The Christmas Truce

What happened to them all in the next four years?

As dusk thickened on a cold Christmas Eve in 1914, some British soldiers noticed Germans putting small trees on the parapet of their trenches on the other side of no-mans-land. Some were illuminated with small candles. Most British soldiers had no idea what this meant, since decorating trees for the festive season was not yet common in Britain. Some even thought it was some kind of fiendish enemy trick. Then the Germans began singing.

Legend has it that the Germans sang Silent Night and this may well have been one of the carols they sang, but certainly not the only one. Eventually, they shouted across for the British to sing. The story goes that, since the British couldn't think of any carols, they replied with bawdy soldiers' songs. This seems unlikely and is probably a symptom of the British denial of sentimentality. In any case, songs were exchanged.

The next morning, more words were exchanged and a few brave souls, Germans initially in most reports, climbed out of their trenches. Others followed as curiosity at what the mostly invisible enemy might be like. Food, cigarettes and tobacco, the staples of most soldiers' lives, were swapped and photographs of home and family examined. Makeshift football (soccer) games were undertaken, although scorekeeping does not seem to have been very important.

As afternoon wore on, soldiers began to drift back to their own trenches. Some swore that they would not open fire the next day and some wildly optimistic individuals stated that this was the end of the war and soon they could call go home. Of course, the optimists were horribly wrong and the guns opened up with renewed fervor the next day—but what if they'd been right? What a Christmas that would have been!

All the best for our Festive Season to everybody.

"The Race to the Sea"

The III Corps added to the BEF in time for the First Battle of Ypres included Indian Army units like this Sikh Regiment.

While I have been on holiday the anniversary of the Battle of the Marne, which some regard as a pivotal battle in 20th century history, took place. The Germans who had already swung east of Paris, were over-extended and retreated, but only back the Aisne River. At the same time, the surprisingly fast deployment of Russian armies in East Prussia was stopped at the devastating Battle of Tannenberg. So the Russians were stopped for the time being but the Schlieffen Plan to beat France quickly had failed.

In late September and October a series of battles, later known erroneously as the "Race to the Sea", happened in Northern France as both sides tried to outflank the other. These battles were vast in scale and are only forgotten now because they were fought in places that were to become associated with much vaster battles later in the war—places who's names came to symbolize the horror of the Western Front: the Somme, Arras, Ypres.

The British Expeditionary Force had fought at Mons, Le Cateau, the Marne and the Aisne. The survivors of the original two army Corps had been reorganized and reinforced by a third Corps. A line of opposing trenches was forming. The French held south from Lens and Arras, the Belgians the stretch of their own country near the coast. The BEF was rushed north to fill the gap between, so did the Germans They met in mid-October 1914 in Flanders in the First Battle of Ypres. The main battle lasted from October 20 to November 22 and cost a total of around 200,000 casualties, among which were the heart of the pre-war British regular army.

Stay tuned, I'll look at this battle in more detail when the time comes.

Mons and after

The 4th Battalion Royal Fusiliers resting in Mons before the battle. I've often wondered who the hatless guy near the middle looking at the camera was and what happened to him. These guys look tired already and they're about fight a battle and then walk almost all the way back to Paris!

The French army is still retreating and the BEF still moving forward. However, it looks as if the BEF is going to have to handle Mons and the retreat without me. I'm off to the UK tomorrow and will have few chances to blog. Should be back for the Marne.

Interestingly, Mons on August 23 is probably the battle with the most mythology associated with it. The Angels and ghostly Agincourt bowmen were obviously created some time after the battle, but the idea that the Germans thought every British soldier had a machine gun is tougher to deny. The British did have fewer machine-guns and they did have the "Mad Minute", 15 aimed rifle rounds fired in a minute, which decimated the packed ranks of advancing German soldiers, but it's easy to tell the difference between machine-gun and concentrated rifle fire, so it's probably likely that the myth was put forward in the newspapers to make the British soldiers seem even better than they were.

The Guns of August

"Europe, in her insanity, has started something almost unbelievable. In such times one realises to what a sad species of animal one belongs. I quietly pursue my peaceful studies and contemplations and feel only pity and disgust." Albert Einstein, August 19.

The French on the way to Berlin.

