The Trial of the Century
  • "...the judge in charge of the investigation and proceedings [1] was regarded in Austrian legal circles as generally fair and talented - Thomas Schreiber, a sixty-two year old native of Pilsen who spoke three languages fluently, enjoyed the opera, and was known to be a devout Catholic with a rigidly legalistic view of the world and, with it, right and wrong. Though Germans were unfamiliar with Austrian legal ins-and-outs, they were quickly assured by diplomatic personnel in Vienna that Schreiber would get to the facts of the case and mete out genuine justice. It was, perhaps, Schreiber's reputation for honesty and as a great judge that set everyone up so for disappointment just a month later.

    Schreiber, who died of a brain hemorrhage in 1922 [2], would maintain for the three years until his death that he conducted a fair trial and that there was no pressure upon him from the government to acquit Stephane Clement on any charges. Nonetheless, it cannot be said that the circumstances in Austria were those conducive to a straightforward trial. Newspapers across Europe declared that the Black Prince of Belgium was the most famous defendant since Martin Luther and before him Jesus Christ; it was anointed as the "Trial of the Century" well before it began. The delayed start of the trial - commencing on January 26th, 1919, rather than its planned beginning nearly three weeks earlier - stemmed from new witnesses coming out of the woodwork with wild claims that overwhelmed Schreiber and his judicial investigators, and it was suggested that a great deal of evidence was poorly collected and documentation lost as they struggled to keep up with it.

    In the end, however, Schreiber set his first day of the trial as January 26th, and that was that. Stephane Clement would go on trial for a whole host of charges - murder, first and foremost, but also the stealing of a weapon from a Hofburg guard and the illegal discharge of a weapon upon the Hofburg grounds. (Notably absent in 1919 was any kind of charge of sexual assault, attempted or otherwise). The Trial of the Century had begun...

    - The Central European War

    "...Stephane Clement, for the first time in his life, presented well in public. To reporters from all over the world crammed in Schreiber's cold, dimly-lit courtroom, the Black Prince was not the degenerate id of the late Belle Epoque but rather a tall, square-jawed young man of only thirty, clean-shaven with thin, combed-over brown hair and intelligent eyes. When he answered questions, he did so politely but without hesitation or any sign of fluster; he looked the judge and prosecutors in the eye, and he never seemed to be playing to the crowd. This, ironically, worked to his benefit - could this be the monster so many had heard rumors of for years? This handsome, kind, well-spoken young prince was the infamous Stephane Clement?

    European scholars have fiercely debated the fairness of "Steffie's" trial for close to a century, and little true consensus remains. Most agree that Schreiber, an old-fashioned and no-nonsense judge, had little sympathy or particular regard for Stephane Clement as a man, but that his age and conservative worldview also cut in the Prince's favor. He was quick to doubt accusations of sexual impropriety and severely cabined the ability of Isabella of Croy to testify, demanding that she provide more "evidence" that her encounter with Stephane Clement was indeed forced and unwanted. This instinctive dismissal of a woman's point of view, even a noblewoman like the widow of the Bavarian prince whose slaying lay at the heart of the case, punched a huge hole through the case against the Prince.

    Further compounding the issue was the testimony of Ernst Sachs, which once again inspired a thousand conspiracy theories in that he testified that he could not get a good view of Prince Franz from the ground, and that he stumbled onto the fight having already started. That Prince Franz was unarmed seemed to matter little, only that the brawl had been ongoing. Had Stephane Clement stolen the gun off of Sachs' belt? Perhaps, Sachs acknowledged, though there was a chance that the Prince merely knocked the pistol loose from its holster when they fell to the floor together and came away with it; he could not possibly recall, or deign to suggest, that the Belgian defendant had intentionally stripped him of his weapon.

    A dozen or so witnesses were brought in to testify to Stephane Clement's character, including various functionaries, minor Austrian nobility, and the charges d'affaires of the Belgian embassy. Police investigators testified as to the Prince's answers in interrogation and his "apparent state of mind" when he had been apprehended at his apartment; the testimony seemed to elide that he had been frantically packing his bags to flee the city when he had been caught, and no follow-up on this question was asked. Doubts were raised as to whether Stephane Clement had been drunk at the time of the shooting; Sachs recalled "the scent of brandy," as did Isabella, but the police report stated that he was "sober as a priest."

    The huge gaggle of reporters forced Schrieber to, after ten days of testimony, impose a closed court. This, in combination with the tone of the reporting in how it cast the testimony, only further fueled German impressions that the fix was in. This was not the trial of an accused rapist who had gunned down a fellow prince in cold blood anymore but an exploration of a poor, frightened, put-upon man who apparently stood wrongfully and dishonorably accused. It was becoming increasingly clear which direction the wind was blowing, and the mounting anger in German government circles was now nigh-unstoppable..."

