Phases of First and Second World War in Pulitzer Prize Writings: Jury Decisions and Awarded Works (Pulitzer Prize Panorama) 364391508X, 9783643915085

Table of contents :
Contents
FIRST WORLD WAR
SECOND WORLD WAR
BIBLIOGRAPHY

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Heinz-Dietrich Fischer

Phases of First and Second World War in Pulitzer Prize Writings

Pulitzer Prize Panorama edited by

Prof. Dr. Heinz-Dietrich Fischer (Bochum)

Volume 33

LIT

Heinz-Dietrich Fischer

Phases of First and Second World War in Pulitzer Prize Writings Jury Decisions and Awarded Works

LIT

Gefördert durch Mittel der

Essen

The montage on the book’s back-cover is based on the works of two Pulitzer Prizewinning editorial cartoonists: The left side showing the German Emperor William II, entitled “Stop!”, is part of a drawing by Rollin Kirby and was published in the ‘New York World’ on May 4, 1916. The right side shows German dictator Hitler, called “The Outstretched Hand”, created by Edmund Duffy and published in the ‘Baltimore Sun’ on October 7, 1939

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. ISBN 978-3-643-91508-5 (pb) ISBN 978-3-643-96508-0 (PDF) A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

©

LIT VERLAG Dr. W. Hopf Berlin 2022 Contact: Fresnostr. 2 D-48159 Münster Tel. +49 (0) 2 51-62 03 20 Fax +49 (0) 2 51-23 19 72 e-Mail: [email protected] https://www.lit-verlag.de Distribution: In the UK: Global Book Marketing, e-mail: [email protected] In North America: Independent Publishers Group, e-mail: [email protected]

I

Preface Journalist and publisher Joseph Pulitzer (1847-1911) had stipulated in his will that the awards named after him should begin five years after his death. So it occurred that the Pulitzer Prizes started in 1917, in the midst of the First World War, based on journalistic and literary works done in 1916. So just from the outset, war-related topics became parts of the annual selection processes by the Pulitzer Prize jurors. So it happened that among the 1917 awards the Reporting Prize as well as the one for Editorial Writing went to stories about warring Germany. Since that time, war-related stories became constant topics in Pulitzer Prize-winning materials during the First World War. For example, in 1918 the ‘New York Times’ won an award „for its public service in publishing in full so many official reports, documents and speeches by European statesmen relating to the progress and conduct of the war.“ The Second World War, too, right from its start was reflected in numerous Pulitzer Prize-decorated articles. lt began with the coverage of Germany during the first months of the war and ended with the final phase of the fightings resulting in the capitulation of Japan. The award-winning stuff in this book comes from the Pulitzer Prize Archive at the Rare Books and Manuscript Library of Columbia University, New York. In addition, the Pulitzer Prize Office at Columbia’s Graduate School of Journalism kindly delivered the confidential jury reports to reconstruct the decision-making processes within the annual evaluating committees. I am very much indebted to Edward M. Kliment, Administrator of the Pulitzer Prizes who opened many doors so that I enjoyed unlimited access to the needed sources The award-winning articles in this volume are reprinted with reference to the ‘Doctrine of Fair Use’ as embodied in the United States Copyright Act. According to this doctrine, excerpts of copyrighted works may be reprinted when their use does not encompass a substantial portion of these works. So it is true in this scholarly book. Last but not least it should be pointed out that the manuscript of this volume was completed at the very day when Russian troops invaded the Ukraine, followed by fears in Europe about the question whether that could be an overture to a Third World War.

Ruhr University of Bochum, Germany February 24, 2022

H.-D. Fischer

II

In Memory of my Father

Heinrich Fischer He endured both World Wars. When he was six years old, the First War broke out, and he barely survived the winter of hunger 1916/17. At age thirty-one he had to do his military service, and he returned traumatized after the end of World War Two.

III

Contents Preface .................................................................................................................

I

FIRST WORLD WAR ..............................................................................................

1

1914: The Double Murder at Sarajewo by Bernadotte E. Schmitt .........................................................................

1

1914: Mobilizations in Berlin and Paris by Barbara W. Tuchman ...........................................................................

19

1915: Sinking of the Passenger Ship Lusitania by Frank H. Simonds ................................................................................

39

1916: Germany in the Third Year of War by Herbert B. Swope ................................................................................

47

1917: The War and its Consequences by Henry Watterson ..................................................................................

75

1917: Start of American-Russian Relations by George F. Kennan ................................................................................

81

1918: Wilson and the last phase of Hostility by Arthur C. Walworth .............................................................................. 87 SECOND WORLD WAR .................................................................................... 1939: Germany in first weeks of the War by Otto D. Tolischus .................................................................................

95 97

1940: Situation in France unde Nazi Occupation by Percy J. Philip ...................................................................................... 113 1941: Political Conditions in Far East Countries by Carlos P. Romulo ................................................................................. 143 1942: The Pacific War Theatre at the Solomons by Hanson W. Baldwin ............................................................................. 161 1943: Anti-German Partisan Groups in Yugoslavia by Daniel de Luce ..................................................................................... 185 1944: Preparations of the Allies’ Invasion to France by Mark S. Watson ................................................................................... 203 1945: America’s Fight against Japan until Capitulation by Homer W. Bigart ................................................................................. 219 BIBLIOGRAPHY ................................................................................................ 239

IV

1

FIRST WORLD WAR

2

3

1914 THE DOUBLE MURDER AT SARAJEVO by

Bernadotte E. Schmitt

4

Introductory Notes Since the Pulitzer Prizes only started in the midst of the First World War, in 1917, it is not possible to have an award-winning journalism text covering the start of the conflict. Nevertheless, thanks to the prize category for history books it is possible to reconstruct the early pre-war events. The volume entitled „The Coming of the War 1914“ by Bernadotte E. Schmitt, published in 1930, earned the Pulitzer Prize for History in the following year. The Pulitzer Prize jurors, according to their report of March 25, 1931, were „unanimously and strongly of the opinion that ‘The Coming of the War’ ... should receive the award ... The work is not only far above any other published by an American historian during the year 1930 but it is an outstanding event in American scholarship ... The presentation of the material is admirable. It is as impartial as it is possible for human judgement to be. The style is lucid, and the book will interest the general reader as well as the scholar. In the opinion of (the) Committee it is the best book, considering its wide scope as well as its impartiality and the extent of research involved, which has as yet been written on the subject by any scholar in any country ...“ In the preface of his book, the author pointed out that „altogether more than 35,000 documents are now at the disposal of the historian, and the end is by no means reached. In addition. nearly every politician, diplomatist, general or admiral of any consequence in the pre-war years has written his memoirs. In using this voluminous material, the greatest precautions have to be taken.“ The author was born on May 19, 1886, in Strasburg, Virginia. Bernadotte Everly Schmitt received his Bachelor’s degree at the age of eighteen from the University of Tennessee. In 1905 he was chosen to go to Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar. He earned the Oxonian B.A. three years later. On his return to the United States Schmitt accepted a fellowship in history at the University of Wisconsin which he held from 1908 to 1909. He got an assistantship the next year, and in 1910 he received his Ph.D. degree and accepted an instructorship at Western Reserve University. At that time he did a great deal of lecturing on international politics. In 1913 the Master’s degree was conferred upon him by Oxford University. The following year, Schmitt was made an assistant professor and in 1917 an associate professor. In 1925 he was appointed to the faculty of the University of Chicago as professor of modern history. At that time, Schmitt did a lot of traveling to Europe, the Balkans and the Far East. On these trips he did not only have the chance to augment his background, but also he met a great number of outstanding personalities of his times. Schmitt is also the author of the following book publications: England and Germany, 1740-1914; Triple Alliance and Triple Entente and The Annexation of Bosnia, 1908-1909. In 1931 Bernadotte E. Schmitt was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in History.

5

Austrian Archduke Francis Ferdinand Assassinated [Source: Bernadotte E. Schmitt: The Coming of the War 1914, New York - London: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1930, pp. 15-43] »In the early summer of 1914 there were no disputes pending between the Great Powers. If the liquidation of the Balkan wars was not completed, - in Albania the Prince of Wied was about to abandon his tottering throne, while Turkey and Greece were still discussing the disposition of certain islands in the AEgean Sea, - the solution of these minor questions was not likely to cause serious differences between the Powers. Then, on 28 June, occurred the assassination of the Archduke Francis Ferdinand at Sarajevo. On account of this crime the Austro-Hungarian Government on 23 July presented to the Serbian Government an ultimatum which In less than two weeks precipitated a general European war. As justification for the ultimatum the Austro Hungarian Government alleged that individual Serbian officials had participated in the preparation of the murder and that the crime itself, although committed on Austro-Hungarian territory by a subject of the Monarchy, was the consequence of propaganda conducted by Serbian patriotic societies both in Serbia and in the provinces of Bosnia and the Herzegovina; in particular, responsibility was laid at the door of an organization called the Narodna Odbrana (‘National Defense’). The Serbian Government was not charged with complicity in the crime, but it was accused of „culpable tolerance“ of the „unwholesome propaganda,“ and it was therefore required to accept and carry out certain demands which were calculated to put an end to the propaganda. In proof of these contentions a dossier was prepared and circulated to the Great Powers, and afterward published, which contained such information about the circumstances of the murder as the Austro-Hungarian authorities had been able to collect up to the time that the ultimatum was presented. As a matter of fact the Powers were not given time to examine this bulky compilation before the despatch of the Austro-Hungarian declaration of war against Serbia; on the other hand, it is not likely that the Powers would have paid much attention to it, because, as we shall see, the Austro-Hungarian action was looked upon not in the light of a punitive expedition, but as a step affecting the independence of Serbia and involving the European balance of power. Nevertheless, the dossier is important, not only for the facts contained in it, put because it was almost the only source available, during the war, of information on the basis of which the Austro-Hungarian allegations could be appraised. The dossier begins with a long statement of the Austro-Hungarian case against Serbia, both for the years 1909-1914 and as regards the murder at Sarajevo. There are eleven appendices in support of the assertions made in the introduction. Most of them are devoted to an analysis of the history and conduct of the Narodna Odbrana. In two, the facs ascertained about the murder plot and its execution are put together. Some information is given about the assassinations attempted between 1910 and 1914. Finally,

6 extracts are given from the Serbian press from the annexation crisis of 1908 to July, 1914. In spite of much incriminating evidence of the activities of the Narodna Odbrana in Bosnia, it is not asserted in the dossier that the criminals were in touch with that society, although it is twice implied somewhat vaguely that the society was involved in the crime. The Serbian Government is hardly mentioned. What the dossier did prove was that an agitation was tolerated in Serbia which was directed against the integrity of the Dual Monarchy. But, owing partly to war-time prejudices, partly to the sinister reputation earned by the Austro-Hungarian Government for forging incriminating documents, the dossier never inspired much confidence in Entente or neutral counntries. The general opinion was that Austria-Hungary had not proved the necessity of going to war against Serbia. Since 1914 a large amount of new evidence has come to light which has made necessary a re-examination of the whole quesstion. In 1917 a summary of the trial of the conspirators, held in October, 1914, was published, and a year later a portion of the minutes of the trial. Since then a former Austro-Hungarian official who was concerned with the investigation of the murder in 1914 has drawn occasionally on unpublished documents to elucidate certain points. But far more important have been the revelations from the Serbian side. As early as 1919, that is, as soon as the Yugoslav movement for unity had triumphed in the creation of the Kingdom of the Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, individuals who had played a part in the revolutionary agitation of prewar days and who were anxious to claim a share of the credit for the triumph of the national idea began to unseal their lips, and the flood of revelations continued for some years. The first of these pamphlets or books which attracted wide attention inWestern Europe and the United States, was written in 1923 by a professor in the University of Belgrade, who claimed to have derived his innformation from surviving conspirators. In the same year one of the lesser conspirators told what he knew, or what he thought it expedient to reveal. Then, in 1924, in an ‘almanac’ commemorating the tenth anniversary of the outbreak of the war, a Serbian statesman who was a member of the cabinet in 1914 made some astonishing revelations. About the same time attention began to be called to the report of the trial of certain Serbian officers at Salonica in 1917 who were involved in the Sarajevo plot. Many other disclosures will be noted in subsequent pages. In spite, however, of much pressure from friends and foes alike, the government at Belgrade has not made any statement or issued any documents. All this evidence is of extraordinary interest, but it is evidence that requires the greatest possible care in its use. Much of it consists of dicta by individuals whose opportunities for knowing the facts, accuracy in stating them, and motives for revealing them cannot be checked. There are many contradictions, discrepancies, and anachronisms. To determine what actually happened is difficult enough; when in addition the effort is made, as it must be made, to discover the motives for or the explanations of these happenings, speculation and guess have frequently to do duty for those proofs which the historian likes to adduce for his statements. On many points

7 the answer can only be, at least in the present state of knowledge, that „probably“ it is thus and so. „The world will presumably never be told all that was behind the murder of the Archduke Francis Ferdinand.“ It is now necessary to take up the trail of the conspirators. The three young men left Belgrade on 28 May and proceeded by steamer to Shabats. On arrival they hunted up Major Popovich, to whom they presented the note given them by Tsiganovich. The major, who had been in Belgrade himself several days previously, was evidently expecting them. He provided a documellt certi fying that they were Serbian revenue officers, secured them half-fare tickets on the railway to Loznitsa, and wrote a letter to the frontier official there. This gentleman proved as accommodating as Major Popovich. As the boys had decided to separate, he gave Chabrinovich letters to the frontier official and the school-teacher at Zvornik, a near-by village to which Chabrinovich walked ; with the help of the teacher, Chabrinovich got across the river and made his own way to Tuzla. The other two, Printsip and Grabezh, who took charge of the bombs and revolvers, were sent back to Lyeshnitsa, put acros~ the river by the revenue officer, and handed over to a Bosnian peasant. Once inside the Austrian frontier, the conspirators apparently made no efforts to conceal their weapons, and by threats forced several peasants to help them along. Presently they were met by Vyelko Chuhrilovich, the school-teacher at Priboy and a member of the Narodna Odbrana. When told that the bombs were for Francis Ferdinand and warned of the consequences of treachery, he took the travellers to a peasant named Yakob Kerovich, who agreed to let his son drive them to Tuzla. This stage of the journey was not accomplished without risk, for at one place Printsip and Grabezh descended from the cart in which they were riding and made a detour in order to avoid a gendarme station. Arrived at Tuzla, they went to Mishko Yovanovich, to whom Chubrilovich had given them a letter. Y ovanovich, who was the ‘confidential man’ of the Narodna Odbrana, received the boys and promised to convey the arms to Sarajevo. Meanwhile Chabrinovich had joined them, so the three proceeded by train to Sarajevo and reported to Danilo Ilich. A few days later Ilich went to Tuzla, identified himself to Yovanovich, and arranged to have- the arms sent to Doboy, the second station from Sarajevo, whence he himself brought them into town and concealed them in his own house. At his trial, as already noted, Ilich asserted that he was opposed to carrying out the plot (he would have preferred to assassinate General Potiorek), but that he consented to it from fear of komitadjis in Serbia. Probably this was for effect only, for Ilichhad arranged for ‘reserves’ in case the men from Belgrade failed in their work. At any rate, the day before the Archduke arrived, . Ilich distributed the weapons to the three plotters and to his ‘reserves,’ and directed them where to station themselves along the route. That same day or the next morning ‘Pushara returned from his private search for the Archduke. So at least seven persons were ready for the desperate deed. What was being planned was known to a number of other youths, but no one gave the plot away. After the crime, the local archbishop is reported to have said that for Francis Ferdinand