August 1914 was one of the bloodiest months of WWI, yet the battles are (unless you're British and know about the relatively small engagement at Mons), much less well known to our cultural memory than the Somme or Ypres. This is probably different in France where most of the fighting took place (anyone want to guest blog on it?).

As millions of Germans flooded through Belgium on their way to Paris, to the south millions of Frenchmen headed for Berlin. The titanic struggles that resulted throughout the month contributed the first several hundred thousand casualties to WWI's toll. On August 22 alone, at Charleroi and in the Ardennes, the French lost 27,000 dead, 8,000 more than the British dead on the first day of the Somme in 1916.

The Germans on the way to Paris.

Meanwhile, the relatively tiny British regular army packed its bags crossed the Channel and heading optimistically into Belgium, totally unaware that the French Armies were disintegrating around them. On August 7, Kitchener, realizing that it would be a long war, called for 100,000 volunteers.  Within days of the call, men were being sworn in at  a rate of 100 an hour in London alone. According to The Times, there was little obvious excitement, "but there was an undercurrent of enthusiasm, and the disappointment of those who failed to pass one or other of the test was obvious."

WAR—August 4

King George, Queen Mary and the Prince of Wales after the declaration of war on August 4.

Britain sent a message to Germany repeating, as Prime Minister Asquith said, "the request made last week to the German Government that they should give us the same assurance in regard to Belgian neutrality that was given to us and Belgium by France last week." A deadline of midnight in Berlin (11 p.m. in London) was given for a reply.

It's unlikely that many people on either side thought the British ultimatum would have any effect. Things had gone too far. The ultimatum was a casus belli to justify Britain going to war. Bethmann Hollweg certainly thought so, he believed that the treaty assuring Belgian neutrality had the value of a "scrap of paper," and that Britain was going to war for her own interests.

Sir Edward Grey came very close to confirming this perspective in a conversation with the American Ambassador. He said, "The issue for us is, that if Germany wins, she will dominate France…she will dominate the whole of Western Europe, and this will make our position quite impossible. We could not exist as a first class State under such circumstances."

As 11 p.m. came and went, the British Government issued a statement: "Owing to the summary rejection by the German Government of the request made by his Majesty's Government for assurances that the neutrality of Belgium will be respected, his Majesty's Ambassador to Berlin has received his passports, and his Majesty's Government declared to the German Government that a state of war exists between Great Britain and Germany as from 11 p.m. on August 4, 1914."

Germany Declares War on France!—August 3

A quiet walk through the Belgian countryside—with a pipe!

As a first step in the war with France, German troops crossed into Belgium. Bethmann-Hollweg told the Reichstag, "The wrong…that we are committing we will endeavor to make good as soon as our military goal is reached." Nice of him to admit it, but it must have been small comfort to the Belgians as hundreds of thousands of soldiers begin tramping through their nation.

Two people who were to become famous in ways about as different as possible, were involved this day. In Munich, Adolf Hitler petitioned to enlist in a Bavarian regiment. Meanwhile, M.K. Gandhi was a passenger on a ship delayed by British mine laying in the Channel. Gandhi was coming to promote the idea that Indians living in Britain should take "their share in the war."

A significant number of the British Cabinet were not keen on going to war for France—there was no treaty, just a ten-year-old understanding, which had been drawn up to settle quarrels in Egypt and Morocco—but Belgian neutrality was different.

As dusk fell, Sir Edward Grey was looking out a window of the Foreign Office in London, watching the lamplighters light the street lamps. Memorably, he remarked to a friend, "The lamps are going out all over Europe, we shall not see them lit again in our life-time."

A perpetually neutral state—August 2

Alfred von Schlieffen's plan

In the morning, German military patrols crossed into France for the first time since 1871. Corporal Andre Peugeot was killed, becoming number one of what would be over over 1.3 million French military deaths in the war.

At seven o'clock in the evening Germany demanded that Belgium agree within 12 hours to allow free passage to her troops. Belgium—backed by the 1839 Treaty of London which guaranteed her neutrality and had been signed by Britain, Prussia, Austria, France and Russia—refused to sacrifice, "the nation's honor".

Germany's plan to win a swift war depended on her violating Belgian neutrality. The idea was to sweep the army through Belgium and northern France in an arc, taking Paris and trapping the French armies against their own fortifications along the border. If this was down quickly enough, the German armies could then be released to go and defeat Russia who was expected to be very slow to mobilize.  The originator of this vast war scene, Alfred von Schlieffen, is supposed to have said of this vast undertaking, "Let the last man on the right brush the channel with his sleeve."

