Various - The New York Times Current History of the European War, Vol 1, Issue 4, January 23, 1915

V >> Various >> The New York Times Current History of the European War, Vol 1, Issue 4, January 23, 1915

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Of all that elaborate and copious machinery of war which Russia has
built up since her failure in Manchuria there is nothing so impressive
as this. Her thousand and odd aeroplanes, her murderously expert
artillery, her neat and successful field wireless telegraph, even her
strategy, count as secondary to it. The chief of her weaknesses in the
past has been the slowness of her mobilization; Germany, with her plans
laid and tested for a mobilization in four days, could count on time
enough to strike before Russia could move. She used her advantage to
effect when Austria planted the seed of this present war by the
annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina; she was able to present Russia in
all her unpreparedness with the alternatives of war in twenty-four hours
or accepting the situation. But this time it has been different.

At Petrograd one sees how different. Hither from the northern and
eastern Governments come the men who are to swell Rennenkampf's force.
Their cadres, the skeletons of the battalions of which they are the
flesh, are waiting for them--officers, organization, equipment, all is
ready. The endless trains decant them; they swing in leisurely columns
through the streets to their depots, motley as a circus--foresters,
moujiks in fetid sheepskins, cattlemen, and rivermen, Siberians,
tow-haired Finns, the wide gamut of the races of Russia, all big or
biggish, with those impassive, blunt-featured faces that mask the
Russian soul, and all sober. No need now to make men of them before
making soldiers; no inferno at the way side-stations and troop trains
turning up days late. It is as if, at the cost of those annual
780,000,000 rubles, Russia had bought the clue to victory.

West beyond Eydtkuhnen, under the pearl-gray northern sky, lies East
Prussia. Hereabout it is flat and fertile, with lavish, eye-fatiguing
levels of cornland stretching away to Insterburg and beyond to
Koenigsberg's formidable girdle of forts. Here are many villages, and
scattered between them innumerable hamlets of only two or three houses,
and a small town or two. Most of them are empty now; the German army
that leans its back on the Vistula's fortresses has cleared this country
like a dancing floor for its work. It has rearranged it as one
rearranges the furniture in a room; whole populations have been
transported, roads broken, bridges blown up, strategically unnecessary;
villages burned. Nothing remains on the ground that has not its purpose
assigned--not even the people, and their purpose has been clear for
some time past. The Russians have been over this ground already, and
fell back from it after their defeat between Osterode and Allenstein.
Their advance was through villages lifeless and deserted and over empty
roads; the retreat was through a country that swarmed with hostile life.
Roads were blocked with farm carts, houses along their route took fire
mysteriously, signaling their movement and direction, and answered from
afar by other conflagrations; bridges that had been sound enough before
blew up at the last moment. What the Belgians were charged with, and
their country laid waste for, all East Prussia is organized to do daily
as an established and carefully schooled auxiliary to the army.

A few days since there arrived a prisoner, driven in on foot by a
mounted Cossack, sent back by the officer commanding the reconnoissance
party which had captured him. He came up the street, shuffling at a
quick walk to keep ahead of the horse and the thin, sinister Cossack--an
elderly farmer, in work-stained clothes, with the lean neck and pursed
jaws of a hard bargainer. In all his bearing and person there was
evident the man of toilsome life who had prospered a little; in that
soldier-thronged street, in his posture of a prisoner with the Cossack's
revolver at his back, he was conspicuous and grotesque. His eyes, under
the gray pent of his brows, were uneasy, and through all his commonplace
quality and his show of fortitude there was a gleam of the fear of death
that made him tragic. He had been found on his farm doing nothing in
particular; it was out of simply general suspicion that the Russian
officer had ordered him to be searched. The result was the discovery of
a typewritten paper, giving precise instructions as to how a German
civilian in East Prussia must act toward the enemy--how to signal
movements of infantry, of cavalry, of artillery; how to estimate the
numbers of a body of men, and what to say if questioned, and the like--a
document conceived and executed with true Prussian exactitude and
clearness, a masterpiece in the literature of espionage.

For him there was no hope; even The Hague Convention, which permits
mine-laying, does not protect spies, however earnestly and dangerously
they serve their country. He passed, always at the same forced shuffle
of reluctant feet, toward his judges and his doom.

