and Syria. He is the brave and knightly enemy whom Scott pictures in The Talisman, the enemy whom the equally brave and knightly Richard the Lion-hearted tried in vain to conquer. Jerusalem remained in the hands of the Mohammedans from that day to the one when General Allenby brought it again under Christian control.

Jerusalem is sacred in the eyes of Jews, Christians, and Mohammedans. The Mohammedans, of course, expected no favors from the conquerors, but General Allenby, by a single act of tactful courtesy, made it clear to them that Jerusalem would be free to all. He not only issued a proclamation that every building, shrine, and holy place would be carefully maintained, but he asked the Mohammedan guardian of the Holy Sepulcher to retain his office and its salary, not as an emblem of power, but in memory of one Caliph Omar and the early Mohammedans, who, long before the days of Turkish rule, had taken the utmost care to preserve the sacred places.

The Jews have been for many centuries a people without a country, and long before the war a strong desire was felt among them to establish a national home for themselves in the Holy Land. England has expressed her interest in this plan and has declared that she will do all in her power to assist in carrying it out.

Jerusalem was taken during the last month of 1917. During this year, the piratical submarine warfare of Germany had destroyed much shipping, but it had brought the United States into the war. Germany and Austria had made gains in Italy, and Russia had fallen out of the race; but on the other hand, the Allies had made progress on the Western Front and had won important victories in Mesopotamia and Palestine.

In the early days of 1918 the English army reported the taking of Jericho. This was not especially difficult, though probably less easy than its capture as described in the Old Testament story, when its walls are said to have fallen at the sound of the Hebrew trumpets. For military reasons, this is a valuable place for the Allies to hold.

Toward the end of 1917, the Germans took Riga and threatened Petrograd. They then summoned the Bolsheviki to a peace conference at Brest-Litovsk. Meanwhile, the Ukraine, an exceedingly fertile district in southwestern Russia, the home of 20,000,000 people, declared itself independent of Russia and made peace with Germany. This was the work of the “Reactionaries” of Ukraine. The Bolsheviki of the district opposed the peace, and Germany overcame them by force of arms. The Germans, then, were fighting the Bolsheviki in the Ukraine and holding a peace conference with them in central Russia at the same time. The Bolsheviki seem to have been obliged to yield; and they signed a German peace treaty by which Germany holds not only the Ukraine, but nearly all the Baltic provinces and much of Esthonia and Poland. Germany never forgets to look far ahead, and the Bolsheviki were forced as the price of peace to grant her many commercial privileges. So much of Russia now being in her hands, Germany took from her quantities of booty—cannon, machine guns, thousands of motor cars, and a vast amount of food and other supplies.

Russia is not so much a country that has broken her promises as one that has crumbled to pieces. To help Russia to find herself is an important part of the business of the Allies. The intelligent Russians long for peace and law and order. They are eager to win liberty and to free themselves from the clutches of Germany, and are begging for the aid of the Allies; and the Allies are ready to give this aid.

In Murmansk on the Arctic Ocean and in Archangel on the White Sea immense quantities of food and munitions are stored. The Russians living in this part of the country asked the Allies to protect these, and to keep them from falling into the hands of the Germans. The result was the prompt appearance of American marines, bluejackets, and soldiers, together with English and French naval forces in the White Sea. To the eastward, on the Siberian coast, a quarter of the way around the world, lies Vladivostok, and here, too, were similar stores. Japan lies close at hand, and with the aid of the other allies, her forces entered this city and saved it from the Germans.

A new ally has arisen from the very heart of the Central Powers, the Czecho-Slovaks, inhabitants of northwestern Austria and the adjoining territory of Hungary. Four hundred years ago, these people, in order to drive back the Turks, formed a free federation with Austria and Hungary, and elected a king. Later, Austria declared the crown hereditary. The Czechs resisted in the Thirty Years’ War, but were beaten, their nobles beheaded or exiled, and their property confiscated. Although thus overpowered, the Czechs have always longed for independence. After the Franco-Prussian War of 1871, they alone among the Austrian parliaments protested against Germany’s annexation of Alsace and Lorraine.

