CAPTAIN MAHAN’S thesis that in any great war the nation possessing the greater sea power is likely to win, has been splendidly illustrated during the World War. The great English fleets have been the insuperable obstacle to the ambitious German plans of world dominion. The millions of soldiers landed in France from Great Britain, and its provinces, the millions of Americans transported in safety across the water, and the enormous quantities of supplies put at the disposal of the Allies depended, absolutely, upon the Allied control of the sea routes of the world. With a superior navy a German blockade of England would have brought her to terms in a short period, and France, left to [2] fight alone, would have been an easy victim. The British navy has saved the world.

Germany had for many years well understood the necessity of power upon the sea. When the war broke out it was the second greatest of the sea powers. Its ships were mostly modern, for its navy was a creation of the past fifteen years, and its development was obviously for the purpose of attacking the British supremacy. The father of this new navy was a naval officer by the name of von Tirpitz, who, in 1897, had become the German Naval Minister. With the aid of the Emperor he had aroused among the Germans a great enthusiasm for maritime power, and had built up a navy in fifteen years, which was second only to the English navy.

Von Tirpitz was an interesting character. In appearance he looked like an old sea-wolf who had passed his life on the wave, but such a thought would be a mistake. The great admiral has done his work on land; he is an organizer, a diplomatist, a politician. He has created nothing new; in all its details he has [3] copied the English fleet. He is tall, heavily built, with a great white beard, forked in the middle. He is a man of much dignity, with a smile which has won him renown. He might have been Chancellor of the Empire, but he preferred to devote himself to the navy, to prove that the future of Germany is on the seas. His glories are the Lusitania, the fleet safely anchored at Kiel, and the long rows of innocent victims of the submarine.

He was born in 1850 at Kustrion on the Ildor, when the German navy was only a little group of worthless boats. In 1865 he entered the School of Cadets, in 1869 he was gazetted lieutenant, in 1875 he was lieutenant-commander with a reputation as an able organizer. In 1891 he was appointed Chief of Staff at Kiel. This was his opportunity, and he set himself at the task of creating and protecting the submarine division of the navy. As time went on he grew in importance. In 1898 he became Assistant Secretary of State at the Admiralty in Berlin. Two years later he became vice-admiral. His admirers recognized [4] his powers, and he was called the master. In 1899 a patent of nobility was conferred upon him. In 1902 he gained permission to build 13,000-ton warships, and the following year he was made admiral. In 1907 enormous appropriations were made at his desire for the enlargement of the fleet. In 1908 Emperor William conferred on him the Order of the Black Eagle. In 1904 the Kiel Canal was completed under his direction, and he informed the Emperor that the fleet was ready. It is only fair to add that in all his plans he had the active support of his Imperial Master. The Kaiser, too, had dreamed a dream. Von Tirpitz admired the English. His children had been brought up in England, as was also his wife. He imitated the English, but on the day of the declaration of war he absolutely forbade his family to talk English, and he made a bonfire of his fine scientific library of English books. The Kaiser treated Von Tirpitz as his friend, asked his advice, and followed his counsel. His son, Sub-Lieutenant Wolf Von Tirpitz, studied at Oxford, and is [5] on the most friendly terms with many English gentlemen of importance. He was on board the Mainz, which was sunk off Helgoland in August, 1916. In full uniform he swam for twenty minutes, before being picked up by one of the boats of the cruiser Liverpool. He was a lucky prisoner of war. The German battleships and cruisers which represent the toil of Von Tirpitz for more than half a century, lay hidden away in the shelter of the Kiel Canal during the war to be ingloriously surrendered at its end. His name will remain linked with that of the Lusitania.

The German High Sea Fleet, at the beginning of the war, consisted of forty-one battleships, seven battle cruisers, nine armored cruisers, forty-nine light cruisers, one hundred and forty-five destroyers, eighty torpedo boats, and thirty-eight submarines. Under the direction of Von Tirpitz the navy had become democratic and had drawn to it many able men of the middle class. Its training was highly specialized and the officers were enthusiasts in their profession. The navy of Austria-Hungary [6] had also expanded in recent years under the inspiration of Admiral Montecuculi. At the outbreak of the war the fleet comprised sixteen battleships, two armored and twelve light cruisers, eighteen destroyers, eighty-five torpedo boats and eleven submarines. The Allies were much more powerful. The French navy had in the matter of invention given the lead to the world, but its size had not kept pace with its quality. At the beginning of the war France had thirty-one battleships, twenty-four armored cruisers, eight light cruisers, eighty-seven destroyers, one hundred and fifty-three torpedo boats and seventy-six submarines. Russia, after the war with Japan, had begun the creation of a powerful battle fleet, which had not been completed when war was declared. At that time she had on the Baltic four dreadnoughts, ten armored cruisers, eighty destroyers and twenty-four submarines, and a fleet of about half the strength in the Black Sea.

The English fleet had reached a point of efficiency which was unprecedented in its history. [7] The progress of the German sea power had stimulated the spirit of the fleet, and led to a steady advance in training and equipment. The development of armament, and of battleship designing, the improvement in gunnery practice, the revision of the rate of pay, the opening up of careers from the lower deck, and the provision of a naval air service are landmarks in the advance. In the navy estimates of March, 1914, Parliament sanctioned over £51,000,000 for a naval defense, the largest appropriation for the purpose ever made. The home fleet was arranged in three units, the first fleet was divided into four battle squadrons, together with the flagship of the commander-in-chief. The first squadron was made up of eight battleships, the second squadron contained eight, the third eight and the fourth four. Attached to each fleet was a battle cruiser squadron, consisting of four ships in the first fleet, four in the second, four in the third and five in the fourth. The fourth also contained a light cruiser squadron, a squadron of six gunboats for mine sweeping, and four [8] flotillas of destroyers, each with a flotilla cruiser attached. The second fleet was composed of two battle squadrons, the first containing eight pre-dreadnoughts, and the second six. Attached to this fleet were also two cruiser squadrons, a mine layer squadron of seven vessels, four patrol flotillas, consisting of destroyers and torpedo boats, and seven flotillas of submarines. A third fleet contained two battle squadrons, mainly composed of old ships, with six cruiser squadrons. The English strength, outside home waters, consisted of the Mediterranean fleet, containing three battle cruisers, four armored cruisers, four ordinary cruisers and a flotilla of seventeen destroyers, together with submarines and torpedo boats. In eastern waters there were a battleship, two cruisers, and four sloops. In the China squadron there were one battleship, two armored cruisers, two ordinary cruisers, and a number of gunboats, destroyers, submarines, and torpedo boats. In New Zealand there were four cruisers. The Australian fleet contained a battle cruiser, three ordinary cruisers, [9] three destroyers and two submarines. Other cruisers and gunboats were stationed at the Cape, the west coast of Africa, and along the western Atlantic. At the outbreak of the war two destroyers were purchased from Chile, and two Turkish battleships, building in England, were commandeered by the government.

It is evident that the union of France and Britain made the Allies easily superior in the Mediterranean Sea, so that France was able to transport her African troops in safety, and the British commerce with India and the East could safely continue. The main field of the naval war, therefore, was the North Sea and the Baltic, where Germany had all her fleet, except a few naval raiders. The entrance to the Baltic was closed to the enemy by Denmark, which, as a neutral, was bound to prevent an enemy fleet from passing. Germany, however, by means of the Kiel Canal, could permit the largest battle fleet to pass from the Baltic to the North Sea. The German High Sea Fleet was weaker than the British home fleet by more than forty per cent, and the [10] German policy, therefore, was to avoid a battle, until, through mine layers and submarines, the British power should have been sufficiently weakened. The form of the German coast made this plan easily possible. The various bays and river mouths provided safe retreat for the German ships, and the German fleet were made secure by the fortifications along the coast. On July the 29th, 1914, at the conclusion of the annual maneuvers, instead of being demobilized as would have been usual, the Grand Fleet of Great Britain sailed from Portland along the coast into the mists, and from that moment dominated the whole course of the war.

From the 4th of August, the date of the declaration of war, the oceans of the world were practically rid of enemy warships, and were closed to enemy mercantile marine. Although diplomacy had not yet failed, the masters of the English navy were not caught napping. The credit for this readiness has been given to Mr. Winston Churchill, one of the first Lords of the Admiralty, who had divined the coming danger. When the grand fleet sailed it seemed to disappear from English view. Occasionally some dweller along the coast might see an occasional cruiser or destroyer sweeping by in the distance, but the great battleships had gone. Somewhere, in some hidden harbor, lay the vigilant fleets of England.

[11] Sea fighting had changed since the days of Admiral Nelson. The old wooden ship belonged to a past generation. The guns of a battleship would have sunk the Spanish Armada with one broadside. In this modern day the battleship was protected by aircraft, which dropped bombs from the clouds. Unseen submarines circled about her. Beneath her might be mines, which could destroy her at the slightest touch. Everything had changed but the daring of the English sailor.

In command of the Home fleet was Admiral Sir John Jellicoe. He had had a distinguished career. Beginning as a lieutenant in the Egyptian War of 1882, he had become a commander in 1891. In 1897 he became a captain, and served in China, commanding the [12] Naval Brigade in the Pekin Expedition of 1900, where he was severely wounded. Later he became naval assistant to the Controller of the Navy, Director of Naval Ordnance and Torpedoes, Rear-Admiral in the United fleet, Lord Commissioner of the Admiralty and Controller of the Navy, Vice-Admiral commanding the Atlantic fleet, Vice-Admiral commanding the second division of the Home fleet, and second Sea Lord of the Admiralty. He had distinguished himself in the naval maneuvers of 1913, and was one of the officers mainly responsible for the development of the modern English navy. He had the confidence of his colleagues, and a peculiar popularity among the British seamen.

On the day after the declaration of war, the first shots were fired. German mine layers, it is now believed, in disguise, had been dropping mines during the preceding week over a wide area of the North Sea. On the 5th of August the mine layer, Koenigen Luise, was sunk by the destroyer Lance, and on August 6th the British light cruiser Amphion struck [13] one of the mines laid by the Koenigen Luise and was sunk with great loss of life. On August 9th, German submarines attacked a cruiser squadron without causing any damage, and one submarine was sunk.

It was in the Mediterranean, however, that the greatest interest was felt during the first week of the war. Two German warships, the Goeben and the Breslau, were off the Algerian coast when war broke out. It is probable that when these ships received their sailing orders, Germany depended on the assistance of Italy, and had sent these ships to its assistance. They were admirably suited for commerce destroyers. They began by bombarding the Algerian coast towns of Bona and Phillipe, doing little damage. They then turned toward the coast of Gibraltar, but found before them the British fleet. Eluding the British they next appeared at Messina. There the captains and officers made their wills and deposited their valuables, including signed portraits of the Kaiser, with the German consul. The decks were cleared for action, and with [14] the bands playing they sailed out under a blood-red sunset.

However, they seem to have been intent only on escape, and they went at full speed eastward toward the Dardanelles, meeting in their way only with the British cruiser Gloucester, which, though much inferior in size, attacked them boldly but was unable to prevent their escape. On entering Constantinople they were reported as being sold to the Turkish Government, the Turks thus beginning the line of conduct which was ultimately to bring them into the war.

Picturesque as this incident was it was of no importance as compared with the great British blockade of Germany which began on the 4th of August. German merchantmen in every country of the empire were seized, and hundreds of ships were captured on the high seas. Those who escaped to neutral ports were at once interned. In a week German commerce had ceased to exist. A few German cruisers were still at large but it was not long before they had been captured, or driven into neutral [15] ports. Among the most picturesque of these raiders were the Emden and the Koenigsburg. The Emden, in particular, interested the world with her romantic adventures. Her story is best told in the words of Lieutenant-Captain von Mücke, and Lieutenant Gyssing, whose return to Germany with forty-four men, four officers and one surgeon, after the destruction of the ship, was a veritable Odyssey.

“We on the Emden had no idea where we were going, as, on August 11, 1914, we separated from the cruiser squadron, escorted only by the coaler Markomannia. Under way the Emden picked up three officers from German steamers. That was a piece of luck, for afterward we needed many officers for the capturing and sinking of steamers, or manning them when we took them with us. On September 10th, the first boat came in sight. We stopped her; she proved to be a Greek tramp returning from England. On the next day we met the Indus, bound for Bombay, all fitted up as a troop transport, but still without troops. That was the first one we sunk. The crew we [16] took aboard the Markomannia. Then we sank the Lovat, a troop transport ship, and took the Kambinga along with us. One gets used quickly to new forms of activity. After a few days, capturing ships became a habit. Of the twenty-three which we captured most of them stopped after our first signal; when they didn’t we fired a blank shot. Then they all stopped. Only one, the Clan Matteson, waited for a real shot across the bow before giving up its many automobiles and locomotives to the seas.

“The officers were mostly very polite, and let down rope ladders for us. After a few hours they would be on board with us. We ourselves never set foot in their cabins, nor took charge of them. The officers often acted on their own initiative, and signaled to us the nature of their cargo. Then the commandant decided as to whether to sink the ship or take it with us. Of the cargo we always took everything we could use, particularly provisions. Many of the English officers and sailors made good use of the hours of transfer to drink up [17] the supply of whisky instead of sacrificing it to the waves. I heard that one captain was lying in tears at the enforced separation from his beloved ship, but on investigation found that he was merely dead drunk. The captain on one ship once called out cheerily ‘Thank God, I’ve been captured.’ He had received expense money for the trip to Australia, and was now saved half the journey.”

Parenthetically it may be remarked, that the Emden’s captain, Karl von Mueller, conducted himself at all times with chivalrous bravery, according to the accounts of the English themselves, who in their reports say of him, admiringly, “He played the game.” Captain von Mücke’s account continues:

“We had mostly quiet weather, so that communication with captured ships was easy. They were mostly dynamited, or else shot close to the water line. At Calcutta we made one of our richest hauls, the Diplomat, chock full of tea, we sunk $2,500,000 worth. On the same day the Trabbotch, too, which steered right straight towards us, was captured. By now [18] we wanted to beat it out of the Bay of Bengal, because we had learned from the papers that the Emden was being keenly searched for. By Rangoon we encountered a Norwegian tramp, which, for a cash consideration, took over all the rest of our prisoners of war.

“On September 23d we reached Madras, and steered straight for the harbor. We stopped still 3,000 yards before the city. Then we shot up the oil tanks; three or four of them burned up and illuminated the city. Two days later we navigated around Ceylon, and could see the lights of Colombo. On the same evening we gathered in two more steamers, the King Lund, and Tywerse. The next evening we got the Burresk, a nice steamer with 500 tons of nice Cardiff coal. Then followed in order, the Ryberia, Foyle, Grand Ponrabbel, Benmore, Troiens, Exfort, Graycefale, Sankt Eckbert, Chilkana. Most of them were sunk. The coal ships were kept. All this happened before October 20th. Then we sailed southward to Deogazia, southwest of Colombo.”

The captain then tells with much gusto a [19] story of a visit paid to the Emden by some English farmers, at Deogazia, who were entertained royally by the Emden officers. They knew nothing about the war, and the Emden officers told them nothing. His narrative continues:

“Now we went toward Miniko, where we sank two ships more. On the next day we found three steamers to the north, one of them with much desired Cardiff coal. From English papers on the captured ships we learned that we were being hotly pursued. One night we started for Penang. On October 28th we raised a very practical fourth smokestack (for disguise). The harbor of Penang lies in a channel difficult of access. There was nothing doing by night. We had to do it at daybreak. At high speed, without smoke, with lights out, we steered into the mouth of the channel. A torpedo boat on guard slept well. We steamed past its small light. Inside lay a dark silhouette. That must be a warship. We recognized the silhouette dead sure. That was the Russian cruiser Jemtchud. There it [20] lay, there it slept like a rat, no watch to be seen. They made it easy for us. Because of the narrowness of the harbor we had to keep close; we fired the first torpedo at four hundred yards.

“Then, to be sure, things livened up a bit on the sleeping warship. At the same time we took the crew quarters under fire five shells at a time. There was a flash of flame on board, then a kind of burning aureole. After the fourth shell the flame burned high. The first torpedo had struck the ship too deep, because we were too close to it. A second torpedo which we fired off from the other side didn’t make the same mistake. After twenty seconds there was absolutely not a trace of the ship to be seen.

“But now another ship which we couldn’t see was firing. That was the French D’Ivrebreville, toward which we now turned at once. A few minutes later an incoming torpedo destroyer was reported. It proved to be the French torpedo boat Mousquet. It came straight toward us. That’s always remained [21] a mystery to me, for it must have heard the shooting. An officer whom we fished up afterward explained to me that they had only recognized we were a German warship when they were quite close to us. The Frenchman behaved well, accepted battle and fought on, but was polished off by us with three broadsides. The whole fight with those ships lasted half an hour. The commander of the torpedo boat lost both legs by the first broadside. When he saw that part of his crew were leaping overboard he cried out ‘Tie me fast. I will not survive after seeing Frenchmen desert their ship.’ As a matter of fact he went down with his ship, as a brave captain, lashed fast to the mast. That was my only sea-fight.

“On November 9th I left the Emden in order to destroy the wireless plant on the Cocos Island. I had fifty men, four machine guns and about thirty rifles. Just as we were about to destroy the apparatus it reported ‘Careful. Emden near.’ The work of destruction went smoothly. Presently the Emden signaled to us ‘Hurry up.’ I pack up, but simultaneously [22] wails the Emden’s siren. I hurry up to the bridge, see the flag ‘Anna’ go up. That means weigh anchor. We ran like mad into our boat, but already the Emden’s pennant goes up, the battle flag is raised, they fire from starboard. The enemy is concealed by the island, and therefore not to be seen, but I see the shell strike the water. To follow and catch the Emden is out of question. She is going twenty knots, I only four with my steam pinnace. Therefore I turn back to land, raise the flag, declare German laws of war in force, seize all arms, set out my machine guns on shore in order to guard against a hostile landing. Then I run again in order to observe the fight.”

The cable operator at Cocos Island gives the following account of what happened from this point. After describing the sudden flight of the Emden, he goes on:

“Looking to the eastward we could see the reason for this sudden departure, for a warship, which we afterwards learned was the Australian cruiser Sydney, was coming up at full [23] speed in pursuit. The Emden did not wait to discuss matters, but, firing her first shot at a range of about 3,700 yards, steamed north as hard as she could go. At first the firing of the Emden seemed excellent, while that of the Sydney was somewhat erratic. This, as I afterward learned, was due to the fact that the Australian cruiser’s range finder was put out of action by one of the only two shots the Germans got home. However, the British gunners soon overcame any difficulties that this may have caused, and settled down to their work, so that before long two of the Emden’s funnels had been shot away. She also lost one of her masts quite early in the fight. Both blazing away with their big guns the two cruisers disappeared below the horizon, the Emden being on fire.

“Early the next morning, Tuesday, November 10th, we saw the Sydney returning, and at 8.45 A. M. she anchored off the island. From various members of the crew I gathered some details of the running fight with the Emden. The Sydney, having an advantage in speed, [24] was able to keep out of range of the Emden’s guns, and to bombard with her own heavier metal. The engagement lasted eighty minutes, the Emden finally running ashore on North Keeling Island, and becoming an utter wreck. Only two German shots proved effective, one of these failed to explode, but smashed the main range finder and killed one man, the other killed three men and wounded fourteen.

“Each of the cruisers attempted to torpedo the other, but both were unsuccessful, and the duel proved a contest in hard pounding at long range. The Sydney’s speed during the fighting was twenty-six knots, and the Emden’s twenty-four knots. The British ship’s superiority of two knots enabled her to choose the range at which the battle should be fought and to make the most of her superior guns. Finally, with a number of wounded prisoners on board, the Sydney left here yesterday, and our few hours of war excitement were over.”

Captain Mücke’s return home from the Cocos Island was filled with the most extraordinary [25] adventures, and when he finally arrived in country controlled by his Allies he was greeted as a hero.

While the story of the Emden especially interested the world, the Koenigsburg also caused much trouble to English commerce. Her chief exploit occurred on the 20th of September, when she caught the British cruiser Pegasus in Zanzibar harbor undergoing repairs. The Pegasus had no chance, and was destroyed by the Koenigsburg’s long-range fire. Nothing much was heard later of the Koenigsburg, which was finally destroyed by an English cruiser, July 11, 1915.

