Читать книгу The Battle of the Rivers - Edmund Dane - Страница 4

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"About September 3," wrote Field Marshal Sir John French in his despatch dated a fortnight later,[1] "the enemy appears to have changed his plans, and to have determined to stop his advance south direct upon Paris, for on September 4 air reconnaissances showed that his main columns were moving in a south-easterly direction generally, east of a line drawn through Nanteuil and Lizy on the Ourcq."

In that passage the British commander summarises an event which changed the whole military aspect of the Great War and changed it not only in the Western, but in the Eastern theatre of hostilities.

What were the German plans and why were they changed?

In part the plans were military, and in part political. These two aspects, however, are so interwoven that it is necessary, in the first place, briefly to sketch the political aspect in order that the military aspect, which depended on the political, may be the better understood.

The political object was to reduce France to such powerlessness that she must not only agree to any terms imposed, but remain for the future in a state of vassalage to Germany. Further, the object was to extract from France a war fine so colossal[2] that, if paid, it would furnish Germany with the means of carrying on the war against Great Britain and Russia, and, if not paid, or paid only in part, would offer a pretext for an occupation of a large part of France by German troops, indefinite in point of time, and, formalities apart, indistinguishable from annexation. By means of that occupation great resources for carrying on the war might, in any event, be drawn in kind from the French population and from their territory, or drawn in cash in the form of local war levies.

In a passage quoted by M. Edouard Simon,[3] the late Prince von Bismarck once spoke of the difficulty he met with at the end of the war with France in 1871, in restraining the cupidity of the then King of Prussia and in "mixing the water of reflection with the wine of victory." There was at the time, in Germany, much discussion as to the amount of the War Fine. The staggering total of 15,000 millions of francs (600 million pounds sterling) was freely asserted to be none too high. Fear of possible war with Great Britain mainly kept within bounds this desire of plunder, and led the Emperor William to accept, reluctantly, the 5,000 million francs afterwards paid.

There can be no doubt, however, that it became a settled opinion with the Government, and also, even if to a less extent, a conviction with the public of Germany that, enormous as it was, the levy upon France in 1871 was insufficient. That opinion was sharpened by the promptitude, almost contemptuous, with which the French people discharged the demand, and brought the German military occupation to an end.

The opinion that the War Fine of 1871 had been too small inspired the political crisis of 1875, caused by a threatened renewal of the German attack. The pretext then was that France was forming, with Austria and Italy, a league designed to destroy the new German Empire. The true cause of hostility was that France had begun to reorganise her army. Intervention by the Cabinets of London and St. Petersburg averted the peril. The German Government found itself obliged to put off a further draft upon "opulent France"[4] until a more convenient season.

This discovery that neither Great Britain nor Russia was willing to see France become the milch cow of Germany dictated the policy which led later to the Triple Alliance. Consistently from this time to the end of his life the Emperor William I. assumed the part of guardian of the peace of Europe. The Triple Alliance was outwardly promoted by Germany with that object.[5]

Meanwhile, every opportunity was taken to strengthen the German military organisation. Only by possession of an invincible army could the German Empire, it was contended, fulfil its peace-keeping mission.

This growth of military armaments imposed on Germany a heavy burden. Was the burden borne merely for the sake of peace, or for the sake of the original inspiration and policy?

Few acquainted with the character of the Germans will credit them with a tendency to spend money out of sentiment. The answer, besides, has been given by General von Bernhardi.[6] He has not hesitated to declare that the object of these preparations was to ensure victory in the offensive war made necessary by the growth of the German population, a growth calling for a proportionate "political expansion."

Outside Germany the so-called revelations of General von Bernhardi took many by surprise. That, however, was because, outside Germany, not many know much of German history, and fewer still the history of modern Prussia.

It was realised, when General von Bernhardi published his book, that the original inspiration and policy had never been changed. On the contrary, all the efforts and organisation of Prussia had been directed to the realisation of that policy, and the only alteration was that, as confidence in Prussia's offensive organisation grew, the policy had been enlarged by sundry added ambitions until at length it became that grotesque and Gothic political fabric known as Pan-Germanism.

