The armies of the Tsar had by the middle of September established so firm a foothold upon Austrian territory, and so remote were the chances of their being dislodged from it, that little surprise was felt at the issue of a manifesto addressed by the Grand-duke Nicholas to the inhabitants of the invaded country. It was circulated in all the nine languages of that wonderfully polyglot population, and the text of it was as follows:
“Peoples of Austria-Hungary,—The Government of Vienna declared war on Russia because the great Empire, faithful to its historic traditions, could not abandon inoffensive Servia or permit her enslavement.
“Peoples of Austria-Hungary,—In making my entry into the territory of Austria-Hungary I declare to you, in the name of the great Tsar, that Russia, who has often shed her blood for the emancipation of nations from a foreign yoke, seeks only the restoration of right and justice. To you peoples of Austria-Hungary Russia also brings liberty and the realisation of your national hopes.
“During long centuries the Austro-Hungarian Government sowed among you discord and hostility, for she knew that your quarrels were the basis of her empire over you. Russia, on the other hand, only aims at enabling each of you to develop and prosper, while preserving the precious heritage of your fathers, your language, and your faith, and allowing each of you, united to his brethren, to live in peace and harmony with his neighbours, respecting their national rights.
“Being sure that you will all lend your strength to the realisation of this end, I appeal to you to welcome the Russian troops as faithful friends who are fighting for your best dreams.
(Signed) “Nicholas, Commander-in-Chief and Aide-de-Camp General.”
The present may be a convenient opportunity for pausing to consider briefly a few of the more picturesque “sidelights” of the war, while vast armies are mustering to the onslaught in Poland, in East Prussia, and in Austro-Hungary. A good impression was created throughout the world, as showing the spirit animating the Russian people and government in the prosecution of the struggle, by the prohibition of the sale of vodka “for ever” in the Tsar’s dominions. Russia would henceforth be a sober country, and in the spirit of clear-minded cheerfulness and serenity would see this world-contest through to the bitter end. About the same time another Imperial edict seemed to imply that the Tsar was so well satisfied with the numbers of troops already mobilised, and with the steady progress being effected by the field-armies, that Russia’s last line of men was not to be called to the colours.
Yet the masses of troops still available by the half-beaten Austrians were remarkable in the extreme. The calling up of their Landsturm gave them a million of fresh men with which to recoup the enormous wastage of the earlier battles. To this new million, an estimate of the astute Colonel Shumsky adds the further resources of the German allies. He reminds us that “On the list of the German Minister of War there are 4,300,000 trained men. Supposing that the Germans have lost 800,000 in the fields of Belgium, France, Eastern Prussia, and Galicia, then they must have 3,500,000 trained men, of whom 1,000,000 are in France. The remaining 2,500,000 are not occupied with France, and consequently can operate on the east front. But it must be remembered that if Austria and Germany have a population of 110,000,000 from which to derive their troops, their antagonists have not less than 220,000,000. In the battles of the present war strategy and tactics are playing a secondary part. All that counts is the numbers and the spirit of the soldier.”
An Italian estimate of about the same date stated that by the month of October Russia would have fully three millions of men actively engaged in this complicated theatre of operations—an overwhelming avalanche of troops, flushed with victory and confident of the ultimate result. The general reader derived some idea of what the preparation for fight of the units of such an embattled host really means from a vivid account in the Daily Telegraph by Mr. Alan Lethbridge, who had been deputed by that journal to attend the headquarters of the world’s most gigantic mobilisation. Mr. Lethbridge records, with many human touches, the gathering together of 30,000 Cossacks within four days after the outbreak of hostilities. He makes one realise the significance, to the mind of the local Muscovite peasant, of what is to him very essentially a holy war, because his “Little Father” the Tsar orders it. He tells, with rare lucidity and wealth of detail, how he saw the green-and-gold vested priests, with their ikons and huge crosses borne before them, blessing the great masses of men amid the prayers and tears of their womenkind, and solemnly impressing upon their auditors that this was no war of aggression into which their Tsar had felt himself forced to enter. He describes how one Siberian township alone (Omsk) contributed its quota of 75,000 conscripts, and how in a single day he saw at least a hundred thousand more being transported over one small section of the Siberian railway. He emphasises the extreme “teetotal” aspect of all that he saw and heard, remarking that perhaps nothing brought home to one as much as this the realities and possibilities of the true awakening of Russia. Incidentally, he gossips amusingly as to a rumour of Japanese troops passing through Russian townships en route for “the front”—first cousin, this, to the equally fantastic story of Cossack soldiers having passed through England. The following brief extract from this correspondent’s account may serve to illustrate the quiet, business-like aspect of the mobilisation:
“A galloping Cossack with a red pennon fluttering from his lance was our first intimation that Russia was at war. From the bridge of a steamer on the river Irtish we could watch him. His stout little pony easily kept abreast of our boat, and his method of operating was clearly visible. He would accost a group of his brethren garnering their harvest—for this is Cossack territory—there would be some gesticulation, horses would be seized and mounted, and within five minutes the harvest-fields of the great Siberian steppe would be denuded of their manhood. Such action was repeated with almost monotonous precision during that long summer day, and it was thanks to this organisation that on our arrival at Semipalatinsk, a steppe town some 600 miles from railhead, we found no less than 30,000 fully armed and equipped Cossacks. This within four days of the outbreak of hostilities.”
