This was not long delayed. During the 17th and 18th Rennenkampf’s masses poured across the frontier and after a fierce preliminary encounter at Stallupönen drew up for battle on the 20th before the town of Gumbinnen. That day was fought a battle between 7 German and 8 Russian divisions1 which, though it passed almost unnoticed in the pandemonium of Europe, set in motion several chains of causation violently and even decisively affecting the whole course of the Great War. Very few people have even heard of Gumbinnen, and scarcely anyone has appreciated the astonishing part it played. The fortunes of the day were piebald. François with his 1st Corps surprised the Russian right at dawn and beat it back for 7 miles in disorder. The single German cavalry division, passing under the noses of the inert Russian cavalry corps, swept right round the broken flank and created a panic among the masses of Russian transport. General von Bülow’s 1st Reserve Corps at the other end of the line made some progress and was hopefully expecting the arrival of an additional German division for action the next day. But General von Mackensen with the XVIIth Corps, encouraged by François’ success, had attacked in the centre impetuously, frontally and without surprise, and sustained a sudden and most disconcerting repulse. The Russians were entrenched. Mackensen had made little or no artillery preparation. His men were mown down; the crowds of wounded drifting to the rear were soon joined by numerous stragglers; then whole troops appeared retiring together, at first in order and presently in disorder. The white-haired Mackensen himself, quitting his headquarters, endeavoured personally to stem the rout, and thus ceased to function as a corps commander. His example was followed by his principal officers. It was in vain. The XVIIth Corps was afterwards to fight in these same operations with the utmost courage and effect, but the German accounts of Gumbinnen contain almost without exception the insulting word ‘panic.’ This disorder entailed the arrest of the German right, and night fell upon tumultuous scenes of victory and defeat in which both armies had equally shared.
Now came the crucial episode. General von Prittwitz had commanded this battle of only 7 divisions from his headquarters at Wartenburg, nearly 75 miles away. He has awaited with great anxiety, and even we must say nervousness, the result of this first important collision with the mysterious and incalculable Russian power. The impressions which he sustained were most unfavourable. To comprehend his position we must think of a man with his left arm stretched out to its fullest possible extent and his fingers caught in grinding machinery, while his right hand (XXth Corps) is drawn up close to his shoulder to ward off another blow which he fears is going to be struck by a new antagonist from another quarter. He had throughout been fearful of this great extension of his left arm. He had let himself be dragged forward by François, he dreaded that his arm might be cut off, or that he himself with his single XXth Corps might be butted into and overwhelmed by his enormous new assailant advancing from the direction of Warsaw.
The Battle of Gumbinnen has been fought. François has had his way—but thank God, reflects Prittwitz, the XXth Corps was kept back: and what are the results? They are certainly not good. At the best the battle is drawn. In his kind of strategic position Prittwitz cannot afford drawn battles. He must bring his troops back while time remains. For what is the Battle of Gumbinnen, good and bad taken together, compared to this blow which he sees impending upon him from Warsaw? He sees in nightmare mood the advance to the Baltic of a new vast Russian army from Warsaw, overwhelming his XXth Corps and cutting off the rest, entangled in doubtful fighting 100 miles to the north-east. He knows he is confronted with forces at least twice his own strength, and amid all these dangers there gleams one safe, indispensable refuge to reach which is at once his heart’s desire and his supreme responsibility—the line of the Vistula. And then at 6.30 p.m. this same day the definite news arrives that long, heavy columns of the Russian Southern army have been seen streaming across the frontier near Mlava.
The actual information was ‘The Russian army from Warsaw with a strength of 4 to 5 army corps has begun to cross the German frontier opposite the front Soldau-Ortelsburg.’ His staff were doubtful about imparting this last formidable item to their chief. Among their number was a remarkable man with a trained intelligence of the first order—General Hoffmann, Chief of the Operations Section. His knowledge of his profession was profound, and to it was added an outlook as wide as the war itself. No clearer brain or more discerning eye could be found in the élite of the General Staff. His was the mind behind most of the German plans on the Eastern Front. We shall often recur to his sagacious wisdom. General Hoffmann has recorded an illuminating conversation which he had with his colleague, Grünert, upon the unpleasant news from Mlava.