"The military origin of the new German Empire," says M. Simon, "is of vast importance; it gives that Empire its fundamental character; it establishes its basis and its principle of existence. Empires derive their vitality from the principle to which they owe their birth."

The fact is of vast importance because, just as the British Empire had its origin in, and owes its character to, the embodiment of moral force in self-government, so the German Empire had its origin in, and owes its character to, the embodiment of material forces in armies, and existed, as General von Bernhardi says, for the employment of that force as and whenever favourable opportunity should present itself.

The political inspiration and purpose being clear, how was that purpose, as regards France, most readily and with fewest risks to be realised?

It was most readily to be realised by seizing Paris. As everybody is aware, the Government of France is more centralised than that of any other great State. Paris is the hub of the French roads and railways; Paris is also the hub of French finance; Paris is at once the brain and the heart of the country; the place to which all national taxes flow; the seat from which all national direction and control proceed. It was believed, therefore, that, Paris occupied, France would be stricken with political paralysis. Resistance might be offered by the provinces, for the area of France is roughly equal to the area of Germany, but the resistance could never be more than ineffectual.

Such was the plan on its political side. What were its military features?

A political plan of that character plainly called for a swift and, if possible, crushing military offensive. Rapidity was one of the first essentials. That affected materially the whole military side of the scheme. It meant that to facilitate mobility and transport, the equipment of the troops must be made as light as possible. Hence all the usual apparatus of field hospitals and impedimenta for encampment must be dispensed with. It meant that the force to be dispatched must be powerful enough to bear down the maximum of estimated opposition, and ensure the seizure of Paris, without delay. It meant again that the force must move by the shortest and most direct route.

If we bear in mind these three features—equipment cut down to give mobility, strength to ensure an uninterrupted sweep, shortest route—we shall find it the easier to grasp the nature of the operations which have since taken place. The point to be kept in mind is that what the military expedition contemplated was not only on an unusual scale, but was of an altogether unusual, and in many respects novel, character.

The most serious military problem in front of the German Government was the problem of route. The forces supposed to be strong enough Germany had at her disposal. Within her power, too, was it to make them, so far as meticulous preparation could do it, mobile. But command of the shortest and most direct route she did not possess.

That route we know passes in part through the plain of northern Belgium, and in part through the parallel valley of the Meuse to the points where, on the Belgium frontier, there begin the great international roads converging on Paris. All the way from Liége to Paris there are not only these great paved highways, but lines of main trans-continental railroads. The route, in short, presented every natural and artificial facility needed to keep a vast army fully supplied.

Here it should be recalled that two things govern the movements of armies. Hostile opposition is one; supplies are the other. In this instance, the possible hostile opposition was estimated for. It remained to ensure that neither the march of the great host, as a whole, nor the advance of any part of it should at any time be held up by waiting for the arrival of either foodstuffs, munitions, or reinforcements, but that the thousand and one necessaries for such an army, still a complex list even when everything omissible had been weeded out, should arrive, as, when, and where wanted.

Little imagination need be exercised to perceive that to work out a scheme like that on such a scale involves enormous labour. On the one side were the arrangements for gathering these necessaries and placing them in depots; on the other were the arrangements for issuing them, sending them forward, and distributing them. Nothing short of years of effort could connect such a mass of detail. If hopeless confusion was not almost from the outset to ensue, the greatest care was called for to make it certain that the mighty machination would move successfully.

A scheme of that kind suited the methodical genius of Germany, and there can be no doubt that the years spent upon it had brought it to perfection. It had been worked out to time table. Concurrently, arrangements for the mobilisation of reserve troops had become almost automatic. Every reservist in the German Army held instructions setting out minutely what to do and where and when to report himself as soon as the call came.

Now this elaborate plan had been drawn up on the assumption of an invasion of France by the route through Belgium. That assumption formed its basis. Not only so, but the extent to which the resources of Belgium and North-east France might, by requisitioning, be drawn upon to relieve transport and so promote rapidity, had been exactly estimated.

