GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE THEATRE OF WARFARE

World war—the prophecy of the ages—now threatened the foundations of civilization. Whether or not the modern era was to fall under the sword, as did the democracy of Greece and the mighty Roman Empire, was again to be decided on battle grounds that for seventy centuries have devoured the generations. The mountain passes were once more to reverberate with the battle cry—the roar of guns, the clank of artillery, the tramp of soldiery. The rivers were to run crimson with the blood of men; cities were to fall before the invaders; ruin and death were to consume nations. It was as though Xerxes, and Darius, and Alexander the Great, and Hannibal, and all the warriors of old were to return to earth to lead again gigantic armies over the ancient battle fields.

While the war was gaining momentum on the western battle grounds of Europe, gigantic armies were gathering in the East—there to wage mighty campaigns that were to hold in the balance the destiny of the great Russian Empire; the empire of Austria, the Balkan kingdoms-Serbia, Montenegro, Rumania, Bulgaria. The Turks were again to enter upon a war of invasion. Greece once more was to tremble under the sword. Even Egypt and Persia and Jerusalem itself, the battle grounds of the Assyrians, the Babylonians, and the Trojans, the bloody fields of paganism and early Christianity, were all to be awakened by the modern trumpets of war.

Before we enter upon these campaigns in the East it is well to survey the countries to be invaded, to review the battle lines and travel in these pages over the fighting ground.

The eastern theatre in the first six months of the war, from August 4, 1914, to February 1, 1915, includes the scenes of the fighting in the historic Balkans and in the Caucasus. But the eastern front proper is really that region where the Teutonic allies and the Russians opposed each other, forming a fighting line almost a thousand miles long. It stretches from rugged old Riga on the shores of the Baltic Sea in the far north, down through Poland to the Carpathian Mountains, touching the warm, sunlit hills on the Rumanian frontier. When the total losses of the Great War are finally counted it will probably be found that here the heaviest fighting has occurred.

This is the longest battle line in the world's history. Partly on account of its great length, and partly because of the nature of the country, we see the two gigantic forces in this region locked together in their deadly struggle, swaying back and forth, first one giving way, then the other. This was especially the case in the northern section, along the German-Russian frontier.

As we view the armies marshaling along this upper section, along the Baltic shore, southward, including part of East Prussia as well as Baltic Russia, we look upon the ancient abode of the Lithuanians, supposed to be the first of the Slavic tribes to appear in Europe. Hardly any part of Europe has a more forbidding aspect than this region. There the armies must pass over a flat, undulating country, almost as low in level as the Baltic, and therefore occupied in large part by marshes and lagoons through which they must struggle. In all parts the soil is unproductive. At one time it was a universal forest: thick, dark, and dank. A century ago, however, Catherine the Great distributed large areas of this comparatively worthless land among her favorites and courtiers. In this way a certain percentage was reclaimed, and with the incoming of the sunlight more favorable conditions for human life were established. Yet even now it is very thinly settled.

Through this region the armies must cross big rivers: the Oder, Dvina, Warthe, Vistula, Pregel, and Niemen, northward and northeastward. Just above or eastward of that point, where the German-Russian frontier touches the shore, the Baltic curls into a dent, 100 miles deep, forming the Gulf of Riga. Near the southern extremity of this gulf, eight miles from the mouth of the Dvina, is the city of Riga, ranking second only to Petrograd in commercial importance as a seaport, and with a population of about 300,000.

As the armies move across the frontier they come to a vast domain projecting into this marsh country, like a great, broad tongue licking the shore of the Baltic; this wide strip of German territory is East Prussia—a country to be beleaguered. Not far below the tip of this tongue, about five miles from the mouth of the Pregel River in the Frische Haff, and about twenty-five miles from the seacoast, is situated another embattled stronghold—the city of KÖnigsberg which, since 1843, has been a fortress of the first rank. These two cities in the following pages will be the immediate objectives of the enemy forces operating on this section of the eastern front.

It will be obvious why the lines of battle were less permanently fixed here than in the more solid and mountainous sections of northern France. Railroads and fairly well-laid highways do indeed traverse these swamps in various parts, especially in German territory, but trenches could not be dug in yielding mire. In yet another feature were the military operations hampered by the nature of the terrain here; the use of heavy artillery.

We have seen that one of the chief causes of success attending German attacks in the other theatres of the war has been their use of heavy guns. But in the fighting before Riga, we shall see when the Germans seemed on the point of taking that city their heavy artillery was so handicapped that it was rendered practically useless. Being restricted by the marshes to an attack over a comparatively narrow front, they were compelled to leave their heavy guns behind on firmer soil. The guns which they could take with them were matched by the Russians; the fighting was, therefore, almost entirely limited to infantry engagements, in which the Russians were not inferior to the Germans. Thus, we shall find the German advance on Riga was stopped before it could attain its object.