The exploits of these two German commerce raiders attracted general attention, because they were the exceptions to the rule. The British, on the other hand, were able to capture such German merchantmen as ventured on the sea without great difficulty, and as they did not destroy their capture, but brought them before prize courts, the incidents attracted no great attention. The Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, which had been fitted up as a [26] commerce-destroyer by the Germans at the beginning of the war, as was the Spreewald of the Hamburg-American Line, and the Cap Trafalgar, were caught and sunk during the month of September. On the whole, English foreign trade was unimpaired.

But though the German fleet had been bottled up in her harbors, Germany was not yet impotent. There remained the submarine.

Up to 1905 Germany had not a single submarine. The first German submarine was launched on August 30, 1905. Even then it was considered merely an experiment. In February, 1907, it was added to the register of the fleet. On January 1, 1901, there were only four nations that possessed submarines, France, with fourteen; the United States, with eight; England, with six, of which not one was completed, and finally Italy, with two. In 1910, Germany appropriated 18,750,000 marks for submarines, and in 1913, 25,000,000 marks. On January 1, 1914, the total number of submarines of all nations was approximately four hundred.

[27] Early in the war the submarine became a grave menace to the English navy and to English commerce. On the 5th of September the Pathfinder, a light cruiser, was torpedoed and sunk with great loss of life. On September 22d, three cruisers, the Cressy, Hogue, and Aboukir were engaged in patrolling the coast of Holland. A great storm had been raging and the cruisers were not protected by the usual screen of destroyers. At half-past six in the morning the seas had fallen and the cruisers proceeded to their posts. The report of Commander Nicholson, of the Cressy, of what followed gives a good idea of the effectiveness of the submarine.

“The Aboukir,” says the report, “was struck at about 6.25 A. M. on the starboard beam. The Hogue and Cressy closed, and took up a position, the Hogue ahead of the Aboukir, and the Cressy about four hundred yards on her port beam. As soon as it was seen that Aboukir was in danger of sinking, all the boats were sent away from the Cressy, and a picket boat was hoisted out without steam up. When cutters [28] full of the Aboukir’s men were returning to the Cressy, the Hogue was struck, apparently under the aft 9.2 magazine, as a very heavy explosion took place immediately. Almost directly after the Hogue was hit we observed a periscope on our port bow about three hundred yards off. Fire was immediately opened, and the engines were put full speed ahead with the intention of running her down.

“Captain Johnson then maneuvered the ship so as to render assistance to the crews of the Hogue and Aboukir. About five minutes later another periscope was seen on our starboard quarter, and fire was opened. The track of the torpedo she fired at a range of from 500 to 600 yards was plainly visible, and it struck us on the starboard side just before the after bridge. The ship listed about ten degrees to the starboard and remained steady. The time was 7.15 A. M. All the watertight doors, dead lights and scuttles had been securely closed before the torpedoes left the ship. All mess stools and table shores and all available timber below and on deck had been previously [29] got up and thrown overside for the saving of life. A second torpedo fired by the same submarine missed and passed about ten feet astern.

“About a quarter of an hour after the first torpedo had hit, a third torpedo fired from the submarine just before the starboard beam, hit us under the No. 5 boiler room. The time was 7.30 A. M. The ship then began to heel rapidly, and finally turned keel up remaining so for about twenty minutes before she finally sank. It is possible that the same submarine fired all three torpedoes at the Cressy.”

Of the total crews of 1,459 officers and men only 779 were saved. The survivors believed that they had seen at least three submarines, but the German official account mentions only one, the U-9, under Captain-Lieutenant Otto Weddigen whose account of this battle confirms the report of Commander Nicholson. Referring to the reports that a flotilla of German submarines had attacked the cruisers, he says:

“These reports were absolutely untrue. [30] U-9 was the only submarine on deck.” He adds: “I reached the home port on the afternoon of the 23d and on the 24th went to Wilhelmshaven to find that news of my effort had become public. My wife, dry-eyed when I went away, met me with tears. Then I learned that my little vessel and her brave crew had won the plaudit of the Kaiser, who conferred upon each of my co-workers the Iron Cross of the second class and upon me the Iron Crosses of the first and second classes.”

Weddigen was the hero of the hour in Germany. He had with him twenty-five men. He seems to have acted with courage and skill, but it is also evident that the English staff work was to blame. Three such vessels should never have been sent out without a screen of destroyers, nor should the Hogue and the Cressy have gone to the rescue of the Aboukir. A few days after the disaster the English admiralty issued the following statement:

On the 28th of August occurred the first important naval action of the war, the battle of Helgoland. From the 9th of August German cruisers had shown activity in the seas around Helgoland and had sunk a number of British trawlers. The English submarines, E-6 and E-8, and the light cruiser Fearless, had patrolled the seas, and on the 21st of August the Fearless had come under the enemy’s shell fire. On August 26th the submarine flotilla, under Commodore Keyes, sailed from Harwich for [32] the Bight of Helgoland, and all the next day the Lurcher and the Firedrake, destroyers, scouted for submarines. On that same day sailed the first and third destroyer flotillas, the battle cruiser squadron, first light cruiser squadron, and the seventh cruiser squadron, having a rendezvous at this point on the morning of the 28th.

The morning was beautiful and clear, so that the submarines could be easily seen. Close to Helgoland were Commodore Keyes’ eight submarines, and his two small destroyers. Approaching rapidly from the northwest were Commodore Tyrwhitt’s two destroyer flotillas, a little to the east was Commodore Goodenough’s first light cruiser squadron. Behind this squadron were Sir David Beatty’s battle cruisers with four destroyers. To the south and west of Helgoland lay Admiral Christian’s seventh cruiser squadron.

Presently from behind Helgoland came a number of German destroyers, followed by two cruisers; and the English submarines, with the two small destroyers, fled westwards, acting as [33] a decoy. As the Germans followed, the British destroyer flotillas on the northwest came rapidly down. At the sight of these destroyers the German destroyers fled, and the British attempted to head them off.

According to the official report the principle of the movement was to cut the German light craft from home, and engage it at leisure on the open sea.

But between the two German cruisers and English cruisers a fierce battle took place. The Arethusa was engaged with the German Ariadne, and the Fearless with the Strasburg. A shot from the Arethusa shattered the fore bridge of the Ariadne and killed the captain, and both German cruisers drew off to Helgoland.

Meanwhile the destroyers were engaged in a hot fight. They sunk the leading boat of the German flotilla and damaged a dozen more. Between nine and ten o’clock there was a lull in the fight; the submarines, with some of the destroyers, remained in the neighborhood of Helgoland, and the Germans, believing that [34] these boats were the only hostile vessels in the neighborhood, determined to attack them.

The Mainz, the Koln, and the Strasburg came again on the scene, and opened a heavy fire on some of the boats of the first flotilla which were busy saving life. The small destroyers were driven away, but the seamen in the boats were rescued by an English submarine. The Arethusa and the Fearless, with the destroyers in their company, engaged with three enemy cruisers. The Strasburg, seriously injured, was compelled to flee. The boilers of the Mainz blew up, and she became a wreck. The Koln only remaining and carrying on the fight.

The English destroyers were much crippled, and as the battle had now lasted for five hours any moment the German great battleships might come on the scene. A wireless signal had been sent to Sir David Beatty, asking for help, and about twelve o’clock the Falmouth and the Nottingham arrived on the scene of action. By this time the first destroyer flotilla was out of action and the third flotilla and the [35] Arethusa had their hands full with the Koln. The light cruisers were followed at 12.15 by the English battle cruisers, the Lion came first, and she alone among the battle cruisers seems to have used her guns. Her gun power beat down all opposition. The Koln made for home, but the Lion’s guns set her on fire. The luckless Ariadne hove in sight, but the terrible 13.5-inch guns sufficed for her. The battle Cruisers circled around, and in ten minutes the Koln went to the bottom.

At twenty minutes to two, Admiral Beatty turned homeward. The German cruisers Mainz, Koln, and the Ariadne had been sunk; the Strasburg was seriously damaged. One destroyer was sunk, and at least seven seriously injured. About seven hundred of the German crew perished and there were three hundred prisoners. The British force returned without the loss of a single ship. The Arethusa had been badly damaged, but was easily repaired. The casualty list was thirty-two killed and fifty-two wounded. The battle was fought on both sides with great gallantry, the chief glory [36] belonging to the Arethusa and the Fearless who bore the brunt of the battle. The strategy and tactical skill employed were admirable, and the German admiral, Von Ingenohl, from that time on, with one exception, kept his battleships in harbor, and confined his activities to mine laying and the use of submarines.

In the first days of the war the German mine layers had been busy. By means of trawlers disguised as neutrals, mines were dropped off the north coast of Ireland, and a large mine field was laid off the eastern coast of England. One of the most important duties of the Royal Naval Reserve was the task of mine sweeping. Over seven hundred mine-sweeping vessels were constantly employed in keeping an area of 7,200 square miles clear for shipping. These ships swept 15,000 square miles monthly, and steamed over 1,100,000 miles in carrying out their duties. In spite of all these precautions many English ships were destroyed by the mines.

It would be hard to overestimate the effect of the British blockade of the German ports [37] upon the fortunes of the war. The Germans for a long time attempted, by the use of neutral ships, to obtain the necessary supplies through Holland, Sweden, Norway and Switzerland. Millions of dollars’ worth of food and munitions ultimately reached German hands. The imports of all these nations were multiplied many times, but as the time went on the blockade grew stricter and stricter until the Germans felt the pinch. To conduct efficiently this blockade meant the use of over 3,600 vessels which were added to the auxiliary patrol service. Over 13,000 vessels were intercepted and examined by units of the British navy employed on blockade channels.

The Germans protested with great vigor against this blockade, and ultimately endeavored to counteract it by declaring unrestricted submarine warfare. In fact, Great Britain had gone too far, and vigorous protests from America followed her attempt to seize contraband goods in American vessels.

The code of maritime law, adopted in the Declaration at Paris of 1856, as well as the [38] Declaration in London of 1909, had been framed in the interests of unmaritime nations. The British plenipotentiaries had agreed to these laws on the theory that in any war of the future Britain would be neutral. The rights of neutrals had been greatly increased. A blockade was difficult to enforce, for the right of a blockading power to capture a blockade runner did not cover the whole period of her voyage, and was confined to ships of the blockading force. A ship carrying contraband could only be condemned if the contraband formed more than half its cargo. A belligerent warship could destroy a neutral vessel without taking it into a port for a judgment. The transfer of an enemy vessel to a neutral flag was presumed to be valid, if effected more than thirty days before the outbreak of war. Belligerents in neutral vessels on the high seas were exempt from capture. The Emden could justify its sinking of British ships, but the English were handicapped in their endeavor to prevent neutral ships from carrying supplies to Germany.

[39] But Germany had become a law unto itself. And England found it necessary in retaliation to issue orders in council which made nugatory many of the provisions of the maritime code. The protests of the American Government and those of other neutrals were treated with the greatest consideration, and every endeavor was made that no real injustice should be done. When America itself later entered the war these differences of opinion disappeared from public view.

AS soon as the diplomatic relations between Austria and Serbia had been broken, the Turkish Grand Vizier informed the diplomatic corps in Constantinople that Turkey would remain neutral in the conflict. The declaration was not formal, for war had not yet been declared. The policy of Turkey, as represented in the ministerial paper, Tasfiri-Efkiar , was as follows:

“Turkey has never asked for war, as she always has worked toward avoiding it, but neutrality does not mean indifference. The present Austro-Serbian conflict is to a supreme degree interesting to us. In the first place, one of our erstwhile opponents is fighting against a much stronger enemy. In the natural course of things Serbia, which till lately was expressing, [41] in a rather open way, her solidarity as a nation, still provoking us, and Greece, will be materially weakened. In the second place, the results of this war may surpass the limits of the conflict between two countries, and in that case our interests will be just as materially affected. We must, therefore, keep our eyes open, as the circumstances are momentarily changing, and do not permit us to let escape certain advantages which we can secure by active, and rightly acting, diplomacy. The policy of neutrality will impose on us the obligation of avoiding to side with either of the belligerents. But the same policy will force us to take all the necessary measures for safeguarding our interests and our frontiers.”

Whereupon a Turkish mobilization was at once ordered. The war had hardly begun when Turkey received the news that her two battleships, building in British yards, had been taken over by England. A bitter feeling against England was at once aroused, Turkish mobs proceeded to attack the British stores and British subjects, and attempts were even [42] made against the British embassy in Constantinople, and the British consulate at Smyrna.

At this time Turkey was in a peculiar position. For a century she had been on the best of terms with France and Great Britain. On the other hand Russia had been her hereditary enemy. She was still suffering from her defeat by the Balkan powers, and her statesmen saw in this war great possibilities. She desired to recover her lost provinces in Europe, and saw at once that she could hope for little from the Allies in this direction.

[43] For some years, too, German intrigues, and, according to report, German money had enabled the German Government to control the leading Turkish statesmen. German generals, under General Liman von Sanders, were practically in control of the Turkish army. The commander-in-chief was Enver Bey, who had been educated in Germany and was more German than the Germans. A new system of organization for the Turkish army had been established by the Germans, which had substituted the mechanical German system for the rough and inefficient Turkish methods. Universal conscription provided men, and the Turkish soldier has always been known as a good soldier. Yet as it turned out the German training did little for him. Under his own officers he could fight well, but under German officers, fighting for a cause which he neither liked nor understood, he was bound to fail.

At first the Turkish mobilization was conducted in such a way as to be ready to act in common with Bulgaria in an attack against [44] Greek and Serbian Macedonia, as soon as the Austrians had obtained a decisive victory over the Serbians. The entry of Great Britain into the war interfered with this scheme. Meantime, though not at war, the Turks were suffering almost as much as if war had been declared. Greedy speculators took advantage of the situation, and the government itself requisitioned everything it could lay its hands on.

A Constantinople correspondent, writing on the 6th of August, says as follows:

“Policemen and sheriffs followed by military officers are taking by force everything in the way of foodstuffs, entering the bakeries and other shops selling victuals, boarding ships with cargoes of flour, potatoes, wheat and rice, and taking over virtually everything, giving in lieu of payment a receipt which is not worth even the paper on which it is written. In this way many shops are forced to close, bread has entirely disappeared from the bakeries, and Constantinople, the capital of a neutral country, is already feeling all the troubles and privations [45] of a besieged city. Prices for foodstuffs have soared to inaccessible heights, as provisions are becoming scarce. Actual hand-to-hand combats are taking place in the streets outside the bakeries for the possession of a loaf of bread, and hungry women with children in their arms are seen crying and weeping with despair. Many merchants, afraid lest the government requisition their goods, hasten to have their orders canceled, the result being that no merchandise of any kind is coming to Constantinople either from Europe or from Anatolia. Both on account of the recruiting of their employees, and of shortage of coal, the companies operating electric tramways of the city have reduced their service to the minimum, as no power is available for the running of the cars. Heartrending scenes are witnessed in front of the closed doors of the various banking establishments, where large posters are to be seen bearing the inscription ‘Closed temporarily by order of the government.’”

Immediately after war was declared between [46] Germany and Russia the Porte ordered the Bosporus and Dardanelles closed to every kind of shipping, at the same time barring the entrances of these channels with rows of mines. The first boat to suffer from this measure was a British merchantman which was sunk outside the Bosporus, while another had a narrow escape in the Dardanelles. A large number of steamers of every nationality waited outside the straits for the special pilot boats of the Turkish Government, in order to pass in safety through the dangerous mine field. This measure of closing the straits was suggested to Turkey by Austria and Germany, and was primarily intended against Russia, as it was feared that her Black Sea fleet might force its way into the sea of Marmora and the Ægean.

On August 2d the Turkish Parliament was prorogued, so that all political power might center around the Imperial throne. A vigorous endeavor was made to strengthen the Turkish navy. Djemal Pasha was placed at its head with Arif Bey as chief of the naval staff. Talaat Bey and Halil Bey were sent to Bucharest [47] to exchange views with Roumanian statesmen, and representatives of the Greek Government, in regard to the outstanding Greco-Turkish difficulties.

On September 10th an official announcement from the Sublime Porte was issued defining in the first place many constitutional reforms, and in particular abolishing the capitulation, that is, the concessions made by law to foreigners, allowing them participation in the administration of justice, exemption from taxation, and special protection in their business transactions. In abolishing these capitulations the Ottoman Government declared that it would treat foreign countries in accordance with the rules of international law, and that it was acting without any hostile feeling against any of the foreign states.

The Allied governments formally protested against this action of the Turkish Government. Meantime Constantinople was the center of most elaborate intrigues. The Turkish Government grew more and more warlike, and began to threaten, not only Greece, but Russia [48] and the Triple Entente as well. During this period the Turkish press maintained an active campaign against England and the Allies. Every endeavor was made by the Sublime Porte to secure Roumanian or Bulgarian co-operation in a militant policy. The Allies, seeing the situation, made many promises to Bulgaria, Greece and Roumania. Bulgaria was offered Adrianople and Thrace; Greece was to have Smyrna, and Roumania the Roumanian provinces in Austria. The jealousy of these powers of each other prevented an agreement. The influence of Germany became more and more preponderant with the Ottoman Empire; indeed, it is probable that an understanding had existed between the two powers from the beginning. The action of the Turkish Government in regard to the Goeben and Breslau could hardly have been possible unless with a previous understanding. At last the rupture came. The following was the official Turkish version of the events which led to the Turkish declaration of war:

“While on the 27th of October a small part [49] of the Turkish fleet was maneuvering on the Black Sea, the Russian fleet, which at first confined its activities to following and hindering every one of our movements, finally, on the 29th, unexpectedly began hostilities by attacking the Ottoman fleet. During the naval battle which ensued the Turkish fleet, with the help of the Almighty, sank the mine layer Pruth, inflicted severe damage on one of the Russian torpedo boats, and captured a collier. A torpedo from the Turkish torpedo boat Gairet-i-Millet sank the Russian destroyer Koubanietz, and another from the Turkish torpedo boat Mouavenet-i-Millet inflicted serious damage on a Russian coast guard ship. Three officers and seventy-two sailors rescued by our men and belonging to the crews of the damaged and sunken vessels of the Russian fleet have been made prisoners. The Ottoman Imperial Fleet, glory be given to the Almighty, escaped injury, and the battle is progressing favorably for us. Information received from our fleet, now in the Black Sea, is as follows:

“From accounts of Russian sailors taken [50] prisoners, and from the presence of a mine layer among the Russian fleet, evidence is gathered that the Russian fleet intended closing the entrance to the Bosporus with mines, and destroying entirely the Imperial Ottoman fleet, after having split it in two. Our fleet, believing that it had to face an unexpected attack, and supposing that the Russians had begun hostilities without a formal declaration of war, pursued the scattered Russian fleet, bombarded the port of Sebastopol, destroyed in the city of Novorossisk fifty petroleum depots, fourteen military transports, some granaries, and the wireless telegraph station. In addition to the above our fleet has sunk in Odessa a Russian cruiser, and damaged severely another. It is believed that this second boat was likewise sunk. Five other steamers full of cargoes lying in the same port were seriously damaged. A steamship belonging to the Russian volunteer fleet was also sunk, and five petroleum depots were destroyed. In Odessa and Sebastopol the Russians from the shore opened fire against our fleet.”

[51] The Sultan at once declared war against Russia, England and France, and issued a proclamation to his troops, declaring that he had called them to arms to resist aggression and that “the very existence of our Empire and of three hundred million Moslems whom I have summoned by sacred Fetwa to a supreme struggle, depend on your victory. Do not forget that you are brothers in arms of the strongest and bravest armies of the world, with whom we are now fighting shoulder to shoulder.”

The Fetwa, or proclamation announcing a holy war, called upon all Mussulmans capable of carrying arms, and even upon Mussulman women to fight against the powers with whom the Sultan was at war. In this manner the holy war became a duty, not only for all Ottoman subjects, but for the three hundred million Moslems of the earth. On November 5th Great Britain declared war against Turkey, ordered the seizure in British ports of Turkish vessels, and, by an order in Council, annexed the Island of Cyprus. On the 17th of December, the Khedive Abbas II, having thrown in [52] his lot with Turkey and fled to Constantinople, Egypt was formally proclaimed a British Protectorate. The title of Khedive was abolished, and the throne of Egypt, with the title of Sultan, was offered to Prince Hussein Kamel Pasha, the eldest living prince of the house of Mahomet Ali, an able and enlightened man. This meant that Britain was now wholly responsible for the defense of Egypt. The new Sultan of Egypt made his state entry on December 20th into the Abdin Palace in Cairo. The progress of the new ruler was received with great enthusiasm by thousands of spectators.