*Belgian Cities Germanized*

*By Cyril Brown,*

Staff Correspondent of THE NEW YORK TIMES.

BRUSSELS, Nov. 4.--Of all the war capitals of Europe, Brussels under the
German occupation is probably the gayest and the most deceptive. It
certainly outrivals Berlin in life and brilliancy, as Berlin outshines
London. The Germans are free spenders afield; their influx here by
thousands has put large sums of money into circulation, resulting in a
spell of artificial, perhaps superficial, prosperity.

The crowds surging all day up and down the principal shopping street,
the Rue Neuve, overflow the sidewalks and fill the street. Well-dressed
crowds promenade along the circular boulevard all afternoon and into the
night. Places of amusement and the cafes are crowded. The hundreds of
automobiles loaded with officers speeding about the streets, with
musical military horns blowing, add to the gay illusion.

Nowhere save at the Great Headquarters in France, where the Kaiser stays
when not haranguing his troops at the front, will you see such a
brilliant galaxy of high officers--and every day seems a holiday in
Brussels.

You catch the sinister undercurrent in the more obscure little cafes.
Here you will find some Belgian patriot who is glad of the chance to
unbosom himself to a safe American. Perhaps he will speak with
unprintable bitterness of the shame of the Brussels women who, he says,
wave handkerchiefs and smile friendly greetings at the singing troop
trains passing through the suburbs on their way to the front, or give
flowers and cigars to the returning streams of wounded. They ought to be
shot as traitresses, he says. For the honor of the Belgian women, he
adds, these form only a small percentage.

You are not surprised when well-informed neutral residents tell you that
these people "have murder in their hearts, and that if the Germans ever
retreat in a rout through Belgium, Heaven help the straggler and the
rear guard." Nor that copies of English papers, whose reading is
forbidden, are nevertheless smuggled in, and that copies of The London
Times fetch as high as 200 francs, reading circles being often formed at
20 francs per head.

But there are no hopeful signs here of a German retreat. Brussels has
not been "practically evacuated." On the contrary, one gets
overwhelmingly the impression that the Germans expect to stay forever.
No cannon are posted on commanding avenues or squares. There are no
serious measures for the defense of the capital. The military and civil
Governments occupy the principal public buildings, and seem to be
working with typical German thoroughness. The Government offices begin
to assume an air of permanence.

As conquerors go, the invaders seem to be bearing themselves well. There
is apparently no desire to "rub it in," the military Government
seemingly pursuing the wise policy of trying to spare the feelings of
the natives as much as possible, perhaps in the impossible hope of
ultimately conciliating them. German flags are flown sparingly. Only
small squads of Landsturm are now occasionally seen marching through the
streets. Even from the bitterest Belgians one hears no stories of
"insult, shame, or wrong."

At the same time, swift and harsh punishment is meted out to any one
whose actions are thought to tend to impair German military authority or
dignity. Thus placards posted on many street corners day before
yesterday informed the people that a Belgian city policeman had been
sentenced to five years' imprisonment for "interfering with a German
official in the discharge of his duty, assaulting a soldier, and
attempting to free a prisoner." For this, also, a fine of 5,000,000
france ($1,000,000) was imposed on the City of Brussels. Another
policeman was sentenced to three years' imprisonment for alleged similar
offenses.

An interesting history of the German occupation can be reconstructed
from these same placards pasted on buildings. Here is one, dating from
the early days, forbidding bicycle riding in the country and announcing
that civilian cyclists will be shot at sight. If you look long enough
you can also find a mutilated specimen of ex-Burgomaster Max's famous
"dementi," in which he virtually calls the German Military Governor of
Liege and, by implication, the German Government, "liar." The Bruxellois
must be fickle and quick to forget, for I did not hear the picturesque
Max's name mentioned once.

The realities of the military occupation are brought home to the people
perhaps most at the Gare du Nord and the Place de la Gare, where the
Civic Guards, in their curious comic opera caps, are reinforced by
German gendarmes with rifles slung over their shoulders. Civilians are
not allowed to cross this square in front of the railway station. "Keep
to the sidewalk" is the brusque order to those who stray. Also the park
in front of the Royal Palace is closed to the public. Three bright red
gasoline tank wagons among the trees give it an incongruous touch, while
the walks and drives are used as an exercising ground for officers'
mounts. All the windows of the Royal Palace are decorated with the sign
of the Red Cross.