When the war began, in 1914, the Czechs were forced to join the Austrian army, but thousands deserted and other thousands were made willing captives by the Russians, and many of these joined the Russian army. Early in 1918, the Bolsheviki Government agreed to allow these Czechs to cross Siberia and go on their way around the world to join the French army. Germany objected, and in spite of their agreement the Bolsheviki suddenly attacked the Czechs. The indignant Czechs fought fiercely and won the day, marching to the northward to the railroad that runs from Petrograd to the Pacific, and entering Vladivostok.

Thus it is that those Russians and Siberians who love liberty can gather around the Czechs as around a standard. There are 10,000,000 Czechs and about the same number of Siberians. Siberia has declared her independence and her enmity to Germany. It is the business of the Allies to strengthen Siberia and central Russia, and in so doing to hold fast many millions of strong friends of liberty and enlightenment.

The failure of the German offensive in the spring of 1918 led, throughout the following summer, to a continually improved situation for the Allies. Gains of importance were made on all fronts, and the doom of the Central Powers to ultimate defeat appeared inevitable. During September, the Allies’ success reached even to the forcing of Bulgaria to unconditional surrender. That country was put out of the war, and the first breach was made in the Pan-German plan for Middle Europe, and for the Berlin to Baghdad Railway. There seemed also to be fore-shadowed the collapse of Turkey, and perhaps of Austria. To hasten this, the Allies prepared to fight on—harder than ever.

The little book of the war: The United States Enters the War

Chapter 8

The United States Enters the War

January, 1917, had come, and the war had been going on for two years and a half. When it first broke out, it was announced in big headlines in the newspapers, and some of us took down atlases to make sure just where Serbia was, but we did not expect the United States to be seriously affected by a little fighting in a remote corner of Europe. When England and France took up arms, the trouble began to seem rather nearer home; but still we were on the other side of the Atlantic, we had followed Jefferson’s advice and avoided European entanglements, and there seemed no reason why we should have anything to do with this one. Therefore we had issued promptly a proclamation of neutrality.

Of course Americans, as well as people of other nations, had read German books declaring German aims; but we had never taken them seriously. Perhaps one reason was that with our own great country, “the blessed land of room enough,” and our long lines of seacoast, we could hardly understand the feelings of a rapidly increasing people who felt themselves shut into too narrow boundaries. However that may be, there was certainly one thing which we had not suspected, and this was that German spies were scattered throughout our land. We found that the German Government was paying men to place bombs on ships sailing from the United States, to burn our factories, to bring about strikes, and to wreck railroads. These men were also attempting to use the United States as a base from which to outfit steamers to supply German raiders. They were making efforts to induce the Hindoos in this country to arouse those of their race in India to rebel against the rule of England, and they were trying to excite the people of India, Mexico, Haiti, and Cuba to hatred of the United States. They planned to involve Japan in their plots. Japan is our friend, and if we treat her fairly, there is no reason to suppose that she will ever be otherwise; but Germany schemed to unite Japan and Mexico against us, their reward to be land in our Southwest. Germans living in this country were advised from “home” to oppose military training and arming, so that the United States might be the more easily overcome in case of war. All this was before there was any break between this country and Germany.

These things were done partly in revenge for our sales of ammunition, and partly that we might be kept too busy at home to join in the war in Europe if the time should come when we discovered the wisdom of so doing. The German Embassy was the head and front of this work. It even issued passports by forging the name of the United States, a particularly dishonorable act, as a foreign minister is regarded as the guest of the country to which he is sent, and is accorded special privileges and courtesies. We learned at last that we must meet bribery, treachery, and crime.