    - The Black Prince of Belgium: The Dark and Turbulent Life of Stephane Clement

    "...the Hofburg was further offended by a diplomatic memorandum circulated to the Foreign Office by Jagow on February 5th which strongly implied two things: one, that Germany expected a "pre-determined" verdict, as Berchtold put it, and second, that this expectation carried with it a Germany "right of unilateralism," in which Germany was permitted, at times of her choosing, to unilaterally interfere in the judicial and perhaps even political proceedings of member states as a form of diplomatic liberum veto. Comments made by Jagow in late December had already suggested German sympathy for Hungarian nationalists in Swiss exile, and put together it was not hard for Ferdinand to draw a line between Germany's increasing support for the Green Magyar cause and their expectation of demanding a guilty verdict in the trial of Stephane Clement. Essentially how the Hofburg understood Jagow's memorandum was an unprecedented demand of interference in Austrian internal affairs that, on its own, served as an effective declaration of war.

    Ironically, this was not exactly how Jagow or Berlin had intended for it to be perceived, but it had been sloppily drafted and made overlong rather than concise, and thus the stage was set for the fateful verdict read out on February 25th, 1919, four months and one day after the Hofburg killing. To the surprise of nobody who had followed the trial the past several weeks, Stephane Clement was acquitted on the counts of murder and of the theft of a weapon, while he was found guilty of illegally discharging a weapon inside the Hofburg; he had never been charged with attempted rape or battery upon Isabella to begin with. For the one guilty verdict he did receive, Stephane Clement was banned from Austrian territory permanently after paying a small indemnity, but otherwise was free to go.

    Ferdinand's reaction was, essentially, one of "good riddance" - he had already disliked Stephane Clement enormously and detested him after the Hofburg Affair, and to "see the back of him" was a conclusion to the matter he could support. However, with Schreiber's verdict, events were now out of Ferdinand's hands. German newspapers openly and angrily declared that the case had been rigged to acquit the Belgian and there was even a small riot in Munich over the news. Making matters worse, and playing directly into the conspiratorial thinking of Germans, the French and Belgians openly celebrated the acquittal, with church bells ringing all over both countries and Prime Minister Poincare going so far as to make a speech "in honor of this day" to the Corps Legislatif on February 27th. On the 28th, Stephane Clement was released from prison, upon the receipt of his indemnity by the Austrian court, paid on his behalf by his father from Brussels. He was quickly ferried to the train station with all haste and put on a train to Switzerland; the sight of Austrian soldiers hurrying the acquitted through the city was perceived, perhaps not incorrectly, as helping him flee. Germany could now not be sated - and critically for the function of the Iron Triangle, the Jagow Memorandum's demands and Germany's outrage over the outcome of the Trial of the Century could reasonably be perceived as German aggression towards Austria..."

    - Ferdinand: The Last Emperor

    [1] Austria, like almost all continental Europe, is not a common law system and thus does not have an adversarial justice system where the judge serves as a referee between defense and prosecution. Very crucially, civil law systems do not have juries, and case law is generally not as important as statutory law.
    [2] Suspicious timing, to say the least
     
    Chain Reaction
  • "...as late as the evening of February 28th, 1919, it still seemed unlikely that Germany would attack Austria and Belgium over the "acquittal heard around the world." Nonetheless, there was an escalating sense that something was about to go very wrong, and British Foreign Secretary the Marquess of Crewe sent a note to both Berlin and Austria on the morning of March 1st with an offer to "mediate." This was rebuffed later that afternoon by his Viennese counterpart; what was there to mediate, asked Count Berchtold? Austria had brought a case, tried Stephane Clement, and found the evidence insufficient to charge a European royal with murder, and had exiled him after his acquittal to make a point. "No one sympathizes with the man," Berchtold assured Crewe, "but that does not make him guilty."

    Events were moving rapidly in Germany, where called to Berlin were the Kings of Bavaria and Saxony, men who typically dealt with Heinrich via envoy, a sort of internal ambassador to the Prussian, for that matter Imperial, court. [1] Heinrich gathered a group of German - and, critically, foreign - journalists in a room of the Stadtschloss and, flanked by Ludwig III and Friedrich Augustus, denounced the "release of the criminal Stephane Clement of Belgium," and, in an unusually unguarded moment, stated, "There will have to be consequences for what has occurred." What those consequences were, exactly, was unclear; on March 2nd, the German ambassador to Vienna was recalled to Berlin, though the embassy itself remained open.