8 to have left the town alive, he would have had to run the gauntlet through „a regular avenue of assassins.“ The Archduke started on his fatal journey on 23 June. His private car was found to have a hot-box, so that he was forced to change to an ordinary first-class carriage; later on, before he reached Trieste, the electric lighting broke down. From Trieste he travelled by sea to Metkovich and then by train to Ilidzhe, a resort not far from Sarajevo, where his wife, who had come, by way of Hungary, joined him. The manceuvres occupied two days, 26 June and 27 June. Late on the afternoon of the first day the royal couple drove through the streets of Sarajevo in an open carriage and were cordially received; Printsip wandering through the bazaars came almost face to face with his intended victim, but did not move, because „behind him a stranger, undoubtedly a police agent, had spread his hands carefully.“ During these days the Archduke was in excellent temper. Sunday, 28 June, 1914 - the anniversary of Kossovo, of the Austro-Serbian treaty of 1881, and of the marriage of Francis Ferdinand and Sophie Chotek-was a glorious summer day. Sarajevo had been decorated at the request of the mayor, and the absence of troops in the streets enabled the crowds to circulate freely.’ The Archduke was to pass along the Appel Quay, a wide street with houses on one side and on the other a low wall, below which flows the Milyatska River; from its central section three bridges lead across the river. Near the first bridge Ilich placed Mehmedbashich, Chubrilovich,and Chabrinovich on one side of the street, Popovich and himself on the other; Printsip was stationed at the second bridge, and Grabezh near the third. The Archduke and his wife arrived from Ilidzhe about ten o'clock; his party occupied four cars, that of the mayor and the chief of police leading. As they drove along the Appel Quay toward the town hall, Chabrinovich hurled his bomb and jumped into the river, only to be arrested forthwith. The bomb bounced off the archducal car-according to one account Francis Ferdinand picked it up and threw it-into the street, where it exploded, wounding several spectators and an officer in the next car. When the town hall was reached, the mayor, ignorant of what had happened, was about to read his speech of welcome when the Archduke exclaimed: „Mr. Mayor, I come here on a visit, and I get bombs thrown at me! What do you mean by talking of loyalty?“ But his wife calmed him, and he told the mayor to proceed. After the speech there was a discussion whether the programme of the day should be continued. General Potiorek is said to have remarked that he knew his Bosnians: two such attempts would never be made on the same day. So no further precautions were taken. The Archduke declared his intention of visitting his wounded adjutant in the hospital, which involved a change in the route; the Duchess decided to accompany her husband, saying, „It is in time of danger that you need me.“ As he got into the car, Francis Ferdinand was told that the bomb-thrower had been arrested. „Hang him as soon as you can,“ he exclaimed, „or else Vienna will send llim a decoration.“ To reach the hospital the royal party had to retrace its way along the Appel Quay. But at the second bridge, the first car turned to the right, in accordance with the origi-

9 nal’ scheme; presumably because the chauffeur had not been informed of the altered plans. The second car, containing the royal couple and General Potiorek, was driven by a man who did not know the city and who therefore naturally followed the leading car. Whereupon Potiorek called out, „We’re going wrong.“ The car stopped and backed up. At this moment, Printsip, who was standing on the sidewalk, shot both the Archduke and the Duchess - which in all probability he would not have been able to do but for the unfortunate error. The konak or governor’s residence, just over the bridge on the other side of the river, was reached in a few moments, and the victims were carried inside; but they died before any aid could be brought. The last words of Francis Ferdinand were, „Sophie, Sophie, do not die. Live for our children.“ As regards the latter part of this tragic day, it is difficult not to agree with the aide-de-camp of the Emperor Francis Joseph that the precautionary measures „baffled all description.’“ By night the news was known throughout the world. In Austria-Hungary the reaction to the crime of Sarajevo was instantaneous and significant. Sarajevo itself was the scene of the utmost excitement. On the evening ‘of the murder a crowd of Croatian and Moslem youths, many of them students, marched through the streets singing the national anthem and crying „Down with the Serbs!“; presently they collected before the Hotel Europa, which belonged to a Serbian leader, and bombarded it with stones until dispersed by the military. The next morning the riffraff of the bazaars began to destroy the property of prominent Serbians, including the Hotel Europa, and did damage estimated at from 1,500,000 to 10,000,000 Kronen before General Potiorek proclaimed a state of siege. As similar excesses occurred in other Bosnian towns, it became necessary to proclaim martial law for the two provinces, and Potiorek demanded the closing of the Bosnian Diet, in which he was supported by the general staff and the war office. Elsewhere in the Southern Slav provinces there were many disturbances. Near Ragusa a Serbian flag was torn to pieces and a Serbian house set on fire. In the Croatian Diet at Zagreb (Agram), a Serbian member’s cry of „Long live King Peter!“ was answered with enraged shouts of „Down with the assassins! Down with the Serbs!“ The working agreement between Croats and Serbians established by the Fiume Manifesto of October, 1905, appeared to have broken down completely, at least for the time. In Vienna demonstrations became the order of the day. It was necessary to protect the Serbian legation against the mob; the Serbian minister was requested by his landlord and the police not to display his flag at half-mast, as by etiquette he was bound to do in honor of the deceased Archduke, lest it serve to excite the mob to damage the building. At Brunn, the the capital of Moravia, a clash was narrowly averted between the Bohemian ‘Sokol’ societies and a rival German demonstration. These manifestations were not unnatural. In almost every country deeds of violence are likely to evoke reprisals, and it would have been strange if the anti-Serbian sentiment so carefully nourished for many years had not flared up under the provocation received. Taken by themselves, the sundry outbursts meant very little. What really mattered was the instinctive feeling in educated and responsible circles that the climax in the long

10 conflict with Serbia was at hand. Count Berchtold’s opinion that „the threads of the conspiracy ... ran together at Belgrade“ was shared in many quarters and expressed by many newspapers. It was easy to believe that, if the Serbian activity in Bosnia were not speedily checked, immeasurable consequences might result. The disaffection of the Southern Slav population, already notorious, would spread to the other races, the prestige of the government among its own peoples would be diminished, AustriaHungary’s position as a Great Power would be compromised; indeed, its very existence as a state would become problematical. That the activities, alleged or real, of a state with only one-tenth of the population of the Monarchy could inspire such alarm, was perhaps an unconscious avowal that official policy in the Southern Slav question had been ill conceived and worse applied; but the existence of this fear among the governing classes was testified to so generally by the foreign diplomatists that it can hardly be doubted. The Emperor Francis Joseph confided to the German ambassador that he saw „a very dark picture,“ for conditions in Bosnia „were getting more disquieting every day“ and „the intrigues at Belgrade were intolerable.“ According to the French ambassador, „the crime of Sarajevo arouses the most acute resentment in Austrian military circles, and among all who are not content to allow Serbia to maintain in the Balkans the situation which she has acquired.“ The Serbian minister warned his government that „high Catholic circles“ and „official German circles“ were „especially ill-disposed.“ The Gerrman ambassador was alarmed to „hear expressed, even among serious people, the wish that at last a final and fundamental reckoning should be had with the Serbs.“ By ‘serious people’ he doubtless meant what an Austrian diplomatist has called the ‘clientèle’ of the Monarchy: „The higher bureaucracy, the corps of officers, the higher clergy, industrial and financial circles, merchants, landed proprietors who desired favorable markets for their products, the nobility, in short, all those elements that had an interest in the maintenance of the Monarchy.“ This view was shared by the British ambassador. Commenting on the doubts expressed by his Russian colleague whether „the animosity penetrates deep down among the Austrian people,“ he wrote: „I cannot at present share M. Schebeko’s inclination to believe that the commercial and generally the middle classes of this country are indifferent to the question. I fear there is ground to regard almost all sections of the population as being just now blindly incensed against the Servians, and I have heard on good authority that many persons usually holding quite moderate and sensible views on foreign affairs are expressing themselves now in the sense that Austria will at last be compelled to give evidence of her strength by settling once and for all het longstanding accounts with Servia, and by striking such a blow as will reduce that country to impotence for the future.“ The British consul-general in Budapest, who returned to that capital a few days after the assassination, was impressed „by the intensity of the wave of blind hatred for Servia and everything Servian that is sweeping over the country“; and he thought that the Hungarian nation was „willing to go to any lengths in its desire to revenge itself on the despised and hated enemy.“ There was, in short, so

11 far as the articulate classes were concerned; a loud demand for prompt, drastic, and effective action. In the face of such general excitement, the attitude of the press calls for remark. With the exception of the liberal Die Zeit and the socialist Arbeiter-Zeitung, the newspapers were quite ready to attribute the responsibility for the crime to Belgrade, for it was speedily known that Printsip was a Serbian, and certain of them called for action. The Reichspost, organ of the Christian Socialists and sometimes the mouthpiece of the late Archduke, asked, on I July, „How long will the Serbian murder spectre carryon its handiwork unchecked?“ and the next day asserted that respect for the Monarchy must be restored „with the mailed fist.“ The Militärische Rundschau, on 30 June, published a bitter article headed, „To Belgrade!“ The Neues Wiener Journal denounced „the hushing-up system of Count Berchtold.“ These journals were notoriously reactionary and chauvinist. „The official Fremdenblatt, however, and most of the more reasonable papers,“ reported the British ambassador, „take the line that it would not be politic to take Servia as a whole to account for the crimes of a small band of degenerates who draw their inspiration from Pan-Serb headquarters at Belgrade.“ Thus the Neue Freie Presse, the most important paper in Vienna, said, on 2 July, that the government’s policy of peace would not be altered by the murder, for „wars of revenge are to-day, when the great interests of the people are decisive, out of the question.“ On the same day ‘the Pester Lloyd, the great liberal paper of Budapest, protested against „the idea of a campaign of revenge, a punitive expedition against Serbia“; and the semi-official Budapesti Hirlap stated that „there is no ground for anxiety as to war,“ for „the Monarchy will know how to maintain its prestige without wishing to resort to war.“ It is quite clear that the most responsible newspapers in both halves of the Monarchy, immediately after the assassination, were extremely cautious and did not urge the government to measures of violence. The news of Sarajevo was received in Germany with „consternation,“ if the British charge d’affaires in Berlin judged correctly. „Great and universal sympathy with the aged Emperor Francis Joseph“ was mingled with horror over a crime which „deprived His Majesty [the German Emperor] of an intimate friend.“ On the political side the press, while lamenting that „one certain factor“ in’the relations of Germany and AustriaHungary had been removed, expressed the opinion that „nothing will be changed in the relations between the two allies.“ Nevertheless, a certain anxiety was soon noticeable. „Since the Balkan wars [observed the British charge], doubts have sprung up in Germany as to the extent to which she can reckon on military assistance from her neighbor in the event of a general war. The idea is that Austria-Hungary would be hampered by having to prepare for eventualities on the Serbian ,frontier. This idea has been strengthened by the recent crime at Sarajevo .... The attitude of the AustroHungarian Government at this juncture is therefore being watched with anxious interest. German public opinion appears to have been rather bewildered by the situation. The first impressions were decidedly hostile to Serbia and even dangerous. The libe-

12 ral Vossische Zeitung asserted that Pashich had known· that something would happen to the Archduke and tried to lay the ultimate responsibility on Russia; the Catholic Germania accused the Serbian Government of allowing the conspiracy to develop under its eyes, while the Tägliche Rundschau hinted that the threads stretched to a member of the royal family. The Catholic Kölnische Volkzeitung urged Austria to „pluck up het courage and become the schoolmaster of the East“; the chauvinistic Leipziger Neueste Nachrichten asked „whether Austria was going to allow the Slav danger to increase until it stifled Germanism.“ But a few days’ reflection produced a calmer mood. The semiofficial Lokal-Anzeiger on 5 July declared that it did not wish to impute the crime of Sarajevo to the Serbian Government, and Maximilian Harden in his Zukunft proclaimed that „Serbia is innocent.“ The conservative Deutsche Tageszeitung warned Vienna not to make the crime the point of departure for a new Balkan policy, while the liberal Berliner Tageblatt was alarmed by the rumor of an Austrian demand for an investigation in Serbia. The Pan-German Morgenpost expressed the hope that Vienna would not lose its head, and the liberal Frankfurter Zeitung advised against measures of revenge. As was to be expected, the socialist Vorwärts urged the Vienna governnment not to be stampeded by „the dangerous excitement that had taken possession of the Austrian people.“ All in all, German opinion, without distinction of party, appears, after the first shock of the assassination had passed off, to have assumed a cautious attitude. It was anti-Serbian and inclined to give at the Austrians for their vacillations, but it was not provocative; if it did not give the government a clear kad, it certainly did not demand an aggressive policy on the part of Germany for a free hand for the ally on the Danube. The attitude of the German Government was also one of reserve, at least for the moment. „When the news of the murders at Sarajevo became known, there was,“ wrote the British charge, „evidently anxiety in official quarters lest the Austro-Hungarian Government might take some precipitate action against Serbia which would have farreaching consequences.“ The sound advice was accordingly given to the Serbian Government, through the medium of the Russian ambassador in Berlin, „spontaneously to offer to do all they could to help the Bosnian authorities in their investigations into the origin and ramifications of the plot.“ The Bavarian minister in Berlin reported to his government in much the same strain: „Yesterday’s alarming report to the effect that Austria-Hungary had laid claim to the conduct of the inquiry in Serbia and that Serbia had refused this interference, has since been denied. At the foreign office here it is even hoped that Serbia will now neglect nothing necessary to call to account the persons involved in the plot. Under-Secretary of State Zimmermann at once called the attention of the Serbian charge d’affaires to the serious consequences to which a refusal on the part of Serbia in this matter might lead, and furthermore suggested to the Russian ambassador that he should get his government to use the same language in Belgrade.“ Certainly no exception could be taken by Serbia, or her friends, to this advice. The Wilhelmstrasse could hardly have taken any other position. Herr von Jagow, the foreign minister, was away on his honeymoon; Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg, the chancellor,

13 had gone to his country-seat at Hohenfinow; the Emperor, greatly upset by the tragedy at Sarajevo, had retired to the seclusion of Potsdam. For the conduct of foreign policy, the ‘German Government’ consisted of Dr. Zimmermann, the under-secretary of the foreign office, who obviously lacked the authority to take any decided initiative in the present circumstances. Naturally, therefore, he followed up his prudent advice to Serbia with corresponding counsels of moderation to Vienna. On 4 July he told Count Szogyeny, the Austro-Hungarian ambassador, that while „energetic action“ on the part of Austria would be perfectly justified, he would advise great discretion and would not like to see humiliating conditions proposed to Serbia.“ After Sarajevo it was to be supposed that Austria-Hungary would demand some kind of satisfaction from Serbia. What form that satisfaction might take would not be known until the Cabinet of Vienna had shown its hand. But if Russia were itching for an excuse to make war, as both William II and Herr von Bethmann had asserted two weeks before the murder, could a better one be found than the necessity of defending Serbia from too harsh demands on the part of Austria-Hungary? The excitable and unstable Emperor might easily surrender to his emotions and throw discretion to the winds. But the chancellor was not, like his master, prone to precipitate action, and he had clearly recognized the danger inherent in the Austro-Russian rivalry. It was to be expected, on his own showing, that he would weigh carefully any proposals submitted by the Austro-Hungarian Government and consider their possible effect on Russia. What the chancellor said in June, 1914, makes his post-war statement, „At the beginning of the ‘Crisis I assumed that even a Russian mind would shrink from taking the last fearful step except under extreme necessity,“ singularly unconvincing. William II seems to have been greatly upset by the tragic end of a prince whom he had visited two weeks before; when the news was brought to him while yachting at Kiel, he is said to have exc1aimed, „Now I’ve got to begin all over again!“ - whatever that may have meant. The imperial yacht was put about and the regatta stopped. On reaching shore the Emperor despatched two telegrams. To the Emperor Francis Joseph he said: „Completely overwhelmed by the news from Sarajevo, I beg You to accept the expression of my deeply felt sympathy. We must bow before God’s decree which once more imposes heavy trials.“ For the week following the murder at Sarajevo, we have only one sure indication of his state of mind, but in that one record William II evidently revealed his innermost feelings, and he fairly let himself go in a manner that hardly betokened „a heavy heart.“ He has before him a report from his ambassador in Vienna, on the views prevalent in the Austrian capital. Count Berchtold regrets that „the affair [the murder at Sarajevo] was so well thought out that very young men were intentionally selected for the perpetration of the crime, upon whom only a mild punishment could be inflicted.“ „I hope not,“ notes William. Nevertheless, the ambassador hears expressed, „even among serious people, the wish that a thorough reckoning must be had with the Serbs once for all.“ „Now or never,“ is the imperial advice. Then he comes to what the ambassador himself is doing: „I take advantage of every such occasion to advise quietly, but very emphatically and seriiously, against too hasty steps.“