Before the beginning of the war we had felt as kindly toward Germany as toward any other country, but as the months passed, our feelings underwent a change. War is horrible under all conditions, but civilized nations have tried to lessen its terrors by international laws and agreements forbidding certain methods of warfare. Among the forbidden acts are the destruction of private property; the bombardment of undefended towns, and the bombardment of any towns without warning; injury to churches, art galleries, hospitals, and hospital ships; the use of anything causing unnecessary suffering, such as poison on weapons or in wells, poison gas, or liquid fire. It is forbidden to impose upon any community fines or other penalties for deeds of individuals for which the community is not responsible. All these regulations, and many others, Germany had violated again and again. She had treated her prisoners with cruelty; she had spread germs of disease; in Belgium, Poland, and elsewhere she had torn many thousands from their families and driven them away into slavery; she had recognized no law but her own will.

In great free America we could hardly believe that such crimes as these could be committed anywhere in the world. When it was proved not only that the charges were true, but that the crimes had been committed, not by lawless soldiers, but under strict orders from headquarters, it was impossible not to take sides. What had happened in our own country increased our indignation. Still we waited, until at last Germany’s methods of carrying on submarine warfare became unendurable. These were briefly:—

Early in 1915 Germany marked off a large area of the high seas in which she declared she would sink all enemy ships without warning. Three months later she sank the Lusitania. One year after this, she promised to sink no more vessels without warning. Eight months later, February 1, 1917, she declared that she would sink without warning every vessel that she met. This was nothing more nor less than piracy, and it aroused the indignation of the world.

Our Government had learned before this that the German Ambassador, Count Von Bernstorff, was at the head of the plots against the United States, and two days after the declaration of unrestricted warfare, he was given his passports. This was not declaring war, but it was a threat of war if Germany did not mend her ways. Germany continued in the same course, and two months after the departure of Count Von Bernstorff, President Wilson stood before Congress, called in special session. He summed up the injuries which Germany had inflicted upon the United States and the efforts of the Government to keep the peace. Then he said: “With a profound sense of the solemn and even tragical character of the step I am taking and of the grave responsibility which it involves, but in unhesitating obedience to what I deem my constitutional duty, I advise that the Congress declare the recent course of the Imperial German Government to be in fact nothing less than war against the Government and people of the United States.” Congress voted, “Resolved, That the state of war between the United States and the Imperial German Government which has thus been thrust upon the United States is hereby formally declared.”

We are in this war for the reason which the President stated in just eight words, “The world must be made safe for democracy.” The word democracy comes from two Greek words meaning people and power, and a democratic government is one in which the people are the source of power. The United States is a democracy. We choose men to represent us, Representatives, Senators, and President; but if even the President does not do for the country what the majority think is wise and honorable, we have the right to try him, and if he is proved guilty, to put him out of his office. France, like the United States, is a republic. England is not a republic, but it is a democracy. It has a king, to be sure, but politically he is hardly more than a figurehead. The Prime Minister and his party rule; but if they propose an important measure and Parliament—chosen by the people—refuses to pass it, they understand this as a broad hint that they are not representing the will of the people; they resign and another election is held. The Government of Italy is much like that of England. Italy has a king and a legislature of two houses. Its Cabinet, like the English Prime Minister and his party, resigns if Parliament refuses to pass any important measure which it has presented. Such is a democratic government, “Of the people, by the people, and for the people,” as Lincoln so well expressed it.

The Government of Germany is an autocracy. This word comes from two Greek words meaning self and power, that is, the ruler himself and not the people is the source of power. The German Empire was formed, as has been said before, by the union of a number of kingdoms, duchies, free cities, etc. The States of the United States united on equal terms, no State having more privileges or rights than another. The number of Representatives which each State sends to Congress depends, as is fair and just, upon the number of the State’s inhabitants; but every State, whether large or small, sends two Senators. The German union of States is quite different from ours. When it was formed, some States refused to join unless they could have special privileges. Bavaria, for instance, pays no taxes to the Empire on beer and domestic liquors. Of all these States, Prussia was by far the strongest, and when her king became also German Emperor, she was able to secure whatever special privileges she wanted.

The Government of Germany consists of the Kaiser, the Chancellor, and two houses. The members of one of these, the Bundesrat, are appointed by the rulers of the twenty-five States, each one having a fixed number of votes. The other, the Reichstag, represents the people, and its members are chosen by the people’s vote. At the first glance, this seems much like the Government of England, with King, Prime Minister, and the two houses of Parliament; but there is a great difference, as will be seen later.