The King of England sent a telegram of congratulation with his promise of support:

This was Britain’s answer to the Turkish proclamation of war. The Turks had not taken this warlike course with entire unanimity. The Sultan, the Grand Vizier, and Djavid Bey were in favor of peace, but Enver Pasha and his colleagues overruled them. The Odessa incident was unjustified aggression, deliberately planned to provoke hostilities. The tricky and corrupt German diplomacy had won its point.

It is interesting to observe that the proclamation of the holy war, a favorite German scheme, fell flat. The Kaiser, and his advisers, had counted much upon this raising of the sacred flag. The Kaiser had visited Constantinople and permitted himself to be exploited as a sympathizer with Mohammedanism. Photographs of him had been taken representing him in Mohammedan garb, accompanied by Moslem priests, and a report had been deliberately circulated throughout Turkey that [54] he had become a Moslem. The object of this camouflage was to stir up the Mohammedans in the countries controlled by England, risings were hoped for in Egypt and India, and German spies had been distributed through those countries to encourage religious revolts. But there was almost no response. The Sultan, it is true, was the head of the Church, but who was the Sultan? The old Sultan, now dethroned, and imprisoned, or this new and insignificant creature placed on the throne by the young Turk party? The Mohammedan did not feel himself greatly moved.

At the beginning of the war Turkey found herself unable to make any move to recover her provinces in Thrace. Greece and Bulgaria were neutral, and could not be attacked. Placing herself, therefore, in the hands of her German advisers, she moved her new army to those frontiers where it could meet the powers with whom she was at war. In particular Germany and Austria desired her aid in Transcaucasia against the Russian armies. An attack upon Russia from that quarter would [55] mean that many troops which otherwise would have been used against the Central Powers must be sent to the Caucasus. The Suez Canal, too, must be attacked. An expedition there would compel Great Britain to send out troops, and perhaps would encourage the hoped-for rebellion in Egypt and give an opportunity for religious insurrection in India, where the Djehad was being preached among the Mohammedan tribes in the northwest. The Dardanelles, to be sure, might be threatened, but the Germans had sent there many heavy guns and fortifications had been built which, in expert opinion, made Constantinople safe.

The Turkish offensive along her eastern frontier in Transcaucasia and in Persia was first undertaken. The Persian Gulf had long been controlled by Great Britain; even in the days of Elizabeth the East India Company had fought with Dutch and Portuguese rivals for control of its commerce. The English had protected Persia, suppressed piracy and slavery, and introduced sanitary measures in the [56] marshes along the coast. They regarded a control of the Persian Gulf as necessary for the prosperity of India and the Empire. The Turkish Government had never had great power along the Persian Gulf. Bagdad, indeed, had been captured by Suleiman the Magnificent in the sixteenth century, but in eastern Arabia lived many independent Arabian chieftains who had no idea of subjecting themselves to Turkish rule.

For years Germany had been looking with jealous eyes in this direction. Her elaborate intrigues with Turkey were mainly designed to open up the way to the Persian Gulf. She had planned a great railway to open up trade, and her endeavor to build the Bagdad Railway is a story in itself. Her efforts had lasted for many years, but she found herself constantly blocked by the agents of Great Britain.

Before the Ottoman troops were ready, the British in the Gulf had made a start. On November 7th a British force under Brigadier-General Delamain bombarded the Turkish fort at Falon, landed troops and occupied [57] the village. Sailing north from this point they disembarked at Sanijah, where they entrenched themselves and waited for reinforcements. On November 13th reinforcements arrived, and on November 17th the British army advanced toward Sahain. From there they moved on Sahil, where they encountered a Turkish force. Some lively fighting ensued and the Turks broke and fled. Turkish casualties were about one thousand five hundred men, the English killed numbered thirty-eight.

The British then moved on Basra, moving by steamer along the Shat-el-Arab River. On November 22d Basra was reached and it was found that the Turks had evacuated the place. A base camp was then prepared, for it was certain that there would be further fighting. Bagdad was only about three hundred miles distant; and fifty miles above Basra, at the junction of the Tigris and the Euphrates, lies the town of Kurna where the Turks were gathering an army. On December 4th an attack was made on Kurna but without success. The British obtained reinforcements, but on December [58] 9th the Turkish garrison surrendered unconditionally. The British troops then entrenched themselves, having established a barricade against a hostile advance upon India.

Farther north the war was between Turkey and Russia. Since Persia had no military power, each combatant was able to occupy that country whenever they desired. The Turks advanced into Persia south of Lake Urmia, and, meeting with no resistance from Persia, moved northward toward the Russian frontier. On the 30th of January, 1915, Russian troops heavily defeated the invaders and followed them south as far as Tabriz, which they occupied and held. The Russian armies had also undertaken movements in this section. In the extreme northwest of Persia a Russian column had crossed the frontier, and occupied, on the 3d of November, the town of Bayazid close to Mt. Ararat. Other columns entered Kurdestan, and an expedition against Van was begun. Further north another Russian column crossed the frontier and captured the town [59] of Karakilissa, but was held there by the Turks.

These were minor expeditions. The real struggle was in Transcaucasia, where the main body of the Turkish army under Enver Pasha himself was in action. At this point the boundaries of Turkey touch upon the Russian Empire. To the north is the Great Russian fortress of Kars, to the south and west the Turkish stronghold of Erzerum. The whole district is a great mountain tangle, the towns standing at an altitude of 5,000 and 6,000 feet, surrounded by lofty hills. None of the roads are good, and in winter the passes are almost impassable. In all the wars between Russia and Turkey, these mountain regions have been the scenes of desperate battles.

The Turkish plan of battle was to entice the Russians from Sarakamish across the frontier, leading them on to some distance from their base, then, while holding their front, a second force was to swing around and attack them on the left flank. The plan was simple, [60] the difficulty was the swing of the left flank, which had to be made through mountain paths, deeply covered with snow. The Turkish army was composed of about 150,000 men under the command of Hassan Izzet Pasha, but Enver, with a large German staff, was the true commander. The Russian army, under General Woronzov was about 100,000 men.

Early in November the Russians crossed the frontier and reached Koprikeui, which they occupied on the 20th of November. The Turkish Eleventh corps was entrusted with the duty of holding the Russian forces; the remainder of the army was to advance over the passes and take their stations behind the Russian right. On December 25th the Turkish attack began. The Eleventh corps forced back the Russians from Koprikeui to Khorasan, while the extreme Turkish left was endeavoring to outflank them. But the weather was desperate. A blizzard was sweeping down the steeps. The Turkish forces were indeed able to carry out the plan, for they obtained the position desired. But by this time [61] they were worn out, and half starved, and their attack on New Year’s Day resulted in their defeat and retreat. The Ninth corps was utterly wiped out, and the remainder of the Turkish forces driven off in confusion. Only the strenuous efforts of the Turkish Eleventh corps prevented a debacle. After a three days’ battle it, too, was broken, and with heavy losses it retreated toward Erzerum. The snowdrifts and blizzards must have accounted for not less than 50,000 of the Turkish troops. The result of the battle made Russia safe in the Caucasus.

But the Germans had another use for the Turkish forces. England was in control of Egypt and the Suez Canal. The German view of England’s position has been well stated by Dr. Paul Rohrbach:

“As soon as England acquired Egypt it was incumbent upon her to guard against any menace from Asia. Such a danger apparently arose when Turkey, weakened by her last war with Russia and by difficult conditions at home, began to turn to Germany for support. And [62] now war has come, and England is reaping the crops which she has sown. England, not we, desired this war. She knows this, despite all her hypocritical talk, and she fears that, as soon as connection is established along the Berlin-Vienna-Budapest-Sofia-Constantinople Line, the fate of Egypt may be decided. Through the Suez Canal goes the route to all the lands surrounding the Indian Ocean, and by way of Singapore to the western shores of the Pacific. These two worlds together have about nine hundred million inhabitants, more than half the population of the universe, and India lies in a controlling position in their midst. Should England lose the Suez Canal she will be obliged, unlike the powers in control of that waterway, to use the long route around the Cape of Good Hope, and depend on the good will of the South African Boers. The majority among the latter have not the same views as Botha. However, it is too early to prophesy, and it is not according to German ideas to imitate our opponents by singing premature paeons of victory. But anyhow we are [63] well aware why anxious England already sees us on the road to India.”

Following out this view a Turkish force was directed toward the Suez Canal, while the German intriguers did their best to stir up revolt in Egypt itself. The story of Egypt is one of the most interesting parts of the world’s history. In the early days of the world it led mankind. Its peculiar geographical position at first gave it strength, and afterward made it the prize for which all nations were ready to contend. In 1517 the Sultan Selim conquered Egypt and made it part of the Turkish realm, and in spite of many changes the sovereignty of Constantinople had continued. In recent years the misgovernment of the Khedive Ismael had brought into its control France and Britain; then came the deposition of Ismael, the revolt under Arabi, the bombardment of Alexandria and the battle of Tel-el-Kebir. Since then Egypt has been occupied by Great Britain, who restored order, defeated the armies of the Mahdi, and turned Egyptian bankruptcy into prosperity. Lord [64] Kitchener was the English hero of the wars with the Mahdi, and the Lord Cromer the administrator who gave the Egyptian peasant a comfort unknown since the days of the Pharaohs. With prosperity came political agitation, and Germany, as has been seen, looked upon Egypt as fertile territory for German propaganda.

Intrigue having failed in Egypt, a Turkish force was directed against the Suez Canal. If that could be captured Great Britain could be cut off from India. An expeditionary army of about 65,000 men was gathered under the command of Djemal Pasha, the former Turkish Minister of Marine. He had been bitterly indignant at the seizure of the two Turkish dreadnoughts building in England, and was burning for revenge. But he found great difficulties before him. To reach the Canal it was necessary to cross a trackless desert, varying from 120 to 150 miles in width. Over this desert there were three routes. The first touched the Mediterranean coast at El-Arish and then went across the desert to El-Kantara [65] on the Canal, twenty-five miles south of Port Said. On this route there were only a few wells, quite insufficient for an army. A second route ran from Akaba, on the Red Sea, across the Peninsula of Sinai to a point a little north of Suez. This was also badly supplied with wells. Between the two was the central route. Leaving the Mediterranean at El-Arish it ran up the valley called the Wady El-Arish to where that valley touched the second road. There was no railway, nor were these roads suitable for motor transports; for an army to move it would be necessary either to build a railway or to improve the roads. The best route for railway was the Wady El-Arish. The Suez Canal, moreover, can be easily defended. It is over two hundred feet wide, with banks rising to a height of forty feet. A railway runs along the whole Canal, and most of the ground to the east is flat, offering a good field of fire either to troops on the banks or to ships on the Canal.

A considerable force of British troops, under the command of Major-General Sir John [66] Maxwell, were assigned for the protection of the Canal. About the end of October it was reported that 2,000 Bedouins were marching on the Canal, and on November 21st a skirmish took place between this force and some of the English troops in which the Bedouins were repelled. Nothing more was heard for more than two months, but on January 28, 1915, a small advance party from the Turkish army was beaten back east of El-Kantara. British airmen watched the desert well, and kept the British army well informed of the Turkish movements. The Turks had found it impossible to convey their full force across the desert, and the forces which finally arrived seemed to have numbered only about twelve thousand men. The main attack was not developed until February 2d.

According to an account in the London Times , on that date, the enemy began to move toward the Ismailia Ferry. They met a reconnoitering party of Indian troops of all arms, and a desultory engagement ensued to which a violent sandstorm put a sudden end about [67] three o’clock in the afternoon. The main attacking force pushed forward toward its destination after nightfall. From twenty-five to thirty galvanized iron pontoon boats, seven and a half meters in length, which had been dragged in carts across the desert, were hauled by hand toward the water. With one or two rafts made of kerosene tins in a wooden frame, all was ready for the attack. The first warning of the enemy’s approach was given by a sentry of a mountain battery who heard, to him, an unknown tongue across the water. The noise soon increased. It would seem that Mudjah Ideem—“Holy Warriors”—said to be mostly old Tripoli fighters, accompanied the pontoon section, and regulars of the Seventy-fifth regiment, for loud exultations, often in Arabic, of “Brothers, die for the faith; we can die but once,” betrayed the enthusiastic irregular.

The Egyptians waited until the Turks were pushing their boats into the water, then the Maxims attached to the battery suddenly spoke, and the guns opened at point-blank range at the men and boats crowded under the [68] steep bank opposite them. Immediately a violent fire broke out on both sides of the Canal.

A little torpedo boat with a crew of thirteen, patrolling the Canal, dashed up and landed a party of four officers and men to the south of Tussum, who climbed up the eastern bank and found themselves in a Turkish trench, and escaped by a miracle with the news. Promptly the midget dashed in between the fires and enfiladed the eastern bank amid a hail of bullets, and destroyed several pontoon boats lying unlaunched on the bank. It continued to harass the enemy, though two officers and two men were wounded.

As the dark, cloudy night lightened toward dawn fresh forces went into action. The Turks, who occupied the outer, or day, line of the Tussum post, advanced, covered by artillery, against the Indian troops, holding the inner or night position, while an Arab regiment advanced against the Indian troop at the Serapeum post. The warships on the Canal and lake joined in the fray. The enemy brought some six batteries of field guns into action from [69] the slopes west of Kataiba-el-kaeli. Shells admirably fused made fine practice at all the visible targets, but failed to find the battery above mentioned, which, with some help from a detachment of infantry, beat down the fire of the riflemen on the opposite bank and inflicted heavy losses on the hostile supports advancing toward the Canal.

Supported by land and naval artillery the Indian troops took the offensive, the Serapeum garrison, which had stopped the enemy three-quarters of a mile from the position, cleared its front, and the Tussum garrison, by a brilliant counter-attack, drove the enemy back. Two battalions of Anatolians of the Twenty-eighth regiment were thrown into the fight, but the artillery gave them no chance, and by 3.30 in the afternoon a third of the enemy, with the exception of a force that lay hid in bushy hollows on the east bank between the two posts, were in full retreat, leaving many dead, a large proportion of whom had been killed by shrapnel. Meanwhile the warships on the lake had been in action, a salvo from a battleship woke [70] up Ismailia early, and crowds of soldiers and some civilians climbed every available sand hill to see what was doing, till the Turkish guns sent shells sufficiently near to convince them that it was safer to watch from cover.

At about eleven in the morning two six-inch shells hit the Hardinge near the southern entrance of the lake. They first damaged the funnel, and the second burst inboard. Pilot Carew, a gallant old merchant seaman, refused to go below when the firing opened and lost a leg. Nine others were wounded, one or two merchantmen were hit but no lives were lost. A British gunboat was struck. Then came a dramatic duel between the Turkish big gun, or guns, and a warship. The Turks fired just over, and then just short, at 9,000 yards. The warship sent in a salvo of more six-inch shells than had been fired that day.

Late in the afternoon of the 3d there was sniping from the east bank between Tussum and Serapeum, and a man was killed on the tops of a British battleship. Next morning the sniping was renewed and the Indian troops, [71] moving out to search the ground, found several hundred of the enemy in the hollow previously mentioned. During the fight some of the enemy, either by accident or design, held up their hands, while others fired on the Punjabis, who were advancing to take the surrender, and killed a British officer. A sharp fight with the cold steel followed, and a British officer killed a Turkish officer with a sword thrust in single combat. A body of a German officer with a white flag was afterward found here, but there is no proof that the white flag was used. Finally all the enemy were killed, captured or put to flight. With this the fighting ended, and the subsequent operations were confined to the rounding up of prisoners, and the capture of a considerable amount of military material left behind. The Turks, who departed with their guns and baggage during the night of the 3d, still seemed to be moving eastward.

So ended the battle of the Suez Canal.

Two more incidents in the Turkish campaign remain to be noticed. Report having come that the town of Akaba on the Red Sea [72] was being used as a mine-laying station, H. M. S. Minerva visited the place, and found it occupied by soldiers under a German officer. The Minerva destroyed the fort and the barracks and the government buildings. Another British cruiser, with a detachment of Indian troops, captured the Turkish fort at Sheik Said, at the southern end of the Red Sea. And so for the time ended all Turkish movements against Great Britain. That such movements should have been possible seems hard to believe. For a century the British had been the friends and allies of the Turkish Government. In the Crimean War their armies had fought side by side with the Turkish troops against Russia. In the Russo-Turkish War Lord Beaconsfield, in the negotiations which preceded the treaty of Berlin, had saved for Turkey much of its territory. It was only the British influence and the fear of the British power which had prevented Russia from taking possession of Constantinople a half a century before. The English had always been popular in Turkey and there was every reason [73] at the beginning of the war to believe that their popularity had not waned. There is reason to believe that the average Turk had little sympathy with the course of his government, and if a free expression of the popular will had been possible the Turkish army would never have been sent against either the Englishmen or the Frenchmen. But long years of German propaganda had done their work. The power of Enver Pasha was greater than that of the weakling Sultan and the war was forced upon the Turkish people by German tools and German bribes.

THE sufferings of Belgium during the German occupation were terrible, and attracted the attention and the sympathy of the whole world. To understand conditions it is necessary to know something of the economic situation. Since it had come under the protection of the Great Powers, Belgium had developed into one of the greatest manufacturing countries in the world. Nearly two million of her citizens were employed in the great industries, and one million two hundred thousand on the farms. She was peaceful, industrious and happy. But on account of the fact that more than one-half of her citizenship earned their living by daily labor she found it impossible to produce foodstuff enough for her own needs. Seventy-eight per cent of her breadstuffs had to be imported. From her own fields she could [75] hardly supply her population for more than four months.

The war, and the German occupation, almost destroyed business. Mines, workshops, factories and mills were closed. Labor found itself without employment and consequently without wages. The banks would extend no credit. But even if there had been money enough it soon became apparent that the food supply was rapidly going. The German invasion had come when the crops were standing ripe upon the field. Those crops had not been reaped, but had been trampled under foot by the hated German.

One feature of Belgian industrial life should be understood. Hundreds of thousands of her workmen were employed each day in workshops at considerable distances from their own homes. In times of peace the morning and evening trains were always crowded with laborers going to and returning from their daily toil. One of the first things seized upon by the German officials was the railroads, and it was with great difficulty that anyone, not belonging [76] to the German army, could obtain an opportunity to travel at all, and it was with still greater difficulty that supplies of food of any kind could be transported from place to place. Every village was cut off from its neighbor, every town from the next town. People were unable even to obtain news of the great political events which were occurring from day to day, and the food supply was automatically cut off.

But this was not the worst. One of the first moves of the German occupation was to quarter hundreds of thousands of troops upon their Belgian victims, and these troops must be fed even though the Belgian and his family were near starvation. Then followed the German seizure of what they called materials for war. General von Beseler in a despatch to the Kaiser, after the fall of Antwerp, speaks very plainly:

The Germans proceeded to commandeer foodstuffs and raw materials of industry. Linseed oil, oil cakes, nitrates, animal and vegetable oils, petroleum and mineral oils, wool, copper, rubber, ivory, cocoa, rice, wine, beer, all were seized and sent home to the Fatherland. Moreover, cities and provinces were burdened with formidable war contributions. Brussels was obliged to pay ten million dollars, Antwerp ten million dollars, the province of Brabant, ninety millions of dollars, Namur and seventeen surrounding communes six million four hundred thousand dollars. Finally Governor von Bissing, on the 10th of December, 1914, issued the following decree:

At a meeting of the Provincial Councils the vice-president declared: “The Germans demand these $96,000,000 of the country without right and without reason. Are we to sanction this enormous war tax? If we listened only to our hearts, we should reply ‘No! ninety-six million times no!’ because our hearts would tell us we were a small, honest nation living happily by its free labor; we were a small, honest nation having faith in treaties and believing in honor; we were a nation unarmed, but full of confidence, when Germany suddenly hurled two million men upon our frontiers, the most brutal army that the world has ever seen, and said to us, ‘Betray the promise you have given. Let my armies go by, that I may crush France, and I will give you gold.’ Belgium replied, ‘Keep your gold. I prefer to die, rather than live without honor.’ The German army has, therefore, crushed our country in contempt of [79] solemn treaties. ‘It is an injustice,’ said the Chancellor of the German Empire. ‘The position of Germany has forced us to commit it, but we will repair the wrong we have done to Belgium by the passage of our armies.’ They want to repair the injustice as follows: Belgium will pay Germany $96,000,000! Give this proposal your vote. When Galileo had discovered the fact that the earth moved around the sun, he was forced at the foot of the stake to abjure his error, but he murmured, ‘Nevertheless it moves.’ Well, gentlemen, as I fear a still greater misfortune for my country I consent to the payment of the $96,000,000 and I cry ‘Nevertheless it moves.’ Long live our country in spite of all.”