‘Too stiff a dose for our venerated leader!’ says Hoffmann—or words to that effect. ‘Impossible to withhold such information from a Commander-in-Chief!’ opined Grünert. It had moreover already reached him.
‘I suppose, gentlemen,’ said General von Prittwitz, when he had summoned them to his office, ‘you have also received this fresh news from the Southern Front?’ and then he added in vehement decision, ‘The army is breaking off the battle and retiring behind the Vistula!’
Hoffmann and Grünert were for renewing the fighting at Gumbinnen on the 21st. François and the other Generals on the field were furious at the idea of breaking it off; they felt sure they could turn both the Russian flanks and beat Rennenkampf soundly on the second day ‘even though the XXth Corps has been denied us.’ But Prittwitz had made up his mind. He was determined to break off the battle and to retreat by a long night march out of all contact with the enemy.
Had Prittwitz relied upon his competent staff and acted only with them, he might yet have been carried through his perils. But at this moment he took independent action. In his agitated state he went to the telephone, and without informing any of his officers, cleared the line to the German Main Headquarters at Coblenz. Moltke is called to the receiver. It is for him also an hour of superhuman stress. All the German armies in the west from Belfort to Brussels are either in deadly grip, or about to enter into battle on French and Belgian soil. The impression which Prittwitz gave Moltke over the telephone was that of a man unequal to his task. To fall back precipitately to the line of the Vistula was bad enough, but worse was threatened by Prittwitz.
‘At any rate,’ said Moltke, ‘you must at all costs hold the Vistula’; to which Prittwitz replied that even that could not be guaranteed without reinforcements. The river was low. It was fordable in many places. ‘How shall I hold the Vistula with my handful of men?’ This remark closed his military career, for no sooner had the receivers been replaced, than Moltke was looking for his successor. In this search we will join him.
In Moltke’s laden mind arose a now famous image. Away in Hanover there sat at this moment the massive figure of a retired general, a man of Sadowa and Mars la Tour who had passed from the service some years before. Now all the supreme events for which his life-training had prepared him were rushing to their climax. The whole of the Prussian army, the fate of the German Empire, nay the dynasty itself, all were cast into the scale, and for him there was as yet no place. There he sat in his civilian clothes, brooding on the scraps of information which the newspapers afforded, wondering whether the call would come to him. After all, he knew East Prussia. Mile by mile he knew it. Even if others were to gather the laurels in France, surely against the Russian hordes there was something for Hindenburg to do!
He records his emotions quite simply in his memoirs. ‘Would my Emperor and King need me? Exactly a year had passed without my receiving any official intimation of this kind. Enough younger men seemed available. I put myself in the hands of Fate, and waited in longing expectation.’ And then at 3 o’clock in the afternoon of August 22 a telegram from the Emperor’s Headquarters! Was he prepared for immediate employment?—‘I am ready.’ But even before his reply could have reached Main Headquarters, he received a further despatch stating that his willingness to serve was assumed, and that he was to command a
n army in the East. He was even told the name of his Chief Staff Officer.
Moltke in his necessity had had another idea. When the Germans after violating the Belgian frontier had on the night of August 6 sent six brigades to carry Liége by a coup de main, the attackers blundered and came to a standstill. A situation of strange confusion arose. In the darkness and disorder the columns making their way between forts not yet surrendered lost their direction and hung on the verge of disaster. At this moment a Staff Officer—long immersed in the inmost secrets of the General Staff and of the impending war, a man whose opinions had been so strongly expressed that it had been thought expedient a year before to remove him from Berlin to a brigade—had suddenly appeared from the gloom. He took command of one column which had lost its general, and of all the forces within reach, found the right road, led the troops forward, entered the city; and with the early light of morning single-handed smote upon the gates of the citadel and procured its surrender with its entire garrison. Here surely was a man versed in every aspect of Staff work, acquainted alike with its largest and smallest propositions, and now showing qualities of action and audacity in actual contact with violent events. Join his force and knowledge to the prestige and character of old Hindenburg, and East Prussia would surely not lack stout defenders.