Interlude 3

First off, I accept that not everyone will be as excited about this as I am but Cambridge University Library has digitized Siegfried Sasson's entire First World War diaries and put them online.

How cool is that?

Previously, because of their fragile state (they still have mud from the Somme trenches on them!), they have only been available to one person, Sassoon's biographer. Now everyone can look at them in incredible detail. You have to love the digital age.




And here's one of my favorites, The General.

"Good-morning; good-morning!" the General said

When we met him last week on our way to the line.

Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of 'em dead,

And we're cursing his staff for incompetent swine.

"He's a cheery old card," grunted Harry to Jack

As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

                  .          .          .          .

But he did for them both with his plan of attack.

The spell of fear and hate—August 1

The Odeonsplatz, Munich, August 1

"Three hundred million people today lie under the spell of fear and hate. Is there no one to break the spell, no gleam of light on this cold dark scene?" asked a London evening newspaper on August 1. The simple answer was no.

The scene was not everywhere cold and dark. Crowds threw flowers at cavalry in Paris and in Munich's Odeonsplatz similar crowds, including a young struggling painter, Adolf Hitler, cheered the coming war.

In the evening, the German Ambassador to Russia went to the Foreign Ministry in St. Petersburg and handed over the German declaration of war on Russia. The Russian minister said, "This is a criminal act of yours. The curses of the nations will be upon you."

"We are defending our honor," the Ambassador retorted.

"Your honor was not involved," the minister said. "You could have prevented the war by one word; you didn't want to." Apparently, the Ambassador burst into tears and had to be helped from the room.

That night, German troops entered Luxembourg to secure rail and telegraph resources.

Interlude 2

Five of my books, four novels (And in the Morning, Shot at Dawn, Red Goodwin, Wings of War), and one non-fiction (Desperate Glory: The Story of WWI) are set during the First World War.

As part of marking the 100th anniversary of the war, I have created a new Blog, in which I will upload short extracts from my WWI books (whichever seems appropriate), over the next while.

Told in diary format, And in the Morning deals with a young soldier's breakdown in 1916.

Shot at Dawn looks at what deserters did in the months between desertion and capture.

Red Goodwin deals with the draft dodgers in Canada.

Wings of War is set in the early days of flight and dogfights.

Desperate Glory is a heavily illustrated history of the war.

To begin, here's a short extract from Chapter One of the recently published Wings of War.

Enjoy.

The first casualty—July 31

The cafe still exists.

Although France still hesitated to declare war, she was mobilizing and the response was overwhelming—and violent.

The French socialists, like many other pre-war European left-wing parties, preached workers' solidarity across nations. After giving a speech urging socialists everywhere to demand a stop to all mobilizations and war measures, Jean Jaures, the French socialist leader was sitting in Le Croissant cafe in Paris when a nationalist, Raoul Villain, shot him through the cafe window, creating arguable the war's first casualty.

On this day, Britain asked both Germany and France for a guarantee to respect Belgian neutrality. France gave a pledge to do so, Germany didn't reply

Holding your breath—July 30

On July 30, it seemed that everyone was holding their breath. No one wanted to be the first to declare war. But the Kaiser could not persuade his staff to cancel partial mobilization, because to do so would throw the whole process into chaos and leave Germany open to attack. At four in the afternoon the Tsar signed the order for full mobilization.

Even this late, it was still possible to stop, but no one seemed to have the will. Everyone had something to gain from a short war, Austria could crush Serbia, Russia could finish Austria and support Slavs everywhere, Germany could establish herself as the dominant power in Europe and increase her Empire, and France could get back the lost provinces of Alsace and Lorraine. Britain still hoped she could sit back and watch.

A Dawning Realization—July 29

One thing the tsar did when not sending telegrams to the Kaiser.

On July 29, Austrian artillery began bombarding Belgrade. The Tsar ordered partial Russian mobilization and Britain ordered her fleet to their war stations. These were precautions, none of the major powers had yet declared war on another, but the realistic possibility that Europe was standing on the brink seems to have suddenly dawned on several people.