Brussels just now is humorously a victim of the double standard--not
moral, but financial. All kinds of money go here on the basis of 1 mark
equaling 1 franc 25 centimes, but shopkeepers still fix prices and
waiters bring bills in francs, and when payment is tendered in marks you
generally get change in both--a proceeding that involves elaborate
mathematical computations. At the next table to you in the restaurant of
the Palace Hotel, once a favorite stopping place for Anglo-American
travelers, but now virtually an exclusive German officers' club, with
the distinction of a double guard posted at the front door, sits a
short, fiercely mustached General of some sort--evidently a person of
great importance from the commotion his entry caused among all the other
officers in the room. In his buttonhole he wears the Iron Cross of the
second class, the Iron Cross of the first class pinned to his breast,
and underneath the rare "Pour le Merite Order, with Swords." His bill
amounts to about 7 francs, for he consumed the regular 4-franc table
d'hote, plus a full bottle of red Burgundy. He tenders a blue 100-mark
bill in payment and gets in return a baffling heap of change, including
1 and 2 franc Belgium paper notes, 5 and 10 mark German bills, Belgian
and German silver, and Belgian nickel coins with holes punched in the
centres. The General takes out his pencil and begins elaborate
calculations on the menu--then sends for the head waiter. It takes some
time and much talk to convince him that he is not being "short changed."
The double standard furnishes many of these humorous interludes.

Equally exasperating is the double time standard. The Germans set their
official clocks and watches by Berlin time, but have made no attempt to
force it on the natives, who continue loyal to Belgian time, which is
one hour behind Berlin.

Brand Whitlock, the American Minister to Belgium, who runs a strong risk
of having a statue erected to him some day by the grateful Belgian
people, is quite the happiest, most relieved-looking person in Brussels
since he heard the good news that all America was hard at work
collecting food for the Belgians and that England would not prevent its
delivery. Soon after the German occupation of Brussels a committee was
organized to give food to the poor here, of which Mr. Whitlock and the
Spanish Minister were patrons. Three weeks ago the Ministerial allies
discovered that the situation was exceedingly grave, not only here but
all over Belgium. Committees came to see Mr. Whitlock from Louvain,
Liege, Namur, Charleroi, Mons, Dinant, &c., and the people, I was told,
were within four weeks of absolute starvation. Mr. Whitlock got the
German Military Governor of Belgium, Field Marshal von der Goltz, to
give the Spanish Minister and himself a guarantee in writing that any
food sent in for the poor Belgians would not be requisitioned for the
German Army.

The next thing was to get the permission of England; so two weeks ago
Secretary Gibson was sent to London with Baron Lambert, a banker, and M.
Franqui to get England's permission as well as a first shipment of food.
Two weeks ago Mr. Whitlock sent a long letter to the State Department
and to President Wilson, asking them to do something. At least one
phrase of Mr. Whitlock's coinage has been going the rounds here. In the
various preliminary discussions as to whose responsibility it was to
take care of the Belgian people there was considerable talk about Hague
conventions. "Starving people can't eat Hague conventions" was his
answer.

Minister Whitlock also feels vastly relieved that he has got practically
all non-official Americans out of Belgium, the twoscore still here being
mostly resident business men, with a sprinkling of the boldest tourists,
who are staying "to see the fun," in spite of Ministerial warnings.

Mr. Whitlock believes he has broken the world's record by being eight
Ministers at once. At one time he was representing Germany, Austria,
Great Britain, Japan, Servia, Denmark, and Lichtenstein. When he told a
German officer that he represented Lichtenstein--which is said to be a
small sovereign State somewhere, dependent on Austria--the officer
laughed and said: "Theoretically, Germany is still at war with
Lichtenstein and has been since 1866, it having been overlooked in the
peace shuffle." The reason for representing Denmark, which isn't at war
with anybody, is that the Danish Minister is equally accredited to
Belgium and The Hague, and had no Secretary to leave behind when he
departed Hagueward. Of course, the American flag does not fly over the
Danish Legation here. In addition, the French and Russian interests were
also offered to Mr. Whitlock, but he was so full of responsibility that
he had to ask to be excused.