    The moment of tension worsened as Stephane Clement's train passed through Vorarlberg en route to Switzerland, very close to the German border, and was suddenly set upon by sporadic gunfire from the forests. Nobody was harmed even though several bullets managed to break train windows, but once in Switzerland, the Belgian prince drew the understandable conclusion that there had been an assassination attempt against him by German agents trying to avenge Prince Franz before he could escape into neutral Switzerland, which meant, also, that Austrian sovereignty had been directly violated in those moments. There is no record of German agents having passed into Vorarlberg to carry out the hit, but their placement, and the near-death of Karolyi in Zurich just a year earlier, certainly opened the question..."

    - 1919: How Europe Went to War

    "...the crisis stemming from Stephane Clement's acquittal could well have passed had France not deliberately escalated it, and indeed the actions of the Poincaré government in those days of early March were held up for decades to come as clearly carrying responsibility for the bloodshed to come.

    On March 2nd, the Poincaré Cabinet had a good deal of information before them. They knew that Stephane Clement's acquittal had offended Germany enough that Berlin's minister to Vienna had been withdrawn (as had Bavaria's envoys); they knew that three German monarchs had gathered in Berlin at the same time as the Kaiser's private war cabinet, and that symbolically that gathering was meant to draw a hard line on defining a Germany that excluded Austria; and they knew that Stephane Clement's train had been shot at in the Alps as it approached the Swiss frontier. A conclusion Poincaré and Paleologue could have drawn from this was that the hour was tense and hot words were flying, but that it was highly unlikely that Germany would go to war over the outcome of a criminal trial.

    Castelnau drew a different conclusion - that Germany was retrenching, and preparing for conflict. He predicted that what would follow would be a demand from Germany for Stephane Clement to be turned over by Belgium to face justice, and when this did not occur, would declare war. His solution, then, was a preliminary mobilization by France and Belgium to prevent a German invasion. Castelnau also predicted that, as the nations of Europe turned one-by-one against Germany, that Britain would join in the fighting to safeguard Belgian neutrality, and Russia may be persuaded to join the fray, too, while Italy remained out.

    Poincaré proposed that the Cabinet take a vote on March 2nd, and they did, voting nearly unanimously in favor of war. However, Emperor Napoleon, when confronted with this sequence of events, refused to sign the mobilization order, asking that the Cabinet "pray on the matter" for a night and then reconvene in the late morning of the 3rd. The Emperor was not a pacifist, necessarily, but to his credit was highly skeptical of the Hofburg Affair as a cassus belli and if he was being honest did not really want to go to war with Germany over it. He had supported Belgium to the hilt throughout the fall at the cost of his already near-failed marriage, and he wanted to give the Cabinet one last chance to take a deep breath and ponder whether to actually step into the brink.

    Several Cabinet ministers appeared to be wavering in the hours thereafter, but Poincaré, Paleologue, and several other ministers dined that night with several members of the General Staff who spoke enthusiastically of their ability to quickly prosecute a war against Germany and "race to the Rhine;" also in attendance that evening was the Dowager Empress Eugenie, who according to Paleologue's postwar memoir "put steel in our spines and the fear of God in our hearts." While those at that dinner were not the fence-sitters, it nonetheless gave them the confidence to grind down those who were.

    On March 3rd, then, the French General Staff received signed orders from Emperor Napoleon V to mobilize the Army; they had already suspended leave for French soldiers two days earlier. Later that same day, the Belgian General Staff did the same, and began shifting their Reserve Army into the Liege fortification system while the bulk of their army was assembled and equipped to be moved towards Eupen and Aachen..."

    - La Politique Mondiale: Poincaré, France and the Waltz of the Great Powers

    "...news of the French mobilization on March 3-4 stunned the Hofburg; Ferdinand had been alarmed at the evacuation of the chief German diplomats from Vienna, and now this seemed to confirm what he already feared - that war was on the horizon. Austria had an excellent domestic security service but a mediocre foreign intelligence network, but the French Deuxieme Bureau was widely regarded as the best spy bureau in the world (albeit at a time when intelligence services were in their infancy). Thus, his Cabinet concluded in a meeting late in the evening of March 4, if the French believed there was a reason to mobilize, it had to be a good one, and Andrassy argued for his part that this was the evidence Austria had always needed that France would, indeed, be there when it counted most. Dankl concurred and urged Ferdinand to mobilize the entire Common Army while leaving the Honved and Heimwehr in reserve for the time being; if Austria did not meet the moment when France mobilized to defend her preemptively, then the alliance network which protected Austria would collapse. Ferdinand admitted later in his diaries that he mulled waiting for confirmation of German mobilization before countersigning the drafted order, but then thought better of it and ordered Austrian mobilization shortly before eight o' clock at night. The Iron Triangle had, officially, been activated..."