14

June 29, 1914

15 These words the Emperor underscores, and then he delivers himself of the following: „Who authorized him to act thus? That is very stupid! It is absolutely none of his business, for it is solely Austria’s affair what she intends to do in this matter. Afterward, if things go wrong, it will be said that Germany was not willing! Tschirschky will please drop this nonsense! The Serbs must be disposed of, and that right soon!“ Taken by themselves, these wild words indicate no more than that William II was in one of his excitable moods-which were often succeeded by periods of pessimism and depression. But we have seen that in the autumn of 1913 he had pondered for several months the idea of a war launched by Austria-Hungary against Serbia, in case an understanding between those two states could nqt be reached, and in May, 1914, had said that he considered an understanding out of the question. His comments on the report of Herr von Tschirschky can therefore hardly be treated as a mere ebullition of the moment induced by indignation over the murder of his friend; rather they have to be considered as a serious expression of the opinion that the time had come to apply force. To what extent the Emperor’s views influenced the foreign office, which had thus far been urging caution upon Austria-Hungary and a conciliatory attitude upon Serbia, and the chancellor, who, so far as is known, had not expressed his views, can be estimated only in the light of events about to be described. On Sunday morning, 5 July, Count Hoyos arrived in Berlin with the memorandum of the Austro-Hungarian Government and the letter of Francis Joseph to William II; he handed over his documents and, as will be seen presently, explained his mission to the ambassador, Count Szogyeny. The latter, as already instructed by telegram, sent word to the Emperor that Count Hoyos had brought a letter from the Emperor Francis Joseph, and was invited to Potsdam for luncheon. Count Hoyos himmself proceeded to the Wilhelmstrasse for a discussion with Herr Zimmermann, to whom he gave copies of the documents. No minute of their conversation has been published. Other official documents, however, record the terms in which certain proposals were presented: The protocol of the council of ministers held two days later at Vienna records that Count Hoyos had .explained in Berlin the project of „a surprise attack on Serbia without any preliminary preparation,“ or, as it was again described in the council, „a surprise attack sans crier gare.“ Count Berchtold’s remarks in the discussion imply frankly that this was the plan which he favored and had presented to the German Government. Count Hoyos also stated that „a complete partition of Serbia was under consideration“ in Vienna. He revealed, in short, how the programme hinted at in the letter of Francis Joseph was to be carried into execution. Inasmuch as Herr Zimmermann had hitherto been advising moderation, he should have been shocked by these declarations of the Austrian diplomatist. He was, however, not in the least disturbed, saying that he „considered an energetic communication to Serbia . . . as a matter of course“ and making no protest against the idea of partition. His reaction is still more clearly revealed by his remarks to the German ambassador in London, whom he saw shortly afterward: „He told me [Prince Lichnowsky recorded] that a letter had just arrived from the Emperor of Austria to the effect that Vienna now

16 intended to put an end to the intolerable state of things on the Serbian frontier by energetic action. The undersecretary seemed to think that, if war was now after all inevitable for us in consequence of the unfriendly attitude of Russia, it would perhaps be better to have it now rather than later.“ Herr Zimmermann was evidently under no illusions about the possible consequences of the Austrian action. He at once telephoned to the chancellor at Hohenfinow to inform him of the Austrian demarche and Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg promised to come to Berlin that evening. But the interest of 5 July centres not so much in Berlin as in Potsdam, where Count Szögyeny was received by William II to present the documents brought from Vienna. His Majesty read both the autograph letter and the memorandum, so the ambassador reported to his chief, „with the greatest attention.“ He first assured me [continued Count Szögyeny] that he had expected some serious step on our part against Serbia; but he had to admit that the statements of our most gracious master made him foresee serious European complications and therefore he could not give a definite answer until he had consulted the imperial chancellor.“ The Emperor might well hesitate. The Austro-Hungarian programme called for „the isolation and diminution of Serbia,“ in order that the little state might be „eliminated as a factor of political power in the Balkans“ - a policy that could be pursued only through warlike action, which was admirably calculated to bring about „serious European complications,“ and which the German Government had twice vetoed in the past two years. The discussion was interrupted by luncheon, at which the Empress and other persons were present. When the discussion was resumed, Count Szögyeny „once more called emphatic attention to the seriousness of the situation“; and this time William, without waiting for the arrival of the chancellor, authorized the ambassador to transmit to Francis Joseph the following message, which signified his personal approval of the Austro-Hungarian proposals : „In this case also we might rely on Germany’s full support. He must, as he had said, first hear the opinion of the chancellor, but he did not in the least doubt that Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg would agree with him, especially in the matter of the action against Serbia. It was his (the Emperor William’s) opinion that thiS action must not be delayed. Russia’s action would doubtless be hostile, but he had been prepared for this for years; and should it come to war between Austria-Hungary and Russia, we could be assured that Germany would stand by our side with her accustomed loyalty ...“ The chief of the Emperor’s naval cabinet, Admiral von Müller, was also informed, on that day or the next, of „the proposed advance of the Austrians into Serbia.“ On this essential point, then, three independent witness agree. Thus there can be no doubt that William II understood what Austria-Hungary proposed to do, or that in his own name and own authority he accepted its programme. So far as the record shows, he did not inquire if Austria-Hungary had proofs of official Serbian complicity in the murder at Sarajevo; he gave his reply without consulting his government; he imposed no „restriction on the projected action and he urged its immediate execution. He did, it is true, say that he must consult his chancellor, but he gave assurances of that gentleman’s

17 approval, and, without waiting to secure it, authorized the communication to Francis Joseph, including the promise of support in a war with Russia: He so fully committed himself that protest by the chancellor would be difficult and improbable. The ambassador, for his part, did not wait for the chancellor’s approval, but telegraphed the Emperor’s answer to Vienna at once. First in order of time, first in degree of authority among all. his countrymen, the German Emperor thus sanctioned the course which Austria-Hungary desired to follow. How serious the Emperor understood the matter to be is evident from the fact that, after the first conversation with the Austrian ambassador and before the luncheon, he caused his principal officials to be summoned to Potsdam. The first to arrive, about 5 P. M., was General von Falkenhayn, the Prussian minister of war, who was responsible for mobilization and the material preparedness of the army. According to the account of the ensuing conversation which the general sent to the chief of staff a few hours later, the Emperor informed the minister of war, as had already been noted, that „AustriaHungary appears determined not to tolerate any longer the plots hatched against Austria in the Balkan peninsula, and if necessary, to accomplish this end, to begin by marching into Serbia.“ He then read aloud portions of the autograph letter and the memorandum. Following this, so General von Falkenhayn testified in 1919, the Emperor „pointed out how very serious consequences might ensue from the evidently firm determination of Austria-Hungary to put an end at last to the Great-Serbian propaganda, and in conclusion asked me the question whether the army was ready for all conntingencies.“ To this direct question, said the general, „I replied briefly and unconditionally, in accord with my conviction, that it was, and only asked on my part whether any other preparations were to be made. His Majesty answered just as briefly that they were not, and dismissed me.“ But Falkenhayn’s biographer, who had the general’s diary to work from, adds an important point. After mentioning the reading of the Austro:’Hungarian documents, he says: „In view of the enormous possible consequences involved these documents raised the question whether Germany would in all circumstances fulfil her duty as an ally, which was answered in the affirmative. Falkenhayn thereupon urgently begged that adequate preparations for war [entsprechende KriegsvorbereitungenJ be made on the part of Germany. This was refused, in order not to disturb the diplomatic action. This statement throws a rather different light on the conversation: the Emperor was satisfied to know that the army was ready, and thought it politically inexpedient to alarm the other Powers.«

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19

1914 MOBILIZATIONS IN BERLIN AND PARIS by

Barbara W. Tuchman

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Introductory Notes The real start of the war also was described in another Pulitzer Prize-winning book, untitled „The Guns of August“, by Barbara Tuchman, published in 1962 and was entered for the General Nonfiction award of the following year. The Pulitzer Prize jurors, according to their report of February 7, 1963, welcomed a book about the European scene, and the jury chairman stated: „With such a conception it seems to me that Barbara Tuchman’s ‘The Guns of August’ easily takes first place among the books submitted to us. Mrs. Tuchman shows extraordinary skill in organizing complex masses of detail into a colorful and constantly lively narrative, and her impressive research has served to throw fresh light on events, she proves, most of us had thought more familiar than they are. I read the book twice, with increasing respect for the mind behind the material, and the skill in writing.“ In her ‘Author’ s Note’, Barbara Tuchman pointed out „that the omission of AustriaHungary, Serbia, and the Russo-Austrian and Serbo-Austrian fronts was not entirely arbitrary. The inexhaustible problem of the Balkans devides itself naturally from the rest of the war.“ The author was born on January 30, 1912, in New York City. Barbara Wertheim Tuchman attended Radcliffe College and earned her B.A. degree in 1933. The following year she began work as a research assistant for the Institute of Pacific Relations in New York City and in 1935 was sent to the organization’s branch office in Tokyo. Upon her return to the United States the year after, she took a position as an editorial assistant and writer with the Nation, then owned by her father, Maurice Wertheim. In 1937 she went to Spain as correspondent for the Nation, reporting from Madrid during the Spanish Civil War. Subsequently she stayed for a while in London to write for the magazine The War in Spain. Upon her return home in 1938 she worked as a free-lance writer for the Nation, and in the following year she became the United States correspondent for the British journal of opinion New Statesman and Nation. Having got married in 1940, Barbara Tuchman took time out from her duties as housewife and mother to serve, from 1943 to 1945, as an editor at the news desk of the Office of War Information, dealing with Far Eastern affairs. Her book publications include: The Lost British Policy: Britain and Spain Since 1700; Bible and Sword: England and Palestine from the Bronze Age to Balfour and The Zimmermann Telegram. The Guns of August, sketches in the diplomatic prelude to WorId War I and the military history of its first thirty days, was published in 1962. The book won Barbara W. Tuchman the Pulitzer Prize for General Nonfiction the year after.

21

Some Diplomatic Attempts to prevent War [Source: Barbara Tuchman: The Guns of August, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1962, pp. 73-90] »At noon on Saturday, August 1, 1914, the German ultimatum to Russia expired without a Russian reply. Within an hour a telegram went out to the German ambassador in St Petersburg instructing him to declare war by five o’clock that afternoon. At five o’clock the Kaiser decreed general mobilization, some preliminaries having already got off to a head start under the declaration of Kriegsgefahr (Danger of War) the day before. At five-thirty Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg, absorbed in a document he was holding in his hand and accompanied by little Jagow, the Foreign Minister, hurried down the steps of the Foreign Office, hailed an ordinary taxi, and sped off to the palace. Shortly afterward General von Moltke, the gloomy Chief of General Staff, was pulled up short as he was driving back to his office with the mobilization order signed by the Kaiser in his pocket. A messenger in another car overtook him with an urgent summons from the palace. He returned to hear a last-minute, desperate proposal from the Kaiser that reduced Moltke to tears and could have changed the history of the twentieth century. Now that the moment had come, the Kaiser suffered at the necessary risk to East Prussia, in spite of the six weeks’ leeway his Staff promised before the Russians could fully mobilize. „I hate the Slavs,“ he confessed to an Austrian officer. „I know it is a sin to do so. We ought not to hate anyone. But I can’t help hating them.“ He had taken comfort, however, in the news, reminiscent of 1905, of strikes and riots in St. Petersburg, of mobs smashing windows, and „violent street fights between revolutionaries and police.“ Count Pourtalès, his aged ambassador, who had been seven years in Russia, concluded, and repeatedly assured his government, that Russia would not fight for fear of revolution. Captain von Eggeling, the German military attaché, kept repeating the credo about 1916, and when Russia nevertheless mobilized, he reported she planned „no tenacious offensive but a slow retreat as in 1812.“ In the affinity for error of German diplomats, these judgments established a record. They gave heart to the Kaiser, who as late as July 31 composed a missive for the „guidance“ of his Staff, rejoicing in the „mood of a sick Tom-cat“ that, on the evidence of his envoys, he said prevailed in the Russian court and army. In Berlin on August 1, the crowds milling in the streets and massed in thousands in front of the palace were tense and heavy with anxiety. Socialism, which most of Berlin’s workers professed, did not run so deep as their instinctive fear and hatred of the Slavic hordes. Although they had been told by the Kaiser, in his speech from the balcony announcing Kriegsgefahr the evening before, that the „sword has been forced into our hand,“ they still waited in the ultimate dim hope of a Russian reply. The hour of the ultimatum passed. A journalist in the crowd felt the air „electric with rumor. People told each other Russia had asked for an extension of time. The Bourse writhed in

22 panic. The afternoon passed in almost insufferable anxiety.“ Bethmann-Hollweg issued a statement ending, „If the iron dice roll, may God help us.“ At five o’clock a policeman appeared at the palace gate and announced mobilization to the crowd, which obediently struck up the national hymn, „Now thank we all our God.“ Cars raced down Unter den Linden with officers standing up in them, waving handkerchiefs and shouting, „Mobilization!“ Instantly converted from Marx to Mars, people cheered wildly and rushed off to vent their feelings on suspected Russian spies, several of whom were pummeled or trampled to death in the course of the next few days. Once the mobilization button was pushed, the whole vast machinery for calling up, equipping, and transporting two million men began turning automatically. Reservists went to their designated depots, were issued uniforms, equipment, and arms, formed into companies and companies into battalions, were joined by cavalry, cyclists, artillery, medical units, cook wagons, blacksmith wagons, even postal wagons, moved according to prepared railway timetables to concentration points near the frontier where they would be formed into divisions, divisions into corps, and corps into armies ready to advance and fight. One army corps alone - out of the total of 40 in the German forcesrequired 170 railway cars for officers, 965 for infantry, 2,960 for cavalry, 1,915 for artillery and supply wagons, 6,010 in all, grouped in 140 trains and an equal number again for their supplies. From the moment the order was given, everything was to move at fixed times according to a schedule precise down to the number of train axles that would pass over a given bridge within a given time. Confident in his magnificent system, Deputy Chief of Staff General Waldersee had not even returned to Berlin at the beginning of the crisis but had written to Jagow: „I shall remain here ready to jump; we are all prepared at the General Staff; in the meantime there is nothing for us to do.“ It was a proud tradition inherited from the elder, or „great,“ Moltke who on mobilization day in 1870 was found lying on a sofa reading Lady Audley’s Secret. His enviable calm was not present today in the palace. Face to face no longer with the specter but the reality of a two-front war, the Kaiser was as close to the „sick Tomcat“ mood as he thought the Russians were. More cosmopolitan and more timid than the archetype Prussian, he had never actually wanted a general war. He wanted greater power, greater prestige, above all more authority in the world’s affairs for Germany but he preferred to obtain them by frightening rather than by fighting other nations. He wanted the gladiator’s rewards without the battle, and whenever the prospect of battle came too close, as at Algeciras and Agadir, he shrank. As the final crisis boiled, his marginalia on telegrams grew more and more agitated: „Aha! the common cheat,“ „Rot!“ „He lies!“ „Mr. Grey is a false dog,“ „Twaddle!“ „The rascal is crazy or an idiot!“ When Russia mobilized he burst into a tirade of passionate foreboding, not against the Slav traitors but against the unforgettable figure of the,wicked uncle: „The world will be engulfed in the most terrible of wars, the ultimate aim of which is the ruin of Germany. England, France and Russia have conspired for our annihilation ... that is the naked truth of the, situation which was