The Kaiser is of course at the head of the Government. Under him is the Chancellor, whom he appoints or puts out of office as he chooses. The Chancellor is President of the Bundesrat, and he has also a seat in the Reichstag. In England, as has just been said, if the Prime Minister proposes an important bill and Parliament refuses to make it a law, the Prime Minister resigns. In Germany, if the Chancellor proposes an important bill, and the Reichstag refuses to make it a law, the Reichstag may be dissolved and a new election held. This may be done again and again until a Reichstag has been formed that will vote as the Chancellor—that is, the Kaiser—wishes, and the Chancellor remains in power until the Kaiser desires to make a change. The Reichstag, then, has almost no power, and is practically, as it has often been called, only a debating club.

The Bundesrat represents the States as States; but the number of representatives varies with the different States. There are in all 61 members. Of these Prussia has 17, while 17 of the States have only one apiece. Alsace-Lorraine has three votes, but the Kaiser “instructs” how they shall be cast. The delegates from each State vote as a unit and as they have been bidden by the Prince of their State to vote. Now, the Kaiser is also King of Prussia, so the twenty delegates are subject to his will. The meetings of the Bundesrat are held in secret. If the Reichstag passes a law, it is not valid unless the Bundesrat agrees to it. As the Kaiser controls one third of the votes of the Bundesrat, it is an easy matter for the Chancellor to secure for him enough more votes to make a majority and pass whatever measures he may please. The Kaiser, then, controls both the Reichstag and the Bundesrat. He also controls the army and the navy. To make offensive war, he must ask the assent of the Bundesrat—not difficult to obtain, as has been seen—but if, in his own opinion, the war is defensive, all he needs to do is to say, “Let there be war,” and the vast war machine of the Empire is set in motion. The present war the Kaiser averred to be defensive, and he did not officially notify the Bundesrat until three days after it had been declared.

As Prussia is the leading State of Germany, it is of interest to know that Prussian voters are divided into three classes according to their property. Four per cent of the wealthy folk of the land count in voting for as much as eighty-two per cent of the working-people, and the vote of one man of wealth or of noble birth may be equal to the votes of ten thousand working-men. This is why a “junker,” that is, son of a noble house which has always been devoted to military service, holds so much power. Bismarck was a junker. The Government of the United States, of England, of France, and of Italy, is a government of the people by themselves—a democracy. The Government of Germany is a government of the people by one person—an autocracy.

Lincoln said, “This country cannot endure half slave and half free.” Neither can the nations endure half democratic and half autocratic. As long as there is a man in the world who has the power to bring war upon a country, simply by saying the word, the world is not safe. That is why we are fighting. Our boys do not cross the ocean to enter “European entanglements,” but to keep autocracy from our own land. This is our war; we fight to defend our own country and ourselves just as certainly as if German troops had landed on our shores. “Paris in three weeks, London in three months, New York in three years,” was a common saying among German officers. From the beginning of the war France and England and little Belgium have been fighting our battles. The Atlantic is wide, but if England had not been our friend and had not protected us by keeping the German fleet shut up in the North Sea, who can doubt that Germany would have strained every nerve in the effort to bombard our coast towns and turn parts at least of our country into a second Belgium?

THE SHADED AREAS SHOW THE PROVINCES OF RUSSIA WHICH HAD BEEN OVERRUN BY THESPRING OF 1918.