* * * * *

LOUVAIN, Nov. 5.--Louvain now presents the ghastly spectacle of a dead
city, buried under ruins, slowly coming to life again, and continues to
give full scope to the morbid streak in human nature; for sightseers
continue to flock here in increasing numbers from Antwerp, Brussels,
and, in fact, all over Belgium, excepting from over the deadline of the
operating zone. With the Bruxellois especially the trip is a favorite
outing on a pleasant Sunday. The Germans have succeeded in restoring the
train service to the extent of two passenger trains daily between here
and Brussels and one between here and Antwerp, and the military
authorities pursue a surprisingly liberal policy in giving traveling
passes to the Belgian population. In addition to those who come by
train, a steady procession of automobiles passes through all day; and
next week, when a Berlin-Brussels express service is to be started, the
local touring season will have a further boom.

About 5 per cent of the original population have come crawling back, and
the three companies of Landsturm garrisoned here, together with the
sightseers, form their source of revenue. The more courageous
shopkeepers who have come back and reopened their stores are coining
money as never in peace times--especially the little confectionery and
pastry shops, where the soldiers off duty come for afternoon coffee,
and the one tailor's shop which is open. Workmen are putting the
finishing touches to the new pine-board roof on the cathedral and are
making efforts to "restore" the stone exterior. The famous Gothic Hotel
de Ville is now protected by a high board fence, and two bearded
Landsturm men mount guard there day and night. A gang of laborers is
making headway in cleaning up the interior of the hopelessly ruined
University Library, and the streets are all cleared of debris. The
academic halls of the main university building, which suffered little
damage, are not silent, for one of the Landsturm companies is quartered
there. I found half a hundred of them and two cows in the university
quadrangle or campus. The men were all unshaven, but of a good-natured
sort, and many were the rough German jokes as they watched a comrade
milking the cows preparatory to their slaughter on the spot by the
company butcher, who stood in waiting, while at the same time the
gray-haired university castellan was getting ready to take a time
exposure of the cows.

"And yet they say we Germans are barbarians," laughed an under officer.
"I bet you won't find that the French soldiers, or the highly civilized
English gentlemen, either, have a photographer come to take a picture of
the cows they are about to eat."

The venerable university guardian continued to do a brisk business
making group pictures and solo portraits of Landsturm under officers and
men at two francs per dozen postcards, till a Lieutenant appeared on the
scene and the bugle sounded in the court for "boot inspection." All
promptly lined up in double file against the brick university wall and
presented feet for the critical eye of the inspector--all except the
company cooks, who were busy among their pots and pans and open-air cook
stoves set up in the academic stone portico.

The last of the former students of the University of Louvain was
probably the well-dressed, meek-looking young Chinese, eating luncheon
at the near-by restaurant--the only one open in town. The German
soldiers, fortunately, did not mistake him for a Japanese, and he has
not been molested.

There are touches of grim humor among the ruins. Here on the main
street, for example, is a pink placard stuck on a stick on top of the
heap of brick and mortar that was once a store. It reads: "Elegant
corsets: Removed to Rue Malines 21." And again, on a number of houses
that escaped the torch are pasted neatly printed little signs bearing
the legend: "This house is to be protected. Soldiers are not allowed to
enter houses or to set fire to them without orders from the
Kommandantur."

The inhabitants who have no stores to keep seem continually to wander
aimlessly in the streets; and here, too, is the sight, common now all
over Belgium, of many women with children begging. Especially they
linger around the entrances to the barracks, for hunger has given them a
keen nose for bread, and they have soon learned that the soldier will
give them what they have left over from their ample rations. The German
Government is trying to stimulate the return of the population, and is
apparently doing its best to help them to earn a living by providing
work.