23 slowly but surely created by Edward VII .... The encirclement of Germany is at last an accomplished fact. We have run our heads into the noose .... The dead Edward is stronger than the living!“ Conscious of the shadow of the dead Edward, the Kaiser would have welcomed any way out of the commitment to fight both Russia and France and, behind France, the looming figure of still-undeclared England. At the last moment one was offered. A colleague of Bethmann’s came to beg him to do anything he could to save Germany from a two-front war and suggested a means. For years a possible solution for Alsace had been discussed in terms of autonomy as a Federal State within the German Empire. If offered and accepted by the Alsatians, this solution would have deprived France of any reason to liberate th,e lost provinces. As recently as July 16, the French Socialist Congress had gone on record in favor of it. But the German military had always insisted that the provinces must remain garrisoned and their political rights subordinated to „military necessity.“ Until 1911 no constitution had ever been granted and autonomy never. Bethmann’s colleague now urged him to make an immediate, public, and official offer for a conference on autonomy for Alsace. This could be allowed to drag on without result, while its moral effect would force France to refrain from attack while at least considering the offer. Time would be gained for Germany to turn her forces against Russia while remaining stationary in the West, thus keeping England out. The author of this proposal remains anonymous, and it may be apocryphal. It does not matter. The opportunity was there, and the Chancellor could have thought of it for himself. But to seize it required boldness, and Bethmann, behind his distinguished facade of great height, somber eyes, and well-trimmed imperial, was a man, as Theodore Roosevelt said of Taft, „who means well feebly.“ Instead of offering France an inducement to stay neutral, the German government sent her an ultimatum at the same time as the ultimatum to Russia. They asked France to reply within eighteen hours whether she would stay neutral in a Russo-German waf, and added that if she did Germany would „demand as guarantee of neutrality the handing over to us of the fortresses of Toul and Verdun which we shall occupy and restore after the war is over“ - in other words, the handing over of the key to the French door. Baron von Schoen, German ambassador in Paris, could not bring himself to pass on this „brutal“ demand at a moment when, it seemed to him, French neutrality would have been such a supreme advantage to Germany that his government might well have offered to pay a price for it rather than exact a penalty. He presented the request for a statement of neutrality without the demand for the fortresses, but the French, who had intercepted and decoded his instructions, knew of it anyway. When Schoen, at 11:00 A.M. on August 1, asked for France’s reply he was, answered that France would act in accordance with her interests.“ In Berlin just after five o’clock a telephone rang in the Foreign Office. UnderSecretary Zimmermann, who answered it, turned to the editor of the Berliner Tageblatt sitting by his desk and said, „Moltke wants to know whether things can start.“ At that moment a telegram from London, just decoded, broke in upon the planned

24 proceedings. It offered hope that if the movement against France could be instantly stopped Germany might safely fight a one-front war after all. Carrying it with them, Bethmann and 1 agow dashed off on their taxi trip to the palace. The telegram from Prince Lichnowsky, ambassador in London, reported an English offer, as Lichnowsky understood it, „that in case we did not attack France, England would remain neutral and would guarantee France’s neutrality.“ The ambassador belonged to that class of Germans who spoke English and copied English manners, sports, and dress, in a strenuous endeavor to become the very pattern of an English gentleman. His fellow noblemen, the Prince of Pless, Prince Blücher, and Prince Münster were all married to English wives. At a dinner in Berlin in 1911, in honor of a British general, the guest of honor was astonished to find that all forty German guests, including Bethmann-Hollweg and Admiral Tirpitz, spoke English fluently. Lichnowsky differed from his class in that he was not only in manner but in heart an earnest Anglophile. He had come to London determined to make himself and his country liked. English society had been lavish with country weekends. To the ambassador no tragedy could be greater than war between the country of his birth and the country of his heart, and he was grasping at any handle to avert it. When the Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward Grey, telephoned him that morning, in the interval of a Cabinet meeting, Lichnowsky, out of his own, anxiety, interpreted what Grey said to him as an offer by England to stay neutral and to keep France neutral in a Russo-German war, if, in return, Germany would promise not to attack France. Actually, Grey had not said quite that. What, in his elliptical way, he offered was a promise to keep France neutral if Germany would promise to stay neutral as against France and Russia, in other words, not go to war against either, pending the result of efforts to settle the Serbian affair. After eight, years as Foreign Secretary in a period of chronic „Bosnias,“ as Bülow called them, Grey had perfected a manner of speaking designed to convey“as little meaning as, possible; his avoidance of the pointblank, said a colleague, almost amounted to method. Over the telephone, Lichnowsky, himself dazed tragedy, would have had no difficulty misunderstanding him. by the coming The Kaiser clutched at Lichnowsky’s passport to a one-front war. Minutes counted. Already mobilization was rolling inexorably toward the French frontier. The first hostile act, seizure of a railway junction in Luxembourg, whose neutrality the five Great Powers, including Germany, had guaranteed, was scheduled within an hour. It must be stopped, stopped at once. But how? Where was Moltke? Moltke had left the palace. An aide was sent off, with siren screaming, to intercept him. He was brought back. The Kaiser was himself again, the All-Highest, the War Lord, blazing with a new idea, planning, proposing, disposing. He read Moltke the telegram and said in triumph: „Now we can go to war against Russia only. We simply march the whole of our Army to the East!“ Aghast at the tought of his marvelous machinery of mobilization wrenched into reverse, Moltke refused point-blank. For the past ten years, first as assistant to Schlieffen, then as his successor, Moltke’s job had been planning for this day, The Day, Der Tag, for which all Germany’s energies were gathered, on which the march to

25 final mastery of Europe would begin. It weighed upon him with an oppressive, almost unbearable responsibility. Tall, heavy, bald, and sixty-six years old, Moltke habitually wore an expression of profound distress which led the Kaiser to call him der traurige Julius (or what might be rendered „Gloomy Gus“; in fact, his name was Helmuth). Poor health, for which he took an annual cure at Carlsbad, and the shadow of a great uncle were perhaps cause for gloom. From his window in the red brick General Staff building on the Königplatz where he lived as well as worked, he looked out every day on the equestrian statue, of his namesake, the hero of 1870 and, together with Bismarck, the architect of the German Empire. The nephew was a poor horseman with a habit of falling off on staff rides and, worse, a follower of Christian Science with a side interest in anthroposophism and other cults. For this unbecoming weakness in a Prussian officer he was considered „soft“; what is more, he painted, played the cello, carried Goethe’s Faust in his pocket, and had begun a translation of Maeterlinck’s Pelléas et Mélisande. Introspective and a doubter by nature, he had said to the Kaiser upon his appointment in 1906: „I do not know how I shall get on in the event of a campaign. I am very critical of myself.“ Yet he was neither personally nor politically timid. In 1911, disgusted by Germany’s retreat in the Agadir crisis, he wrote to Conrad von Hotzendorff that if things got worse he would resign, propose to disband the army and „place ourselves under the protection of Japan; then we can make money undisturbed and turn into imbeciles.“ He did not hesitate to talk back to the Kaiser, but told him „quite brutally“ in 1900 that his Peking expedition was a „crazy adventure,“ and when offered the appointment as Chief of Staff, asked the Kaiser if he expected „to win the big prize twice in the same lottery“ - 3 thought that had certainly influenced William’s choice. He refused to take the post unless the Kaiser stopped his habit of winning all the war games which was making nonsense of maneuvers. Surprisingly, the Kaiser meekly obeyed. Now, on the climactic night of August 1, Moltke was in no mood for any more of the Kaiser’s meddling with serious military matters, or with meddling of any kind with the fixed arrangements. To turn around the deployment of a million men from west to east at the very moment of departure would have taken a more iron nerve than Moltke disposed of. He saw a vision of the deployment crumbling apart in confusion, supplies here, soldiers there, ammunition lost in the middle, companies without officers, divisions without staffs, and those 11,000 trains, each exquisitely scheduled to click over specified tracks at specified intervals of ten minutes, tangled in a grotesque ruin of the most perfectly planned military movement in history. „Your Majesty,“ Moltke said to him now, „it cannot be done. The deployment of millions cannot be improvised. If Your Majesty insists on leading the whole army to the East it will not be an army ready for battle but a disorganized mob of armed men with no arrangements for supply. Those arrangements took a whole year of intricate labor to complete“ - and Moltke closed upon that rigid phrase, the basis for every major German mistake, the phrase that launched the invasion of Belgium and the

26 submarine war against the United States, the inevitable phrase when military plans dictate policy - “and’ once settled, it cannot be altered.“ In fact it could have been altered. The German General Staff, though committed since 1905 to a plan of attack upon France first, had in their files, revised each year until 1913, an alternative plan against Russia with all the trains running eastward. „Build no more fortresses, build railways,“ ordered the elder Moltke who had laid out his strategy on a railway map and bequeathed the dogma that railways are the key to war. In Germany the railway system was under military control with a staff officer assigned to every line; no track could be laid or changed without permission of the General Staff. Annual mobilization war games kept railway officials in constant practice and tested their ability to improvise and divert traffic by telegrams reporting lines cut and bridges destroyed. The best brains produced by the War College, it was said, went into the railway section and ended up in lunatic asylums. When Moltke’s „It cannot be done“ was revealed after the war in his memoirs, General von Staab, Chief of the Railway Division, was so incensed by what he considered a reproach upon his bureau that he wrote a book to prove it could have been done. In pages of charts and graphs he demonstrated how, given notice on August 1, he could have deployed four out of the seven armies to the Eastern Front by August 15, leaving three to defend the West. Matthias Erzberger, the Reichstag deputy and leader of the Catholic Centrist Party, has left another, testimony. He says that Moltke himself, within six months of the event, admitted to him that the assault on France at the beginning was a mistake and instead, „the larger part of our army ought first to have been sent East to smash the Russian steam roller, limiting operations in the West to beating off the enemy’s attack on our frontier.“ On the night of August I, Moltke, clinging to the fixed plan, lacked the necessary nerve. „Your uncle would have given me a different answer,“ the Kaiser said to him bitterly. The reproach „wounded me deeply“ Moltke wrote afterward; „I never pretended to be the equal of the old Field Marshal.“ Nevertheless he continued to refuse. „My protest that it would be impossible to maintain peace between France and Germany while both countries were mobilized made no impression. Everybody got more and more excited and I was alone in my opinion.“ Finally, when Moltke convinced the Kaiser that the mobilization plan could not be changed, the group which included Bethmann and Jagow drafted a telegram to England regretting that Germany’s advance movements toward the French border „can no longer be altered“ but offering a guarantee not to cross the border before August 3 at 7:00 P.M., which cost them nothing as no crossing was scheduled before that time. Jagow rushed off a telegram to his ambassador in Paris, where mobilization had already been decreed at four o’clock, instructing him helpfully to „please keep France quiet for the time being.“ The Kaiser added a personal telegram to King George, telling him that for „technical reasons“ mobilization could not be countermanded at this late hour, but „If France offers me neutrality which must be guaranteed by the British fleet and army, I shall of course refrain from attacking France and employ my troops elsewhere. I hope France will not become nervous.“

27

Declaration of war from the German Empire 31 July 1914. Signed by the German Kaiser Wilhelm II. Countersigned by the Reichs-Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg.

28 It was now minutes before seven o’clock, the hour when the 16th Division was scheduled to move into Luxembourg. Bethmann excitedly insisted that Luxembourg must not be entered under any circumstances while waiting for the British answer. Instantly the Kaiser, without asking Moltke, ordered his aide-de-camp to telephone and telegraph 16th Division Headquarters at Trier to cancel the movement. Moltke saw ruin again. Luxembourg’s railways were essential for the offensive through Belgium against France. „At that moment,“ his memoirs say, „I thought my heart would break.“ Despite all his pleading, the Kaiser refused to budge. Instead, he added a closing sentence to his telegram to King George, „The troops on my frontier are in the act of being stopped by telephone and telegraph from crossing into France, “a slight if vitaltwist of the truth, for the Kaiser could not acknowledge to England that what he had intended and what was being stopped was the violation of a neutral country. It would have implied his intention also to violate Belgium, which would have been casus belli in England, and England’s mind was not yet made up. „Crushed,“ Moltke says of himself, on what should have been the culminating day of his career, he returned to the General Staff and „burst into bitter tears of abject despair.“ When his aide brought him for his signature the written order canceling the Luxembourg movement, „I threw my pen down on the table and refused to sign.“ To have signed as the first order after mobilization one that would have annulled all the careful preparations would have been taken, he knew, as evidence of „hesitancy and irresolution.“ „Do what you want with this telegram,“ he said to his aide; „I will not sign it.“ He was still brooding at eleven o’clock when another summons came from the palace. Moltke found the Kaiser in his bedroom, characteristically dressed for the occasion, with a military overcoat over his nightshirt. A telegram had come from Lichnowsky, who, in a further talk with Grey, had discovered his error and now wired sadly, „A positive proposal by England is, on the whole, not in prospect.“ „Now you can do what you like,“ said the Kaiser, and went back to bed. Moltke, the Commander in Chief who had now to direct a campaign that would decide the fate of Germany, was left permaneritly shaken. „That was my first experience of the war,“ he wrote afterward. „I never recovered from the shock of this incident. Something in me broke and I was never the same thereafter.“ Neither was the world, he might have added. The Kaiser’s telephone order to Trier had not arrived in time. At seven o’clock, as scheduled, the first frontier of the war was crossed, the distinction going to an infantry company of the 69th Regiment under command of a certain Lieutenant Feldmann. Just inside the Luxembourg border, on the slopes of the Ardennes about twelve miles from Bastogne in Belgium, stood a little town known to the Germans as Ulflingen. Around it cows grazed on the hillside pastures; on its steep, cobblestone streets not a stray wisp of hay, even in ,August harvest time, was allowed to offend the strict laws governing municipal cleanliness in the Grand Duchy. At the foot of the town was a railroad station and telegraph office where the lines from Germany and Belgium crossed. This was the German objective which Lieutenant Feldmann’s company, arriving in automobiles, duly seized.