Germany sent a secret message to Britain suggesting that if she remained neutral, Germany would take no territory from France except her colonies. Edward Grey rejected the idea. The Tsar sent a telegram in English to the Kaiser: "To try and avoid such a calamity as a European War, I beg you in the name of our old friendship to do what you can to stop your allies going too far."

That telegram crossed one from the Kaiser to the Tsar, also in English: I am exerting my utmost influence to induce the Austrians to deal straightly to arrive at a satisfactory understanding with you." The Tsar proposed international mediation. The Kaiser offered to help promote Russian/Austrian understanding.

It was too late. Austria had no intention of stopping and the enthusiasm for the war was taking hold. In Berlin, Horace Rumbold noted, "there is an indescribable feeling of excitement in the air."

The Beginning—July 28

The Austrian declaration of war.

The British Ambassador in Vienna: "postponement or prevention of war with Serbia would undoubtedly be a great disappointment in this country, which has gone wild with joy at the prospect of war."

The same morning, the Kaiser first read the full terms of the ultimatum to Serbia and the Serbian reply. He wrote in the margin, "A great moral victory for Vienna; but with it every reason for war is removed…On the strength of this I should never have ordered mobilization."

Too little, too late. At noon on July 28, Austria, certain of unconditional German support, declared war on Serbia.

Winston Churchill, never one to mince words, said upon hearing of the declaration of war, "I wondered whether those stupid Kings and Emperors could not assemble together and revivify kingship by saving the nations from hell but we all drift on in a kind of dull cataleptic trance."

The First World War had begun.

Let's find a way out of this mess—July 27

The British fleet on review.

The Tsar suggested proposed negotiations in Vienna based on Serbia's reply to the ultimatum. Austria rejected the idea out-of-hand.

Britain suggested a four power conference (Britain, Germany France and Italy), "for the purpose of discovering an issue which would prevent complications." Despite the odd wording and the characterization of the threatened European war as "complications", this was a sensible suggestion. Germany rejected the idea because a conference "was not practicable." Apparently war was more practicable!

The British Cabinet decided that the fleet, which was concentrated for review at Portland in the English Channel should probably stay where it was rather than disperse. Churchill also got Asquith to  order armed guards be put on ammunition and oil depots.

The German High Command was worried that Austria would take so long to settle this annoying issue with Serbia, that all these meddling other powers would force the crisis to be resolved before any fighting broke out.

With incredible insight, the Kaiser stated, "We are not at war yet." To be fair, he added, "if I can, I shall prevent it." A bit naive and a bit late.

The 2 men most responsible—July 26

Berchtold

Leopold Anton Johann Sigismund Josef Korsinus Ferdinand Graf Berchtold von und zu Ungarschitz, Frättling und Püllütz (lets call him Berchtold for short), was Austro-Hungarian Imperial Foreign Minister in 1914. He had been accused of indecision during the recent Balkan wars. That wasn't going to happen again.

Conrad

Franz Xaver Joseph Conrad Graf von Hötzendorf (Conrad), was Chief of the General Staff of the Austro-Hungarian Army in 1914. He believed in the inevitability of a struggle between German and Slavic civilization (he was way ahead of his time in some unpleasant ways), and had pushed for a pre-emptive military attack on Serbia twenty-five times in his career.

So Berchtold and Conrad, with the Kaiser behind them saying that they can basically do what they want and will have his unstinting support, are at the centre of the rapidly developing July Crisis. They had not even wanted the fiction of an ultimatum. Their plan to crush Serbia depended on getting it all over quickly, done and dusted before Russia could react. Already a month has gone by and, on July 26, Conrad explains to Berchtold that an invasion of Serbia will not be possible for a number of weeks. 

Oops!

The Reply—July 25

General Putnik.

At 3 p.m., Serbia began mobilization. That evening she responded to the Austrian ultimatum. Remarkably, Serbia agreed to everything, with the sole exception of allowing Austrians into Serbia. She suggested that this point be submitted for arbitration to the International Tribunal in The Hague.

This is how things were supposed to work, Lloyd George's "sane and well-ordered arbitrament," and the International Tribunal was probably an excellent starting point. Just in case it didn't work, the Serbian government moved out of Belgrade.

In a wonderfully surreal incident, given that the ultimatum was merely an excuse for war, the Serbian Army Chief-of-Staff, General Putnik was arrested in Budapest as he was returning to Serbia by train. When Franz Josef heard of the arrest he ordered a special train to take Putnik on his way, along with an apology.