Side by side with this may be read the testimony of Professor Pares of the Liverpool University, whose intimate knowledge of the country and its language admirably qualified him for the work of a correspondent with the Tsar’s headquarters. Dr. Pares is just as emphatic as the correspondent just quoted on the subject of the enthusiasm and unanimity pervading all classes of the community with whom he came in contact. He pays a passing tribute to the high efficiency of Russia’s hospital arrangements, to the fine and self-sacrificing labours of all from the highest to the lowest, and to the serenity and confidence manifested on every side. He saw the Grand-duchess Olga, sister of the Emperor, working as a Sister of Mercy, “under all the ordinary discipline and conditions,” and heard how hard she had had to labour after the early battles of the campaign, when hospitals designed for the accommodation of 200 patients were compelled to accommodate at least 300 each. “One feels it is a great wave rolling forward with one spirit driving it.”
Dr. Pares was present when the Tsar in person visited Vilna, riding through the streets quite unguarded. Vilna has for the most part a Polish population, and from all sides the Tsar was greeted with an enthusiasm that must have deeply touched and moved him. In the hospitals the Professor conversed with many of the wounded belonging to both sides. On the part of most of the Austrians, he says, he found a general disposition to believe that they had been thoroughly overmatched on the battle-field. A Russian lad of nineteen or twenty, who had been sent back home, not on account of wounds but because of physical overstrain, remarked almost with tears, “They are firing on my brother and not on me. That is not right—I ought to be where they all are.”
A story worth interpolating here on account of its military significance has reference to a rumour that the German Emperor had addressed a letter to the Dowager-Empress of Russia, calling her “cousin,” in an attempt to induce her to use her good offices with the Tsar in order to bring about peace. This missive eventually reached the headquarters of the Grand-duke Nicholas, who is said to have returned it to the Tsar with the laconic comment: “If you do, our armies will mutiny, and there will be a revolution in all the Russias.” It is only a soldier’s story, but it explains, especially in the final sentence, why Russia has beaten the Austrian, German, and Austro-German armies successively.
Nothing could be more noteworthy as emphasising the Russian record of initial difficulties triumphed over than the preponderance of Austro-German railway power in the vast war-area. General Kuropatkin, the Tsar’s Commander-in-Chief in the war with Japan, had as far back as 1900 called attention to this marked superiority in the Central Powers’ means of transport. Doubtless upon his initiative, the Russian railway lines along the Polish frontier were improved to a certain extent. But, as Austria and Germany were correspondingly busy, doubtless much of what Kuropatkin had written more than a dozen years before remained true in 1914—indeed, the celerity with which the enemy were enabled to rush masses of troops to all their frontiers must have been one of the earliest things to impress any student of the struggle. This is how Kuropatkin phrased his plea for a good deal more energy in the matters of railway development:
“By the expenditure of vast sums of money, Germany has made ready in the most comprehensive sense to march rapidly across our borders with an army of one million men. She has seventeen lines of railway (twenty-three tracks) leading to our frontiers, which would enable her to send to the front more than five hundred troop-trains daily. She can concentrate the greater part of her armed forces on our frontier within a few days of the declaration of war; while, apart from this question of speedy mobilisation, she has at her command far greater technical resources, such as light railways, artillery, ordnance, and engineering stores, particularly for telegraphs, mobile siege parks, etc., than we have. She has also made most careful preparation for a determined defence of her own border provinces, especially those of Eastern Prussia.
“The first-class fortresses of Thorn, KÖnigsberg, and Posen are improved yearly, entrenched camps are built at the most important junctions, and material lies ready stacked for the rapid semi-permanent fortification of field positions. The crossing-places on the Vistula have been rapidly placed in a state of defence, as have also the various towns and large villages. The whole population, indeed, is making ready for a national struggle.
“In the matter of railway development the Austrians have also left us far behind. While they, by means of eight lines of rail (ten tracks), can run two hundred and sixty trains up to the frontier every twenty-four hours, we can only convey troops up to the same point on four lines. As any of their troops on the frontier would be in advance of the Carpathians, this range was formerly looked upon as an obstacle to retirement, and to communication between Galicia and the rest of Austria. But in the last ten years it has been pierced by five lines of railway, and preparations have been made to lay three more.”
It will be perceived that General Kuropatkin cherished no optimistic illusions as to the ultimate aims and aspirations of Germany, neither did he believe that the shock could be much longer delayed, having regard to the immense burden of armaments.