The little book of the war: The War in 1915

Chapter 6

The War in 1915

By both words and deeds Germany had declared that she believed in conducting war with “frightfulness”; that is, with such cruelty and ferocity that her adversaries would in mortal terror yield to her at once. In accordance with this theory, she decided to destroy the Lusitania, a great passenger steamer plying between this country and England. Apparently she preferred not to become any further involved with the United States, for several persons were warned by anonymous telephone messages not to sail by this vessel, and the German Embassy in this country published a warning over its own signature. No one was alarmed, for no one supposed it possible that any country would commit such a deed as Germany had planned, and a number of Americans sailed on the steamer. To sink a transport carrying troops is as much an act of war as a battle is; but to sink a passenger vessel of non-combatants is not war, it is murder. The Lusitania was torpedoed without warning, and 1153 of her 1917 passengers were drowned, men, women, and little children, 114 of them citizens of the United States. Americans were overwhelmed with the horror of such an atrocity. Germany expressed her regret at the loss of life, but said it was the fault of her enemies; that England was trying to starve her, and she was forced to retaliate. She struck a medal in honor of the crime and gave her school-children a three-days’ holiday for rejoicing.

President Wilson sent to Germany a series of dignified notes, and declared that she would be held to strict accountability, but did not succeed in inducing her even to agree to any reparation. How little real regret was felt for the act was well indicated by one of the Berlin papers, which published a picture of an American vessel with its bow-sprit piercing a note. Germans doubled up with laughter stood on the wharf, exclaiming, “Another!”

Americans began to think. We had heard reports of the cruelty of the Germans to the Belgians and others; and we had sent money and food to the suffering people, but we could hardly believe that these reports had not been greatly exaggerated. Careful investigations were now made. It was shown that the Germans had poisoned wells, scattered germs of disease, bombed hospitals, schoolhouses, and orphan asylums; that non-combatants, not only men but women and little children, had been killed in large numbers; that they had been forced with bayonet thrusts to walk in front of German troops in order to shield them from bullets; that prisoners and wounded had been murdered in order to get rid of them. German soldiers were asked to keep diaries. From those found on prisoners and from articles in the German newspapers it was seen that these crimes had not been committed by excited, disobedient soldiers, but under strict orders from headquarters, and that this “frightfulness” was the kind of warfare which Germany deliberately planned. War is horrible at the best, and the chief nations of the world have held several conferences at The Hague in Holland, and there agreed never to commit such crimes as those that have been mentioned. Germany was one of those nations, and these acts of cruelty were violations of her solemn pledges.

In 1914, the Russians, as has been said, were in possession of most of Galicia, and they were so sure of getting it all that they appointed a governor-general for “the new Russian province.” They were besieging Przemysl at the end of the year. Russia and Germany each maintained a line of forts along the boundary; and in Poland no enemies had come within range of the Russian fortifications. At the end of 1914, the Russians held the best position. They now made a plan to advance in the same eastern corner of Germany that they had tried in 1914. On the German line of defense there were forests and swamps and lakes, with fortifications wherever they were needed. The Russians, pushed on eagerly. They made their way through forests, they dashed into frozen morasses. No large numbers of Germans had appeared, and what they had met were gradually falling back. The Russians did not guess that this was a trick, and they pushed on and on, far into the country of the Mazurian Lakes. Then there sprang up before them a great German force with Von Hindenburg as its leader. The Russians lost vast numbers of men either killed or captured. One whole corps disappeared. Many days later, one division of this corps made their appearance. They had been struggling over frozen morasses, in pathless forests, and through deep snows. Little by little, other divisions succeeded in joining their own troops.

At the end of 1914 the Russians had taken Lemberg and were besieging Przemysl. Przemysl would have fared better if it had not had so many men to use up its food. When the Austrians had been obliged to retreat before the Russians, many of them had taken refuge in this place, and there they had remained. In every siege that is kept up long enough, provisions are certain to fail. The Russians did not trouble themselves to make attacks on the fort; they had only to wait until the Austrians within were hungry enough to surrender. The Austrians without tried to slip through the Carpathian passes to help their friends. They themselves made sorties, at first trying to break the siege, then trying only to capture supplies. Scores of men were dying every day. At length, after seven months’ resistance, the Austrians within the fort surrendered to the besieging Russian army.