Accordingly on the 22nd, a motor-car has already brought the imperious Ludendorff from his Deputy-Quartermaster-General’s post with the invading armies to Headquarters. From here, as he is careful to tell us, he issued direct orders to the troops upon the East Prussian Front. These orders were however actually confined to the following points: First some reinforcements from the eastern fortress garrisons were to join the Eighth Army. Secondly the Army Staff was to meet him at Marienburg—a long way back; and thirdly the various army corps were to be handled independently until the new Commander-in-Chief had arrived upon the scene. He then entered his special train and, picking up Hindenburg, who was waiting in the ‘well-lit station hall’ at Hanover, rumbled off to the East.
Of all this—of Prittwitz’ telephonings, of what he had said, of what had resulted from it—the Staff of the Eighth Army had not the slightest inkling. But if we return to their headquarters at Wartenburg we shall see that meanwhile events have not stood still. While General von Prittwitz was telephoning to Coblenz on the night of the 20th, Hoffmann and Grünert had been in energetic discussion with the Chief Staff Officer, Waldersee. This is the same Waldersee who as Moltke’s deputy was waiting during the month of July ‘ready to jump’ at any moment. His opportunity has come. Something of this sort passed.
‘It is all very well to say “retire to the Vistula,” but you cannot get there without fighting another battle. The Warsaw army is 80 miles nearer the Vistula than our troops that fought to-day at Gumbinnen.’
This argument was decisive. Waldersee bowed to it. Prittwitz reappearing was persuaded that he must fight another battle even to retreat. He became more composed. Under the impulse of Hoffmann a series of movements was planned which would strain to its utmost the long-prepared organization of the East Prussian railways, but which practically without alteration marshalled the forces for the Battle of Tannenberg. All the troops which had fought at Gumbinnen were to break contact with the enemy and retire as fast as possible. François with his victorious 1st Corps, and the 3rd Reserve Division also, were to entrain 20 miles west of the battlefield. And these troops in forty-eight hours were to be carried round the railways towards the right flank of the XXth Corps watching the Warsaw Front. Mackensen, with his somewhat smirched XVIIth Corps, and Bülow with his 1st Reserve Corps were to retire by march as fast and as far as possible with a view to turning southward to join the left of the XXth Corps, if circumstances should require or permit.
Thus on the night of the 20th Prittwitz’ decision to retire behind the Vistula has already been cancelled by him, and every move made by his staff has well and truly laid the foundations of a tremendous military event. But mark what follows. Prittwitz did not tell his staff what he had told Moltke. He did not tell Moltke that he had changed his mind. He left the Supreme Command under the impression that retreat to the Vistula was his final word, and since no contradiction or explanation came from his staff, it was assumed that they were all in agreement with their chief. This, apart from Prittwitz’ agitated manner, emphasized to Moltke the gravity of the position. He acted immediately and did not think it worth while to impart his decision either to the moribund Commander or his discredited Army Staff. They would know soon enough. Thus from the 20th to the 22nd, when Prittwitz received the abrupt news of his dismissal, neither Moltke nor Prittwitz knew what the other was doing, though in fact it would have been deeply interesting to both.
When on the evening of the 23rd Ludendorff bustled into the decapitated headquarters of the Eighth Army which he had summoned to meet him at Marienburg, he received from General Hoffmann the report of the troop movements actually in progress. He agreed with them all. He found nothing to add and nothing to take away. He had expected to find a paralyzed staff and a drifting army. He found the board set with rare skill and decision for immediate battle.
‘I found him,’ says Hoffmann, ‘extremely surprised to learn that all the instructions and orders necessary for the intended attack on the Russian Warsaw army had already been given.’