* * * * *

ANTWERP, Nov. 6.--The Germans are working incessantly to repair the
fortifications of Antwerp, mount new and heavier guns, and put the whole
place into a state of defense. The importance attached to their almost
feverish activities is indicated by the fact that Field Marshal von der
Goltz, the Military Governor of Belgium, ran over from Brussels and made
a tour of inspection of the double girdle of forts yesterday. His
Excellency von Frankenberg and Ludwigsdorf, Personal Adjutant of the
Military Governor of Antwerp, said to me in the course of a cordial
interview:

"We have two principal interests in our work here: First, that Antwerp
shall become a place of great military importance again and be prepared
against attacks from the enemy, although that contingency doesn't seem
very probable."

His Excellency was unwilling to hazard a guess as to how long the
Germans could hold Antwerp against an allied siege, but said: "I believe
we could hold out longer against the Allies than they did against the
Germans. Our second interest is to revive trade and industry and the
life of the city generally. When we first came here there were only
soldiers and hungry dogs on the streets; now, as you can see, the dead
city is coming to life in short order."

He scouted the idea that the people of Belgium had been or were on the
brink of starvation as the result of German occupation, saying that the
very contrary was the case. "Belgium is a country which cannot sustain
itself--it produces only enough food for roughly 3,000,000 out of its
5,000,000 population, because Belgium is an industrial country, and food
for the remaining 2,000,000 has to be imported. Heretofore most of this
food has come from Holland, whence some is still coming, but in no great
quantity. We have taken the problem of food supply up with the Belgian
Government, as much as there is one left, namely, with the
municipalities, and at our suggestion an 'Intercommunistic Commission'
has been organized, so that everything possible can be done to help the
country. This commission sits in Brussels, and when any town or village
or district has no more food on hand the fact is reported and it gets
from the commission what is required. What food supplies we found here
we took charge of to prevent their being plundered, and also because we,
as a belligerent, had to supply our own necessities; that is the right
of war. But by no means have we used up all the food supplies ourselves,
nor set them aside for our own use; but a large part has been set aside
for this commission, to be used for the poor, and another part will be
given back in a short time for trade purposes, so that commerce will be
revived again.

"There is no place in Belgium where the people have starved. Their most
pressing need now would appear to be money, for many are unemployed and
many others disinclined to work. At one place where we were told the
people were starving we found stores crammed full of food--but the
inhabitants had no money and the shopkeepers wouldn't give them credit.

"Everything is being done by us to revive business so that the people
can again earn money. If America had not been so tender-hearted as to
send foodstuffs, and if the food supply had run out, we should certainly
have considered it our duty to bring food from Germany, for we are for
the time being the Government here, and it is our duty to see that the
people do not starve."

German newspaper readers are not aware that their Kaiser had a narrow
escape from the bombs of the Allies' airmen at Thielt, for the fact of
the War Lord's recent invasion of Belgium has been kept as nearly a dead
secret as possible. I learned from an especially well-informed source in
Brussels that the object of the Kaiser's visit was not only to encourage
his troops but to reprove his Generals. According to this informant, who
is frequently in touch with high officers in their more mellow moods,
when military reticence somewhat relaxes, the Kaiser was said to be in a
towering rage at the failure of his army to make headway against the
English and Belgians on the coast, and to have decided to go in person
to see about it; also there has been considerable cautiously veiled
criticism of his persistent "interference" in the conduct of the
campaign.

Having last seen the Kaiser two weeks ago motoring at the German Great
Headquarters in Eastern France, I picked up his trail at Louvain,
through which place he passed by night a week ago in a special train in
the direction of Lille, after a scouting pilot engine had returned and
reported "all safe." On his return journey from Flanders he was rumored
to have "put up" at the Palais d'Arenberg in Brussels.

It is significant that the following notice has been placarded on the
outside of the building occupied by the Military Government, next door
to the Hotel St. Antoine: "Reports that the French and English are
marching on Antwerp are without foundation; the public is warned against
helping to circulate these false reports." All day crowds hang about the
door where this notice is posted among official German news bulletins.
The burghers of Antwerp are well informed about the varying fortunes of
the war, for several papers printed in French are allowed to appear,
under the German censorship, which seems surprisingly easygoing here and
eminently fair, allowing them to print not merely the official German
accounts circulated by the Wolff Bureau, but the official English,
French, Russian, and even Belgian bulletins as well, in addition to
matter copied from the Dutch papers, which are also allowed to circulate
here.

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