At the end of a year von Bissing renewed this assessment, inserting in his decree the statement that the decree was based upon article forty-nine of The Hague Convention, relating to the laws and usages of war on land. This article reads as follows: “If in addition to the taxes mentioned in the above article the occupant levies other moneyed contributions in [80] the occupied territory, they shall only be applied to the needs of the army, or of the administration, of the territory in question.” In the preceding article it says: “If in the territory occupied the occupant collects the taxes, dues and tolls payable to the state, he shall do so as far as possible in accordance with the legal basis and assessment in force at the time, and shall in consequence be bound to defray the expenses of the administration of the occupied territories to the same extent as the National Government had been so bound.”

[81] The $96,000,000 per annum was more than six times the amount of the direct taxes formerly collected by the Belgian state, taxes which the German administration, moreover, collected in addition to the war assessment. It was five times as great as the ordinary expenditure of the Belgian War Department.

But this was not all. In addition to the more or less legitimate German methods of plunder the whole country had been pillaged. In many towns systematic pillage began as soon as the Germans took possession. At Louvain the pillage began on the 27th of August, 1914, and lasted a week. In small bands the soldiers went from house to house, ransacked drawers and cupboards, broke open safes, and stole money, pictures, curios, silver, linen, clothing, wines, and food. Great loads [82] of such plunder were packed on military baggage wagons and sent to Germany. The same conditions were reported from town after town. In many cases the houses were burnt to destroy the proof of extensive thefts.

Nor were these offenses committed only by the common soldiers. In many cases the officers themselves sent home great collections of plunder. Even the Royal Family were concerned in this disgraceful performance. After staying for a week in a château in the Liége District, His Imperial Highness, Prince Eitel Fritz, and the Duke of Brunswick, had all the dresses which were found in a wardrobe sent back to Germany. This is said to be susceptible of absolute proof.

In addition to this form of plunder special pretexts were made use of to obtain money. At Arlon a telephone wire was broken, whereupon the town was given four hours to pay a fine of $20,000 in gold, in default of which one hundred houses would be sacked. When the payment was made forty-seven houses had already [83] been plundered. Instance after instance could be given of similar unjustifiable and exorbitant fines.

Under treatment like this Belgium was brought in a short time into immediate sight of starvation. They made frantic appeals for help. First they appealed to the Germans, but the German authorities did nothing, though in individual cases German soldiers shared their army rations with the people. Then an appeal was made to Holland, but Holland was a nation much like Belgium. It did not raise food enough for itself, and was not sure that it could import enough for its own needs.

From all over Belgium appeals were sent from the various towns and villages to Brussels. But Brussels, too, was face to face with famine. To cope with famine there were many relief organizations in Belgium. Every little town had its relief committee, and in the larger cities strong branches of the Red Cross did what they could. Besides such secular organizations, [84] there were many religious organizations, generally under the direction of the Roman Catholic Church.

In Brussels a strong volunteer relief organization was formed on September 5th under the patronage of the American and Spanish Ministers, Mr. Brand Whitlock and the Marquis of Villalobar. This committee, known as the Central Relief Committee, or more exactly La Comité Central de Secours et d’Alimentation pour l’Agglomération bruxelloise, did wonderful work until the end of the war. But though there was plenty of organization there were great difficulties ahead.

In order to import food, credit had to be established abroad, permission had to be obtained to transport foodstuffs into Belgium through the British blockade. Permission to use the railroads and canals of Belgium had to be obtained from Germany, and, most important of all, it had to be made certain that no food thus imported should be seized by the German troops.

Through the American and Spanish ministers [85] permission was obtained from Governor-General Kolmar von der Goltz to import food, and the Governor-General also gave assurance that, “Foodstuffs of all sorts imported by the committee to assist the civil population shall be reserved exclusively for the nourishment of the civil population of Belgium, and that consequently these foodstuffs shall be exempt from requisition on the part of the military authorities, and shall rest exclusively at the disposition of the committee.”

With this assurance the Central Relief Committee sent Emil Francqui and Baron Lambert, members of their committee, together with Mr. Hugh Gibson, secretary of the American Legation, whose activities in behalf of Belgium attracted much favorable notice, to the city of London, to explain to the British Government the suffering that existed in Belgium, and to obtain permission to transport food through the British blockade. In the course of this work they appealed to the American Ambassador in England, Mr. Walter Hines Page, and were introduced by him to an American [86] mining engineer named Herbert Clark Hoover, who had just become prominent as the chairman of a committee to assist Americans who had found themselves in Europe when the war broke out, and had been unable to secure funds.

Mr. Hoover took up the matter with great vigor, and organized an American committee under the patronage of the ministers of the United States and of Spain in London, Berlin, The Hague and Brussels, which committee obtained permission from the British Government to purchase and transport through the British blockade, to Rotterdam, Holland, cargoes of foodstuffs, to be ultimately transferred into Belgium and distributed by the Belgian Central Relief Committee under the direction of American citizens headed by Mr. Brand Whitlock.

The following brief notices, in connection with this committee appeared in the London Times :

The personality of the various gentlemen who devoted themselves to Belgian relief is interesting, not only because of what they did, but because they are unusual men. The Spanish Minister, who bore the peculiar name of Marquis of Villalobar y O’Neill, had the appearance of an Irishman, as he was on the maternal side, and was a trained diplomat, with delightful manners and extraordinary strength of character. Another important aid in the Belgian relief work was the Mexican Chargé d’Affaires Señor don German Bullé. Hugh Gibson, secretary of the American Legation, wittily described this gentleman as the “representative of a country without a government to a government without a country.” The businessman in the American Legation was [88] this secretary. Mr. Gibson had the appearance of a typical Yankee, though he came from Indiana. He was about thirty years old, with dark eyes, crisp hair, and a keen face. He was noted for his wit as well as his courage. Many interesting stories are told of him. He had been often under fire, and he was full of stories of his exploits told in a witty and modest way.

The following incident shows something of his humor. Like most of the Americans in Belgium he was followed by spies. With one of these Gibson became on the most familiar terms, much to the spy’s disgust. One very rainy day, when Gibson was at the Legation, he discovered his pet spy standing under the dripping eaves of a neighboring house. Gibson picked up a raincoat and hurried over to the man.

“Look here, old fellow,” said he, “I’m going to be in the Legation for three hours. You put on this coat and go home. Come back in three hours and I’ll let you watch me for the rest of the day.”

Mr. Brand Whitlock, the American Minister, [89] was a remarkable man. Before coming to Belgium he had become a distinguished man of letters. Beginning as a newspaper reporter in Chicago, he had studied law and been admitted to the Illinois Bar in 1894, and to the Bar of the State of Ohio in 1897. He had entered into politics, and been elected mayor of Toledo, Ohio, in 1905, again in 1907, 1909 and 1911. Meanwhile he had been writing novels, “The Thirteenth District,” “The Turn of the Balance,” “The Fall Guy,” and “Forty Years of It.” He had accepted the appointment of American Minister to Belgium with the idea that he would find leisure for other literary work, but the outbreak of the war affected him deeply. A man of a sympathetic character who had lived all his life in an amiable atmosphere, had been a member of prison reform associations and charitable societies, he now found himself surrounded by a storm of horrors. Day by day he had to see the distress and suffering of thousands of people. He threw himself at once into the work of relief. His health was not strong and he always [90] looked tired and worn. He was the scholarly type of man, the kind who would be happy in a library, or in the atmosphere of a college, but he rose to the emergency.

The American Legation became the one staple point around which the starving and suffering population could rally. Belgians will never forget what he did in those days. On Washington’s Birthday they filed before the door of the American Legation at Number 74 Rue de Trèves, men, women and children of all classes; some in furs, some in the garments of the poor; noblemen, scholars, workmen, artists, shopkeepers and peasants to leave their visiting cards, some engraved, some printed and some written on pieces of paper, in tribute to Mr. Whitlock and the nation which he represented.

But the man whose name stands out above all others as one of the biggest figures in connection with the work of relief was Mr. Herbert C. Hoover. Mr. Hoover came of Quaker stock. He was born at West Branch, Iowa, in 1874, graduated from Leland Stanford University [91] in 1895, specialized in mining engineering, and spent several years in mining in the United States and in Australia. He married Miss Lou Henry, of Monterey, California, in 1899, and with his bride went to China as chief engineer of the Chinese Imperial Bureau of Mines. He aided in the defense of Tientsin during the Boxer Rebellion. After that he continued engineering work in China until 1902, when he became a partner of the firm of Bewick, Moreing & Co., mine operators, of London, and was consulting engineer for more than fifty mining companies. He looked extremely youthful; smooth shaven, with a straight nose, and a strong mouth and chin. To him, more than anyone else, was due the creation and the success of the Commission for Relief in Belgium. The splendid organization which saved from so much suffering more than seven million non-combatants in Belgium and two million in Northern France, was his achievement.

A good story is told in the Outlook of September 8, 1915, which illustrates his methods. [92] It seems that before the commission was fairly on its feet, there came a day when it was a case of snarling things in red tape and letting Belgium starve, or getting food shipped and letting governments howl. Hoover naturally chose the latter.

When the last bag had been stowed and the hatches were battened down (writes Mr. Lewis R. Freeman, who tells the story), Hoover went in person to the one Cabinet Minister able to arrange for the only things he could not provide for himself—clearance papers.

“If I do not get four cargoes of food to Belgium by the end of the week,” he said bluntly, “thousands are going to die from starvation, and many more may be shot in food riots.”

“Out of the question,” said the distinguished Minister; “there is no time, in the first place, and if there was, there are no good wagons to be spared by the railways, no dock hands, and no steamers. Moreover, the Channel is closed for a week to merchant vessels, while troops are being transferred to the Continent.”

“I have managed to get all these things,” [93] Hoover replied quietly, “and am now through with them all, except the steamers. This wire tells me that these are now loaded and ready to sail, and I have come to have you arrange for their clearance.”

The great man gasped. “There have been—there are even now—men in the Tower for less than you have done!” he ejaculated. “If it was for anything but Belgian Relief—if it was anybody but you, young man—I should hate to think of what might happen. As it is—er—I suppose there is nothing to do but congratulate you on a jolly clever coup. I’ll see about the clearance at once.”

Mr. Lloyd George tells the following story: It seems that the Commission on Belgian Relief was attempting to simplify its work by arranging for an extension of exchange facilities on Brussels. Mr. Lloyd George, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, sent for Hoover. What happened is told in Mr. George’s words.

“‘Mr. Hoover,’ I said, ‘I find I am quite unable to grant your request in the matter of [94] Belgian exchange, and I have asked you to come here that I might explain why.’

“Without waiting for me to go on, my boyish-looking caller began speaking. For fifteen minutes he spoke without a break—just about the clearest expository utterance I have ever heard on any subject. He used not a word too much, nor yet a word too few. By the time he had finished I had come to realize, not only the importance of his contentions, but, what was more to the point, the practicability of granting his request. So I did the only thing possible under the circumstance, told him I had never understood the question before, thanked him for helping me to understand, and saw to it that things were arranged as he wanted them.”

On April 10, 1915, a submarine torpedoed one of the food ships chartered by the commission. A week later a German hydro-airplane tried to drop bombs on the deck of another commission ship. So Hoover paid a flying visit to Berlin. He was at once assured that no more incidents of the sort would occur.

[95] “Thanks,” said Hoover. “Your Excellency, have you heard the story of the man who was nipped by a bad-tempered dog? He went to the owner to have the dog muzzled. ‘But the dog won’t bite you,’ insisted the owner. ‘You know he won’t bite me, and I know he won’t bite me,’ said the injured party doubtfully, ‘but the question is, does the dog know?’”

“Herr Hoover,” said the high official, “pardon me if I leave you for a moment. I am going at once to ‘let the dog know.’”

This story, which is told by Mr. Edward Eyre Hunt in his delightful book about Belgium, “War Bread,” may be apocryphal, but it illustrates well Hoover’s habit of getting exactly what he wants.

When Mr. Hoover accepted the chairmanship of the Commission for Relief in Belgium he established his headquarters at 3 London Wall Buildings, London, England, and marshaled a small legion of fellow Americans, business men, sanitary experts, doctors and social workers, who, as unpaid volunteers, set [96] about the great task of feeding the people of Belgium and Northern France. The commission soon became a great institution, recognized by all governments, receiving contributions from all parts of the earth, with its own ships in every big port, and in the eyes of the Belgians and French, who received their daily bread through its agency, a monument of what Americans could do in social organization and business efficiency, for Americans furnished the entire personnel of the commission from the beginning.

The commission was a distinct organization from the Belgian National Committee, through and with which it worked in Belgium itself. Its functions were those of direction, and supervision of all matters that had to be dealt with outside Belgium. In the occupied territories it had the help of thousands of Belgian and French workers, many of them women.

The commission did not depend, according to Mr. Hoover, on any one of its American members for leadership. Any one of them [97] could at any time take charge and carry on the work. “Honold, Poland, Gregory, Brown, Kellogg, Lucey, White, Hunsiker, Connet, and many others who, at various periods, have given of their great ability and experience in administration could do it.” At the same time it was admitted that the commission would never have been so successful if Belgium had not already had in existence a well-developed communal system. The base of the commission’s organization was a committee in every commune or municipality.

“You can have no idea what a great blessing it was in Belgium and Northern France to have the small and intimate divisions which exist under the communal system,” said Mr. Hoover. “It is the whole unit of life, and a political entity much more developed than in America. It has been not only the basis of our relief organization, but the salvation of the people.”

Altogether there were four thousand communal committees, linked up in larger groups under district and provincial committees, which [98] in turn came under the Belgian National Committee. Contributions were received from all over the world, but the greater part from the British and French governments.

When Mr. Hoover began his work he appealed to the people of the United States, but the American response to the appeal was sadly disappointing. During his stay in America, in the early part of 1917, Mr. Hoover expressed himself on the subject of his own country’s niggardliness, pointing out at the same time that the chief profits made out of providing food for Belgium had gone into American pockets. Out of the two hundred and fifty millions of dollars spent by the commission at that time, one hundred and fifty millions had been used in the United States to purchase supplies and on these orders America had made a war profit of at least thirty million dollars. Yet in those two years the American people had contributed only nine million dollars!

Mr. Hoover declared: “Thousands of contributions have come to us from devoted people [99] all over the United States, but the truth is that, with the exception of a few large gifts, American contributions have been little rills of charity of the poor toward the poor. Everywhere abroad America has been getting the credit for keeping alight the lamp of humanity, but what are the facts? America’s contributions have been pitifully inadequate and, do not forget it, other peoples have begun to take stock of us. We have been getting all the credit. Have we deserved it? We lay claim to idealism, to devotion to duty and to great benevolence, but now the acid test is being applied to us. This has a wider import than mere figures. Time and time again, when the door to Belgium threatened to close, we have defended its portals by the assertion that this was an American enterprise; that the sensibilities of the American people would be wounded beyond measure, would be outraged, if this work were interfered with. Our moral strength has been based upon this assertion. I believe it is true, but it is difficult in the face of the figures to [100] carry conviction. And in the last six or eight months time and again we have felt our influence slip from under us.”

The statement that Germans had taken food intended for the Belgians was disposed of by Mr. Hoover in a speech in New York City. “We are satisfied,” he said, “that the German army has never eaten one-tenth of one per cent of the food provided. The Allied governments never would have supplied us with two hundred million dollars if we were supplying the German army. If the Germans had absorbed any considerable quantity of this food the population of Belgium would not be alive today.”

The plan of operation of the Belgian Commission needs some description. Besides the headquarters in London there was an office in Brussels, and, as Rotterdam was the port of entry for all Belgian supplies, a transshipping office for commission goods was opened in that city. The office building was at 98 Haringvliet, formerly the residence of a Dutch merchant prince.

[101] Captain J. F. Lucey, the first Rotterdam director, sat in a roomy office on the second floor overlooking the Meuse. From his windows he could see the commission barges as they left for Belgium, their huge canvas flags bearing the inscription “Belgian Relief Committee.” He was a nervous, big, beardless American, a volunteer who had left his business to organize and direct a great transshipping office in an alien land for an alien people.

Out of nothing he created a large staff of clerks, wrung from the Dutch Government special permits, loaded the immense cargoes received from England into canal boats, obtained passports for cargoes and crews, and shipped the foodstuffs consigned personally to Mr. Brand Whitlock.

Something of what was done at this point may be understood from a reference in the first annual report of the commission published October 31, 1915:

By mid-November gift ships from the United States were on their way to Rotterdam, but the Canadian province of Nova Scotia was first in the transatlantic race.

One of the most thrilling experiences of the first year’s work was the coming of the Christmas ship, a steamer full of Christmas gifts presented by the children of America to the children of war-ridden Belgium. The children [103] knew all about it long before the ship arrived in Rotterdam. St. Nicholas’ day had brought them few presents. They were hungry for friendliness, and the thought of getting gifts from children across the sea filled them with joy.

Many difficulties arose, which delayed the distribution of these gifts. The Germans insisted that every package should be opened and every scrap of writing taken out before the gifts were sent into Belgium. This was a tremendous task, for notes written by American children were tucked away into all sorts of places.

Three motor boats made an attempt to carry these gifts into Belgium by Christmas day. They carried boxes of clothing, outfits for babies, blankets, caps, bonnets, cloaks, shoes of every description, babies’ boots, candy, fish, striped candy canes, chocolates and mountains of nuts, nuts such as the Belgians had never seen in their lives before: pecans, hickory nuts, American walnuts, and peanuts galore. There were scores of dolls, French bisques, [104] smiling pleasantly, pop-eyed rag dolls, old darky mammy dolls, and Santa Clauses, picture books, fairy books and story books.

One child had written on the cover of her book: “Father says I ought to send you my best picture book, but I think that this one will do.”

These gifts made the American aid to Belgium a thousand times more intimate and real, and never after that was American help thought of in other terms than those of burning gratitude. Among these gifts were hundreds of American flags, which soon became familiar to all Belgium.

The commission automobiles bore the flag, and the children would recognize the Stars and Stripes and wave and cheer as it went by. Thousands upon thousands of gifts to the Belgian people followed the Christmas ship. All, or a great part, of the cargoes of one hundred and two ships consisted of gift goods from America and indeed from all parts of the world, and the Belgians sent back a flood of acknowledgments and thousands of beautiful [105] souvenirs. Some of the most touching remembrances came from the children. Every child in the town of Tamise, for example, wrote a letter to America.

One addressed to the President of the United States reads as follows:

On New Year’s day Cardinal Mercier, Archbishop of Malines, issued his famous pastoral:

Cardinal Mercier was called the bravest man in Belgium. Six feet five in height, a thin, scholarly face, with grayish white hair, and a forehead so white that one feels one looks on the naked bone, he presented the appearance of some medieval ascetic. But there was a humorous look about his mouth, and an expression of sympathy and comprehension which gave the effect of a keenly intelligent, as well as gentle, leader of the nation.

At the beginning of the war the Roman Catholic party was divided. Some of its leaders were opposed to resistance to the invaders. Many priests fled before the German armies. But the pastoral letter of Cardinal Mercier restored to the Church its old leadership. In him conquered Belgium had found a voice.

On New Year’s Sunday, 1915, every priest [107] at the Mass read out the Cardinal’s ringing challenge. There were German soldiers in the churches, but no word of the letter had been allowed to reach the ears of the authorities, and the Germans were taken completely by surprise. Immediately orders came from headquarters prohibiting further circulation of the letter, and ordering that every copy should be surrendered to the authorities. Soldiers at the bayonet’s point extorted the letter from the priests, and those who had read it were put under arrest. Yet, somehow, copies of the letter were circulated throughout Belgium, and every Belgian took new heart.

As far as the Cardinal was concerned German action was a very delicate matter. They could not arrest and imprison so great a dignitary of the Church for fear of the effect, not only upon the Catholics of the outer world, but on the Catholics in their own Empire. An officer was sent to the Cardinal to demand that the letter be recalled. The Cardinal refused. He was then notified that it was desired [108] that he remain in his palace for the present. His confinement lasted only for a day.

The Americans who were in Belgium as representatives of the Relief Commission had two duties. First, to see that the Germans did not seize any of the food supplies, and second, to see that every Belgian who was in need should receive his daily bread. The ration assigned to each Belgian was 250 grams of bread per day. This seems rather small, but the figure was established by Horace Fletcher, the American food expert, who was one of the members of the commission.