We're about to invade you, but no one can accuse us of not being polite!

Reaction—July 24

Austrian troops—slow to get mobilized, so there's time to say goodbye.

Within hours of the ultimatum becoming known, the Russian Council of Ministers secretly agreed to mobilize thirteen Army Corps for possible use against Austria—so much for the belief that Russia would do nothing.

In London, Prime Minister Asquith told King George V that Europe was "within measurable distance of Armageddon." He happily added that he thought Britain would be a spectator.

In Berlin, the Charge d'Affaires, Sir Horace Rumbold, wrote a letter to his wife. "The Austrians will probably be in Belgrade by Monday. The Lord knows what will happen then and I tell you—between ourselves—that we will be lucky if we get out of this without the long-dreaded European war, a general bust-up in fact." Rumbold was right, although elaborating on the "long-dreaded European war" as a "general bust-up" seems wildly out of place.

The same day, Franz Joseph ordered partial Austrian mobilization, but being in Belgrade by Monday was out of the question—the mobilization was delayed for three days and would take sixteen days to complete.

An Ultimatum—July 23

David Lloyd George can still manage a smile!

It's almost a month since Princip's shots, Franz and Sophie are buried and mourned and initial concern has faded. A report sent to Vienna on July 13 determined that the Serbian government was not implicated in the assassination. Despite this, and encouraged by Germany continually telling Austria to punish Serbia quickly and firmly in the belief that Russia would do nothing, the Austrian government drew up a fifteen point ultimatum, among which were demands that: Serbia must suppress all anti-Austrian subversives, condemn Serbian military involvement in the assassination, condemn and punish the spread of any Anti-Austrian propaganda (even in schools), allow Austrian officials to enter Serbia to investigate and punish those involved in the plot. The full text of the ultimatum can be found HERE.

Acceptance of the ultimatum amounted to Serbia giving up her recently won independence, but then it was never intended to be accepted, it was an excuse, as cynical as the Nazi's staging a fake Polish raid on the wireless station at Gleiwitz on August 31, 1939.

With superb timing and wonderful optimism, David Lloyd George told the British parliament on July 23, that civilized nations could now regulate any disputes between themselves by, "sane and well-ordered arbitrament." That evening the ultimatum, a document that Edward Grey, the British Foreign minister was to call, "the most formidable document that was ever addressed from one state to another," was delivered to Belgrade.

The Last Day—July 22

Things you could have been doing 100 years ago today.

One hundred years ago, this would be the last day you could reasonably believe that the world you live in is sane and rational. Tomorrow the crisis in that obscure corner of Europe that you thought, or hoped, had blown over will be dramatically rekindled by stupid, self-interested old men who have far too much power, and your world will be set on a road that will change it forever in ways you cannot imagine.

Enjoy the day.

Interlude 1

The original cover from 2003. 

While we wait to find out what murky doings are going on behind closed doors in Vienna, here's a couple of activities. 

After months of procrastinating, my fancy new Website is now up and running. Feel free to drop by and have a browse.

Speaking of free, my 2003 WWI diary novel for teens and adult fans of a quick read, And in the Morning, is coming out this fall in a new edition from Heritage House Publishing. As an early celebration, I'm offering the eBook free for a limited time. Click on the link to Smashwords, enter the coupon code FS29R and enjoy.

The face on the cover is from a photograph of Richard Symons Hay, my wife's great uncle and one of the missing from the Battle of Loos in 1915.

A bit of fun

While secret things are going on in the back rooms of Vienna, how about an ad for the Imperial War Museum from the creators of Wallace and Gromit? Of course, not forgetting that the venerable IWM, with wonderful historic irony, used to be Bedlam, the insane asylum!
Oh, and the last ad in the series is pretty cool as well.

A friend indeed!

Looks like his mustache could use a holiday, too.

