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.