In studying the fighting in this part of the eastern front, it will be seen why the Germans were more successful below Riga, and why the Russians were compelled to evacuate Vilna. Here is a broad rise, something like the back of a half-submerged submarine, which seems to cross the country, where the land becomes more solid. The armies must move, instead of through marshes, along innumerable small lakes, most of the lakes being long and narrow and running north and south, with a fairly thick growth of timber among them, mostly pine and spruce and fir. In character this section is rather similar to parts of Minnesota. There are two cities to be conquered in this drier region, Dvinsk, and, further south, Vilna, once the chief city or capital of the Lithuanians. We shall see the Russians thrust back from KÖnigsberg, and the heavy fighting shifted over to this section; yet even here, where the huge guns of the Germans could find footing, the terrain was not suited to trench warfare, and every arrival of reenforcements on either side would swing the lines back or forth.

In studying the military movements in a country of this character, special attention must be paid to the railway lines. Railways, and more especially those running parallel to the fronts, are absolutely necessary to success. In looking, therefore, for a key to the object of any particular movement, the first step must be a close study of this railroad situation.

We find from Riga to the fortress of Rovno there is a continuous line of railroad, running generally north and south and passing through Dvinsk, Vilna, Lida, Rovno, and thence down through Poland to Lemberg. Every effort of the Russian armies in the succeeding chapters will be made to keep to the westward of and parallel to this line, and for a very good reason.

Feeding into this great north and south artery are the branch lines from Petrograd to Dvinsk; from Moscow to the junction at Baranovitschi; from Kiev to Sarny. Aside from these three important branch lines, there are a few other single-track offshoots, but from a military point of view they are of no importance.

This line was the main objective (short of capturing Riga itself) of the German operations. This line proves especially vital to the Russians, for nowhere east of it is there another such line which could be used for the same purpose.

If, in the campaigns to be described, this railroad falls into Russian hands, it gives every facility for strengthening or reenforcing any part of the Russian front where German pressure becomes excessive. It is, in addition, a solution to the difficult problem of transportation of supplies. To use a military term, it gives the Russian army a mobility not possessed by the enemy because of a lack of similar facilities.

But should this railroad be taken by the Germans, the advantage would immediately be reversed. And if once the Russian lines were driven back beyond the railroad, a division of their forces would be forced upon them; their armies would be obliged to group themselves beside the three east and west branches already mentioned, for only by these three systems could their forces be supplied, lateral communications being absolutely lacking. And this is the key to the fighting, not only in the northern section of the front, but all along the line, down to Galicia. Naturally, only the Russian railroads need be considered, for in the first months of the war the Germans are the invaders in the northern half of the eastern front, except for a few short periods in the beginning. Compared to the German railway lines near the frontier, the Russian lines are very few.

There are two distinct railway lines running from Germany into East Prussia, with innumerable branches leading to all points of the Russian frontier, laid especially for military purposes. It was along these that we shall witness the German forces rushed from Belgium to drive back the first Russian advance. But, of course, the moment the Germans enter Russian territory they have no advantage over the Russians, since even their wonderful efficiency does not enable them to build railroads as fast as an army can advance. Hence, we observe their efforts to gain possession of the Russian railroads.

We come now to the central part of the eastern front. Here, just below East Prussia, Russian Poland projects into German territory in a great salient, about 200 miles wide and 250 long, resembling a huge bite in shape.

This land is a monotonous, wind-swept plain, slightly undulating, its higher parts not even 500 feet above sea level. To the northward and eastward it descends gradually into the still lower lands of East Prussia and White Russia, but in the south it lifts into the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains.

Gigantic armies are to move over this plateau, timbered in parts with oak, beech, and lime, and in some sections deeply cut by small rivers and streams forming fissures, some narrow and craggy, others broad and sloping with marshy bottoms. Toward the south the soldiers must cross narrow ravines in all directions, often covered with wild, thick undergrowth. The chief river is the Vistula, which enters by the southern boundary and flows first north, then northwest, skirting the plateau region at a height of 700 feet, finally making its exit near Thorn, thence on to the Baltic through East Prussia. Its valley divides the hilly tracts into two parts: Lublin heights in the east and the Sedomierz heights to the westward. Picture in your mind the great armies approaching these ridges, the most notable of which is the Holy Cross Mountains, rising peaks almost 2,000 feet above sea level.

The fighting forces in the northeast, where the plain slopes gradually into the Suwalki Province, must pass over a country dotted with lakes and lagoons, which farther on take on the character of marshes, stagnant ponds, peat bogs, with small streams flowing lazily from one to the other. Here and there are patches of stunted pine forests, with occasional stretches of fertile, cultivated soil. Throughout this section many rivers flow along broad, level valleys, separating into various branches which form many islands and, during the rainy seasons, flood the surrounding country.

Farther west the armies pass through broad valleys or basins, once the beds of great lakes, whose rich, alluvial soil give forth abundant crops of cereals. Here, too, flows the Niemen, 500 miles in length, watering a basin 40,000 square miles in area and separating Poland from Lithuania. It advances northward in a great, winding pathway, between limestone hills covered with loam or amid forests, its banks rising to high eminences in places, past ruined castles built in the Middle Ages. In the yellowish soil along its banks grow rich crops of oats, buckwheat, corn, and some rye. Naturally such a section would be thickly populated, not only on account of the fertile soil, but because the Niemen, like the Vistula, is one of the country's means of communication and transportation. As many as 90,000 men earn their livelihoods in navigating the steamers and freight barges passing up and down this great waterway. At Yurburg the Niemen enters East Prussia on its way to the Baltic.