Mr. Fletcher also prepared a pamphlet on food values, which gave recipes for American dishes which were up to that time unknown to the Belgians. He soon got not only the American but the Belgian committeemen talking of calories with great familiarity.

Some of the foods sent from America were at first almost useless to the Belgians. They did not know how to cook cornmeal and oatmeal, and some of the famished peasants used [109] them as feed for chickens. Teachers had to be sent out through the villages to give instructions.

A great deal of difficulty developed in connection with the bread. The supply of white flour was limited; wheat had to be imported, and milled in Belgium. It was milled so as to contain all the bran except ten per cent, but in some places ten or fifteen per cent of cornmeal was added to the flour, not only to enable the commission to provide the necessary ration, but also to keep down the price. As a result the price of bread was always lower in Belgium than in London, Paris or New York.

Much less trouble occurred in connection with the distribution of bread and soup from the soup kitchens. In Antwerp thirty-five thousand men were fed daily at these places. At first it often occurred that soup could be had, but no bread. The ration of soup and bread given in the kitchens cost about ten cents a day. There were four varieties of soup, pea, bean, vegetable and bouillon, and it was of [110] excellent quality. Every person carried a card with blank spaces for the date of the deliveries of soup. There were several milk kitchens maintained for the children, and several restaurants where persons with money might obtain their food.

It was necessary not only to fight starvation in Belgium but also disease. There were epidemics of typhoid and black measles. The Rockefeller Foundation established a station in Rotterdam called the Rockefeller Foundation War Relief Commission, and some of the women among its workers acted as volunteer health officers. People were inoculated against typhoid, and the sources of infection traced and destroyed. Another form of relief work was providing labor for the unemployed. A plan of relief was drawn up and it was arranged that a large portion of them should be employed by the communal organizations, in public works, such as draining, ditching, constructing bridges and embankments and building sewers.

The National Committee paid nine-tenths of [111] the wages, the commune paying the other tenth. The first enrolment of unemployed amounted to more than 760,000 names, and nearly as many persons were dependent upon these workers.

Providing employment for these led to certain complications. The Germans had been able up to this time to secure a certain amount of labor from the Belgians. Now the Belgian could refuse to work for the German, and a great deal of tact was necessary to prevent trouble. As time went on the relief work of the commission was extended into the north of France, where a population of more than 2,000,000 was within the German zone. The work was handled in the same way, with the same guarantees from Germany.

In conclusion a word may be said of the effect of all this suffering upon the Belgian people, and let a Belgian speak, who knew his country well and had traveled it over, going on foot, as he says, or by tram, from town to town, from village to village:

“I have seen and spoken with hundreds of [112] men of all classes and all parts of the country, and all these people, taken singly or united in groups, display a very definite frame of mind. To describe this new psychology we must record the incontestably closer union which has been formed between the political sections of the country. There are no longer any political parties, there are Belgians in Belgium, and that is all; Belgians better acquainted with their country, feeling for it an impulse of passionate tenderness such as a child might feel who saw his mother suffering for the first time, and on his account. Walloons and Flemings, Catholics and Liberals or Socialists, all are more and more frankly united in all that concerns the national life and decisions for the future.

“By uniting the whole nation and its army, by shedding the blood of all our Belgians in every corner of the country, by forcing all hearts, all families, to follow with anguish the movement of those soldiers who fought from Liége to Namur, from Wavre to Antwerp or the Oise, the war has suddenly imposed wider [113] horizons upon all, has inspired all minds with noble and ardent passions, has compelled the good will of all to combine and act in concert in order to defend the common interests.

“Of these profoundly tried minds, of these wonderful energies now employed for the first time, of these atrocious sufferings which have brought all hearts into closer contact, a new Belgium is born, a greater, more generous, more ideal Belgium.”

THE month of October, 1914, contained no important naval contests. On the 15th, the old British cruiser Hawke was torpedoed in the North Sea and nearly five hundred men were lost. On the other hand, on the 17th of October, the light cruiser Undaunted, accompanied by the destroyers, Lance, Legion and Loyal, sank four German destroyers off the Dutch coast. But the opening of November turned the interest of the navy to the Southern Pacific. When the war began Admiral von Spee, with the German Pacific squadron, was at Kiaochau in command of seven vessels. Among these was the Emden, whose adventurous career has been already described. Another, the Karlsruhe, became a privateer in the South Atlantic.

Early in August Von Spee set sail from [115] Kiaochau with two armored cruisers, the Gneisenau and the Scharnhorst and three light cruisers, the Dresden, Leipzig and Nurmberg. These ships were comparatively new, well armed, and of considerable speed. They set off for the great trade highways to destroy, as far as possible, British commerce. Their route led them to the western coast of South America, and arrangements were made so that they were coaled and provisioned from bases in some of the South American states which permitted a slack observance of the laws respecting the duties of neutrals.

A small British squadron had been detailed to protect British commerce in this part of the world. It was commanded by Rear-Admiral Sir Christopher Cradock, a distinguished and popular sailor, who had under his command one twelve-year-old battleship, the Canopus, two armored cruisers, the Good Hope and the Monmouth, the light cruiser Glasgow, and an armed liner, the Otranto. None of these vessels had either great speed or heavy armament. The equipment of the Canopus, [116] indeed, was obsolete. Admiral Cradock’s squadron arrived at Halifax on August 14th, thence sailed to Bermuda, then on past Venezuela and Brazil around the Horn. It visited the Falkland Islands, and by the third week of October was on the coast of Chile. The Canopus had dropped behind for repairs, and though reinforcements were expected, they had not yet arrived. They knew that their force was inferior to that of Admiral von Spee.

One officer wrote, on the 12th of October, “From now till the end of the month is the critical time, as it will decide whether we shall have to fight a superior German force from the Pacific before we can get reinforcements from home or the Mediterranean. We feel that the admiralty ought to have a better force here, but we shall fight cheerfully whatever odds we have to face.”

Admiral Cradock knew well that his enemy was superior in force. From Coronel, where he sent off some cables, he went north on the first of November, and about four o’clock in the afternoon the Glasgow sighted the enemy. [117] The two big German armored cruisers were leading the way, and two light cruisers were following close. The German cruiser Leipzig does not seem to have been in company. The British squadron was led by the Good Hope, with the Monmouth, Glasgow and Otranto following in order. It was a beautiful spectacle. The sun was setting in the wonderful glory which one sees in the Pacific, and the British ships, west of the German, must have appeared to them in brilliant colors. On the east were the snowy peaks of the Andes. Half a gale was blowing and the two squadrons moved south at great speed. About seven o’clock they were about seven miles apart and the Scharnhorst, which was leading the German fleet, opened fire. At this time the Germans were shaded by the inshore twilight, but the British ships must have showed up plainly in the afterglow. The enemy fired with great accuracy. Shell after shell hit the Good Hope and the Monmouth, but the bad light and inferior guns saved the German ships from much damage. The Good Hope was set on fire and [118] at seven-fifty exploded and sank. The Monmouth was also on fire, and turned away to the western sea. The Glasgow had escaped so far, but the whole German squadron bore down upon her. She turned and fled and by nine o’clock was out of sight of the enemy. The Otranto, only an armed liner, had disappeared early in the fight. On the following day the Glasgow worked around to the south, and joined the Canopus, and the two proceeded to the Straits of the Magellan. The account of this battle by the German Admiral von Spee is of especial interest:

“Wind and swell were head on, and the vessels had heavy going, especially the small cruisers on both sides. Observation and distance estimation were under a severe handicap because of the seas which washed over the bridges. The swell was so great that it obscured the aim of the gunners at the six-inch guns on the middle deck, who could not see the sterns of the enemy ships at all, and the bow but seldom. At 6.20 P. M. , at a distance of 13,400 yards, I turned one point toward [119] the enemy, and at 6.34 opened fire at a distance of 11,260 yards. The guns of both our armored cruisers were effective, and at 6.39 already we could note the first hit on the Good Hope. I at once resumed a parallel course, instead of bearing slightly toward the enemy. The English opened their fire at this time. I assume that the heavy sea made more trouble for them than it did for us. Their two armored cruisers remained covered by our fire, while they, so far as could be determined, hit the Scharnhorst but twice, and the Gneisenau only four times. At 6.53, when 6,500 yards apart, I ordered a course one point away from the enemy. They were firing more slowly at this time, while we were able to count numerous hits. We could see, among other things, that the top of the Monmouth’s forward turret had been shot away, and that a violent fire was burning in the turret. The Scharnhorst, it is thought, hit the Good Hope about thirty-five times. In spite of our altered course the English changed theirs sufficiently so that the distance between us shrunk to 5,300 yards. [120] There was reason to suspect that the enemy despaired of using his artillery effectively, and was maneuvering for a torpedo attack.

“The position of the moon which had risen at six o’clock, was favorable to this move. Accordingly I gradually opened up further distances between the squadrons by another deflection of the leading ship, at 7.45. In the meantime it had grown dark. The range finders on the Scharnhorst used the fire on the Monmouth as a guide for a time, though eventually all range finding, aiming and observations became so inexact that fire was stopped at 7.26. At 7.23 a column of fire from an explosion was noticed between the stacks of the Good Hope. The Monmouth apparently stopped firing at 7.20. The small cruisers, including the Nuremburg, received by wireless at 7.30 the order to follow the enemy and to attack his ships with torpedoes. Vision was somewhat obscured at this time by a rain squall. The light cruisers were not able to find the Good Hope, but the Nuremburg encountered the Monmouth and at 8.58 was able, by shots at [121] closest range, to capsize her, without a single shot being fired in return. Rescue work in the heavy sea was not to be thought of, especially as the Nuremburg immediately afterwards believed she had sighted the smoke of another ship and had to prepare for another attack. The small cruisers had neither losses nor damage in the battle. On the Gneisenau there were two men slightly wounded. The crews of the ships went into the fight with enthusiasm, everyone did his duty, and played his part in the victory.”

Little criticism can be made of the tactics used by Vice-Admiral Spee. He appears to have maneuvered so as to secure the advantage of light, wind and sea. He also seems to have suited himself as regards the range.

Admiral Cradock was much criticised for joining battle with his little fleet against such odds, but he followed the glorious traditions of the English navy. He, and 1,650 officers and men, were lost, and the news was hailed as a great German victory. But the British admiralty were thoroughly roused. Rear-Admiral [122] Sir Frederick Doveton Sturdee, chief of the war staff, proceeded at once with a squadron to the South Atlantic. With him were two battle cruisers, the Invincible and the Inflexible, three armored cruisers, the Carnovan, the Kent and the Cornwall. His fleet was joined by the light cruiser Bristol and the armed liner Macedonia. The Glasgow, fresh from her rough experience, was found in the South Atlantic. Admiral Sturdee then laid his plans to come in touch with the victorious German squadron. A wireless message was sent to the Canopus, bidding her proceed to Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands. This message was intercepted by the Germans, as was intended.

Admiral von Spee, fearing the Japanese fleet, was already headed for Cape Horn. He thought that the Canopus could be easily captured at Port Stanley, and he started at once to that port. Admiral Sturdee’s expedition had been kept profoundly secret. On December 7th the British squadron arrived at Port Stanley, and spent the day coaling. The Canopus, [123] the Glasgow and the Bristol were in the inner harbor, while the remaining vessels lay outside. On December 8th, Admiral von Spee arrived from the direction of Cape Horn. The battle that followed is thoroughly described in the report of Vice-Admiral Sturdee from which the following extracts have been made:

“At 8 A. M. , Tuesday, December 8th, a signal was received from the signal station on shore. ‘A four-funnel and two-funnel man-of-war in sight from Sapper Hill steering north.’ The Kent was at once ordered to weigh anchor, and a general signal was made to raise steam for full speed. At 8.20 the signal service station reported another column of smoke in sight, and at 8.47 the Canopus reported that the first two ships were eight miles off, and that the smoke reported at 8.20 appeared to be the smoke of two ships about twenty miles off. At 9.20 A. M. the two leading ships of the enemy, the Gneisenau and Nuremburg, with guns trained on the wireless station, came within range of the Canopus, [124] which opened fire at them across the lowland at a range of 11,000 yards. The enemy at once hoisted their colors, and turned away. A few minutes later the two cruisers altered course to port, as though to close the Kent at the entrance to the harbor. But at about this time it seems that the Invincible and Inflexible were seen over the land, and the enemy at once altered course, and increased speed to join their consorts. At 9.45 A. M. the squadron weighed anchor and proceeded out of the harbor, the Carnovan leading. On passing Cape Pembroke light, the five ships of the enemy appeared clearly in sight to the southeast, hull down. The visibility was at its maximum, the sea was calm, with a bright sun, a clear sky, and a light breeze from the northwest. At 10.20 the signal for a general chase was made. At this time the enemy’s funnels and bridges showed just above the horizon. Information was received from the Bristol at 11.27 that three enemy ships had appeared off Port Pleasant, probably colliers or transports. The Bristol was therefore directed [125] to take the Macedonia under orders, and destroy transports.

“The enemy were still maintaining their distance, and I decided at 12.20 P. M. to attack, with the two battle cruisers and the Glasgow. At 12.47 P. M. the signal to ‘Open fire and engage the enemy’ was made. The Inflexible opened fire at 12.55 P. M. at the right-hand ship of the enemy, and a few minutes later the Invincible opened fire at the same ship. The deliberate fire became too threatening, and when a shell fell close alongside her at 1.20 P. M. she, the Leipzig, turned away, with the Nuremburg and Dresden, to the southwest. These light cruisers were at once followed by the Kent, Glasgow and Cornwall.

“The action finally developed into three separate encounters. First, the action with the armored cruisers. The fire of the battle cruisers was directed on the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. The effect of this was quickly seen, when, with the Scharnhorst leading, they turned about seven points to port, and opened fire. Shortly afterwards the battle cruisers [126] were ordered to turn together with the Invincible leading. The enemy then turned about ten points to starboard, and a second chase ensued until, at 2.45, the battle cruisers again opened fire. This caused the enemy to turn into line ahead to port and open fire. The Scharnhorst caught fire forward, but not seriously, and her fire slackened perceptibly. The Gneisenau was badly hit by the Inflexible.

“At 3.30 P. M. the Scharnhorst turned about ten points to starboard, her fire had slackened perceptibly, and one shell had shot away her third funnel. Some guns were not firing, and it would appear that the turn was dictated by a desire to bring her starboard guns into action. The effect of the fire on the Scharnhorst became more and more apparent in consequence of smoke from fires and also escaping steam. At times a shell would cause a large hole to appear in her side, through which could be seen a dull, red glow of flame.

“At 4.04 P. M. the Scharnhorst, whose flag remained flying to the last, suddenly listed heavily to port, and within a minute it became [127] clear that she was a doomed ship, for the list increased very rapidly until she lay on her beam ends. At 4.17 P. M. she disappeared. The Gneisenau passed on the far side of her late flagship, and continued a determined, but ineffectual, effort to fight the two battle cruisers. At 5.08 P. M. the forward funnel was knocked over, and remained resting against the second funnel. She was evidently in serious straits, and her fire slackened very much.

“At 5.15 P. M. one of the Gneisenau’s shells struck the Invincible. This was her last effective effort. At 5.30 P. M. she turned toward the flagship with a heavy list to starboard, and appeared to stop, the steam pouring from her escape pipes, and smoke from shell and fires rising everywhere. About this time I ordered the signal ‘Cease fire,’ but before it was hoisted, the Gneisenau opened fire again, and continued to fire from time to time with a single gun. At 5.40 P. M. the three ships closed in on the Gneisenau, and at this time the flag flying at her fore truck, was apparently hauled down, but the flag at the peak continued flying. At [128] 5.50 ‘Cease fire’ was made. At 6 P. M. the Gneisenau keeled over very suddenly, showing the men gathered on her decks, and then walking on her side as she lay for a minute on her beam ends before sinking.

“The prisoners of war from the Gneisenau report that by the time the ammunition was expended some six hundred men had been killed and wounded. When the ship capsized and sank there were probably some two hundred unwounded survivors in the water, but, owing to the shock of the cold water, many were drowned within sight of the boats and ships. Every effort was made to save life as quickly as possible, both by boats and from the ships. Life buoys were thrown and ropes lowered, but only a portion could be rescued. The Invincible alone rescued a hundred and eight men, fourteen of whom were found to be dead after being brought on board. These men were buried at sea the following day, with full military honors.

“Second, action with the light cruisers. About one P. M. when the Scharnhorst and the [129] Gneisenau turned to port to engage the Invincible and the Inflexible, the enemy’s light cruisers turned to starboard to escape. The Dresden was leading, and the Nuremburg and Leipzig followed on each quarter. In accordance with my instructions, the Glasgow, Kent and Cornwall at once went in chase of these ships. The Glasgow drew well ahead of the Cornwall and Kent, and at 3 P. M. shots were exchanged with the Leipzig at 12,000 yards. The Glasgow’s object was to endeavor to outrange the Leipzig, and thus cause her to alter course and give the Cornwall and Kent a chance of coming into action. At 4.17 P. M. the Cornwall opened fire also on the Leipzig; at 7.17 P. M. the Leipzig was on fire fore and aft, and the Cornwall and Glasgow ceased fire. The Leipzig turned over on her port side and disappeared at 9 P. M. Seven officers and eleven men were saved. At 3.36 P. M. the Cornwall ordered the Kent to engage the Nuremburg, the nearest cruiser to her. At 6.35 P. M. the Nuremburg was on fire forward, and ceased firing. The Kent also ceased firing, [130] then, as the colors were still observed to be flying on the Nuremburg, the Kent opened fire again. Fire was finally stopped five minutes later, on the colors being hauled down, and every preparation was made to save life. The Nuremburg sank at 7.27, and as she sank a group of men were waving the German ensign attached to a staff.

“Twelve men were rescued, but only seven survived. The Kent had four killed and twelve wounded, mostly caused by one shell. During the time the three cruisers were engaged with the Nuremburg and Leipzig, the Dresden, which was beyond her consorts, effected her escape, owing to her superior speed. The Glasgow was the only cruiser with sufficient speed to have had any chance of success, however she was fully employed in engaging the Leipzig for over an hour before either the Cornwall or Kent could come up and get within range. During this time the Dresden was able to increase her distance and get out of sight. Three, Action with the enemy’s transports. H.M.S. Macedonia reports that only two ships, the steamships Baden and Santa Isabel, were present. Both ships were sunk after removal of the crews.”

[131] Thus was annihilated the last squadron belonging to Germany outside the North Sea. The defeat of Cradock had been revenged. The British losses were very small, considering the length of the fight and the desperate efforts of the German fleet. Only one ship of the German squadron was able to escape, and this on account of her great speed. The German sailors went down with colors flying. They died as Cradock’s men had died.

The naval war now entered upon a new phase. The shores of Great Britain had for many years been so thoroughly protected by the British navy that few coast fortifications had been built, except at important naval stations. Invasion on a grand scale was plainly impossible, so long as the British fleets held control of the sea. With German guns across the Channel almost within hearing it was evident that a raiding party might easily reach the English shore on some foggy night. The [132] English people were much disturbed. They had read the accounts of the horrible brutalities of the German troops in Belgium and eastern France, and they imagined their feelings if a band of such ferocious brutes were to land in England and pillage their peaceful homes. There was a humorous side to the way in which the yeomanry and territorials entrenched themselves along the eastern coast line, but the Germans, angry at the failure of their fleets, determined to disturb the British peace by raids, slight as the military advantage of such raids might be.

On November 2d a fleet of German warships sailed from the Elbe. They were three battle cruisers, the Seydlitz, the Moltke, and the Von Der Tann; two armored cruisers, the Blücher and the York, and three light cruisers, the Kolberg, the Graudenz, and the Strasburg. They were mainly fast vessels and the battle cruisers carried eleven-inch guns. Early in the morning they ran through the nets of a British fishing fleet. Later an old coast police boat, the Halcyon, was shot at a few times. [133] About eight o’clock they were opposite Yarmouth, and proceeded to bombard that naval station from a distance of about ten miles. Their range was poor and their shells did no damage. They then turned swiftly for home, but on the road back the York struck a mine, and was sunk.

On the 16th of December they came again, full of revenge because of the destruction of von Spee and his squadron. Early in the morning early risers in Scarborough saw in the north four strange ships. Scarborough was absolutely without defense. It had once been an artillery depot but in recent years had been [134] a cavalry station, and some few troops of this service were quartered there. Otherwise it was an open seaside resort. The German ships poured shells into the defenseless town, aiming at every large object they could see, the Grand Hotel, the gas works, the water works and the wireless station. Churches, public buildings, and hospitals were hit, as well as private houses. Over five hundred shells were fired. Then the ships turned around and moved away. The streets were crowded with puzzled and scared inhabitants, many of whom, as is customary in watering places, were women, children and invalids.