This assertion of General Hoffmann has not been challenged by any of the voluminous writings which Ludendorff has given to the public. It was natural that an officer called from the exciting scenes of Liége and newly considering the problem on the Eastern Front should wish to reserve his opinion till he arrived at his new headquarters. Ludendorff would have been most imprudent to have prescribed a battle combination from a distance. But the facts are clear, namely that upon his arrival with Hindenburg at the new Eighth Army Headquarters all the movements necessary to the Battle of Tannenberg were already in progress. Let us in a nutshell repeat what these movements were. Three of the seven German divisions which fought at Gumbinnen were railed round to the right and left of the XXth Corps opposite the invasion from Warsaw. The other four were marching westward so as to be able to take their positions upon its left. Hindenburg and Ludendorff found themselves with nine divisions spread or about to be spread in a crescent formation facing south-east, and into the midst of this crescent the Russians from Warsaw were steadily marching.
After all these perturbations, alarums and excursions among the Germans, we must now return to the Russian side.
Rennenkampf and his Generals had been staggered by the Battle of Gumbinnen. They had felt the grip as it seemed of a terrible foe closing upon them. Suddenly, for no reason which they could perceive the grip had relaxed. The Germans had retreated; they had vanished completely away; they had abandoned the field leaving their dead and wounded behind. Where had they gone? That might be found out later. Why had they gone? There, was the mystery. But there was one explanation; an explanation gratifying to Russian sentiment, comforting to their highest hopes. The repulse, the heavy losses of Mackensen’s corps had communicated a panic to the German army. They knew they were beaten. They had accepted the fact that they were absolutely outnumbered by the might of Russia. They were retreating with all speed and preserving their forces for a struggle far inside their own country. A surge of intense relief and elation rose in the Russian Command. Henceforth they had beaten troops in front of them; troops who had not merely lost a battle, but thrown away a victory almost in their grasp; troops obeying an inexorable strategic compulsion to retreat.
Let us then sum up the consequences of Gumbinnen. It induced Prittwitz to break off the battle and propose a retirement to the Vistula. It provoked Moltke to supersede Prittwitz. It inspired Moltke to appoint Hindenburg and Ludendorff, and thereby set in motion the measureless consequences that followed from that decision. It procured from Hoffmann and the staff of the Eighth Army the swift and brilliant combination of movements which dictated the Battle of Tannenberg. It imparted to the Russian Command a confidence which wa
s in no way justified. It gave them an utterly false conception of the character, condition and intentions of their enemy. It lured Jilinski to spur on Samsonov’s marching army. It lured Samsonov to deflect his advance more to the West and less to the North, i.e. farther away from Rennenkampf, in the hopes of a greater scoop-up of the defeated Germans. It persuaded Rennenkampf to dawdle for nearly three days on the battlefield in order to let Samsonov’s more ambitious movement gain its greatest effect, and it led Jilinski to acquiesce in his strategic inertia.
But far wider and more fateful consequences followed in the general war. If Jilinski, Rennenkampf, Samsonov underrated the Germans in East Prussia, Moltke formed the impression from Prittwitz’ alarming message that he himself had hitherto valued the Russians far too low. If a German army of seven divisions could be so smitten in a single day of straightforward battle that the army commander with the agreement, which was naturally assumed, of his trusted and deeply instructed General Staff Officers, including the hitherto cherished Waldersee, thought only of retreating to the Vistula, obviously all the calculations of the strength necessary to defend the Eastern Front must be revised. This conviction seems to have dominated Moltke’s mind during the five or six days’ convulsion which followed in France. He had already a tender conscience about his pre-war arrangements with Conrad. At the first moment when he could see daylight in France, he must transfer large reinforcements to the East. More than that, he must insist upon an immediate offensive by the Austrian armies. ‘On the 21st August in consequence of the breaking off of the Battle of Gumbinnen and the beginning of the retreat in the direction of the Vistula,’ General von Freytag-Loringhoven, the German Military plenipotentiary at the Austrian Headquarters, represented to Conrad ‘that an early relief of our weak forces in East Prussia by an offensive of the Imperial and Royal armies as arranged is desirable.’ Conrad, whose mood and situation have been described, had consented to order the advance ‘with a heavy heart.’ ‘Instead,’ he remarks, ‘of the support hoped for from the Germans, the position was reversed,’ and he saw himself ‘obliged to relieve them by an offensive the success of which, in view of the numerical superiority of the enemy, was doubtful.’
The World Crisis Page 18