It is evident, therefore, that the adoption of any other route must have upset the whole proposal. In any other country the fact of the Government devoting its energies over a long period of time to such a scheme on such a footing would appear extraordinary, and the more extraordinary since this, after all, was only part of a still larger plan, worked out with the same minuteness, for waging a war on both frontiers.

The fact, however, ceases to be extraordinary if we bear in mind that the modern German Empire is essentially military and aggressive.

Obviously, the weak point of plans so elaborate is that they cannot readily be changed. Neither even can they, save with difficulty, be modified. Even in face, therefore, of a declaration of war by Great Britain, the plan had to be adhered to. Unless it could be adhered to, the invasion of France must be given up.

Bearing in mind the labour and cost of preparation, the hopes built upon the success of the invasion, and the firm belief that the opposition to be expected by Belgium could at most be but trifling, it ceases to be surprising that, though there was every desire to put off that complication, a war with Great Britain proved no deterrent.

Further, the construction by the French just within their Eastern frontier of a chain of fortifications extremely difficult to force by means of a frontal attack, and quite impossible to break if defended by efficient field forces, manifestly suggested the plea of adopting the shorter and more advantageous route on the ground of necessity. In dealing with that plea it should not be forgotten that the State which elects to take the offensive in war needs resources superior to those of the State which elects to stand, to begin with, upon a policy of defence. Those superior resources, save in total population, Germany, as compared with France, did not possess. In adopting the offensive, therefore, on account of its initial military advantages, Germany was risking in this attack means needed for a prolonged struggle. It was necessary in consequence for the attack to be so designed that it could not only not fail, but should succeed rapidly enough to enable the attacking State to recoup itself—and, possibly, with a profit.

The conditions of first rapidity, and second certainty, formed the political aspects of the plan, and they affected its military aspects in regard to first numbers, secondly equipment, thirdly route.

But there were, if success was to be assured, still other conditions to be fulfilled, and these conditions were purely military. They were:—

(1) That in advancing the line of the invading armies must not expose a flank, and by so doing risk delay through local or partial defeat.

(2) That the invading armies must not lay bare their communications. Risk to their communications would also involve delay.

(3) That they must at no point incur the hazard of attacking a defended position save in superior force. To do so would again risk repulse and delay.

Did the plan drawn up by the German General Staff fulfil apparently all the conditions, both political and military, and did it promise swift success? It did.

The plan, in the first instance, covered the operations of eight armies, acting in combination. These were the armies of General von Emmich; General von Kluck; General von Bülow; General von Hausen; Albert, Duke of Wurtemberg; the Crown Prince of Germany; the Crown Prince of Bavaria; and General von Heeringen. Embodying first reserves, they comprised twenty-eight army corps out of the forty-six which Germany, on a war footing, could put immediately into the field.[7]

Having reached the French frontier from near the Belgian coast to Belfort, the eight armies were to have advanced across France in echelon. If you take a row of squares running across a chessboard from corner to corner you have such squares for what is known in military phraseology as echelon formation.

Almost invariably in a military scheme of that character the first body, or "formation" as it is called, of the echelon is reinforced and made stronger than the others, because, while such a line of formations is both supple and strong, it becomes liable to be badly disorganised if the leading body be broken. On the leading body is thrown the main work of initiating the thrust. That leading body, too, must be powerful enough to resist an attack in flank as well as in front.[8]

Advancing on this plan, these armies would present a line exposing, save as regarded the first of them, no flank open to attack. Indeed, the first object of the echelon is to render both a frontal and a flank attack upon it difficult.

Had the plan succeeded as designed, we should have had this position of affairs: the eight armies would have extended across France from Paris to Verdun by the valley of the Marne, the great natural highway running across France due east to the German frontier, and one having both first-rate road and railway facilities. It was hoped that by the time the first and strongest formation of this chain of armies had reached Paris and had fastened round it, the sixth, seventh, and eighth armies would, partly by attacking the fortified French frontier on the east, but chiefly by enveloping it on the west, have gained possession of the frontier defence works.

The main French army must then have been driven westward from the valley of the Marne, across the Aube, brought to a decisive battle in the valley of the Seine, defeated, and, enclosed in a great arc by the German armies extending round from the north and by the east to the south of Paris, have been forced into surrender.