At nine o’clock Whitby, a coast town near Scarborough, saw two great ships steaming up from the south. Ten minutes later the ships were firing. The old Abbey of Hilda and Cedman was struck, but on the whole little damage was done. Another division of the invaders visited the Hartlepools. There there was a small fort, with a battery of old-fashioned guns, and off the shore was a small British flotilla, a gunboat and two destroyers. [135] The three battle cruisers among the German raiders opened fire. The little British fleet did what they could but were quickly driven off. The German ships then approached the shore and fired on the English battery, the first fight with a foreign foe in England since 1690. The British battery consisted of some territorials who stood without wavering to their guns and kept up for half an hour a furious cannonading. A great deal of damage was done; churches, hospitals, workhouses and schools were all hit. The total deathroll was 119, and the wounded over 300. Six hundred houses were damaged or destroyed, but there was a great deal of heroism, not only among the territorials, but among the inhabitants of the town, and when the last shots were fired all turned to the work of relief.

Somewhere between nine and ten o’clock the bold German fleet started for home. The British Grand Fleet had been notified of the raid and two battle cruiser squadrons were hurrying to intercept them. But the weather had thickened and the waters of the North Sea [136] were covered with fog belts stretching for hundreds of miles. And so the raiders returned safe to receive their Iron Crosses. The German aim in such raids was probably to create a panic, and so interfere with the English military plans. If the English had not looked at the matter with common sense they might easily have been tempted to spend millions of pounds on seaboard fortifications, and keep millions of men at home who were more necessary in the armies in France. But the English people kept their heads.

Germany, perceiving the indignation of the world at these bombardments of defenseless watering places, endeavored to appease criticism by describing them as fortified towns. But the well-known excellence of the German system of espionage makes it plain that they knew the true condition of affairs. These towns were not selected as fortified towns, but because they were not, and destruction in unfortified towns it was thought would have a greater effect than in a fortified town where [137] it would be regarded as among the natural risks of war.

During the rest of the year of 1914 no further sea-fight took place in the North Sea nor was there any serious loss to the navy from torpedo or submarine. But on the first of January, 1915, the British ship Formidable, 15,000 tons, was struck by two torpedoes and sunk. The previous day she had left Sheerness with eight vessels of the Channel fleet and with no protection from destroyers. The night was a bright moonlight and for such vessels to be moving in line on such a night without destroyers shows gross carelessness. Out of a crew of 800 men only 201 were saved, and the rescue of this part of the crew was due to the seamanship of Captain Pillar of the trawler Providence, who managed to take most of those rescued on board his vessel.

On January 24th the German battle cruiser squadron under Rear-Admiral Hipper set sail from Wilhelmshaven. What his object was is not known. He had enlarged the mine field [138] north of Helgoland and north of the mine field had stationed a submarine flotilla. It is likely that he was planning to induce the British fleet to follow him into the mine field, or within reach of his submarines. That same morning the British battle cruiser squadron under Vice-Admiral Sir David Beatty put to sea.

According to the official report of the English Admiral he was in command of the following vessels: battle cruisers, the Lion, Princess Royal, the Tiger, the New Zealand, and the Indomitable; light cruisers, the Southampton, the Nottingham, the Birmingham, the Lowestoft, the Arethusa, the Aurora and the Undaunted, with destroyer flotillas under Commodore Tyrwhitt. The German Admiral had with him the Seydlitz, the Moltke, the Derfflinger, the Blücher, six light cruisers and a destroyer flotilla. The English Admiral apparently had some hint of the plans of the German squadron. The night of the 23d had been foggy; in the morning, however, the wind came from the northeast and cleared off the mists. An abridgment of the official report gives a good account of the battle, sometimes called the battle of Dogger Bank:

[139] “At 7.25 A. M. the flash of guns was observed south-southeast; shortly afterwards the report reached me from the Aurora that she was engaged with enemy ships. I immediately altered course to south-southeast, increased speed, and ordered the light cruisers and flotillas to get in touch and report movements of enemy. This order was acted upon with great promptitude, indeed my wishes had already been forestalled by the respective senior officers, and reports almost immediately followed from the Southampton, Arethusa, and Aurora as to the position and composition of the enemy. The enemy had altered their course to southeast; from now onward the light cruisers maintained touch with the enemy and kept me fully informed as to their movements. The battle cruisers worked up to full speed, steering to the southward; the wind at the time was northeast, light, with extreme visibility.

“At 7.30 A. M. the enemy were sighted on the [140] port bow, steaming fast, steering approximately southeast, distance fourteen miles. Owing to the prompt reports received we had attained our position on the quarter of the enemy, and altered course to run parallel to them. We then settled down to a long stern chase, gradually increasing our speed until we reached 28.5 knots.

“Great credit is due to the engineer staffs of the New Zealand and Indomitable. These ships greatly exceeded their speed. At 8.52 A. M. , as we had closed within 20,000 yards of the rear ship, the battle cruisers maneuvered so that guns would bear and the Lion fired a single shot which fell short. The enemy at this time were in single line ahead, with light cruisers ahead and a large number of destroyers on their starboard beam. Single shots were fired at intervals to test the range and at 9.09 the Lion made her first hit on the Blücher, the rear ship of the German line. At 9.20 the Tiger opened fire on the Blücher, and the Lion shifted to the third in the line, this ship being hit by several salvos. The enemy [141] returned our fire at 9.14 A. M. , the Princess Royal, on coming into range, opened fire on the Blücher. The New Zealand was also within range of the Blücher which had dropped somewhat astern, and opened fire on her. The Princess Royal then shifted to the third ship in the line (Derfflinger) inflicting considerable damage on her. Our flotilla cruisers and destroyers had gradually dropped from a position, broad on our beam, to our port quarter, so as not to foul our range with their smoke. But the enemy’s destroyers threatening attack, the Meteor and M division passed ahead of us.

“About 9.45 the situation was about as follows: The Blücher, the fourth in her line, showed signs of having suffered severely from gun fire, their leading ship and number three were also on fire. The enemy’s destroyers emitted vast columns of smoke to screen their battle cruisers, and under cover of this the latter now appeared to have altered course to the northward to increase their distance. The battle cruisers therefore were ordered to form a line of bearing north-northwest, and proceeded [142] at the utmost speed. Their destroyers then showed evident signs of an attempt to attack. The Lion and the Tiger opened fire upon them, and caused them to retire and resume their original course.

“At 10.48 A. M. the Blücher, which had dropped considerably astern of the enemy’s line, hauled out to port, steering north with a heavy list, on fire, and apparently in a defeated condition. I consequently ordered the Indomitable to attack the enemy breaking northward. At 10.54 submarines were reported on the starboard bow, and I personally observed the wash of a periscope. I immediately turned to port. At 10.03 an injury to the Lion being reported as being incapable of immediate repair, I directed the Lion to shape course northwest.

“At 11.20 I called the Attack alongside, shifting my flag to her, and proceeded at utmost speed to rejoin the squadron. I met them at noon, retiring north-northwest. I boarded and hoisted my flag on the Princess Royal, when Captain Brock acquainted me [143] with what had occurred since the Lion fell out of line, namely, that the Blücher had been sunk and that the enemy battle cruisers had continued their course to the eastward in a considerably damaged condition. He also informed me that a Zeppelin and a seaplane had endeavored to drop bombs on the vessels which went to the rescue of the survivors of the Blücher.”

It appears from this report that as soon as the Germans sighted the British fleet they promptly turned around and fled to the southeast. This flight, before they could have known the full British strength, suggests that the German Admiral was hoping to lure the British vessels into the Helgoland trap. The British gunnery was remarkably good, shot after shot taking effect at a distance of ten miles, and that too when moving at over thirty miles an hour. Over 120 of the crew of the Blücher were rescued and more would have been rescued if it had not been for the attack upon the rescue parties by the German aircraft. The injury to the Lion was very unfortunate. [144] Admiral Beatty handed over charge of the battle cruisers to Rear-Admiral Moore, and when he was able to overtake the squadron he found that under Admiral Moore’s orders the British fleet were retiring. The British squadron at the moment of turning was seventy miles from Helgoland, and in no danger from its mine fields. What might have been a crushing victory became therefore only a partial one: the Germans lost the Blücher; the Derfflinger and the Seydlitz were badly injured, but it seems that with a little more persistence the whole German squadron might have been destroyed.

The result was a serious blow to Germany. This engagement was the first between modern big-gun ships. Particular interest is also attached to it because each squadron was accompanied by scouting and screening light cruisers and destroyers. It was fear of submarines and mines, moreover, that influenced the British to break off the engagement. A Zeppelin airship and a seaplane also took part, and perhaps assisted in the fire control of the Germans. The conditions surrounding this battle were [145] ideal for illustrating the functions of battle cruisers. The German warship raid on the British coast of the previous month was still fresh in mind, and when this situation off the Dogger Bank arose the timely interposing of Admiral Beatty’s superior force, the fast chase, the long-range fighting, the loss of the Blücher and the hasty retreat of the enemy, were all particularly pleasing to the British people. As a result the battle cruiser type of ship attained great popularity.

THE pages of Germany’s militaristic history are black with many shameful deeds and plots. Those pages upon which are written the intrigues against the peace of America and against the lives and properties of American citizens during the period between the declaration of war in 1914 and the armistice ending the war, while not so bloody as those relating to the atrocities in Belgium and Northern France are still revolting to civilized mankind.

Germany not only paid for the murder of passengers on ships where its infernal machines were placed, not only conspired for the destruction of munition plants and factories of many kinds, not only sought to embroil the [147] United States, then neutral, in a war with Mexico and Japan, but it committed also the crime of murderous hypocrisy by conspiring to do these wrongs under the cloak of friendship for this country.

It was in December of 1915 that the German Government sent to the United States for general publication in American newspapers this statement:

The answer to this imperial lie came from the President of the United States, when, in his address to Congress, April 2, 1917, urging a declaration of war on Germany, he characterized the German spy system and its frightful fruits in the following language:

“One of the things that has served to convince us that the Prussian autocracy was not and could never be our friend is that from the [148] very outset of the present war it has filled our unsuspecting communities, and even our offices of government, with spies, and set criminal intrigues everywhere afoot against our national unity of counsel, our peace within and without, our industries and our commerce. Indeed it is now evident that its spies were here even before the war began; and it is unhappily not a matter of conjecture, but a fact proved in our courts of justice, that the intrigues which have more than once come perilously near to disturbing the peace and dislocating the industries of the country have been carried on at the instigation, with the support, and even under the personal direction of official agents of the Imperial Government accredited to the Government of the United States.”

Austria co-operated with Germany in a feeble way in these plots and propaganda, but the master plotter was Count Johann von Bernstorff, Germany’s Ambassador. The Austro-Hungarian Ambassador, Constantin Theodor Dumba, Captain Franz von Papen, [149] Captain Karl Boy-Ed, Dr. Heinrich F. Albert, and Wolf von Igel, all of whom were attached to the German embassy, were associates in the intrigues. Franz von Rintelen operated independently and received his funds and instructions directly from Berlin.

One of the earliest methods of creating disorder in American munition plants and other industrial establishments engaged in war work was through labor disturbances. With that end in view a general German employment bureau was established in August, 1915, in New York City. It had branches in Philadelphia, Bridgeport, Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Chicago and Cincinnati. These cities at that time were the centers of industries engaged in furnishing munitions and war supplies to the Entente allies. Concerning this enterprise Ambassador Dumba writing to Baron Burian, Foreign Minister of Austria-Hungary, said:

[150] The duties of men sent from the German employment offices into munition plants may be gathered from the following frank circular issued on November 2, 1914, by the German General Headquarters and reprinted in the Freie Zeitung , of Berne.

[151] Shortly after the establishment of the German employment bureau, Ambassador Dumba sent the following communication to the Austrian Foreign Office:

Concerning the operations of the arson and murder squad organized by von Bernstorff, Dumba and their associates, it is only necessary to turn to the records of the criminal courts of the United States and Canada. Take for example the case against Albert Kaltschmidt, living in Detroit, Michigan. The United States grand jury sitting in Detroit indicted Kaltschmidt and his fellow conspirators upon the following counts:

“To blow up the factory of the Peabody’s Company, Limited, at Walkerville, Ontario, ... engaged in manufacturing uniforms, clothing and military supplies....

“To blow up the building known as the [152] Windsor Armories of the City of Windsor....

“To blow up and destroy other plants and buildings in said Dominion of Canada, which were used for the manufacture of munitions of war, clothing and uniforms.

“To blow up and destroy the great railroad bridges of the Canadian Pacific Railroad at Nipigon....

“To employ and send into said Dominion of Canada spies to obtain military information.”

Besides the acts enumerated in the indictment it was proved upon trial that Kaltschmidt and his gang planned to blow up the Detroit Screw Works where shrapnel was being manufactured, and to destroy the St. Clair tunnel, connecting Canada with the United States. Both of these plans failed. Associated with Kaltschmidt in these plots were Captain von Papen, Baron Kurt von Reiswitz, German consul-general in Chicago; Charles F. Respa, Richard Herman, and William M. Jarasch, the latter two German [153] reservists. Testifying in the case Jarasch, a bartender, said: “Jacobsen (an aide) told me that munition factories in Canada were to be blown up. Before I left for Detroit, Jacobsen and I went to the consulate. We saw the consul and he shook hands with me and wished me success.”

Charles F. Respa in his testimony made the following revelations in response to questions by the government’s representatives:

Q. How long had you been employed before he (Kaltschmidt) told you that he wanted you to blow up some of these factories? A. About three weeks.

Q. Did Kaltschmidt at the time speak of any particular place that he wanted you to blow up? A. The particular place was the Armory.

Q. Did he mention the Peabody Building at that time? A. Not particularly—he was more after the bridges and the armories and wanted those places blown up that made ammunition and military clothing.

Q. The explosion at the armories was to be [154] timed so that it would occur when the soldiers were asleep there? A. Yes—he did not mention that he wanted to kill soldiers.

Q. Did he say that if the dynamite in the suitcase exploded it would kill the soldiers? A. I do not remember that he said so, but he must have known it.

Q. Did you take both grips? A. Yes.

Q. Where did you set the first grip? A. By the Peabody plant (blown up on June 20, 1915).

Q. Where did you put the other suitcase? A. Then I walked down the Walkerville road to the Armories at Windsor, and carried the suitcase.

Q. When you got to the Armories did you know where to place it? A. I had my instructions.

Q. From Kaltschmidt? A. Yes.

Q. Did you place this suitcase containing the dynamite bomb at the armory in a proper place to explode and do any damage? A. Yes.

Q. Was it properly connected so that the [155] cap would explode and strike the dynamite? A. I fixed it so that it would not.

Q. Did you deliberately fix this bomb that you took to the Armories so that it would not explode? A. Yes.

Q. Why did you do that? A. I knew that the suitcase contained thirty sticks of dynamite and if exploded would blow up the Armories and all the ammunition and kill every man in it.

It is interesting to note in this connection that Kaltschmidt was sentenced to four years in the federal prison at Leavenworth, Kansas, and to pay a fine of $20,000. Horn’s sentence was eighteen months in the Atlanta penitentiary and a fine of $1,000.

Attempts were also made to close by explosions the tunnels through which the Canadian Pacific Railroad passes under the Selkirk Mountains in British Columbia. The German General Staff in this instance operated through Franz Bopp, the German consul-general in San Francisco, and Lieutenant von Brincken. J. H. van Koolbergen was hired [156] to do this work. Concerning the negotiations, van Koolbergen made this statement:

“Not knowing what he wanted I went to see him. He was very pleasant and told me that he was an officer in the German army and at present working in the secret service of the German Empire under Mr. Franz Bopp, the Imperial German consul.

“I went to the consulate and met Franz Bopp and then saw von Brincken in another room. He asked me if I would do something for him in Canada and I answered him, ‘Sure, I will do something, even blow up bridges, if there is money in it.’ And he said, ‘You are the man; if that is so, you can make good money.’

“Von Brincken told me that they were willing to send me up to Canada to blow up one of the bridges on the Canadian Pacific Railroad or one of the tunnels. I asked him what was in it and he said he would talk it over with the German consul, Bopp.

“I had accepted von Brincken’s proposition to go to Canada and he offered me $500 to [157] defray my expenses. On different occasions, in his room, von Brincken showed me maps and information about Canada, and pointed out to me where he wanted the act to be done. This was to be between Revelstoke and Vancouver on the Canadian Pacific Railroad, and I was to get $3,000 in case of a successful blowing up of a military bridge or tunnel.”

Van Koolbergen only made a pretended effort to blow up the tunnel. He did furnish the evidence, however, which served to send Bopp and his associates to the penitentiary.

Even more sensational was the plot against the international bridge upon which the Grand Trunk Railway crosses the border between the United States and Canada at Vanceboro, Me.

Werner Horn was a German reserve lieutenant. Von Papen delivered to him a flat order to blow up the bridge and he gave him $700 for the purpose of perpetrating the outrage. Horn was partially successful. At his trial in Boston in June, 1917, he made the following confession:

“I admit and state that the facts set forth in [158] the indictments as to the conveyance of explosives on certain passenger trains from New York to Boston and from Boston to Vanceboro, in the State of Maine, are true. I did, as therein alleged, receive an explosive and conveyed the same from the city of New York to Boston, thence by common carrier from Boston to Vanceboro, Maine. On or about the night of February 1, 1915, I took said explosive in a suitcase in which I was conveying it and carried the same across the bridge at Vanceboro to the Canadian side, and there, about 1.10 in the morning of February 2, 1915, I caused said explosive to be exploded near or against the abutments of the bridge on the Canadian side, with intent to destroy the abutment and cripple the bridge so that the same could not be used for the passage of trains.”

Bribery of congressmen was intended by Franz von Rintelen, operating directly in touch with the German Foreign Office in Berlin. Count von Bernstorff, Germany’s Ambassador at Washington, sent the following telegram to Berlin in connection with his plan:

That it was Rintelen’s purpose to use large sums of money for the purpose of bribing congressmen was stated positively by George Plochman, treasurer of the Transatlantic Trust Company, where Rintelen kept his deposits.

Rintelen was the main figure on this side of the water in the fantastic plot to have Mexico and Japan declare war upon the United States. During the trial of Rintelen in New York City in May, 1917, it was testified “that he came to the United States in order to embroil it with Mexico and Japan if necessary; that he was doing all he could and was going to do all he could to embroil this country with Mexico; that he believed that if the United States had a war with Mexico it would stop the shipment of ammunition to Europe; that he believed it [160] would be only a matter of time until we were involved with Japan.”

Rintelen also said that “General Huerta was going to return to Mexico and start a revolution there which would cause the United States to intervene and so make it impossible to ship munitions to Europe. Intervention,” he said, “was one of his trump cards.”

Mexico was the happy hunting-ground for pro-German plotters, and the German Ambassador in Mexico, Heinrich von Eckhardt, was the leader in all the intrigues. The culmination of Germany’s effort against America on this continent came on January 19, 1917, when Dr. Alfred Zimmerman, head of the German Foreign Office, sent the following cable to Ambassador von Eckhardt:

This was almost three months before the United States entered the war. As an example of German blindness and diplomatic folly it stands unrivaled in the annals of the German Foreign Office.

Plots against shipping were the deadliest in which the German conspirators engaged. Death and destruction followed in their wake. In direct connection of von Bernstorff and his tools with these outrages the following testimony by an American secret service man employed by Wolf von Igel is interesting. It refers to an appointment with Captain von [162] Kleist, superintendent of Scheele’s bomb factory in Hoboken, N. J.

“We sat down and we spoke for about three hours. I asked him the different things that he did, and said if he wanted an interview with Mr. von Igel, my boss, he would have to tell everything. So he told me that von Papen gave Dr. Scheele, the partner of von Kleist in this factory, a check for $10,000 to start this bomb factory. He told me that he, Mr. von Kleist, and Dr. Scheele and a man by the name of Becker on the Friedrich der Grosse were making the bombs, and that Captain Wolpert, Captain Bode and Captain Steinberg, had charge of putting these bombs on the ships; they put these bombs in cases and shipped them as merchandise on these steamers, and they would go away on the trip and the bombs would go off after the ship was out four or five days, causing a fire and causing the cargo to go up in flames. He also told me that they have made quite a number of these bombs; that thirty of them were given to a party by the name of O’Leary, and that he took them [163] down to New Orleans where he had charge of putting them on ships down there, this fellow O’Leary.”