29 With their relentless talent for the tactless, the Germans chose to violate Luxembourg at a place whose native and official name was Trois Vierges. The three virgins in fact represented faith, hope, and charity, but History with her apposite touch arranged for the occasion that they should stand in the public mind for Luxembourg, Belgium, and France. At 7:30 a second detachment in automobiles arrived (presumably in response to the Kaiser’s message) and ordered off the first group, saying „a mistake had been made.“ In the interval Luxembourg’s Minister of State Eyschen had already telegraphed the news to London, Paris, and Brussels and a protest to Berlin. The three virgins had made their point. By midnight Moltke had rectified the reversal, and by the end of the next day, August 2, M-l on the German schedule, the entire Grand Duchy was occupied. A question has haunted the annals of history ever since: What Ifs might have followed if the Germans had gone east in 1914 while remaining on the defensive against France? General von Staab showed that to have turned against Russia was technically possible. But whether it would have been temperamentally possible for the Germans to have refrained from attacking France when Der Tag came is another matter. At seven o’clock in St. Petersburg, at the same hour when the Germans entered Luxembourg, Ambassador Pourtalès, his watery blue eyes redrimmed, his white goatee quivering, presented Germany’s declaration of war with shaking hand to Sazonov, the Russian Foreign Minister. „The curses of the nations will be upon you!“ Sazonov exclaimed. „We are defending our honor, the German ambassador replied. „Your honor was not involved. But there is a divine justice. “That’s true,“ and muttering, „a divine justice, a divine justice,“ Pourtalès staggered to the window, leaned against it, and burst into tears. „So this is the end of my mission:“ he said when he could speak. Sazonov patted him on the shoulder, they embraced, and Pourtalès stumbled to the door, which he could hardly open with a trembling hand, and went out, murmuring, „Goodbye, goodbye.“ This affecting scene comes down to us as recorded by Sazonov with artistic additions by the French ambassador Paléologue, presumably from what Sazonov told him. Pourtalès reported only that he asked three times for a reply to the ultimatum and after Sazonov answered negatively three times, „1 handed over the note as instructed.“ Why did it have to be handed over at all? Admiral von Tirpitz, the Naval Minister, had plaintively asked the night before when the declaration of war was being drafted. Speaking, he says, „more from instinct than from reason,“ he wanted to know why, if Germany did not plan to invade Russia, was it necessary to declare war and assume the odium of the attacking party? His question was particularly pertinent because Germanis object was to saddle Russia with war guilt in order to convince the German people that they were fighting in self-defense and especially in order to keep Italy tied to her engagements under the Triple Alliance. Italy was obliged to join her allies only in a defensive war and, already shaky in her allegiance, was widely expected to sidle out through any loophole that opened up. Bethmann was harassed by this problem. If Austria persisted in, refusing any or all

30 Serbian concessions, he warned, „it will scarcely be possible to place the guilt of a have implied his intention also to violate Belgium, which would have been casus belli in England, and England’s mind was not yet made up. „Crushed,“ Moltke says of himself, on what should have been the culminating day of his career, he returned to the General Staff and „burst into bitter tears of abject despair.“ When his aide brought him for his signature the written order canceling the Luxembourg movement, „I threw my pen down on the table and refused to sign.“ To have signed as the first order after mobilization one that would have annulled all the careful preparations would have been taken, he knew, as evidence of „hesitancy and irresolution.“ „Do what you want with this telegram,“ he said to his aide; „I will not sign it.“ He was still brooding at eleven o’clock when another summons came from the palace. Moltke found the Kaiser in his bedroom, characteristically dressed for the occasion, with a military overcoat over his nightshirt. A telegram had come from Lichnowsky, who, in a further talk with Grey, had discovered his error and now wired sadly, „A positive proposal by England is, on the whole, not in prospect.“ „Now you can do what you like,“ said the Kaiser, and went back to bed. Moltke, the Commander in Chief who had now to direct a campaign that would decide the fate of Germany, was left permaneritly shaken. „That was my first experience of the war,“ he wrote afterward. „I never recovered from the shock of this incident. Something in me broke and I was never the same thereafter.“ Neither was the world, he might have added. The Kaiser’s telephone order to Trier had not arrived in time. At seven o’clock, as scheduled, the first frontier of the war was crossed, the distinction going to an infantry company of the 69th Regiment under command of a certain Lieutenant Feldmann. Just inside the Luxembourg border, on the slopes of the Ardennes about twelve miles from Bastogne in Belgium, stood a little town known to the Germans as Ulflingen. Around it cows grazed on the hillside pastures; on its steep, cobblestone streets not a stray wisp of hay, even in ,August harvest time, was allowed to offend the strict laws governing municipal cleanliness in the Grand Duchy. At the foot of the town was a railroad station and telegraph office where the lines from Germany and Belgium crossed. This was the German objective which Lieutenant Feldmann’s company, arriving in automobiles, duly seized. With their relentless talent for the tactless, the Germans chose to violate Luxembourg at a place whose native and official name was Trois Vierges. The three virgins in fact represented faith, hope, and charity, but History with her apposite touch arranged for the occasion that they should stand in the public mind for Luxembourg, Belgium, and France. At 7:30 a second detachment in automobiles arrived (presumably in response to the Kaiser’s message) and ordered off the first group, saying „a mistake had been made.“ In the interval Luxembourg’s Minister of State Eyschen had already telegraphed the news to London, Paris, and Brussels and a protest to Berlin. The three virgins had made their point. By midnight Moltke had rectified the reversal, and by the end of the next day, August 2, M-l on the German schedule, the

31

August 4, 1914 entire Grand Duchy was occupied. A question has haunted the annals of history ever since: What Ifs might have followed if the Germans had gone east in 1914 while remaining on the defensive against France? General von Staab showed that to have turned against Russia was technically possible. But whether it would have been temperamentally possible for the Germans to have refrained from attacking France when Der Tag came is another matter.

32 At seven o’clock in St. Petersburg, at the same hour when the Germans entered Luxembourg, Ambassador Pourtalès, his watery blue eyes redrimmed, his white goatee quivering, presented Germany’s declaration of war with shaking hand to Sazonov, the Russian Foreign Minister. „The curses of the nations will be upon you!“ Sazonov exclaimed. „We are defending our honor, the German ambassador replied. „Your honor was not involved. But there is a divine justice. “That’s true,“ and muttering, „a divine justice, a divine justice,“ Pourtalès staggered to the window, leaned against it, and burst into tears. „So this is the end of my mission:“ he said when he could speak. Sazonov patted him on the shoulder, they embraced, and Pourtalès stumbled to the door, which he could hardly open with a trembling hand, and went out, murmuring, „Goodbye, goodbye.“ This affecting scene comes down to us as recorded by Sazonov with artistic additions by the French ambassador Paléologue, presumably from what Sazonov told him. Pourtalès reported only that he asked three times for a reply to the ultimatum and after Sazonov answered negatively three times, „1 handed over the note as instructed.“ Why did it have to be handed over at all? Admiral von Tirpitz, the Naval Minister, had plaintively asked the night before when the declaration of war was being drafted. Speaking, he says, „more from instinct than from reason,“ he wanted to know why, if Germany did not plan to invade Russia, was it necessary to declare war and assume the odium of the attacking party? His question was particularly pertinent because Germanis object was to saddle Russia with war guilt in order to convince the German people that they were fighting in self-defense and especially in order to keep Italy tied to her engagements under the Triple Alliance. Italy was obliged to join her allies only in a defensive war and, already shaky in her allegiance, was widely expected to sidle out through any loophole that opened up. Bethmann was harassed by this problem. If Austria persisted in, refusing any or all Serbian concessions, he warned, „it will scarcely be possible to place the guilt of a European conflagration on Russia)“ and would „place us in the eyes of our own people, in an untenable position.“ He was hardly heard. When mobilization day came, German protocol required that war be properly declared. Jurists of the Foreign Qffice, according to Tirpitz, insisted it was legally the correct thing to do. „Outside Germany,“ he says pathetically, „there is no appreciation of such ideas.“ In France appreciation was keener than he knew. One prime objective governed French policy: to enter the war with England as an ally. To ensure that event and enable her friends, in England to overcome the inertia and reluctance within their own Cabinet and country, France had to leave it clear beyond question who was the attacked and who the attacker. The physical act and moral odium of aggression must be left squarely upon Germany. Germany was expected to do her part, but lest any overanxious French patrols or frontier troops stepped over the border, the French government took a daring and extraordinary step. On July 30 it ordered a ten-kilometer withdrawal along the entire frontier with Germany from Switzerland to Luxembourg. Pemier René Viviani, an eloquent Socialist orator, formerly chiefly concerned with welfare and labor, proposed the withdrawal. He was a curiosity in French politics, a

33 Premier who had never been Premier before, and was now Acting Foreign Minister as well. He had been in office barely six weeks and had just returned the day before, July 29, from a state visit to Russia with President Poincaré. Austria had waited until Viviani and Poincare were at sea to issue her ultimatum to Serbia. On receiving this news the French President and Premier had eliminated a scheduled visit to Copenhagen and hurried home. In Paris they were told German covering troops had. taken their places a few hundred meters from the frontier. They knew nothing as yet of the Russian and Austrian mobilizations. Hopes still flourished of a negotiated settlement. Viviani was „haunted by a fear that war might burst from a clump of trees, from a meeting of two patrols, from a threatening gesture ... a black look, a brutal word, a shot!“ While there was still even the least chance of settling the crisis’ without war, and in order to leave the lines of aggression clear if war came, the Cabinet agreed upon the tenkilometer withdrawal. The order, telegraphed to corps commanders, ·was designed, they were told, „to assure the collaboration of our English neighbors:“ A telegram informing England of the measure went out simultaneously. The act of withdrawal, done at the very portals of invasion, was a calculated military risk deliberately taken for its political effect. It was taking a chance „never before taken in history,“ said Viviani, and might have added, like Cyrano, „Ah, but what a gesture!“ Withdrawal was a bitter gesture to ask of a French Commander in Chief schooled in the doctrine of offensive and nothing but the offensive. It could have shattered General Joffre as Moltke’s first experience of the war shattered him, but General Joffre’s heart did not break. From the moment of the President’s and Premier’s return, Joffre had been hounding the government for the order to mobilize or at least take the preliminary steps: recall of furloughs, of which many had been granted for the harvest, and deployment of covering troops to the frontier. He deluged them with intelligence reports of German premobilization measures already taken. He loomed large in authority before a new-born Cabinet, the tenth in five years, whose predecessor had lasted three days. The present one was remarkable ‘chiefly for having most of France’s strong men outside it. Briand, Clemenceau, Caillaux, all former premiers, were in opposition. Viviani, by his own evidence, was in a state of „frightful nervous tension“ which, according to Messimy, who was once again War Minister, „became a permanent condition during the month of August.“ The Minister of Marine, Dr. Gauthier, a doctor of medicine shoved into the naval post when a political scandal removed his predecessor, was so overwhelmed by events that he „forgot“ to order fleet units into the Channel and had to be replaced by the Minister of Public Instruction on the spot. In the President, however, intelligence, experience, and strength of purpose, if not constitutional power, were combined. Poincaré was a lawyer, economist, and member of the Academy, a former Finance Minister who had served as Premier and Foreign Minister in 1912 and had been elected President of France in January, 1913. Character begets power, especially in hours of crisis, and the untried Cabinet leaned willingly on the abilities and strong will of the man who was constitutionally a cipher. Born in

34 Lorraine, Poincaré could remember as a boy of ten the long line of spiked German helmets marching through Bar-le-Due, his home town. He was credited by the Germans with the most bellicose intent, partly because, as Premier at the time of Agadir, he had held firm, partly because as President he had used his influence to push through the Three-Year Military Service Law in 1913 against violent Socialist opposition. This and his cold demeanor, his lack of flamboyance, his fixity, did not make for popularity at home. Elections were going against the government, the Three-Year Law was near to being thrown out, labor troubles, and farmers’ discontent were rife, July had been hot, wet, and oppressive with windstorms and summer thunder, and Mme. Caillaux who had shot the editor of Figaro was on trial for murder. Each day of the trial revealed new and unpleasant irregularities in finance, the press, the courts, the government. One day the French woke up to find Mme. Caillaux on page two - and the sudden, awful knowledge that France faced war. In that most passionately political and quarrelsome of countries one sentiment thereupon prevailed. Poincaré and Viviani, returning from Russia, drove through Paris to the sound of one prolonged cry, repeated over and over, „Vive la France!“ Joffre told the government that if he was not given the order to assemble and transport the covering troops of five army corps and cavalry toward the frontier, the Germans would „enter France without firing a shot.“ He accepted the ten-kilometer withdrawal of troops already in position less from subservience to the civil arm Joffre was about as subservient by nature as Julius Caesar - as from a desire to bend all the force of his argument upon the one issue of the covering troops. The government, still reluctant while diplomatic offers and counter-offers flashing over the wires might yet produce a settlement, agreed to give him a „reduced“ version, that is, without calling out the reservists. At 4: 30 next day, July 31, a banking friend in Amsterdam telephoned Messimy the news of the German Kriegsgefahr, officially confirmed an hour later from Berlin. It was „une forme hypocrite de la mobilisation“ Messimy angrily told the Cabinet. His friend in Amsterdam had said war was certain and Germany was ready for it, „from the Emperor down to the last Fritz.“ Following hard upon this news carne a telegram from Paul Cambon, French ambassador in London, reporting that England was „tepid.“ Cambon had devoted every day of the past sixteen years at his post to the single end of ensuring England’s active support when the time came, but he had now to wire that the British government seemed to be awaiting some new development. The dispute so far was of „no interest to Great Britain.“ Joffre arrived, with a new memorandum on German movements, to insist upon mobilization. He was permitted to send his full „covering order“ but no more, as news had also come of a last-minute appeal from the Czar to the Kaiser. The Cabinet continued sitting, with Messimy champing in impatience at the „green baize routine“ which stipulated that each minister must speak in turn. At seven o’clock in the evening Baron van Schoen, making his eleventh visit to the French Foreign Office in seven days, presented Germany’s demand to know what course France would take and said he would return next day at one o’clock for an

35 answer. Still the Cabinet sat and argued over financial measures, recall of Parliament, declaration of a state of siege, while all Paris waited in suspense. One crazed young man cracked under the agony, held a pistol against a cafe window, and shot dead Jean Jaurès, whose leadership in international socialism and in the fight against the Three Year Law had made him, in the eyes of superpatriots, a symbol of pacifism. A white-faced aide broke in upon the Cabinet at nine o’clock with the news. Jaurès killed! The event, pregnant with possible civil strife, stunned the Cabinet. Street barricades, riot, even revolt became a prospect on the threshold of war. Ministers reopened the heated argument whether to invoke Carnet B, the list of known agitators, anarchists, pacifists, and suspected spies who were to be arrested automatically upon the day of mobilization. Both the Prefect of. Police and former Premier Clemenceau had advised the Minister of Interior, M. Malvy, to enforce Camet B. Viviani and others of his colleagues, hoping to preserve national llnity, were opposed to it. They held firm. Some foreigners suspected of being spies were arrested, but no Frenchmen. In case of riot, troops were alerted that night, but next morning there was only deep grief and deep quiet. Of the 2,501 persons listed in Carnet B, 80 per cent were ultimately to volunteer for military service. At 2:00 A.M. that night, President Poincaré was awakened in bed by the irrepressible Russian ambassador, Isvolsky, a former hyperactive foreign minister. „Very distressed and very agitated,“ he wanted to know, „What is France going to do?“ Isvolsky had no doubts of Poincaré’s attitude, but he and other. Russian statesmen were always haunted by the fear that when the time came the French Parliament, which had never been told the terms of the military alliance with Russia, would fail to ratify it. The terms specifically stated, „If Russia is attacked by Germany or by Austria supported by Germany, France will use all her available forces to attack Germany.“ As soon as either Germany or Austria mobilized, „France and Russia, without previous agreement being necessary, ,shall mobilize all their forces immediately and simultaneously and shall transport them as near the frontiers as posssible... These forces shall begin complete action with all speed so that Germany will have to fight at the same time in the East and in the West.“ These terms appeared unequivocal but, as Isvolsky had anxiously queried Poincaré in 1912, would the French Parliament recognize the obligation? In Russia the Czar’s power was absolute, so that France „may be sure of us,’ but „in France the Government is impotent without Parliament. Parliament does not know the text of 1892 .... What guarantee have we that your Parliament would follow your Government’s lead?“ „If Germany attacked,“ Poincaré had replied on that earlier occasion, Parliament would tallow the Government „without a doubt.“ Now, facing Isvolsky again in the middle of the night, Poincaré assured him that a Cabinet would be called within a few hours to supply the answer. At the same hour the Russian military attaché in full diplomatic dress appeared in Messimy’s bedroom to pose the same question. Messimy telephoned to Premier Viviani who, though exhausted by the night’s events, had not yet gone, to bed. „Good God!“ he exploded, „these

36 Russians are worse insomniacs than they are drinkers,“ and he excitedly recommended „Du calme, du calme et encore du calme!“ Pressed by the Russians to declare themselves, and by Joffre to mobilize, yet held to a standstill by the need to prove to England that France would act only in self-defense, the French government found calm not easy. At 8:00 next morning, August 1, Joffre came to the War Office in the Rue St. Dominique to beg Messimy, in „a pathetic tone that contrasted with his habitual calm,“ to pry mobilization from the government. He named four o’clock as the last moment when the order could reach the General Post Office for dispatch by telegraph throughout France in time for mobilization to begin at midnight. He went with Messimy to the Cabinet at 9:00 A.M. and presented an ultimatum of his own: every further delay of twenty-four hours before general mobilization would mean a fifteen- to twenty-kilometer loss of territory, and he would refuse to take the responsibility as Commander. He left, and the Cabinet faced the problem. Poincaré was for action; Viviani, representing the antiwar tradition, still hoped that time would provide a solution. At 11 :00 he was called to the Foreign Office to see van Schoen who in his own anxiety had arrived two hours early for the answer to Germany’s question of the previous day: whether France would stay neutral in a Russo-German war. „My question is rather naive,“ said the unhappy ambassador, „for we know you have a treaty of alliance.“ „Evidemment,“ replied Viviani, and gave the answer prearranged between him and Poincaré. „France will act in accordance with her interrests.“ As Schoen left, Isvolsky rushed in with news of the German ultimatum to Russia. Viviani returned to the Cabinet, which at last agreed upon mobilization. The order was signed and given to Messimy, but Viviani, still hoping for some saving development to turn tip within the few remaining hours, insisted that Messimy keep it in his pocket until 3: 30. At the same time the ten-kilometer withdrawal was reaffirmed. Messimy telephoned it that evening personally to corps commanders: „By order of the President of the Republic, no unit of the army, no patrol, no reconnaissance, no scout, no detail of any kind, shall go east of the line laid down. Anyone guilty of transgressing will be liable to courtmartial.“ A particular warning was added for the benefit of the XXth Corps, commanded by General Foch, of whom it was reliably reported that a squadron of cuirassiers had been seen „nose to nose“ with a squadron of Uhlans. At 3: 30, as arranged, General Ebener of Jaffre’s staff, accompanied by two officers, came to the War Office to call for the mobilization order. Messimy handed it over in dry-throated silence. „Conscious of the gigantic and infinite results to spread from that little piece of paper, all four of us felt our hearts tighten.“ He shook hands with each of the three officers, who saluted and departed to deliver the order of the Post Office. At four o’clock the first poster appeared on the walls of Paris (at the corner of the Place de la Concorde and the Rue Royale, one still remains, preserved under glass). At Armenonville, rendezvous of the haut-monde in the Bois de Boulogne, tea dancing suddenly stopped when the manager stepped forward, silenced the orchestra, and announced: „Mobilization has been ordered. It begins at midnight. Play the ‘Marseil-

37 laise.’ „In town the streets were already emptied of vehicles requisitioned by the War Office.