The 100,000 men who had been carrying on the siege of Przemysl were now free to meet the troops of the Central Powers in the Carpathian passes. Unfortunately for the Russians, these men were chiefly cavalry and artillery, neither of which is of much use in mountain fighting. The German and Austrian troops swarmed into Galicia. They had 4000 guns, half of them of large size. It has been estimated that shells enough were thrown to average 140 pounds of iron for every Russian engaged in the struggle. The Russians were in as bad a condition as the English at Neuve Chapelle, for now they had not nearly enough artillery. To save the men or save the guns was the question. There were so few guns that they did not dare to lose them, and the men were sacrificed. The Russians were forced to retreat. Then came a struggle of nearly three weeks to recapture Przemysl. The Germans were successful. Lemberg also soon fell into their hands. Warsaw had to yield, and the Russians were again driven into retreat.

Russia had vast numbers of trained men, but not many guns; and there are reasons for thinking that certain high officials favored the Germans and sent thousands of their countrymen to their death rather than harm the Central Powers. It is possible that this is why the Grand Duke Nicholas could not risk large battles, knowing that if his ammunition failed, Russia might be out of the war for months. Evidently he and the Czar had some disagreement, for the Grand Duke was sent to take command of the troops in the Caucasus, a less important position, and the Czar himself became the head of the forces on the western boundary. This leadership of the Czar was only in name, and his chief of staff was the real commander.

The Austrians had been driven out of Serbia, but they had no idea of staying out, and one commander after another tried his luck against the resolute Serbians. These Serbians had also another enemy, typhus fever. To overcome this, a company of American Red Cross nurses and physicians went to Serbia, established camps and hospitals, and so brought the disease under control. In the autumn the German general Von Mackensen massed his troops at the northern boundary of Serbia. Bulgaria now joined the Central Powers. After the Second Balkan War she had been deprived of districts wherein lived many of her nation. She was especially angry with Serbia, and it was not a difficult matter for Germany to induce her by promises of territory to become an ally. This alliance cleared the way for Germany’s direct route from Berlin to Constantinople, save for the short distance across the corner of Serbia. The struggle of Serbia against Bulgaria and the Central Powers went on for months, but at the end of the year 1915 the Serbians held only a tiny strip of territory in the west and another in the south of their country.

Russia in all her military actions was badly handicapped by her position. On a map she looks at the first glance big enough to subdue the rest of Europe all by herself; but during this war she was almost as helpless in getting supplies as little San Marino would have been if Italy had been unfriendly. What Russia needed was a way of getting into the Mediterranean, for the Mediterranean would be open at all seasons of the year. The only way to bring this about was to take the Strait of the Dardanelles, bring a fleet through it, and capture Constantinople. If this could be done, the power of Turkey would be broken; her attacks on Egypt and the Suez Canal and her mischief-making in Persia would cease. Russia would be immensely strengthened because she could then reach markets where she could buy all that she needed to carry on the war. Moreover, it was quite probable that if Constantinople was held by the Allies, the Balkan States that had not quite decided where to stand would join them. And, too, there was another reason, not so unimportant as it may seem; Constantinople is a city with a history stretching back many centuries. It has been besieged more than thirty times, but captured only three times, the last time having been nearly five hundred years ago. To take Constantinople would be a vast gain in itself, of course, but it would loom up in men’s minds even greater than it really was and would give more encouragement to the Allies than any other single event could do. It was a great undertaking with enormous risk, but the French and English decided to attempt it.

The Strait of the Dardanelles is forty-seven miles long. Most of it is three or four miles wide, although at its narrowest place it is only one mile in width, and with wind and current permitting, one could row from Europe to Asia in a few minutes. It is more like a river than a strait, only its current flows both ways at the same time, for there is a surface current from the Black Sea and an undercurrent from the Mediterranean. The surface current would help the Turks in using floating mines, and the undercurrent would help the Allies in sending their submarines from the Mediterranean toward Constantinople.

The Allies expected to have aid from Greece, because Venizelos, the Greek Premier, favored them and had invited them to come; but just at this time Venizelos was put out of office. They made no change in their plans, however, but brought a great fleet of French and English ships together and took for their base the little islands of Lemnos and Tenedos. This is the part of the world which was the scene of many of the stories of ancient times. When after the Trojan War the Greeks pretended to have sailed away from Troy and left the wooden horse behind them filled with armed men, they hid their ships behind Tenedos; and when Alexander the Great set out to conquer Asia, he built a bridge of boats across the Dardanelles.