About four hundred bombs were made under von Igel’s direction; explosions and fires were caused by them on thirty-three ships sailing from New York harbor alone.

Four of the bombs were found at Marseilles on a vessel which sailed from Brooklyn in May, 1915. The evidence collected in the case led to the indictment of the following men for feloniously transporting on the steamship Kirk Oswald a bomb or bombs filled with chemicals designed to cause incendiary fires: Rintelen, Wolpert, Bode, Schmidt, Becker, Garbade, Praedel, Paradies, von Kleist, Schimmel, Scheele, Steinberg and others. The last three named fled from justice, Scheele being supplied with $1,000 for that purpose by Wolf von Igel. He eluded the Federal authorities until April, 1918, when he was found hiding in Cuba under the protection of German secret service agents. All the others except Schmidt were found guilty and sentenced, on February 5, [164] 1918, to imprisonment for eighteen months and payment of a fine of $2,000 each. It was proved during the trial that Rintelen had hired Schimmel, a German lawyer, to see that bombs were placed on ships.

Schmidt, von Kleist, Becker, Garbade, Praedel and Paradies had already been tried for conspiracy to make bombs for concealment on ocean-going vessels, with the purpose of setting the same on fire. All were found guilty, and on April 6, 1917, von Kleist and Schmidt were sentenced to two years’ imprisonment and a fine of $500 each.

Robert Fay, a former officer in the German army, who came to the United States in April, 1915, endeavored to prevent the traffic in munitions by sinking the laden ships at sea. In recounting the circumstances of his arrival here to the chief of the United States secret service, Fay said:

“... I had in the neighborhood of $4,000.... This money came from a man who sent me over ... (named) Jonnersen. The understanding was that it might be worth while [165] to stop the shipment of artillery munitions from this country.... I imagined Jonnersen to be in the (German) secret service.”

After stating that he saw von Papen and Boy-Ed, and that neither would have anything to do with him, apparently because they were suspicious of his identity and feared a trap, Fay continued:

“I did not want to return (to Germany) without having carried out my intention, that is, the destruction of ships carrying munitions. I proceeded with my experiments and tried to get hold of as much explosive matter as in any way possible....”

Fay and two confederates were arrested in a lonely spot near Grantwood, New Jersey, while testing an explosive. During his examination at police headquarters in Weehawken immediately after the arrest he was questioned as follows:

Q. That large machine you have downstairs, what is that?

A. That is a patent of mine. It is a new way of getting a time fuse....

[166] Q. Did you know where Scholz (Fay’s brother-in-law) had this machine made?

A. In different machine shops....

Q. What material is it you wanted (from Daeche, an accomplice)?

A. Trinitrotoluol (T. N. T.)....

Q. How much did the machinery cost?

A. Roughly speaking, $150 or $200....

Q. What would be the cost of making one and filling it with explosives?

A. About $250 each.... If they had given me money enough I should simply have been able to block the shipping entirely.

Q. Do you mean you could have destroyed every ship that left the harbor by means of those bombs?

A. I would have been able to stop so many that the authorities would not have dared (to send out any ships).

It was proved during Fay’s trial that his bomb was a practical device, and that its forty pounds of explosive would sink any ship to which it was attached.

Fay and his accomplices, Scholz and Daeche, [167] were convicted of conspiracy to attach explosive bombs to the rudders of vessels, with the intention of wrecking the same when at sea, and were sentenced, on May 9, 1916, to terms of eight, four and two years respectively, in the federal penitentiary at Atlanta. Dr. Herbert Kienzle and Max Breitung, who assisted Fay in procuring explosives, were indicted on the same charge. Both were interned.

Another plan for disabling ships was suggested by a man who remained for some time unknown. He called one day at the German Military Information Bureau, maintained at 60 Wall Street by Captain von Papen, of the German embassy, and there gave the following outline of his plan:

“I intend to cause serious damage to vessels of the Allies leaving ports of the United States by placing bombs, which I am making myself, on board. These bombs resemble ordinary lumps of coal and I am planning to have them concealed in the coal to be laden on steamers of the Allies. I have already discussed this plan with ... at ... and he [168] thinks favorably of my idea. I have been engaged on similar work in ... after the outbreak of the war, together with Mr. von ...”

The German secret service report from which the above excerpt is taken states that the maker of the bomb was paid by check No. 146 for $150 drawn on the Riggs National Bank of Washington. A photographic copy of this check shows that it was payable to Paul Koenig, of the Hamburg-American Line and was signed by Captain von Papen. On the counterfoil is written this memorandum, “For F. J. Busse.”

Busse confessed later that he had discussed with Captain von Papen at the German Club in New York City the plan of damaging the boilers of munition ships with bombs which resembled lumps of coal.

Free access to Allied ships laden with supplies for Vladivostok would have been invaluable to the conspirators, and in order to obtain it Charles C. Crowley, a detective employed by Consul-General Bopp, resorted to the extraordinary scheme revealed in the following letter [169] to Madam Bakhmeteff, wife of the Russian Ambassador to the United States:

The statements of Louis J. Smith and van Koolbergen, combined with a mass of other evidence consisting in part of letters and telegrams, [170] caused the grand jury to indict Consul-General Bopp, his staff and his hired agents, for conspiracy to undertake a military enterprise against Canada. Among the purposes of this enterprise specified in the indictment was the following:

“To blow up and destroy with their cargoes and crews any and all vessels belonging to Great Britain, France, Japan or Russia found within the limits of Canada, which were laden with horses, munitions of war, or articles of commerce in course of transportation to the above countries....”

The following descriptions have been made by the United States Government of the tools of von Bernstorff in German plots:

Paul Koenig, the head of the Hamburg-American secret service, who was active in passport frauds, who induced Gustave Stahl to perjure himself and declare the Lusitania armed, and who plotted the destruction of the Welland Canal. In his work as a spy he passed under thirteen aliases in this country and Canada.

[171] Captains Boy-Ed, von Papen, von Rintelen, Tauscher, and von Igel were all directly connected with the German Government itself. There is now in the possession of the United States Government a check made out to Koenig and signed by von Papen, identified by number in a secret report of the German Bureau of Investigation as being used to procure $150 for the payment of a bomb-maker, who was to plant explosives disguised as coal in the bunkers of the merchant vessels clearing from the port of New York. Boy-Ed, Dr. Bunz, the German ex-minister to Mexico, the German consul at San Francisco, and officials of the Hamburg-American and North German Lloyd steamship lines evaded customs regulations and coaled and victualed German raiders at sea. Von Papen and von Igel supervised the making of the incendiary bombs on the Friedrich der Grosse, then in New York Harbor, and stowed them away on outgoing ships. Von Rintelen financed Labor’s National Peace Council, which tried to corrupt legislators and labor leaders.

[172] Among the other tools of the German plotters were David Lamar and Henry Martin, who, in the pay of Captain von Rintelen, organized and managed the so-called Labor’s National Peace Council, which sought to bring about strikes, an embargo on munitions, and a boycott of the banks which subscribed to the Anglo-French loan. A check for $5,000 to J. F. J. Archibald for propaganda work, and a receipt from Edwin Emerson, the war correspondent, for $1,000 traveling expenses were among the documents found in Wolf von Igel’s possession.

Others who bore English names were persuaded to take leading places in similar organizations which concealed their origin and real purpose. The American Embargo Conference arose out of the ashes of Labor’s Peace Council, and its president was American, though the funds were not. Others tampered with were journalists who lent themselves to the German propaganda and who went so far as to serve as couriers between the Teutonic embassies in Washington and the governments [173] in Berlin and Vienna. A check of $5,000 was discovered which Count von Bernstorff had sent to Marcus Braun, editor of Fair Play . And a letter was discovered which George Sylvester Vierick, editor of the Fatherland , sent to Privy Councilor Albert, the German agent, arranging for a monthly subsidy of $1,750, to be delivered to him through the hands of intermediaries—women whose names he abbreviates “to prevent any possible inquiry.” There is a record of $3,000 paid through the German embassy to finance the lecture tour of Miss Ray Beveridge, an American artist, who was further to be supplied with German war pictures.

The German propagandists also directed their efforts to poisoning the minds of the people through the circulation of lies concerning affairs in France and at home. Here are some of the rumors circulated throughout the country that were nailed as falsehoods:

It was said that the national registration of women by the Food Administration was to find out how much money each had in the bank, [174] how much of this was owed, and everything about each registrant’s personal affairs.

That the millions collected from the public for the Red Cross went into the pockets of thieves, and that the soldiers and sailors got none of it, nor any of its benefits.

That base hospital units had been annihilated while en route overseas.

That leading members of other hospital units had been executed as spies by the American Government.

That canned goods put up by the housewives were to be seized by the government and appropriated to the use of the army and navy.

That soldiers in training were being instructed to put out the eyes of every German captured.

That all of the “plums” at the officers’ training camps fell to Roman Catholics. The plums went to Protestants when the propagandist talked to a Catholic.

That the registration of women was held so that girls would be enticed into the cities where white slaves were made of them.

[175] That the battleship Pennsylvania had been destroyed with everyone on board by a German submarine.

That more than seventy-five per cent of the American soldiers in France had been infected with venereal diseases.

That intoxicants were given freely to American soldiers in Y. M. C. A. and Knights of Columbus huts in France.

But the lies and the plots failed to make any impression on the morale of American citizenry. In fact, America from the moment war was declared against Germany until the time an armistice was declared, seemed to care for nothing but results. Charges of graft made with bitter invective in Congress created scarcely more than a ripple. The harder the pro-German plotters worked for the destruction of property and the incitement to labor disturbances, the closer became the protective network of Americanism against these anti-war influences. After half a dozen German lies had been casually passed from mouth to mouth as rumors, the American people came [176] to look upon other mischievous propaganda in its true light. Patriotic newspapers in every community exposed the false reports and citizens everywhere were on their guard against the misstatements. It was noticeable that the propaganda was intensified just previous to and during the several Liberty Loan campaigns. Proof that the American spirit rises superior to anti-American influences is furnished by the glorious records of these Liberty Loans. Every one was over-subscribed despite the severest handicaps confronted by any nation.

THE United States was brought face to face with the Great War and with what it meant in ruthless destruction of life when, on May 7, 1915, the crack Cunard Liner Lusitania, bound from New York to Liverpool, with 1,959 persons aboard, was torpedoed and sunk by a German submarine off Old Head of Kinsale, Southwestern Ireland. Two torpedoes reached their mark. The total number of lives lost when the ship sunk was 1,198. Of these 755 were passengers and the remainder were members of the crew. Of the drowned passengers, 124 were Americans and 35 were infants.

“Remember the Lusitania!” later became a battlecry just as “Remember the Maine!” acted as a spur to Americans during the war with Spain. It was first used by the famous [178] “Black Watch” and later American troops shouted it as they went into battle.

The sinking of the Lusitania, with its attendant destruction of life, sent a thrill of horror through the neutral peoples of the world. General opposition to the use of submarines in attacking peaceful shipping, especially passenger vessels, crystallized as the result of the tragedy, and a critical diplomatic controversy between the United States and Germany developed. The American Government signified its determination to break off friendly relations with the German Empire unless the ruthless practices of the submarine commanders were terminated. Germany temporarily agreed to discontinue these practices.

Among the victims of the Cunarder’s destruction were some of the best known personages of the Western Hemisphere. Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt, multimillionaire; Charles Frohman, noted theatrical manager; Charles Klein, dramatist, who wrote “The Lion and the Mouse”; Justus Miles Forman, author, and Elbert Hubbard, known as Fra Elbertus, [179] widely read iconoclastic writer, were drowned.

The ocean off the pleasant southern coast of Ireland was dotted with bodies for days after the sinking of the liner. The remains of many of the victims, however, never were recovered.

When the Lusitania prepared to sail from New York on her last trip, fifty anonymous telegrams addressed to prominent persons aboard the vessel warned the recipients not to sail with the liner. In addition to these warnings was an advertisement inserted in the leading metropolitan newspapers by the German embassy, advising neutral persons that British steamships were in danger of destruction in the war zone about the British Isles. This notice appeared the day the Lusitania sailed, May 1st, and was placed next the advertisement of the Cunard Line:

Little or no attention was paid to the warnings, only the usual number of persons canceling their reservations. The general agent of the Cunard Line at New York assured the passengers that the Lusitania’s voyage would be attended by no risk whatever, referring to the liner’s speed and watertight compartments.

As the great Cunarder drew near the scene of her disaster, traveling at moderate speed along her accustomed route, there was news of freight steamers falling victims to Germany’s undersea campaign. It was not definitely established, however, whether the liner was warned of danger.

At two o’clock on the fine afternoon of May 7th, some ten miles off the Old Head of Kinsale, the Lusitania was sighted by a submarine [181] 1,000 yards away. A second later the track of a torpedo, soon followed by another, was seen and each missile crashed into the Lusitania’s hull with rending detonations.

Many were killed or injured immediately by the explosions. Before the liner’s headway was lost, some boats were lowered, and capsized as a result. The immediate listing of the steamship added to the difficulties of rescue and increased the tragical toll of dead.

Much heroism and calmness were displayed by many in the few minutes the liner remained afloat. The bearing of Frohman, Vanderbilt, Hubbard and other Americans was declared to have been particularly inspiring.

Rescue ships and naval vessels rushed to the aid of the survivors from all nearby ports of Ireland.

It has been said that the sinking of the Lusitania was carefully planned by the chiefs of the German admiralty. They expected, it was believed, to demoralize British shipping and strike terror into the minds of the British people [182] by showing that the largest and swiftest of liners could easily be destroyed by submarines.

According to the Paris paper, La Guerre Sociale , published by Gustave Hervé, the submarine responsible was the U-21, commanded by Lieutenant Hersing. Hersing was said to have been decorated for his deed. The U-21 afterwards was destroyed and the story of its participation in the sinking of the great Cunarder never was confirmed.

Immediately upon the news of the Lusitania disaster, President Wilson took steps to hold Germany to that “strict accountability” of which he had notified Berlin when the war-zone operations were begun earlier in the year. His first communication, protesting against the sinking of the liner in the name of humanity and demanding disavowal, indemnity and assurance that the crime would not be repeated, was despatched on May 13th. On May 30th the German reply argued that the liner carried munitions of war and probably was armed.

The following official German version of the [183] incident by the German Admiralty Staff over the signature of Admiral Behncke was given:

“The submarine sighted the steamer, which showed no flag, May 7th, at 2.20 o’clock, Central European time, afternoon, on the southeast coast of Ireland, in fine, clear weather.

“At 3.10 o’clock one torpedo was fired at the Lusitania, which hit her starboard side below the captain’s bridge. The detonation of the torpedo was followed immediately by a further explosion of extremely strong effect. The ship quickly listed to starboard and began to sink.

“The second explosion must be traced back to the ignition of quantities of ammunition inside the ship.”

These extenuations were all rejected by the United States, and the next note prepared by President Wilson was of such character that Secretary of State Bryan resigned. This second communication was sent on June 11th, and on June 22d another was cabled. September 1st Germany accepted the contentions of the United States in regard to submarine warfare [184] upon peaceful shipping. There were continued negotiations concerning the specific settlement to be made in the case of the Lusitania.

On February 4th, 1916, arrived a German proposition which, coupled with personal parleys carried on between German Ambassador von Bernstorff and United States Secretary of State Lansing, seemed in a fair way to conclude the whole controversy. It was announced on February 8th that the two nations were in substantial accord and Germany was declared to have admitted the sinking of the liner was wrong and unjustified and promised that reparation would be made.

However, a week later, when Germany took advantage of tentative American proposals concerning the disarming of merchant ships, by announcing that all armed hostile merchantmen would be treated as warships and attacked without warning, the almost completed agreement was overthrown. The renewed negotiations were continuing when the torpedoing of the cross-channel passenger ship Sussex, without warning, on March 24th, impelled the [185] United States to issue a virtual ultimatum, demanding that the Germans immediately cease their present methods of naval warfare on pain of the rupture of diplomatic relations with the most powerful existing neutral nation.

The Lusitania, previous to her sinking, had figured in the war news, first at the conflict, when it was feared she had been captured by a German cruiser while she was dashing across the Atlantic toward Liverpool, and again in February of 1915, when she flew the American flag as a ruse to deceive submarines while crossing the Irish Sea. This latter incident called forth a protest from the United States.

On her fatal trip the cargo of the Lusitania was worth $735,000.

As a great transatlantic liner, the Lusitania was a product of the race for speed, which was carried on for years among larger steamship companies, particularly of England and Germany. When the Lusitania was launched, it was the wonder of the maritime world. Its mastery of the sea, from the standpoint of speed, was undisputed.

[186] Progress of the Lusitania on its first voyage to New York, September 7, 1907, was watched by the world. The vessel made the voyage in five days and fifty-four minutes, at that time a record. Its fastest trip, made on the western voyage, was four days eleven hours forty-two minutes. This record, however, was wrested from it subsequently by the Mauretania, a sister ship, which set the mark of four days ten hours forty-one minutes, that still stands.

Although the Lusitania was surpassed in size by several other liners built subsequently, it never lost the reputation acquired at the outset of its career. Its speed and luxurious accommodations made it a favorite, and its passenger lists bore the names of many of the most prominent Atlantic wayfarers. The vessel was pronounced by its builders to be as nearly unsinkable as any ship could be.

Everything about the Lusitania was of colossal dimensions. Her rudder weighed sixty-five tons. She carried three anchors of ten tons each. The main frames and beams, [187] placed end to end, would extend thirty miles. The Lusitania was 785 feet long, 88 feet beam, and 60 feet deep. Her gross tonnage was 32,500 and her net tonnage, 9,145.

Charges were made that one or more guardian submarines deliberately drove off ships nearby which might have saved hundreds of lives lost when the Lusitania went down. Captain W. F. Wood, of the Leyland Line Steamer Etonian, said his ship was prevented from going to the rescue of the passengers of the sinking Lusitania by a warning that an attack might be made upon his own vessel.

The Etonian left Liverpool, May 6th. When Captain Wood was forty-two miles from Kinsale he received a wireless call from the Lusitania for immediate assistance.

The call was also picked up by the steamers City of Exeter and Narragansett. The Narragansett, Captain Wood said, was made a target for submarine attack, a torpedo missing her by a few feet, and her commander then warned Captain Wood not to attempt to reach the Lusitania.

[188] “It was two o’clock in the afternoon, May 7th, that we received the wireless S O S,” said Captain Wood. “I was then forty-two miles distant from the position he gave me. The Narragansett and the City of Exeter were nearer the Lusitania and she answered the S O S.

“At five o’clock I observed the City of Exeter cross our bows and she signaled, ‘Have you heard anything of the disaster?’

“At that moment I saw a periscope of a submarine between the Tonina and the City of Exeter, about a quarter of a mile directly ahead of us. She dived as soon as she saw us.

“I signaled to the engine room for every available inch of speed. Then we saw the submarine come up astern of us. I now ordered full speed ahead and we left the submarine behind. The periscope remained in sight about twenty minutes.

“No sooner had we lost sight of the submarine astern, than another appeared on the starboard bow. This one was directly ahead and on the surface, not submerged.

[189] “I starboarded hard away from him, he swinging as we did. About eight minutes later he submerged. I continued at top speed for four hours and saw no more of the submarines. It was the ship’s speed that saved her, that’s all.

“The Narragansett, as soon as she heard the S O S call, went to the assistance of the Lusitania. One of the submarines discharged a torpedo at her and missed her by not more than eight feet. The Narragansett then warned us not to attempt to go to the rescue, and I got her wireless call while I was dodging the two submarines. You can see that three ships would have gone to the assistance of the Lusitania had they not been attacked by the two submarines.”

The German Government defended the brutal destruction of non-combatants by the false assertions that the Lusitania was an armed vessel and that it was carrying a great store of munitions. Both of these accusations were proved to be mere fabrications. The Lusitania was absolutely unarmed and the [190] nearest approach to munitions was a consignment of 1,250 empty shell cases and 4,200 cases of cartridges for small arms.

Intense indignation swept over the neutral world, the tide rising highest in America. It well may be said that the destruction of the Lusitania was one of the greatest factors in driving the United States into the war against Germany.

Concerning the charge that the Lusitania carried munitions, Dudley Field Malone, Collector of the Port of New York, testified that he made personal and close inspection of the ship’s cargo and saw that it carried no guns and that no munitions were included in its cargo.