French order of Mobilization, effective August 2nd, 1914

38 Groups of reservists with bundles and farewell bouquets of flowers were marching off to the Gare de l’Est, as civilians waved and cheered. One group stopped to lay its flowers at the feet of the black-draped. statue of Strasbourg in the Place de la Concorde, The crowds wept and cried „Vive l’Alsace!“ and tore off. the mourning she had worn since 1870. Orchestras in restaurants played the French, Russian, and British anthems. „To think these are all being played by Hungarians,“ someone remarked. The playing of their anthem, as if to express a hope, made Englishmen in the crowd uncomfortable and none more so than Sir Francis Bertie, the pink and plump British ambassador who in a gray frock coat and gray top hat, holding a green parasol, against the sun, was seen entering the Quai d’Orsay. Sir Francis felt „sick at heart and ashamed.“ He ordered the gates of his embassy closed, for, as he wrote in his diary, „though it is ‘Vive l’Angleterre’ today, it may be ‘Perfide Albion‘ tomorrow.“ In London that thought hung heavily in the room where small, whiteebearded M. Cambon confronted Sir Edward Grey. When Grey said to him that some „new development“ must be awaited because the dispute between Russia; Austria and Germany concerned a matter „of no interest“ to Great Britain, Cambon let a glint of anger penetrate his impeccable tact and polished dignity. Was England „going to wait until French territory was invaded before intervening?“ he asked, and suggested that if so her help might be „very belated.“«

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1915 SINKING OF THE PASSENGER SHIP LUSITANIA by

Frank H. Simonds

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Introductory Notes The United States were shocked when learning on Friday, May 7, 1915, that a German U-boat had torpedoed the Cunard Ocean Liner ‘Lusitania’ that sank in eighteen minutes. The vessel went down eleven miles off the Old Head of Kinsale, Ireland, killing 1,198 and leaving 761 survivors, many of them Americans. The sinking turned public opinion in many countries against Germany, contributed to the American entry into World War I and became an iconic symbol in military recruiting campaigns of why the war was being fought. Until the ‘Lusitania’s’ sinking, Americans were widely split and many were truly neutral toward the contestants in the war. But a turning point in public opinion came with the sinking. This was the opinion of many historians, including Frank Simonds, journalist of the ‘New York Tribune’. He was born on April 5, 1878, in Concord, Massachusetts, as the only child of his parents of early American stock. After attending Concord High School, Simonds entered Harvard University in 1896, and although he served in the Spanish-American War as a private, he graduated with his class, receiving his A.B. degree in 1900. Simons began his career in journalism in 1901 as a reporter of the New York Tribune. Simonds quickly became an authority on the military events of the First World war. On the first anniversary of the sinking, Simonds published an editorial on May 7, 1916, in the New York Tribune, entitled „The Anniversary.“ It was an attempt, William D. Sloan states, „to characterize the European war as one between civilization and barbarism. Though today it may appear extremely simplistic, it did mirror Simonds’s true opinion and was not simply an artificial attempt to appeal to his readers’ baser natures. In 1916 the editorial, despite its simplicity, was effective propaganda considering the frame of mind of Americans.“ Similar thoughts may have had the Pulitzer Prize authorities of 1917 when they had to select a winner „for the best editorial article during the (past) year.“ According to their report dated April 28, 1917, they nominated for the award „an editorial article which appeared in the New York Tribune, May 7th, 1916, in section III, page 2, on the first anniversary of the sinking of the Lusitania.“ Although his name did not appear on the winning editorial, it was no question that Frank Herbert Simonds was the author of the following text.

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Victims of the Ship’s Torpedoing and Sinking [Source: Frank H. Simonds: The Anniversary, in: New York Tribune (New York, N.Y.), Vol. LXXVI/No. 25, 375, May 7, 1916, part. III, p. 1, cols. 1-2, p. 3, col. 1] »On-the anniversary of the sinking of the Lusitania it is natural fitting that Americans should review all that has happened since a wanton murder first brought to this side of the Atlantic a nascent realization of the issue that was being decided on a world battlefield. There will be no anger and no passion in American minds. We have never asked, never desired, that the slaughter should be avenged. No portion of the American people or of the American press has clamored for vengeance, no man or political party has demanded that there should be German lives taken because American lives had been ended. It is not too difficult to reconstitute our own minds as we stood in the presence of that supreme atrocity. The horror that seized a whole nation in that moment has no counterpart in our history. We have known war, we have fought Great Britain twice, we have fought Spain and Mexico; within our own boundaries we have conducted the most desperate civil war in human history. But it was not the emotion provoked by war or the acts of war which moved Americans. It was not even the emotion stirred by the sinking of the Maine nearly two decades ago. It was certainly something utterly remote from the feelings of our fathers and grandfathers on the morrow of the firing on Fort Sumter. The Lusitania Massacre was not an act of war. The victims were not soldiers, only a portion of them were men. Essentially the thing was a new phenomenon to the American people. It was at first incomprehensible, unbelivable. Despite the solid and inescapable evidences of death, men’s intelligence doubted what their senses told them.

So for days and weeks the American people stood doubtful and puzzled. They waited for that evidence they expected, they believed would come; that there had been an accident, a mistake, the blunder of a subordinate which would be repudiated by a government, the crime of a navy which would be disavowed by a people. But instead far borne across the seas they heard the songs of triumph of thousands of German men and women, who hailed the crime as a victory, the eternal disgrace as an everlasting honor. Day by day, week by week, we Americans have since then been learning what Europe has known for nearly two years.We have been learning that we are not in the presence of a war between nations, a conflict between rival powers; that we are not the agonized, witnesses of one more conflagration provoked by conflicting ambitions of hereditary enemies. We have been learning that what is going forward remorselessly, steadily, is a war between civilization and barbarism, between humanity and savagery; between the light of modern times and the darkness of the years that followed the collapse of Rome.

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Time and again Americans have been murdered, time and again our government, our people, have had recourse to the ordinary machinery and the ordinary conceptions of civilized life. But each time we have beheld the utter collapse of every appeal based upon reason, justice, common humanity. The Germans who slew our women and our children flung us back the challenge that they and not we possessed the true civilization, and that their civilization, their Kultur, was expressed in their works, which were altogether good and right. Slowly, steadily, we have been learning. We still have much to learn, but the primary truth is coming home to many day by day. This German phenomenon which fills the world is a new thing and an old thing; it is new in our generation, it is new in recent-centuries; but it is as old as that other barbarism which, descending upon the Roman civilization, beat upon it and spread destruction until it was conquered and tamed amidst the ruins and the desert it had created. The French, who see things as they are, have beheld and appraised the German phenomenon justly. The British, like ourselves, have partially and temporarily failed to understand the nature of the German assault; we have insisted upon applying to the German mind our own standards and upon believing that the German thought as we thought, believed as we believed, but were temporarily and terribly betrayed by a military spirit and by dynastic madness. Nothing is less true, nothing more fatal to a just appreciation of the essential fact in the world in which we live. These things which we name crimes are neither accidents nor excesses; they are not regretted or condemned by a majority or even a minority of the German people. They are accepted by Kaiser and peasant; they are practised by Crown Prince and private soldier; they are a portion of what Germany holds to be her right and her mission. The Lusitania Massacre should have been a final illumination for us. Blazing up as it did it should have revealed to us the ashes of Belgium and the ruins of Northern France.We should have seen in our slain women and children the sisters and fellows in misfortune of those who died more shamefully in Louvain and a score more of Belgian cities. We should have seen the German idea working here as there revealing in each incident the same handiwork, the same detail. All these things were similar as the different impressions left by a single stamp. We did not see. We have not yet as a nation, or as a people, perceived that the German phenomenon is an attack upon civilization by barbarism, a barbarism which combines the science of the laboratory with the savagery of the jungle, but a barbarism because it denies all those doctrines and principles which have been accepted after long years as the proof of human progress and the glory of mankind’s advance. In France the people will show you the atrocities of Germany committed not upon human beings, but upon inanimate things, the destruction of the village

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Six days before sinking of the steamer.

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church and the Reims Cathedral, of the little thing of beauty quite as well as the larger and more famous thing, With far more emphasis than they will recount the horrors suffered by women and children. In the assault upon things beautiful because they are beautiful, an assault provoked neither by lust nor by passion, they recognize the revelation of that which is essential barbarism. For us the Lusitania Massacre was a beginning. It was only a beginning, but it was not possible then, it is hardly possible now, for men and women, living in peace, under the protection of laws framed to protect human liberty and human rights, living in the full sunlight of this Twentieth Century, to believe that suddenly there has broken out from the depths the frightful and the all-destroying spirit of eras long forgotten. We have been learning - we must continue to learn.The road of suffering and humiliation is still long. But the Lusitania was a landmark and it will endure in American history. Our children and our children’s children recalling this anniversary will think of it as did the Romans over long generations, after the first inroads of the barbarians had reached their walls. Today is not a day for anger or passion. It is not in anger or in passion that civilized men go forth to deal with wild animals, to abolish the peril which comes from the jungle or out of the darkness. We do not hate Germans and we shall not hate Germans because on this day a year ago American men, women and children were slain wilfully, wantonly, to serve a German end, slain without regard to sex or condition, slain in the broad daylight by German naval officers and men whose countrymen hailed the killing as the supreme evidence of German Courage, manhood, Kultur. But as we view the thing without passion we must see it without illusion. If the German idea prevails all that we believe in government, in humanity, in the thing we call civilization, is doomed. If Germany succeeds in this war then it is not again time, as Pitt said after Austerlitz, „to roll up the map of Europe,“ but it is time to burn our ancient parchments and dismiss our hard won faith. All that there is in the German idea was expressed in the Lusitania Massacre, it was expressed in the killing of women and children, innocent of all offence, entitled to all protection as helpless, unoffending, as the children of a race not at war, at least entitled to immunity which hitherto was reckoned the right of women and children, neutral or belligerent. The war that is being fought in Europe is a war for civilization.The battle of Great Britain, of France, of Russia, is our battle. If it is lost we are lost. If it is lost we shall return to the standards and the faiths of other. centuries.The truth of this is written for us in the Lusitania, it is written in the wreck of Belgium and the desert of Northern France for those who may see. Where the German has gone he has carried physical death, but he has done more, he has carried spiritual death to all that is essential in our own democratic faith, which derives from that of Britain and France. This war in Europe is going on until the German idea is crushed or conquers. The world cannot now exist half civilized and half German. Only one of two

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Front page of May 8, 1915

conceptions of life, of humanity, can subsist. One of the conceptions was written in the Lusitania Massacre, written clear beyond all mistaking. It is this writing that we should study on this anniversary; it is this fact that we should grasp today, not in anger, not in any spirit that clamors for vengeance, but as the citizens of a nation which has inherited noble ideals and gallant traditions, which has inherited liberty and light from those who died to serve them and now stands face to face with that which seeks to extinguish both throughout the world.«

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1916 GERMANY IN THE THIRD YEAR OF WAR by

Herbert B. Swope

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1917 THE WAR AND ITS CONSEQUENCES by

Henry Watterson

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Introductory Notes When the Pulitzer Prize jurors in the Editorial Writing award category met on April 19,1918, according to their report „it was unanimously voted to recommend the conferring of the prize upon the ‘Louisville Courier-Journal’ for the editorial articles „Vae Victis“ and „War has its Compensation“, which were two of many articles directed toward arousing the American people to their international duty and toward a section of the country by tradition hostile to universal military service to the wisdom and necessity of its establishment.“ This proposal of the jury was accepted by the Advisory Board so that the Pulitzer Prize went to the ‘Louisville Courier-Journal’, represented by its publisher, Henry Watterson, who had written the editorials. „From the time World War I commenced in 1914,“ W. David Sloan states, „Henry Watterson was the American press’s leading exponent of American entry. In that year he had given a war cry to those Americans favoring the Allies! ‘To Hell with the Hohenzollerns and the Habsburgs.’ When the United States entered the war in 1917, what Watterson had been urging for three years became reality. To celebrate the event, Watterson penned two editorials. Both are typical of Watterson’s sonorous, flowery, marching style.“ Henry Watterson, born on February 16, 1840, in Washington, D.C., left school in 1856 and in 1858 he felt ready for New York where he worked as a substitute music critic for the New York Times. Later on he returned to Washington to work for the Daily States, the Philadelphia Press, and the Associated Press. In 1862 he became editor of Nashville Banner, then he went to Chattanooga to become editor of the Rebel. For a short time he was an assistant editor in Atlanta for the Southern Confederacy before he became assistant amusement editor of the Cincinnati Evening Times in early spring 1865. He returned to Nashville to revive the Republican Banner in September of that year, travelled through Europe in 1866 and moved to Louisville two years later to become co-founder and editor of the Courier-Journal. Toward the end of his long career at the Courier-Journal he received the 1918 Pulitzer Editorial award for two editorial articles published in the previous year. Following now comes one of them:

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Idea of Pacifism in Times of Emergency [Source: (Henry Watterson) War Has Its Compensation, in The Courier-Journal (Louisville, Ky ), Vol CXXVII/No. 17, 632, April 10, 1917, p. 4, cols. 2-4] The man who is for peace at any price - who will fight on no provocation - for no cause - is apt to be either what men call „a poor creature,“ or an impostor set on by ulterior considerations may have an unworthy motive, or a selfish interest, or he may the victim of the coward’s fear of battle, or be obsessed the doctrinaire’s theory of universal brotherhood. But, craven or crank, or scheming rogue, he dishonors the noble heritage of manhood which, being common to us all, is only prized and extolled in conspicuous cases of sacrifice or prowess. Pacifism as it has shown itself in these times of emergency has been compounded of each of these ingredients. But it would not have shown itself so strong if it had not been definitely organized, nor definitely organized if it had not been sufficiently financed. The Hague Arbitration movement, backed in this country by the Carnegie Foundation - actually started by the dethroned Czar of Russia - proposed a benefaction to humankind which few if any were disposed to question. It built itself upon a generally accepted truth. The gospel of „peace on earth“, goodwill to men, was preached as never before. Professional warriors arrayed themselves in its behalf Civilized nations flocked to the new religion and raised the benign standard. Many treaties embodying its aims were negotiated. One, and one alone, of the great Powers held out. That was Germany. Why, we now see clearly what we then did not see at all. How much, if any, of the Carnegie Foundation money has been applied to the recent agitations against war with Germany, we know not. The activities of Mr. Bryan and of Dr. Jordan would lead to the conclusion that it has not been idle, or grudging, since neither of them works for nothing. But it is quite certain that it has been cunningly supplemented and enormously increased by money sent from Berlin to maintain a propaganda to divide our people and paralyze our Government. The prosecution of this now becomes treason and the pacifist who adheres to it is a traitor. The conspirator who, claiming to be a pacifist, engaged in the nefarious business will be at no loss to save his skin. If he be a German emissary sent over for the purpose he has only to slip away. If he be a Kaiser reservist masquerading as can citizen he can shift his foot and change his coat. If he be a selfish politician of the Stone-La Follette variety, with an eye to the Hyphenated Vote, he can wink his other eye, flag and sing „The Star Spangled Banner“ as lustily as the rest. Those who are most in danger and only in danger are the honest simpletons who stick to it that war is crime; that we have no case against Germany, but, if we have, that it will keep; who go around mouthing socialistic and infidelistic platitudes about a paradisaic dreamland which exists nowhere outside their muddled brains. They cannot see that we have pursued peace to the limit and that peace longer pursued will prove more costly than war. Perverse and egotistical, prompted by the half truths of defective

78 education, uninspired by ideals having any relation to the state of the country, or the spiritual needs of existence, they will not stop their vain chatter until, obstructing enlistments, or menacing public works, they land in jail. It is grievous that this should be so. Yet it were not occasion for serious comment except that there is a middle class of non-descripts who are more numerous than an earnest and luminous patriotism would have them; men, who were born without enthusiasm and have lived to make money; men, with whom „business is business;“ men, who are indifferent to what happens so it does not happen to them, in short, men who recall the citation from „The Cricket On the Hearth,“ put into the mouth of Caleb Plummer: „There was a jolly miller and he lived upon the Dee. He sang to himself, ‘I care for nobody and nobody cares for me,’“ „a most equivocal jollity“ as Dickens does not fail to remark. These people have sprung from the over-commercialism of fifty years of a kind of uncanny prosperity. Their example has affected injuriously the nation’s reputation and has trenched perilously upon the character and habits of the people. It needs to be checked. They need a lesson. Nothing short of the dire exigencies which have come upon us would reach a mass so dense and stoic, so paltry and sordid, so unworthy of the blessings which the heroism of the fathers have secured them. That check and lesson they are about to receive. War is not wholly without its compensations. The woman who is for peace at any price - whose imagination is filled with the horror of war - who, true to her nature, shrinks from bloodshed - is not as the man who skulks from the line and lowers alike the flag of his country and his manhood. Ah, no! Peace is the glory of woman. Not upon the soul-stirring field of battle - the rather in the dread field hospital after the battle - are her trophies to be found. Well may she stand out against the strife of nations - yet equally with brave men she has her place in the orbit of duty and valor - and, when there is no peace, when war has come, the woman who whines „I did not raise my boy to be a soldier“ forfeits her right and claim to be considered only a little lower than the angels, dishonors the genius of womanhood and removes herself from the company and category of the heroic mothers of the world. War, horrible as war is - „Hell,“ as a great warrior said it was - is not without its compensations. No man has more than one time to die. In bringing the realization of death nearer to us war throws a new light upon life. The soldier is a picked man. Whether he be a soldier in arms, or a soldier of the cross, his courage, his loyalty, his love and faith challenge the confidence of men and the adoration of women. If he falls he has paid his mortal debt with honor. If he survives, though crippled, he is not disabled. His crutch tells its own story and carries its mute appeal, and there is an eloquence, though silent, resistless, in the empty sleeve. Christendom stands face to face with the dispersion of some of its cherished ideals. There is much in its Bible that must needs be retranslated and readjusted. Although this will arouse the theologians, they will have to meet it. Where this present cataclysm will leave us no man can foresee. Our world is, and will still remain, a world of sin, disease and death. This no man can deny. Science is minimizing disease. Death being certain, can creeds or statutes extirpate sin? Can they change the nature of man? Before all else they must chasten it. For two thousand years theologic controversy has not only kept the world at war, but has driven its inhabitants further apart. It may be that this world war has come to cleanse the earth and to bring all tribes and races to a better understanding of what Christendom is, since there is no reason to doubt that the essential principles of Christianity will continue to dominate the universe.

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80 „This a long way, we are told, to the Tipperary of Hibernia, but yet a longer to the Millennial Tipperary of Scriptural mythology. The Christ-child must be born again in the heart of man. At this moment it is not the star of Bethlehem that shines. It is the luminary of the war god. The drums beat as for the men of old. „To your tents, O Israel,“ comes the word out of the deeps of the far away, and from highway and byway, as if in answer, the refrain, „Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching.“ Yet the Associated Press dispatches carry the following: Washington, April 7. Continuation of the pacifist fight on President Wilson’s War programme was forecast today when the fifty Representatives who voted against the war resolution received the following identic telegram from Lelia Fay Secor, secretary of the Emergency Peace Federation: „On behalf of the Emergency Peace Federation I thank you for your patriotic stand in opposition to war. May I request that you communicate at once with Representative Kitchin, to whom I have written a letter suggesting cooperation between ourselves and the pacifists in Congress.“ „Mr. Kitchin is at his home in North Carolina and details of the scheme outlined in the letter to him could not be learned. He announced before leaving Washington that his opposition to the War programme would end with his vote against the resolution.“ „Scissors!“ shrieks Lelia Fay. “Scissors!“ cries good Mrs. Garrison Villard. And away off yonder from the limb of a tree the Dickey Bird, impersonated by Claude Kitchin, responds, „Not on your life, ladies!“

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1917 START OF AMERICAN-RUSSIAN RELATIONS by

George F. Kennan

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Introductory Notes The jurors of the history category, as can be read in their report dated February 19, 1957, stated „that our unanimous choice for the Pulitzer Prize... is „Soviet-American Relations 1917-4920 - Russia Leaves the War“, by George F. Kennan. It is a magnificent volume in every respect and in our opinion is superior to anything else published in this field. Possibly some might object that the Kennan volume does not deal primarily with the history of the United States... We feel, however, that those who established the award did not have in mind that it should be narrowly interpreted. This is evident when one looks at the previous awards... Certainly the changes which have occurred in the history of the world during the last half century have both broadened and deepened the content of American history greatly. The Kennan volume deals with one of these major changes which has affected and continues to affect the course of American Civilization.“ The Advisory Board did not see any problem and gave the 1957 Pulitzer Prize for history to George F. Kennan. George Frost Kennan (born on February 16, 1904, in Milwaukee, Wis.) attended Princeton University, majoring in history and received his B.A. degree in 1925. The following year, he entered the U.S. Foreign Service and subsequently was assigned as vice-consul to Geneva, Hamburg, Berlin and Tallin (Estonia). From 1929 to 1931 Kennan pursued studies on the Russian language and culture under a State Department’s program at the University of Berlin. When the United States reopened its embassy in Moscow in 1933, he was called to the Soviet capital. The posts that Kennan filled during the next few years included vice-consul in Vienna, second Secretary in Moscow, second secretary and later consul in Prague. At the outbreak of World War II, he was sent as second secretary to Berlin, where he was promoted to first secretary the following year. When the Americans joined the war in 1941, Kennan was interned by the Nazis at Bad Nauheim. After his repatriation, he became counselor of the American delegation to the European Advisory Commission and then returned to Moscow as minister-counselor in 1944. In spring 1947 he was named director of the policy planning staff of the Department of State. Briefly during 1952 he was U.S. Ambassador to the Soviet Union, but then, in 1953, left the Foreign Service to become member of the Institute for Advanced Studies at Princeton, where, at the school of historical studies, he became professor since 1956. In 1957 George F. Kennan won the Pulitzer Prize in history for his book „Russia Leaves the War: Soviet-American Relations, 1917-20“, which had been published one year earlier. Following now come several passages of the award-winning work:

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The major Statesmen in that Process [Source: George F. Kennan: Russia Leaves the War: Soviet-American Relations, 19171920, Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1956, pp. 27 - 32, 114 - 115] The major statesmen involved in the initial stages of Soviet-American relations Wilson and Lansing on the American side, Lenin and Trotsky on the Russian - need no general introduction to the reading public. Their respective reactions to the problems of Russian-American relations will best be left to reflect themselves in the happenings that make up the body of this narrative, There are, however, a few observations concerning the respective experiences and personalities of these men that might be in order at this point. Although Woodrow Wilson has received extensive attention in American historical literature ever since his death, the full pattern of his complicated and subtle political personality is only now beginning to emerge in the light of the more intensive and detached scrutiny to which it has recently been subjected. It is the writer’s hope that the glimpses of Wilson in his confrontation with the Russian problem, as they emerge in this narrative, will contribute something to the fullness and richness of this pattern. Two points are worth bearing in mind as we observe the reactions of President Wilson to the problems posed by the Russian Revolution. First, Wilson was a man who had never had any particular interest in, or knowledge of, Russian affairs. He had never been in Russia. There is no indication that the dark and violent history of that country had ever occupied his attention. Like many other Americans, he felt a distaste and antipathy for Tsarist autocracy as he knew it, and a sympathy for the revolutionary movement in Russia. Precisely for this reason, the rapid degeneration of the Russian Revolution into a new form of authoritarianism, animated by a violent preconceived hostility toward western liberalism, was a phenomenon for which he was as little prepared, intellectually, as a great many of his compatriots. Secondly, while Wilson was largely his own Secretary of State insofar as the formulation of policy in major questions was concerned, he shared with many other American statesmen a disinclination to use the network of America’s foreign diplomatic missions as a vital and intimate agency of policy. Nothing was further from his habit and cast of mind than to take the regular envoys into his confidence, to seek their opinions, or to use their facilities for private communication with foreign governments as a vehicle for achieving his objectives of foreign policy. Seldom did it occur to Wilson to pursue his objectives by the traditional diplomatic method of influencing the attitudes of foreign governments through private persuasion or bargaining; in the rare instances where this was done, it was mainly an irregular agent, Colonel Edward House, and not the permanent envoys, whose services were employed. In general, the President’s taste in diplomacy ran rather to the direct appeal to foreign opinion, for which American diplomatic representatives were not required. In

84 these circumstances, individual diplomatic envoys, such as Ambassador Francis in Petrograd, had no sense of intimacy with the President, and no opportunity to feel that they were the special repositories of his confidence and the vehicles of his will. . . Of Robert Lansing it need only be said that while he, too, had experienced no special interest in Russian affairs prior ito the Russian Revolution, he had had a unique preparation for the responsibilities of statesmanship in twenty-two years of practice as an international lawyer and nearly three years of grueling responsibility as Counselor and Secretary of State. Not only had he gained in this way an exceptional understanding of the diplomatic process as such, but he had acquired in high degree those qualities of thoroughness and precision that lie at the heart of the diplomatic profession. The same experiences had rendered him sensitive to the importance of international forms and amenities as reflections of the deeper realities of foreign affairs. These qualities were to stand him in good stead as he confronted the ordeals of statesmanship brought to him by the Russian Revolution and its consequences. For his own contemporaries, Lansing’s light was somewhat obscured by the contrast between his quiet, unassuming nature and the President’s overriding personality. His task was not eased by the President’s innate secretiveness and tendency to act on his own without consulting or informing his Secretary of State. The two men grated on each other in their official habits. Foreign diplomats were quick to sense this relationship and to exploit it by taking their problems directly to the President. In these circumstances it is not surprising that there was a tendency to underrate Lansing, and sometimes to ridicule him. George Creel charged, contemptuously, that he „worked at being dull.“ But this is a charge to which orderly and methodical natures must expect to be exposed in the more strident periods of history. It would be wrong to assume that Lansing’s plodding meticulousness of method, his deficiency in showmanship, and his lack of personal color rendered unimportant the contribution he was capable of making to the formulation of America’s response to Soviet power. Behind this façade of stuffy correctness and legal precision there lay powers of insight that might have been envied by the more boisterous natures with which wartime Washington then abounded. Of Lenin we need say little by way of introduction. He had had as little interest in America as Wilson or Lansing had in Russia. Insofar as he thought about the United States at all, he probably identified it with the England he knew from his periods of exile in London. If his impression of Anglo-Saxon civilization differed from the image of continental capitalism on which his outlook of life had been formed, it was not enough to affect his thinking in any important way. It was Lenin, after all, who had corrected Marx’s sloppiness and tidied up the symmetry of the doctrine by overriding Marx’s admission that in the Anglo-Saxon countries the socialist revolution might conceivably occur by means short of revolutionary violence. In this way he had made it possible to lump all capitalist countries neatly together, and had avoided the hideous necessity of recognizing a world of relative values. For Lenin, quite obviously, America - at the time of the Bolshevik seizure of power - was just one more capitalist country,

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86 and not a very important one at that. (The Decree on Peace, drafted by Lenin himself in the fall of 1917, significantly failed to mention the United States and referred to England, France, and Germany as „the three mightiest States taking part in the present war.“) Of the four leading statesmen, Trotsky was the only one to have visited the other country concerned in the Russian-American relationship. He had been in the United States in the winter of 1917 (January 13 to March 27). He had lived in what he called a „working-class district“ on New York’s upper east side - 162nd Street. He had worked at the editorial offices of the Russian-language socialist newspaper, the Novy Mir, near Union Square. Altogether, he had led, for this brief period, the peculiarly narrow and restricted life that Russian political exiles have so often tended to create for themselves in foreign capitals. As he himself put it: „My only profession in New York was the profession of a revolutionary Socialist.“ Trotsky relates that he studied American economic life in the New York Public Library. Whatever this study amounted to, it would be a mistake to conclude that he gained from it any rich or accurate picture of the nature of the civilization he was touching on its eastern fringe. The flesh-and-blood America, with all those subtle peculiarities of spirit and custom that have done so much more than political or economic institutions to determine the values of its civilization, remained for him fortunately for the peace of his brilliant but dogmatic mind, unfortunately for the course of Soviet-American relations - a closed book.

