My first hint that these men had been through any trying experience was the apology offered by a new-comer for being late. He entered rather gravely and said something about having to take the word to his sister of his brother-in-law's death. The whole company turned grave then and conversation from being general was carried on for a few minutes between those near together. I asked the typewriter agent, to fill an awkward pause, whether they had seen much action, and he told me their story.
The fight on the road to Nieuport.
This was a crack mitrailleuse company of Brussels. It had been in the fight from Liège back to Malines and from Antwerp back to Dixmude and Nieuport. Three days before it was told to hold a road into Nieuport. It was a road the Germans must take, if they were to advance, but the Belgians would not give way. They were too clever with their rapid-fire guns to be rushed, and the German bayonet charges only blocked the road with their dead. Again and again the gray line came on, but each time it crumpled before their fire. They were attacked every hour of the day or night, but they were always ready. Finally the Germans got their range and dropped shell after shell right among them.
"They blew us all to pieces," the story went on in a low tone at my elbow. "Those shells don't leave many wounded, but they littered the place with arms and legs. They got a good many of us, but they did not seem to be able to get our guns."
I asked what their loss had been, and he looked around the table, counting, before he answered.
"Let's see, now," he said. "We lost some at Dixmude first. I think there were just seventy last Monday." This was Thursday. "We had a pretty bad time," he ended; looking down.
"How many are there now?" I asked, and he answered with a sweep of his hand around the table. "Five or six more," he said. There were eighteen of them at table now. That meant twenty-three or twenty-four—out of seventy.
"The dogs suffered, too," he added. "We've only got eight out of twenty, and I just heard the dogs around here have already been pressed into service."
Courtesy of the machine gunners.
When I went to bed four of the members of that shattered mitrailleuse company climbed three flights of stairs to see that I had a comfortable room. And these men had just come out of a trench where they had lost more than two thirds their number in three days stopping one of the main lines of the German advance.
Back to the lines.
In the twilight of early morning, when the cannonading had at last died down, I heard the movement of troops in the street and saw my friends of the night before falling into line and getting their equipment straight. By the time I reach the sidewalk they were moving off, some of the men helping the dogs with the mitrailleuse.
"Big fight last night," said the typewriter agent smiling. "Company that relieved us got it hard. We must hurry back."
They were all very alert and soldierlike in the chill of the morning, but they were a pitifully small company as they passed up the road and were lost in the sand dunes.
In August and September, while on the western front were being fought the great initial struggles of the Great War, Turkey, long under German political influence, was making ready to cast her lot with the Teutonic Powers. Germany had already made diplomatic and military moves which indicated that she was certain of a Turkish alliance. The strongest figures of the Ottoman Empire, Enver Pasha and Talaat Bey were strongly pro-German, although the latter endeavored for a time to conceal his real sentiments and intentions under a cloak of pretended neutrality. The causes which induced Turkey to side with the Central Powers rather than with the Allies are explained in the narrative which follows.
WHY TURKEY ENTERED
THE WAR
ROLAND G. USHER
Extreme danger of Turkey.
Many people entirely misunderstand the significance of the declaration of war by Turkey against Russia, France, and England. Why these despairing gasps of the dying? they ask. What possible chance has this weak, moribund state to survive a clash of arms with the Triple Entente? Has not the Turk, in fact, dug his own grave and committed suicide? In all probability the Turk is in considerable danger, but the danger does not arise from his joining Germany. In fact, the war and the present international situation provide the Turk with the best opportunity in a century to achieve the aims cherished by Turkish statesmen who have the best interests of Turkey itself at heart. For several years Turkey has been in extreme peril. It was condemned to death by the Triple Entente some time ago, and the prediction of the British Prime Minister in a recent public speech that this war would end the existence of Turkey as an independent power was only the publication of the sentence of death long since decided upon. The Sick Man was kept alive by his friends, the doctors, largely because they deemed his malady incurable. The moment he showed signs of convalescence they agreed to poison him. But for the protection of Germany the political existence of Turkey would be already a thing of the past. The Turk, therefore, will stand or fall according to the decision in this war for or against Germany. He will be excessively foolish not to do everything he can to insure a German victory.
Entrance of Turkey into War.
Constantinople core of the War.
The entrance of Turkey into the war has long been foreseen, and its vast significance has long been clear to students. Some trained observers go much further: Sir Harry Johnston, a traveler, statesman, and diplomat of repute, has declared: "Constantinople is really the core of the war." In diplomatic circles in Vienna this summer there was a general agreement that the loss of Salonika, which the Turk was forced to hand over to Greece at the end of the Balkan wars, was a vital blow to the Triple Alliance, and its recovery would be of sufficient importance to justify the risk of a European war to accomplish it. The situation in the Near East and in the Balkans is an integral part of the European war. In fact, the war is not a European war at all; it is a world war in the most literal sense of the words.
Control of exit from the Black Sea imperative to Russia.
At the beginning of the twentieth century keen observers saw clearly that the old order of things, which had preserved the Turk so long in the face of many enemies, had passed away beyond a peradventure and had left the Turk in great peril. Ever since the decay of the strength of the Ottoman Empire the Turk had been hardly pressed in Europe by Russia and by Austria, both of whom coveted sections of his dominions, and both of whom would have been glad to obtain Constantinople, the gateway between Europe and Asia. Of the two, Russia was more insistent because her interests made the control of the exit from the Black Sea imperative for her. The Turk, however, until very recently, was himself strong enough to throw considerable obstacles in the face of the invader; he was probably, in 1900, more efficient than in 1850; but his enemies had grown by leaps and bounds. He was confronted by a new Austria and a new Russia.
What was worse, the Balkan nations, who had long been subject peoples, ill-organized, poverty stricken, had grown with the help of the Turk's enemies into sturdy, self-reliant, independent communities with good-sized armies and something approaching national wealth. The long years of subjection had left behind a consuming hatred of the Turk in their breasts; as Christians, they hated the Turk as the Infidel; and they promised themselves some day the control of Constantinople in the interest of Christianity. The neighbors of the Turk had grown formidable and would be able to make short work of him unless help arrived.
Industrial growth of Germany.
Old order changes.
There was none to be had from his past friends; so much was only too clear. The shift in the international situation caused by the astounding industrial growth of Germany, the rapid development of the German, Austrian, and Italian fleets, the increased efficiency of the armies of the Triple Alliance had all made the control of the Mediterranean far more difficult for England and France. They could no longer