the necessary means at their disposal. We are not in a position to supply them, owing to the bad communications, and England, which has known how to swallow the humiliations of Antwerp and Gallipoli, will survive defeats in those distant theatres also.
When we turn from them to the European theatre, where England can be struck on land, we cannot close our eyes to the fact that we are faced with an extraordinarily difficult problem.”
It would seem that England was giving poor von Falkenhayn a lot of trouble. After looking vainly in the East for a vulnerable point in her armour, he is forced to turn his eyes to the West. And in the West he does not like the look of the British Army. He cannot collect more than twenty-five or twenty-six divisions to attack with, and they are not nearly enough!
“Attempts at a mass break-through, even with an extreme accumulation of men and material, cannot be regarded as holding out prospects of success against a well-armed enemy whose moral is sound and who is not seriously inferior in numbers. The defender has usually succeeded in closing the gaps. The salients thus made, enormously exposed to the effects of flanking fire, threaten to become a mere slaughterhouse. The technical difficulties of directing and supplying the masses bottled up in them are so great as to seem practically insurmountable.”
He sweeps aside the idea of attacking the English Army with a final complaint that, even if he drove it completely from the Continent, “England may be trusted not to give up even then,” and France would not have been very seriously damaged, so that a second operation would have to be taken against her. It would be impossible to get sufficient men.
England’s allies are called her “tools,” and the only thing to do is to smash up the “tools.” But no weapon is to be discarded, and so unrestricted submarine warfare must be undertaken against this arch-enemy.
“If the definite promises of the Naval Authorities that the unrestricted submarine war must force England to yield in the course of the year 1916 are realised, we must face the fact that the United States may take up a hostile attitude. She cannot intervene decisively in the war in time to enable her to make England fight on when that country sees the spectre of hunger and many another famine rise up before her island. There is only one shadow on this encouraging picture of the future. We have to assume that the Naval Authorities are not making a mistake.”
As for the “tools,” Italy is ruled out as a possible one to be broken as she is not of much account in Falkenhayn’s opinion, and he thinks there will soon be internal troubles. Russia is also ruled out because he does not see any gain in the capture of Petrograd or Moscow, and there are also “internal troubles.” There is France left.
“As I have already insisted, the strain on France has almost reached the breaking-point—though it is certainly borne with the most remarkable devotion. If we succeed in opening the eyes of her people to the fact that in a military sense they have nothing more to hope for, that breaking-point would be reached and England’s best sword knocked out of her hand.... Within our reach behind the French sector of the Western Front there are objectives for the retention of which the French Staff would be compelled to throw in every man they have. If they do so the forces of France will bleed to death.... The objectives of which I am speaking now are Belfort and Verdun.”
Altogether this document, which was prepared for the Kaiser and must have been read by that potentate with mixed feelings, was not the work of an optimist. It reads more like despair, as though Falkenhayn was saying, “I can still fight, I can still hurt, but I am bound to go down in the end”! One cannot see any very shrewd reasoning in it, for he not only underrated the valour of the French (as the Germans always did), but he was placed in very serious difficulties by the successful attack of Brussiloff on the Austrians in June, so that he also undervalued the strength of Russia. For this misfortune, however, the Germans blame the Austrians, condemning them for their offensive against the Italians in May, which was undertaken against German advice and made the Brussiloff adventure possible. But this document shows the policy and plans of Germany for the year 1916—the great German effort on Verdun, which was to bleed France to death, dominates all other events. The attack was launched on the 21st February and coincides with the formation of the 56th Division, and the subsequent movements of the division were connected with the wide-spreading influence of the Verdun battle.
In his dispatch dated the 29th May, Sir Douglas Haig sums up the early situation very briefly. Since the 19th December, 1915,
“the only offensive effort made by the enemy on a great scale was directed against our French Allies near Verdun. The fighting in that area has been prolonged and severe. The results have been worthy of the highest traditions of the French Army and of great service to the cause of the Allies. The efforts made by the enemy have cost him heavy losses both in men and in prestige, and he has made these sacrifices without gaining any advantage to counterbalance them.
During the struggle my troops have been in readiness to co-operate as they might be needed, but the only assistance asked for by our Allies was of an indirect nature—viz., the relief of the French troops on a portion of their defensive front. This relief I was glad to be able to afford.”
On the other hand, plans for a Franco-British offensive had been fully discussed by Sir Douglas Haig and Marshal Joffre and complete agreement arrived at. Vast preparations were in progress. Sir Douglas Haig desired to postpone the attack as long as possible, because both the British Army and the supply of ammunition were growing steadily, and time would enable the newer troops to complete their training. But though the original plans had no connection with Verdun, they were bound to influence and be influenced by the great German attack.
It may be said that the Entente Powers were not looking for a speedy termination of the war, but were bent on inflicting heavy blows on Germany and her allies, while Germany was seeking, by a concentration on France at Verdun, to gain a decision in the West. Falkenhayn’s advice was being followed, although the unrestricted submarine warfare was postponed for the time being.
The plan for the British offensive was that the main attack should be delivered by the Fourth Army, under Sir Henry Rawlinson, on a front stretching from Maricourt, on the right, to Serre, on the left; while farther north the Third Army, under Sir E. H. H. Allenby, would make an attack on both sides of the Gommecourt salient.
For an offensive on this scale enormous preparations were necessary. There was no end to the amount of stores to be accumulated, from ammunition to horseshoes. In the forward trench system many miles of trenches had to be dug—assault trenches, assembly trenches, communication trenches, trenches for telephone wires—dugouts had to be constructed for sheltering troops, for dressing-stations, for storing food, water, and engineering material, not forgetting ammunition. We are bound to admit, however, that in those days, although much work was done on dugouts, the infantry saw precious little of them. Mining they saw, indeed, but dugouts were rare.
Then there were dumps to be made at convenient points, and many miles of railway line, both standard and narrow gauge, to bring the stores within reach of the fighting troops. Roads had to be constructed, and in some places causeways had to be built over marshy valleys. Wells were sunk, over a hundred pumping stations were installed, and a hundred and twenty miles of water-mains laid.
The whole country behind this vast front was teeming with men and horses, with wagons and motor lorries. At night it was as though an army of gigantic ants were at work, stretched out in long lines, building and excavating, marching in solemn silent processions with grim, determined purpose in the slowness of their gait, and bowed down under loads of material. They passed and repassed in never-ending streams; the roads were congested with motor and wagon traffic; paths across the open country could be traced by the shadowy silhouettes of men in single file. And the horizon flickered with the flash of guns as with summer lightning, while shells passed overhead with a long-drawn, ghostly wail, or fell with a sharp swish and a crash. The line, that maze of foul mud-filled ditches constructed in a belt of shell-pounded and festering earth, was indicated at night by floating starlights rising irregularly as sparks, bursting into brilliancy, and remaining for a moment, suspended in the blackness of the sky like arc lamps, then dying once more to so many sparks before they fell to the ground.
Sometimes the nights would be quiet—that is to