His statement follows:

“This report is not correct. The Lusitania was inspected before sailing, as is customary. No guns were found, mounted or unmounted, and the vessel sailed without any armament. No merchant ship would be allowed to arm in this port and leave the harbor.”

Captain W. T. Turner, of the Lusitania, [191] testifying before the coroner’s inquest at Kinsale, Ireland, was interrogated as follows:

“You were aware threats had been made that the ship would be torpedoed?”

“We were,” the Captain replied.

“Was she armed?”

“No, sir.”

“What precautions did you take?”

“We had all the boats swung when we came within the danger zone, between the passing of Fastnet and the time of the accident.”

The coroner asked him whether he had received a message concerning the sinking of a ship off Kinsale by a submarine. Captain Turner replied that he had not received any such message.

“Did you receive any special instructions as to the voyage?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you at liberty to tell us what they were?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you carry them out?”

“Yes, to the best of my ability.”

[192] “Tell us in your own words what happened after passing Fastnet.”

“The weather was clear,” Captain Turner answered. “We were going at a speed of eighteen knots. I was on the port side and heard Second Officer Hefford call out:

“‘Here’s a torpedo!’

“I ran to the other side and saw clearly the wake of a torpedo. Smoke and steam came up between the last two funnels. There was a slight shock. Immediately after the first explosion there was another report, but that may possibly have been internal.

“I at once gave the order to lower the boats down to the rails, and I directed that women and children should get into them. I also had all the bulkheads closed.

“Between the time of passing Fastnet, about 11 o’clock, and of the torpedoing I saw no sign whatever of any submarines. There was some haze along the Irish coast, and when we were near Fastnet I slowed down to fifteen knots. I was in wireless communication with shore all the way across.”

[193] Captain Turner was asked whether he had received any message in regard to the presence of submarines off the Irish coast. He replied in the affirmative. Questioned regarding the nature of the message, he replied:

“I respectfully refer you to the Admiralty for an answer.”

“I also gave orders to stop the ship,” Captain Turner continued, “but we could not stop. We found that the engines were out of commission. It was not safe to lower boats until the speed was off the vessel. As a matter of fact, there was a perceptible headway on her up to the time she went down.

“When she was struck she listed to starboard. I stood on the bridge when she sank, and the Lusitania went down under me. She floated about eighteen minutes after the torpedo struck her. My watch stopped at 2.36. I was picked up from among the wreckage and afterward was brought aboard a trawler.

“No warship was convoying us. I saw no warship, and none was reported to me as having been seen. At the time I was picked up I [194] noticed bodies floating on the surface, but saw no living persons.”

“Eighteen knots was not the normal speed of the Lusitania, was it?”

“At ordinary times,” answered Captain Turner, “she could make twenty-five knots, but in war times her speed was reduced to twenty-one knots. My reason for going eighteen knots was that I wanted to arrive at Liverpool bar without stopping, and within two or three hours of high water.”

“Was there a lookout kept for submarines, having regard to previous warnings?”

“Yes, we had double lookouts.”

“Were you going a zigzag course at the moment the torpedoing took place?”

“No. It was bright weather, and land was clearly visible.”

“Was it possible for a submarine to approach without being seen?”

“Oh, yes; quite possible.”

“Something has been said regarding the impossibility of launching the boats on the port side?”

[195] “Yes,” said Captain Turner, “owing to the listing of the ship.”

“How many boats were launched safely?”

“I cannot say.”

“Were any launched safely?”

“Yes, and one or two on the port side.”

“Were your orders promptly carried out?”

“Yes.”

“Was there any panic on board?”

“No, there was no panic at all. It was almost calm.”

“How many persons were on board?”

“There were 1,500 passengers and about 600 crew.”

By the foreman of the jury—“In the face of the warnings at New York that the Lusitania would be torpedoed, did you make any application to the Admiralty asking for an escort?”

“No, I left that to them. It is their business, not mine. I simply had to carry out my orders to go, and I would do it again.”

Captain Turner uttered the last words of this reply with great emphasis.

[196] By the coroner—“I am glad to hear you say so, Captain.”

By the juryman—“Did you get a wireless to steer your vessel in a northern direction?”

“No,” replied Captain Turner.

“Was the course of the vessel altered after the torpedoes struck her?”

“I headed straight for land, but it was useless. Previous to this the watertight bulkheads were closed. I suppose the explosion forced them open. I don’t know the exact extent to which the Lusitania was damaged.”

“There must have been serious damage done to the watertight bulkheads?”

“There certainly was, without doubt.”

“Were the passengers supplied with lifebelts?”

“Yes.”

“Were any special orders given that morning that lifebelts be put on?”

“No.”

“Was any warning given before you were torpedoed?”

[197] “None whatever. It was suddenly done and finished.”

“If there had been a patrol boat about, might it have been of assistance?”

“It might, but it is one of those things one never knows.”

With regard to the threats against his ship, Captain Turner said he saw nothing except what appeared in the New York papers the day before the Lusitania sailed. He had never heard the passengers talking about the threats, he said.

“Was a warning given to the lower decks after the ship had been struck?” Captain Turner was asked.

“All the passengers must have heard the explosion,” Captain Turner replied.

Captain Turner, in answer to another question, said he received no report from the lookout before the torpedo struck the Lusitania.

Ship’s Bugler Livermore testified that the watertight compartments were closed, but that the explosion and the force of the water must [198] have burst them open. He said that all the officers were at their posts and that earlier arrivals of the rescue craft would not have saved the situation.

After physicians had testified that the victims had met death through prolonged immersion and exhaustion the coroner summed up the case.

He said that the first torpedo fired by the German submarine did serious damage to the Lusitania, but that, not satisfied with this, the Germans had discharged another torpedo. The second torpedo, he said, must have been more deadly, because it went right through the ship, hastening the work of destruction.

The characteristic courage of the Irish and British people was manifested at the time of this terrible disaster, the coroner continued, and there was no panic. He charged that the responsibility “lay on the German Government and the whole people of Germany, who collaborated in the terrible crime.”

“I propose to ask the jury,” he continued, “to return the only verdict possible for a self-respecting [199] jury, that the men in charge of the German submarine were guilty of wilful murder.”

The jury then retired and after due deliberation prepared this verdict:

President Wilson’s note to Germany, written consequent on the torpedoing of the Lusitania, was dated six days later, showing that time for careful deliberation was duly taken. The President’s Secretary, Joseph P. Tumulty, on May 8th made this statement:

Although signed by Mr. Bryan, as Secretary of State, the note was written by the President in shorthand—a favorite method of Mr. Wilson in making memoranda—and transcribed by him on his own typewriter. The document was presented to the members of the President’s Cabinet, a draft of it was sent to Counselor Lansing of the State Department, and after a few minor changes, it was transmitted by cable to Ambassador Gerard.

Ex-President Roosevelt, after learning details of the sinking of the Lusitania, made these statements:

“This represents not merely piracy, but piracy on a vaster scale of murder than old-time pirate ever practiced. This is the warfare which destroyed Louvain and Dinant and hundreds of men, women, and children in Belgium. It is a warfare against innocent men, women, and children traveling on the ocean, and our own fellowcountrymen and countrywomen, who were among the sufferers.

“It seems inconceivable that we can refrain from taking action in this matter, for we owe it not only to humanity, but to our own national self-respect.”

Former President Taft made this statement:

[207] “I do not wish to embarrass the President of the Administration by a discussion of the subject at this stage of the information, except to express confidence that the President will follow a wise and patriotic course. We must bear in mind that if we have a war it is the people, the men and women, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, who must pay with lives and money the cost of it, and therefore they should not be hurried into the sacrifices until it is made clear that they wish it and know what they are doing when they wish it.

“I agree that the inhumanity of the circumstances in the case now presses us on, but in the heat of even just indignation is this the best time to act, when action involves such momentous consequences and means untold loss of life and treasure? There are things worse than war, but delay, due to calm deliberation, cannot change the situation or minimize the effect of what we finally conclude to do.

“With the present condition of the war in Europe, our action, if it is to be extreme, will not lose efficiency by giving time to the people, [208] whose war it will be, to know what they are facing.

“A demand for war that cannot survive the passion of the first days of public indignation and will not endure the test of delay and deliberation by all the people is not one that should be yielded to.”

President Wilson was criticized later by many persons for not insisting upon a declaration of war immediately after the sinking of the Lusitania. Undoubtedly the advice of former President Taft and of others high in statesmanship, prevailed with the President. This in substance was that America should prepare resolutely and thoroughly, giving Germany in the meantime no excuse for charges that America’s entrance into the conflict was for aggression or for selfish purposes.

It was seen even as early as the sinking of the Lusitania that Germany’s only hope for final success lay in the submarine. It was reasoned that unrestricted submarine warfare against the shipping of the world, so far as tended toward the provisioning and munitioning [209] of the Allies, would be the inevitable outcome. It was further seen that when that declaration would be made by Germany, America’s decision for war must be made. The President and his Cabinet thereupon made all their plans looking toward that eventuality.

The resignation of Mr. Bryan from the Cabinet was followed by the appointment of Robert Lansing as Secretary of State. It was recognized on both sides of the Atlantic that President Wilson in all essential matters affecting the war was active in the preparation of all state papers and in the direction of that department. Another Cabinet vacancy was created when Lindley M. Garrison, of New Jersey, resigned the portfolio of Secretary of War because of a clash upon his militant views for preparedness. Newton D. Baker, of Cleveland, Ohio, a close friend and supporter of President Wilson, was appointed in his stead.

WHEN Germany struck at the heart of France through Belgium simultaneous action was undertaken by the German Command in Southwest Africa through propaganda and mobilization of the available German troops. Insidiously and by the use of money systematic propaganda was instituted to corrupt the Boers against their allegiance to the Union of South Africa. One great character stood like a rock against all their efforts. It was the character of General Louis Botha, formerly arrayed in battle against the British during the Boer uprising.

With characteristic determination he formulated plans for the invasion of German Southwest Africa without asking permission of the citizens of the South African Union or of the British Foreign Office. His vision comprehended [211] an invasion that would have as its culmination a British-Boer colony where the German colony had been, and that from Cable Bay to the source of the Nile there would be one mighty union, with a great trunk railway feeding Egypt, the Soudan, Rhodesia, Uganda, and the Union of South Africa. An able lieutenant to Botha was General Smuts. He co-operated with his chief in a campaign of education. They pointed out the absolute necessity for deafness to the German tempters, and succeeded in obtaining full co-operation for the Botha plan of invasion from the British Imperial Government and the South African Union. Concerning this agreement General Botha said:

“To forget their loyalty to the empire in this hour of trial would be scandalous and shameful, and would blacken South Africa in the eyes of the whole world. Of this South Africans were incapable. They had endured some of the greatest sacrifices that could be demanded of a people, but they had always kept before them ideals, founded on Christianity, [212] and never in their darkest days had they sought to gain their ends by treasonable means. The path of treason was an unknown path to Dutch and English alike.

“Their duty and their conscience alike bade them be faithful and true to the Imperial Government in all respects in this hour of darkness and trouble. That was the attitude of the Union Government; that was the attitude of the people of South Africa. The government had cabled to the Imperial Government at the outbreak of war, offering to undertake the defense of South Africa, thereby releasing the Imperial troops for service elsewhere. This was accepted, and the Union Defense Force was mobilized.”

Preliminary to the invasion of German Southwest Africa, General Botha proclaimed martial law throughout the Union. The first act in consequence of this proclamation was the arrest of a number of conspirators who were planning sedition throughout the Union. The head of this conspiracy was Lieutenant-Colonel S. G. Maritz. General Beyers and General [213] De Wet, both Boer officers of high standing, co-operated with Maritz in an abortive rebellion. The situation was most trying for the native Boers and, to their credit be it recorded, the great majority of them stood out strongly against the Germans. Vigorous action by Botha and Smuts smashed the rebellion in the fall of 1914. A force acting under General Botha in person attacked the troops under General Beyers at Rustemburg on October 27th, and on the next day General Beyers sought refuge in flight. A smaller force acting under General Kemp was also routed on November 5th.

General De Wet opened his campaign of rebellion on November 7th in an action at Wimburg, where he defeated a smaller force of Loyalists under General Cronje. The decisive battle at Marquard occurred on November 12th, Botha commanding the Loyalist forces in person and De Wet the rebels. The victory of Botha in this fierce engagement was complete. De Wet was routed and was captured on December 1st with a rear-guard of [214] fifty-two men. General Beyers was drowned on December 9th while attempting to escape from the Vall into the Transvaal. This virtually ended all opposition to General Botha. The invasion of German Southwest Africa began on January 5, 1915, and was one uninterrupted chapter of successes. Through jungle and swamp, swept by torrential rains and encountering obstacles that would have disheartened any but the stoutest heart, the little force of invasion swept forward. Most of the engagements by the enemy were in the nature of guerrilla and rear-guard actions. The backbone of the German command was broken and the remaining forces capitulated in July, 1915.

With the capitulation came the story of the German mismanagement in Southwest Africa, and particularly their horrible treatment of the Hereros and Hottentots in the country misgoverned by them. An official report fully authenticated was made and none of its essential details were refuted.

The report told the story of how the German [215] authorities exterminated the native Hereros. When Germany annexed the country in 1890 they were believed to possess well over 150,000 head of cattle. After the rinderpest scourge of 1897 they still owned something like 90,000 head. By 1902, less than ten years after the arrival of the first German settlers, the Hereros had only 45,898 head of cattle, while the 1,051 German traders and farmers then in the country owned 44,487. The policy of robbing and killing the natives had by that time received the sanction of Berlin. By the end of 1905 the surviving Hereros had been reduced to pauperism and possessed nothing at all. In 1907 the Imperial German Government by ordinance prohibited the natives of Southwest Africa from possessing live stock.

The wholesale theft of the natives’ cattle, their only wealth, with the direct connivance and approval of the Berlin Government, was one of the primary causes of the Herero rebellion of 1904. The revolt was suppressed with characteristic German ruthlessness. But the Germans were not content with a mere suppression [216] of the rising; they had decided upon the practical extinction of the whole tribe. For this purpose Leutwein, who was apparently regarded as too lenient, was superseded by von Trotha, noted for his merciless severity. He had played a notorious part in the Chinese Boxer rebellion, and had just suppressed the Arab rising in German East Africa by the wholesale massacre of men, women, and children. As a preliminary von Trotha invited the Herero chiefs to come in and make peace, “as the war was now over,” and promptly shot them in cold blood. Then he issued his notorious “extermination order,” in terms of which no Herero—man, woman, child, or babe—was to receive mercy or quarter. “Kill every one of them,” he said, “and take no prisoners.”

The hanging of natives was a common occurrence. A German officer had the right to order a native to be hanged. No trial or court was necessary. Many were hanged merely on suspicion.

The Hereros were far more humane in the [217] field than the Germans. They were once a fine race. Now there is only a miserable remnant left.

This is amply proved by official German statistics. Out of between 80,000 and 90,000 souls, only about 15,000 starving and fugitive Hereros were alive at the end of 1905, when von Trotha relinquished his task. In 1911, after all rebellions had been suppressed and tranquillity restored, the government had a census taken. The figures, reproduced below, speak for themselves:

In other words, eighty per cent of the Herero people disappeared, and more than half of the Hottentot and Berg-Damara races shared the same fate. Dr. Paul Rohrbach’s dictum, “It is applicable to a nation in the same way as to the individual that the right of existence is primarily justified in the degree that such existence is useful for progress and general development,” comes forcibly to mind. These [218] natives of Southwest Africa had been weighed in the German balance and had been found wanting.

Germany lost more than a million square miles of territory in Africa as a direct consequence of General Botha’s bold action. These are divided in four great regions, Southwest Africa, Kamerun, Togo and East Africa. Togoland as this region is popularly known extends from the north shore of the Gulf of Guinea into the interior and is bounded by French and British colonies. By a joint attack of French and British forces, beginning the second week in August, 1914, the German power in this rich domain was completely broken, and the conquest of Togoland was complete on August 26, 1914. The military operation was of a desultory nature, and the losses negligible in view of the area of 33,000 square miles of highly productive land passed from German control.

The fighting in the great region of Kamerun was somewhat more stubborn than that in Togoland. The villages of Bonaberi and [219] Duala were particularly well defended. The British and French fought through swamps and jungle under the handicap of terrific heat, and always with victory at the end of the engagement. The conquest of the Kamerun was complete by the end of June, 1915. In addition to the operations by the British and French a combined Belgian and French force captured Molundu and Ngaundera in the German Congo.

The raids by General Botha on German Southwest Africa commenced on September 27, 1914. A series of brilliant strategic actions resulted in the conquest of a region once and a half the size of the German Empire at the time the Great War began. A British description of the operation states:

The occupation of Windhoek was effected by General Botha’s North Damaraland forces working along the railway from Swakopmund. At the former place General Vanderventer joined up with General Botha’s forces. The force from Swakopmund met with considerable opposition, first at Tretskopje, a small [220] township in the great Namib Desert fifty miles to the northeast of Swakopmund, and secondly at Otjimbingwe, on the Swakop River, sixty miles northwest of Windhoek. Apart from these two determined stands, however, little other opposition was encountered, and Karibib was occupied on May 5th and Okahandja and Windhoek on May 12th. With the fall of the latter place, 3,000 Europeans and 12,000 natives became prisoners.

The wireless station—one of Germany’s most valuable high-power stations, which was able to communicate with one relay only, with Berlin—was captured almost intact, and much rolling stock also fell into the hands of the Union forces.

The advance from the south along the Luderitzbucht-Seeheim-Keetmanshoop Railway, approximately 500 miles in length, was made by two forces which joined hands at Keetmanshoop. The advance from Aus (captured on April 10th) was made by General Smuts’s forces. Colonel (afterward General) Vanderventer, moving up from the direction of [221] Warmbad and Kalkfontein, around the flanks of Karas Mountain, pushed on after reaching Keetmanshoop in the direction of Gibeon. Bethany had previously been occupied during the advance to Seeheim. At Kabus, twenty miles to the north of Keetmanshoop, and at Gibeon pitched battles were fought between General Vanderventer’s forces and the enemy. No other opposition of importance was encountered, and the operations were brought to a successful conclusion.

The stiffest fighting in all Africa came in German East Africa. It began in late September, 1914, and continued until mid-June, 1915. The Germans, curiously enough, commenced the offensive here with an attack upon Monbasa, the terminus of the Uganda railway and the capital of British East Africa. The attack was planned as a joint naval and military operation, the German cruiser Koenigsburg being assigned to move into the harbor and bombard the town simultaneously with the assault by land. The plan went awry when the presence of British warships frightened off [222] the Koenigsburg. The land attack was easily checked by a detachment of the King’s African Rifles and native Arabian troops until the detachments of Indian Regulars arrived upon the scene. The enemy thereupon retreated to his original plans.

British reprisals came early in November, when the towns of Tanga and Gassin were attacked by British troops. The troops selected for this adventure numbered 6,000 and carried only food, water, guns and munitions. No protection of any kind nor any other equipment was taken by the soldiers. Reinforcements to the German forces delayed the capture of Gassin until January. A garrison of three hundred men was left there and this in turn was besieged by three thousand Germans. After a stubborn defense the Germans recaptured the town. A union of two British forces was accomplished early in June, 1915. One of these cut through German East Africa along the Kagera River and the other advanced on steamers from Kisumu. They met the enemy on June 22d and defeated it with [223] heavy casualties. Later General Tighe, commanding the combined British forces, was congratulated on the completeness of his victory on June 28th, by General Kitchener.

The territory acquired by the British as a consequence of the invasion of Germany’s African possessions, possesses formidable natural barriers, but once these are past the traveller finds lands of wonderful fertility and great natural resources. Approaching German Southwest Africa from the east, access is across the Kalahari Desert. This in its trackless desolation, its frequent sand-storms and torrid heat through which only the hardiest and best provisioned caravans may penetrate is worse than the worst that Sahara can show. There is not a sign of life. Approached from the sea the principal port is Walfish Bay, a fair harbor that was improved by the British when they occupied it. Near Walfish some of the largest diamonds in the history of the world have been found and gold fields of considerable richness have been worked. The climate of German Southwest Africa, after the torrential [224] storms of the seacoast and the terrific heat of the desert have been passed, is one of the most salubrious in the world. It is unique among African regions in the opportunities it affords for colonization by white men. Great Britain possessed large holdings of this land before Germany came into possession, but abandoned them under the belief that the region was comparatively worthless. There was no misapprehension on this score when all of the lands came into the possession of England as the result of the war.