There is a common assumption that the German plan was designed to repeat the manœuvres which in the preceding war led to Sedan, and almost with the same detail. That is rating the intelligence of the German General Staff far too low. They could not but know that the details of one campaign cannot be repeated in another against an opponent, who, aware of the repetition, would be ready in advance against every move.

Naturally, they fostered the notion of an intended repetition. That promoted their real design. The design itself, however, was based not merely on the war of 1870–1, but on the invasion of 1814, which led to the abdication of Napoleon, and the primary idea of it was to have only one main line of advance.

The reason was that if an assailant takes two main lines of advance simultaneously and has to advance along the valleys of rivers converging to a point, as the Oise, the Marne, and the Seine converge towards Paris, his advance may be effectively disputed by a much smaller defending force than if he adopts only one line of advance, provided always, of course, that he can safeguard his flanks and his communications.

Bear in mind the calculation that the main French army would never in any event be strong enough successfully to resist an invasion so planned. Bear in mind, too, that an echelon formation is not only supple and difficult to attack along its length on either side, but that it can be stretched out or closed up like a concertina. To maintain a formation of that kind with smaller bodies of troops is fairly easy. To maintain it with the enormous masses forming the German armies would be difficult. But the Germans were so confident of being able to compel the French to conform to all the German movements, to stand, that is to say, as the weaker side, always on the defensive, leaving the invaders a practically unchallenged initiative, that they believed they could co-ordinate all their movements with exactitude. This was taking a risk, but they took it.

It is a mistake to suppose that they entered on the campaign with every movement mapped out from start to finish. No plan of any campaign was ever laid down on such lines, and none ever will be. The plan of a campaign has to be built on broad ideas. Those ideas, by taking all the essentials into consideration, the strategist seeks to convert into realised events. In this instance, there can be very little doubt that certain assumptions were treated as so probable as almost to be certainties. The first was that such forces as France could mobilise in the time would be mainly drafted to defend the fortified frontier. The next was that such forces as could be massed in time along the boundary of Belgium would be too weak seriously to impede the invasion. The third was that in any subsequent attempt to transfer forces from the fortified frontier to the Belgian boundary the French would be met and defeated by the advancing echelon of German masses. The fourth was that such an attempted transfer, followed by its defeat, would leave the fortified frontier so readily seizable, that German armies advancing swiftly into the valley of the Marne would fall upon these defeated French forces on the flank and rear. Besides, that attempted transfer would be the very thing that would promote the German design of envelopment.

If Paris could be reached by the strongest of the chain of armies in eight days, then the mobilisation of the French reserves would still be incomplete. Under the most favourable conditions, and even without the disturbance of invasion, that mobilisation takes a fortnight. Given a sudden and successful invasion with the resultant upset of communications and the mobilisation could never be completed. All, therefore, that the 1,680,000 men forming the invading hosts[9] would have to encounter would be the effectives of the French regular forces, less than half the number of the invaders.

When we speak of twenty-eight army corps moving in echelon, approximately like so many squares placed diagonally corner to corner, it is as well not to forget that such a chain of masses may assume quite sinuous and snake-like variations and yet remain perfectly intact and strong. For example, the head of the chain might be wound round and pivot upon Paris, and the rest of the chain extended across France in curves. This gigantic military boa-constrictor might therefore crush the heart out of France, while the defenders of the country remained helpless in its toils.

Such in brief was the daring and ambitious scheme conceived and worked out by the German General Headquarters Staff, and worked out in the most minute detail.

It will be seen from this summary that so far as its broad military features are concerned, the plan promised an almost certainly successful enterprise. There were concealed in its calculations, nevertheless, fatal flaws. What they were will appear in the course of the present narrative. Meanwhile it is necessary to add that possible opposition from Belgium had not been overlooked; nor the possibility, consequent upon that opposition, of intervention by Great Britain. From the military standpoint, however, it was never calculated that any British military force would be able to land either in France or in Belgium promptly enough to save the French army from disaster. In any event, such a force would be, from its limited numbers, comparatively unimportant.