Today, the series on the development of the Western Front continues. If you haven't already, I suggest you read the preceding parts, "Last Light" and "Sun Down". I'd like to extend my gratitude for all who have read, liked, retweeted and upvoted the series thus far; I feel a great deal of satisfaction and success that they have been so well received. As always, comments, questions and suggestions are most welcome, and this blog can be followed through Twitter and Facebook.
The knockout blow the Germans had aimed
at Paris had been thwarted by a combination of Allied cooperation and a loss of
unit cohesion in between the German Armies.
Moltke, the German Chief-of-Staff, was now in the unenviable position of
having the situation dictate his actions instead of the reverse. So it was that “along a front of nearly 250
miles, the German infantry faced about and began to retrace their steps over
the ground won in bitter combat during the last two weeks.”[1]
Now it fell to the French and British to
come out swinging, rapidly close with and destroy the enemy before it could
reorganise. Only, they couldn't; they
were “badly battered, worn out and running low on essential
equipment.”[2]
For the BEF alone, it had, over the past
seventeen days moved- in advance and retreat- nearly five hundred kilometers,
an average of more than twenty each day, every day while being in close contact
with the enemy through most of that time.
The Force’s two corps had been reinforced by a third fresh from England,
but there were no individual drafts to bring the existing corps back to
strength. It’s worth noting here that
the BEF was overwhelmingly professional and therefore expected to perform at
this level of hardship. It can only be
imagined how this strain, depleting the effectiveness of a regular army was
borne by the French and German reservists who had been in civil life just five
weeks prior. Nevertheless, professional
or not, all belligerents in the West, including the tiny Belgian army holding
at Antwerp, were being fought to death.
That was only part of the problem. It was quickly becoming apparent that modern
war on such a vast scale was creating material demand which far outstripped
supply. One estimate was that the French
daily production of artillery shells was perhaps 20% of requirement.[3]
There had been stockpiles made before the war, but with a continued deficit a
zero sum would quickly be reached. The
British had no such reserve, even less industrial capacity and the added
problem of a long supply line, part of which was across the channel.
Such factors were now giving credence to
the belief that a swift victory, though looking less likely as the situation
deteriorated, was entirely critical. No
one had any confidence that popular, material and financial support could be counted
on to continue and make a protracted war possible.
The “cult of the offensive” Sir Richard
Holmes mentioned had been found wanting, where on the eve of war “Offensive war
plans ruled. Russia planned to advance
into East Prussia. France proposed to
launch Plan XVII, an all out attack into the provinces of Alsace and
Lorraine. And Germany sought to execute
a plan named after a previous Chief of the General Staff, Alfred von
Schlieffen.”[4]
Yet each of these grand strategies had been insufficient.
In the East, a stronger than expected
Russian showing had crippled the Austrians.
Even though the Tsar’s armies had been badly defeated by the Kaiser’s at
Tannenberg, the Central Powers’ eastern campaign was in jeopardy. Given ample time, Russia’s vast manpower
would dominate. The pressure was on
Moltke to perform in the west. The
French fortress of Verdun had held and now became the lynch pin on which Allied
and German lines would hinge. Extending
east-southeast from Verdun the opposing armies of Plan XVII’s main effort and
the Schlieffen blocking force had fought to a standstill. That left the terrain north from Verdun to
the coast as the only viable ground to allow for a desperately hoped coup de
gras. The stagnation in the south meant
that men could be transferred up the line to support an expected counterattack,
and shore up the worrying gaps between 1st 2nd and 3rd
Armies. By affecting his withdrawal from
the Marne to the Aisne, Moltke had “shaken out” his line. While this meant ceding vital ground, such as
the rail hubs at Reims, Amiens and Arras, the concentration had shortened the
length of front to be defended, and even more manpower could be shifted to the
still active area.
Before the offensive could resume, the
Allied advance had to be checked and repulsed.
The unfortunately languorous Allied pursuit had given the Germans the
time to select and prepare a defensive position to ensure such a reverse. Just beyond the river Aisne, the land rises
to high cliffs, some 300-400 feet, levelling to a
plateau. The river itself was wide and deep, only
crossable at bridge points which had mostly been demolished. Approaching the heights would be difficult
for “low crops in the unfenced countryside offered no natural concealment to
the Allies. Deep narrow paths cut into
the escarpment at right angles, exposing any infiltrators to extreme
hazard. The forces on the northern
plateau commanded a wide field of fire.”[5]
Moltke’s orders, of 13 September, would prove to be prophetic: at the line of
the Aisne positions would be “fortified and defended.”[6]
They would also prove to be his last.
Having failed to gain victory within the forty day margin the Schlieffen
Plan dictated and not ever in favour with Kaiser Wilhelm II, he was replaced as
Chief of Staff by Erich von Falkenhayn on the 14th.
On the night of the 13th, the
British and French forced a crossing of the Aisne using what bridges were still
serviceable and pontoons put together by engineers. Then “the divisions made a rather cautious
and leisurely advance.”[7]
The caution was warranted, as the location of the Germans wasn’t fully
known. Despite this, and without waiting
for a complete crossing, forward units under cover of fog and dark of night
attempted to gain the heights. Again,
offensive spirit was the prevailing thought; that sufficient dash and élan can
overcome a defensive position. This can
only be true if both superior numbers and firepower are present, and the
British had neither. Some of the harsh
realities that would define the First World War were about to be seen.
A fortified position such as the one the
Germans had dug into the ridge is of a type the Chinese military theorist Sun
Tzu called “strategic ground”. “When
ground offers advantage to either side that is strategic ground.”[8]
Master Sun advises that those who occupy this type of ground not be enticed to
attack from it, but defend it and keep the advantage. If the enemy has taken strong positions on
strategic ground, he should not be directly attacked, but circumvented. His centuries’ old warning on this topic was
“on strategic ground, do not attack.”[9]
With daylight, the British lost the
concealment darkness offered. Those on
the approaches were caught in the open and ripped apart by artillery. The river crossings came under indirect fire
as well, hampering the forward movement of reserves. Leading units mounting the slope through the
defiles were raked by enfilading fire of well sited machine guns. Despite terrible losses, the heights were
taken. Without the units which had been
pinned down at the river, there was no way to properly consolidate the
position. A concerted counterattack on
the 14th pushed the British back again.
For a further 13,500 [10]
casualties, no gain was made. Facing
critical losses, Field Marshall French ordered his Corps to entrench. A German officer at Aisne said “We are all
hoping that a decisive battle will end the war.”[11]
With frontal assaults now of little use, something else must be tried. Falkenhayn, on taking over from Moltke really
only had one option-he would try to move around the Allies while simultaneously
protecting his right flank. He was not
the only one to make this assessment; “both commanders had grasped that
opportunity in the campaign in the west now lay north of the active battle
front, in the hundred mile sweep of territory...between the Aisne and the Sea.”
[12]
Over the next three weeks, both armies
would make to exploit this open ground, like two strangers meeting on the
street attempting to step around the other by moving in the same direction
simultaneously. This mad dash, known as
the “race to the Sea” would define the shape of the Western Front. The fighting along this line about to take
place would create the conditions which would dominate the rest of the war.
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