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1918 WILSON AND THE LAST PHASE OF HOSTILITY by

Arthur C. Walworth

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Introductory Notes It was American President Woodrow Wilson who was the leading figure in the final weeks of the war. His famous Fourteen Points strategy became the basis for the armistice in late 1918. This important phase in American history was covered in a biography called „Woodrow Wilson“, by Arthur Walworth, published in 1958. The Pulitzer Prize jurors, in their report of April 3, 1959, thought it was a strong contender for the award: „The best was and is Arthur Walworth’s two-volume biography, Woodrow Wilson American Prophet . . . The result is a sympathetic portrayal of the life of Woodrow Wilson and an appraisal of his career . .. and participant in the shaping of international policy and international institutions. The biography, well-written and well-paced, is marked by industry and imagination in the gathering and weighing of relevant material. It presents a careful evaluation of Wilson’s ideas, action, methods and relationships, a thoughtful interpretation of his significance in national affairs, and a sensitive and honest inquiry into the shaping of his personality. While Arthur Walworth presents a sympathetic portrait of Wilson, he is no all-out partisan. Rather is he the scholar unafraid who depicts Wilson’s weaknesses and faults at the same time that he sets forth his virtues and strength. The biography as a whole adds up to an honest appraisal of the War President _. . It is the jury’s opinion that Arthur Walworth has written the best biography of Woodrow Wilson that has so far be done. This work is enthusiastically recommended for the Pulitzer Prize in biography“. Since the Board shared this opinion, the award went to Arthur Walworth. Arthur Clarence Walworth Jr, born on July 9, 1903, in Newton, Mass., attended Yale University, majoring in English, and received his B.A. degree in 1925. After graduation he went to China, where he taught English and modern European history at the College of Yale-in-China at Changhai. On his return to the United States in 1927, Walworth joined the educational department of the Houghton Mifflin Company in Boston, doing selling, advertising, and editorial work. At the end of 1943 he left the company, in order to work for the Office of War Information as a writer in the overseas branch. When the war was over, Walworth decided to devote his entire time to writing. He was the author of School Histories at War: A Study of the Treatment of our Wars in the Secondary School History Books of the United States and in those of its Former Enemies; Black Ships of Japan: The Story of Commodore Perry’s Expedition and the travel book Cape Breton, Isle of Romance. Ten years of research went into his Woodrow Wilson biography. Its two volumes were published in 1958: Woodrow Wilson, American Prophet and Woodrow Wilson, World Prophet. The following year Arthur C. Walworth Jr., won the Pulitzer Prize in biography for the Woodrow Wilson work. Following now are some sequences from this award-winning book, based on elements of Wilson’s Fourteen Points concept.

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The American President’s famous Fourteen Points [Source: Arthur Walworth: Woodrow Wilson, Vol. II: World Prophet, New York London - Toronto: Longmans, Green and Co., 1958, pp. 147-152] On August 14, l9l8, the German General Staff confessed to their Kaiser that the Fatherland’s hope of crushing victory must be abandoned; and with this prospect removed, the Austrians were thinking to sue for peace. Civilian morale in Germany drooped, so undermining the spirit of the Army that by September l0 General Hindenburg thought the need for negotiation was „immediate“. Wilson continued to avoid argument that might threaten the unanimity of efforts to win the war. By the middle of the month, however, American troops were completing the pinching out of the St. Mihiel salient. Bulgars and Germans fled headlong north of Salonika. On the 16 th an Austro-Hungarian note, reaching Washington through Swedish channels, proposed a „confidential non-binding conversation“ on peace terms, to be held on neutral soil. On September 27 Wilson went to New York to deliver the speech that he had prepared. On the train he explained to Tumulty that the time had come to proclaim America’s opposition to a backsliding peace, a reversion to the old days of alliances, competing armaments, and landgrabbing. Reading his address at the Metropolitan Opera House before five thousand sellers of war bonds, he devoted only a few sentences to the finance drive and then went on to strike another strong blow for his peace aims. Plainly the Allies could not „come to terms“ with the Central Empires, he said; there could be no peace obtained by any kind of bargain or compromise with govemments that were without honor and a standard of justice. His audience, fearful above all that America might be caught in a „peace-trap,“ understood this and applauded. Having put forth his platform for the peacemaking, Wilson then challenged the leaders of the Allies to „speak as they have occasion“ as plainly as he had tried to speak. He invited them to criticize both his interpretation of the issues and the means that he recommended for settling them. He was giving them due notice of what they might expect from him at a peace conference. After the address at the Opera House, still flushed with the fervor of his pleading, the President went to his hotel sitting room with the Colonel and speculated on the effect of the speech. The next day, retuming to Washington in his private car and resting his mind by holding a skein of yam for Edith Wilson to wind, he learned that the reactions of the American press were those of the five thousand who had heard him. Applauding his firmness toward the enemy and approving his general intent, they seemed to ignore his challenge to constructive peacemaking. Meanwhile events in Europe were speeding the approach of peacemaking. On the very day on which Wilson spoke out, General Bliss was writing to General Pershing: „It looks as if you are going to get the damned Germans out of France this year.“ Two days later Bulgaria, on whom the United States had never declared war, stopped fighting. The next day Allenby’s British army took Damascus and Turkey was in an agony of

90 collapse. From Berlin, where already there had been efforts toward mediation by a neutral, the President’s speech drew a positive response. On September 30 the Kaiser granted parliamentary government to his people; and on the same day General Ludendorff concluded that a proposal of peace should be sent forthwith to Washington through Switzerland, that the Army could not wait forty-eight hours longer for a move that would save it from disaster. Prince Max of Baden, becoming chancellor on October 4 with an endorsement from the Reichstag, wished to delay. He sensed that the Army was trying to shift the onus for defeat to civilian shoulders. However, pressed by Hindenburg, he sent a note to Washington asking the President to take steps for the restoration of peace, to notify all belligerents of this request, and to invite them to send delegates to begin negotiations. Accepting the program laid down by the President, the Germans asked that further bloodshed be avoided by the immediate conclusion of a general armistice. News of the coming of the German note reached Woodrow Wilson on Sunday, October 6. It was a day of uncommon quiet in Washington. While a lethal epidemic of influenza raged through the city and kept people from congregating in churches, dispatches from France reported the bitterest fighting in which Americans had taken part. As had been his habit since he had proclaimed the observance of „gasless Sundays,“ the President went riding in an old surrey with fringed top, drawn by a pair of bay horses and escorted by secret service men on bicycles. The German message dropped like a bomb into the doldrums in the capital. The military leaders of the Allies, not daring to expect an end of hostilities before 1919, still were calling for men and munitions. Though Wilson was not ready to take the risk of curtailing military plans for a continuing war, he nevertheless took the German overture with the deepest seriousness. It was clear now that at last his gospel was penetrating the minds of the German people; and he did not feel it necessary to inquire too closely whether they were converted, or merely seeking a convenient sanctuary. He telephoned immediately to House and asked for advice. Responding with both a telegram and a letter, the Colonel recommended that the President make no direct reply to the German note. It seemed to House that the Allies should share the responsibility of replying to the enemy’s overture. The next day Wilson wrote a trial draft of a reply. Late on October 14th, the second note to Germany was made public. It bore down so hard upon the enemy that press comment was favorable and Senator Lodge expressed himself as „genuinely pleased“. Before armistice terms could be discussed, the President wrote, atrocities must cease on land and sea, and the Allies and Americans must know with what sort of government they were dealing. Moreover, the military supremacy of the armies opposing Germany must be safeguarded absolutely. Bulletins went out from the White House emphasizing that there would be no letup in the military effort of the United States. The prospect of peace was clear enough now so that it seemed time to try to reach an understanding with the Allied statesmen. General Bliss had reported that his English colleagues on the Supreme War Council had been advocating that the Allies agree on peace policies while they were still held together by military necessity.

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Wilson’s Fourteen Points as the only way to peace for German government Cartoon by Elmer Andrew Bushnell, published in October, 1918, by Central Press Association of Cleveland, Ohio

92 Meanwhile the German leaders were facing up to the clear and unpleasant choice that Wilson’s second note put before them. Seeing no hope of stopping fresh armies that were advancing fast in Belgium and were poised to attack in Lorraine, the German ministers yielded to all of the President’s conditions. With the German capitulation in hand, Wilson was ready to take his Cabinet into his confidence. At their regular meeting on October 22 they found their chief plainly disturbed. For some weeks their sessions had been given over to storytelling and to trivial affairs. But now the President was all business, and said solemnly: „I do not know what to do. I must ask your advice. I may have made a mistake in not properly safeguarding what I said before. What do you think should be done?“

Front page of November 11, 1918

93 At Berlin militarists now had lost the confidence of the civil government; Ludendorff had been dismissed; liberal amendments to the Gennan constitution had been adopted by the Reichstag; and on October 27 the German government had reported to Washington that the people were in control of the nation, actually and constitutionally. Public opinion was responding to the threat in Wilson‘s last note that if the United States must deal with „monarchical autocrats“ it must demand not negotiations, but surrender. There were suggestions that the Kaiser resign. German leaders were telling their people that civil violence would play into the hands of vindictive Allied statesmen and make it difficult for Wilson to effect a humane peace. On November 9 the abdication of the Kaiser was announced, red flags went up, and the next day a provisional government was proclaimed. The Presidentâ’s barrage of eloquence, beginning in May of 1916 and ending in September of 1918, had brought fighting to an end even before the armies of the enemy were completely broken; and not only the enemy but the Allies as well were committed to write such a peace as the world had never before known. The principles that the prophet had conceived first as a battle cry for his own people, and then as a softener of enemy morale, were now blithely accepted by Western liberals as omens of successful peacemaking. Germans depended on them for protection against vindictiveness; and Americans, by and large, were proud of them as something „made in America“ that brought kudos to their President. Their shortcomings as a basis for a rational peace settlement were not yet generally apparent. On the morning of November 7, responding to a false press report of the signing of the Armistice, throngs milled about in the streets of Washington. Bands blared and sirens cut loose. Neil McAdoo, crossing the street from the Treasury, was caught in a rush of dancing, singing citizens. Edith Wilson, loving the stir and good spirit of the people, begged the President to appear on the portico and, in the afternoon, to ride out into the streets. But he shook his head. „No,“ he said, „what a pity all this is going on, when it’s not true“. At breakfast on the 11th he got word of the end of hostilities. He telephoned right away to direct Lansing not to reveal the terms of the Armistice until he could address Congress. Then he took up a pencil and wrote out a little message to his people: „The armistice was signed this moming. Everything for which America fought has been accomplished. It will now be our fortunate duty to assist by example, by sober, friendly counsel and material aid in the establishment of just democracy throughout the world.“ Going to the Capitol shortly after noon to address the Congress, he waited for a few moments in the anteroom of the House. There he spoke of his forebodings. The problems of policy that now confronted America, he said, were even more perplexing than those of the past. A tremendous duty rested upon the nation, he felt, to prevent chaos in the rest of the world. America had done well, militarily; and now she must prove herself, politically, to be worthy of the world’s respect. He spoke huskily at first. Reading the terms of the Armistice, he said: „The war thus comes to an end. Armed imperialism such as the men conceived who were but yesterday the masters of

94 Germany is at an end, its illicit ambitions engulfed in black disaster. Who will now seek to revive it?“ The representatives of the people could cheer this. But when their leader went on to preach and to teach, the House became quiet. With a perspective that stemmed from his academic days, he analyzed the politics of Europe. The revolutions that had come to Russia and to Central Europe, he pointed out, seemed „to run from one fluid change to another, until thoughtful men are forced to ask themselves,“ with what Governments, and of what sort, are we about to deal in the making of covenants of peace? . . . When peace is made, upon whose promises and engagements besides our own is it to rest?“ For their own best interest, he said, the victors would do well to help the vanquished to their feet and, if they chose the way of self-control and peaceful accommodation, put aid at their disposal in every way possible. „Hunger does not breed reform,“ he warned; „it breeds madness and all the ugly distempers that make an ordered life impossible.“ For Woodrow Wilson it was a day of vindication rather than of triumph. Radiantly happy in spite of weariness of mind and nerve, he reviewed a parade of war workers in the afternoon and in the evening he drove out with his wife to share the jubilation of his people. The whole Westem world was rioting in joy. In New York, Paris, London, Rome, celebrations went on all day and all night, with gun salutes, snowstorms of paper, bells, sirens, searchlights, fireworks, and Te Deums. Crowds surged around the automobile of the Wilsons, overwhelming the secret service men and stopping their progress until soldiers locked arms and escorted the car back to the White House.

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SECOND WORLD WAR

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1939 GERMANY IN FIRST WEEKS OF THE WAR by

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1942 THE PACIFIC WAR THEATRE AT THE SOLOMONS by

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1943 ANTI-GERMAN PARTISAN GROUPS IN YUGOSLOVIA by

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1944 PREPARATIONS OF THE ALLIES’ INVASION TO FRANCE by

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Unpublished Material Media Exhibits Associated Press Entry for Daniel de Luce, 1944 Baltimore Sun Entry for Mark S. Watson, 1945 Charles Scribner’s Sons Entry for Bernadotte E. Schmitt, 1931 Longmans, Green and Co. Entry for Arthur Walworth, 1959 Louisville Courier-Journal Entry for Henry Watterson, 1918 The Macmillan Company Entry for Barbara W. Tuchman, 1963 New York Herald-Tribune Entry for Homer W. Bigart, 1946 New York Times Entry for Otto B. Tolischus, 1940 NewYork Times Entry for Percy J. Philip et al., 1941 New York Times Entry for Hanson W. Baldwin, 1943 New York Tribune Entry for Frank H. Simonds, 1917 New York World Entry for Herbert B. Swope, 1917 Philippines Herald Entry for Carlos P. Romulo, 1942 Princeton University Press Entry for George F. Kennan, 1957 Jury Statements American History Jury Report, March 25, 1931, 5 pp. American History Jury Report, February 19, 1957, 2 pp. Biography/Autobiography Jury Report, April 3, 1959, 1 p. Correspondence Jury Report, April 22, 1940, 4 pp. Correspondence Jury Report, April 3, 1942, 4 pp. Correspondence Jury Report, March 12, 1943, 2 pp. Correspondence Jury Report, March 21, 1944, 1 p. Correspondence Jury Report, March 10, 1945, 1 p. Correspondence Jury Report, April 1, 1946, 5 pp. Editorial Writing Jury Report, April 28, 1917, 5 pp. Editorial Writing Jury Report, April 19, 1918, 1 p. General Nonfiction Jury Report, February 7, 1963, 2 pp. Reporting Jury Report, April 28, 1917, 3 pp. Special Award Jury Report, April 3, 1941, 1 p.

Published Material Alexander, John A.: The First World War in American Thought, Washington, D. C., 1955 Arnould, Pierre: La Franee sous l’occupation, Paris 1959 Bateson Charles: The War With Japan, London 1968 Brennan, Elizabeth/Clarage, Elizabeth C.: Who’s Who of Pulitzer Prize Winners, Phoenix, Az., 1999 Bryant, Arthur: Kriegswende 1939-1943, Duesseldorf 1957 Eisenhower, Dwight D.: Crusade in Europe, New York 1948 Feis, Herbert: The Atomic Bomb and the End of World War II, Princeton N.J., 1966

241 Fischer, Heinz-Dietrich: Award-Winning Foreign Correspondents of the New York Times 1931-1991, Vienna-Zurich 2021 Fischer, Heinz-Dietrich: Facets of the Vietnam War in American Media, Vienna Zürich 2019 Fischer, Heinz-Dietrich: Outstanding International Press Reporting 1928 - 1945, Berlin - New York 1984 Fischer, Heinz-Dietrich: Reporting on International Political Conflicts, Vienna Zurich 2012 Hofer, Walter: Die Entfesselung des Zweiten Weltkrieges, Frankfurt a. M. 1960 Hohenberg, John: Foreign Correspondence - The Great Reporters and Their Times, New York - London 1962 Hohenberg, John: The Pulitzer Prizes - A History of the Awards in Books, Drama, Music and Journalism, New York - London 1974 Kennan, George F.: Russia Leaves the War - Soviet-American Relations 1917-192O, Princeton, N. J., 1956 Kennedy, David M.: Freedom From Fear - The American People in Depression and War 1929-1945, New York 1999 Martin, Bernd: Deutschland und Japan im Zweiten Weltkrieg, Goettingen - Zurich Frankfurt 1969 Schmitt, Bernadotte E.: The Coming of the War 1914, New York 1930 Sloan, William D.: The Best of Pulitzer Prize News Writing, Columbus, Oh., 1986 Swope, Herbert B.: Inside the German Empire in the Third Year of the War, New York 1917 Tuchman, Barbara J.: The Guns of August, New York 1962 Turner, Leonard: War in the Southern Ocean, Cape Town - New York 1961 Walworth, Arthur: Woodrow Wilson, vol. 2: World Prophet, New York - London Toronto 1958

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Facets of the Vietnam War in American Media Pulitzer Prize Winning Articles, Books, Cartoons and Photos

Pulitzer Prize Panorama No. 18

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