The strait was splendidly protected by fortifications at either end, by forts between, by the best of artillery, by mine fields, floating mines, and torpedo boats. Any nation might well hesitate to attack such a place, but the English and French sent a magnificent fleet against it. The guns of the ships had a much longer range than those of the forts at the entrance of the strait, and before many days had passed, the batteries were silenced. This, however, was only the beginning. By the bombardment the mines at the western end of the strait had been cleared away, and now the ships steamed in to attack the forts at the narrowest part of the strait, which were much stronger than those at the entrance. After some resistance these forts ceased firing. Apparently they had been silenced, and the warships moved on. Suddenly the Turkish guns began to blaze and mines floated swiftly down upon the fleet. Three of the great battleships were sunk. The others withdrew into the Mediterranean.

Military experts declare that there is one lesson which has to be learned anew in almost every war. It is that coast defenses of the best sort can resist the attacks of any fleet of the day. The Allies had now found this to be true. They made another plan. They decided to land on Gallipoli, the long, narrow peninsula which forms the western shore of the strait. It is a rich, fertile country, but a particularly poor place for the landing of troops, for it is bordered by steep cliffs, and there are only a few beaches where landing is possible. These beaches were of fine, slippery sand, and back of them was a steeply rising ground or cliff of sandstone and clay. In the little hollows of the shore barbed-wire entanglements were cunningly hidden. In the face of the cliffs holes had been cut, and here sat sharp-shooters, with machine guns, while at the top of the cliffs were Turks, good fighters, particularly behind fortifications, and they had been trained by the Germans in all the latest fashions of warfare.

Nevertheless, the troops determined to land. The men were French, English, Irish, Indian, and “Anzac,” whose name was manufactured from the initials of “Australian-New Zealand Army Corps.” They have been described as a “fine lot of men, generally tall, broad-shouldered, and young. They swing along at an easy pace, their big hats turned up at one side, their jackets rather loose, high boots, and enormous spurs.” They were a very independent troop and had not much regard for military etiquette. One of them said the world was so full of officers it made him feel like a human windmill to salute whenever he met one of them.

These Anzacs had no notion of fear, and when the landing at Suvla Bay was to be made, they swung up the beach on the run, apparently not noticing the fact that they were in a storm of bullets. Straight up the cliffs they scrambled in spite of the Turks, and quite as if they were on their way to a picnic. It was two days before a line of the Allies could be formed, for there were encounters everywhere. In some the Allies won, in some the Turks. The Anzacs fought splendidly; but so did the French and the English and the Irish and the Indians. There were no cowards at Gallipoli. But there was no permanent success for the Allies. The submarines ran all risks of mines, nets, underwater bombs, and slipped into the Sea of Marmora, sinking vessel after vessel, one of them actually close to the Constantinople quay; but the Allies had no land forces to back them up. The losses from battle were enormous, and the swarms of flies and the poor water brought sickness upon the troops. Just after the close of the year the Allied forces were withdrawn; the attempt to take Constantinople had failed completely.

The Allies had but little success to show for the year 1915. On the Western Front they had met with small losses, it is true, but their gains were equally small. On the Eastern Front, Germany had practically driven the Russians out of eastern Germany, Poland, and Galicia. She had overpowered Serbia, and had held Constantinople. She had lost no territory on the Continent of Europe. On the other hand, the sinking of neutral ships and the torpedoing of the Lusitania had aroused the indignation of the United States, and the Allies had been busy among the German colonies. Japan had taken Kiao-chau in China, and also several groups of islands lying to the southeast of that district. England had taken the German settlements of New Guinea and also some neighboring islands. Germany still held some of her territory in Africa, German East Africa on the eastern coast and Kamerun on the western. If she could win the war, it would be an easy matter to recover her colonial possessions. It was a hard year for the Allies.