At this point, and despite Count Tschirschky's advice, the Austrians are nervous that Germany won't support them in a war of annexation against Serbia. The Kaiser is meeting with the Austrian Ambassador today—good chance to calm things down.
Wilhelm begins by stating that Russia is "in no way prepared for war." He goes on to point out that Austria will regret it if "we did not make use of the present moment, which is all in our favor." Note the use of the words we and our, subtly linking Germany to Austria's aims in the Balkans and whatever else may happen.
He concludes by stating that "should war between Austria-Hungary and Russia prove unavoidable," Germany will fully support Austria.
So, now we're not just talking an imperial grab in the Balkans but war with Russia. This is getting serious, Wilhelm had better keep on top of things. But wait, tomorrow is the beginning of his annual three week cruise through the delightful Norwegian fjords. I guess even emperors need holidays and if Wilhelm is taking his holiday a week after the assassination, things can't be that serious.
If the Kaiser can take a break under these circumstances, then so can I. I'm off to a ball game in Seattle. I'm sure the international situation will have calmed down by the time I get back next week.

Rumblings

He looks like a sensible chap.

Hope you are still enjoying a relaxing summer. You probably are, after all, you can't possibly know that the German Ambassador in Vienna, Count Heinrich Leonhard von Tschirschky, just told the Austrian government that Germany would support Austria "through thick and thin", and that the "earlier Austria attacks the better. It would have been better to attack yesterday than today; and better to attack today than tomorrow."
Good job of throwing oil on the fire.
Maybe Kaiser Wilhelm will have something sensible to say tomorrow.
Anyway, on to more important things, Norman Brookes of Australia beat Anthony Wilding of New Zealand in the Gentleman's Singles Final at Wimbledon a hundred years ago today. Brookes was Wilding's doubles partner (they won that) and considered Wilding one of the great tennis players of the age—he won 11 major titles, including 4 at Wimbledon.
Of course, from the Olympian perspective of a century later, we know that, on May 9, 1915, at 4.45 in the afternoon, a German shell landed on Captain Tony Wilding's dugout during the battle of Aubers Ridge at Neuve-Chapelle, killing him instantly.

The weeks after the day after.

Okay, so the heir to a decaying central European empire has been shot, for reasons you're only vaguely aware of, in a town you've never heard of, in the Balkans where they're always having minor wars. With luck, the Irish won't rebel this year, so there's no reason to disrupt your summer. Head off to the beach. If the weather's really nice, take your hat off, but under no circumstances remove your tweed jacket, tie or calf-length boots.
If anything of note happens, I'll be back to let you know.

The Day After

There had been anger and minor anti-Serb demonstrations in Sarajevo on Sunday afternoon as word spread of the assassination. On Monday it erupted into full scale rioting. It began when mobs carrying black flags and pictures of the dead Archduke and his wife sang the national anthem at the scene of the killing before going to the cathedral for prayers. After that, Catholic Croats and Muslims tore through the streets attacking anything with a Serb connection. Shops, clubs and businesses were looted, the Serb owned Hotel Europe had all its furniture thrown out of windows, two Serbian newspapers were ransacked and around 50 people were injured and one killed. In the afternoon, troops were called in to restore order, martial law was declared, a curfew imposed, and inns, coffee shops and hotels closed.

Meanwhile, Princip and Cabrinovic, both of whom had only taken enough cyanide to make them ill, were being interrogated. Ilic had also been picked up the day before, but all kept quiet and the Austrian authorities weren’t even convinced that the three knew each other let alone that they were part of a wider conspiracy. Grabez was soon captured and on July 1 or 2, either Ilic or Princip told all. Over the succeeding days and weeks, Mehmedbasic fled the country but the rest of the conspirators and anyone who had helped them or was connected to them was arrested.

Eventually, twenty five were tried, nine were acquitted, three, including Ilic were sentence to be hanged and the rest were given prison sentences of varying lengths. The reason the assassins were not hanged was their age, under Austrian law there was no death penalty for anyone under twenty, and all were teenagers, Popovic being the youngest at only sixteen.

The assassin's trial. Princip is in the middle of the front  row.

This is not to say they had it easy, condition were dreadful and beatings common. Most died in prison, Cabrilovic in 1916 and Princip in 1918. The escapee, Mehmedbasic, was pardoned in 1919. He was killed by Croatian Fascists in 1943. Only Popovic and Cubrilovic lived to be old men. Popovic returned to Sarajevo after the war and was a professor of philosophy at the university there. He died aged 84 in 1980. Cubrilovic died at age 93 in 1990, after terms as Minister of Forests and Agriculture in Tito’s Yugoslavia. He was a proponent of ethnically pure Slavic states.