    - Ferdinand: The Last Emperor

    "...
    Germany caught word of French preliminary mobilization on March 4, and Heinrich was stunned. Germany had been mulling their options but had, at least in those early days, intended to keep the crisis primarily diplomatic, likely by imposing punitive tariffs on Austrian goods and cutting trade ties to Belgium, all in an effort to find a negotiation settlement down the line. The German General Staff took a vote on March 4 to mobilize in turn out of an abundance of caution, with Falkenhayn informing Heinrich that once the "machine was turned on" it meant war. The German stance, however, was that France had engaged in a preemptive mobilization to attack Germany, and news of Austrian soldiers and reservists being called in meant the Iron Triangle was now fully active. German war plans were dusted off, and the 12th of March was identified as the day to initiate hostilities, which wound up slipping by a day in the end.

    While popular historiography often read into the events of March 2-5 a sort of ebullience about the prospect of war, cheered on by nationalist press, there was a great deal of apprehensiveness across Europe. Nonetheless, war was about to happen - France needed a war when it could still be sure of certain advantages against Germany, and Austria needed a war to hold Hungarian fervor at bay. For a brief moment on March 6, German policymakers began to wonder what they had done as men were called to their armies throughout Saxony, Bavaria and Silesia ahead of offensive moves; they were sated by news that Italy was mobilizing as well, with Rome viewing the Franco-Austrian move as being deliberately hostile. Both alliance blocs were triggered by movements they considered to be acts of offense by their enemies, and the lines were drawn.

    The war had begun."

    - The Central European War

    [1] The German Empire was an inefficient mess, part 1017
     
    The Guns of March
  • "...and just like that, four of Europe's great powers were at war. A British offer to mediate was rejected on March 8th by Paris, which published a note outlining a number of German sins. While the incursions into the Belgian Congo were listed amongst other grievances, the most immediate one was "a history of interventions in her near-abroad in the affairs and politics of other states." This "policy of unilateral intervention" left France no choice but to declare war on Germany immediately "in an effort to force the suspension of this bellicose course."

    Germany, on March 10th, responded with its own note, denouncing the French for their own interventions going back decades, in not just Europe (Monaco and Serbia featuring prominently) but in Asia as well, and concluded its note with the accusation that France had conspired to violate Belgian neutrality rather than "pursue a face-saving solution for all parties involved in the Congo" and then had further put enormous pressure on Austria, mutually alliance-bound, to acquit Stephane Clement in an effort to preserve Belgian honor. The conclusions drawn in Germany's declaration of war and the subsequent evacuation of diplomatic personnel (to say nothing of businessmen and others who had stayed in France and Austria up to the last moments) essentially placed the entirety of blame for the triggering of the war in France, accusing them of manufacturing a crisis in which they used Emperor Ferdinand - a man famously skeptical of general war - as their catspaw, a fundamental understanding of the conflict that would have tremendous impact on the treatment of Austria-Hungary in the postwar compared to France and Belgium...

    ...Germany was mobilizing rapidly, but poor weather in the evening of March 11th led them to continue to delay their opening offensives until the 13th rather than the next day as planned; France was undeterred, and the first skirmishes of the war occurred near Dudelange in Luxembourg as French cavalry crossed the border and attacked a German border garrison, early in the morning of March 12th. This opening action was matched to the west by a Franco-Belgian attack from the direction of Arlon, seizing Steinfurt in a matter of hours as Germany declined to reinforce its border patrols and instead concentrate its mass of forces inside the Luxembourg Fortress network just beyond.

    On March 13th, however, the mobilized Imperial German Army was ready to strike. Army groups were formed, with important nobles such as Bavaria's Crown Prince Rupprecht (and brother of the slain Franz) or Prussia's second prince Friedrich (selected as his elder brother, the Crown Prince Wilhelm, suffered from hemophilia) theoretically tasked in leading them by Falkenhayn. The German strategy was straightforward on paper - holding against the Franco-Belgian assault in the west, while attacking with massive force across the Bohemian and Sudetes Mountains in the East to punch into Bohemia and disrupt the Austrian industrial heartland, while also attempting to cut it off from eastern Galicia's considerable oilfields.

    The third week of March saw close to a million German soldiers attack across a vast front stretching from Eger in the west to Teschen in the east. The assault was meant to seize major passes between Germany and Bohemia in order to allow a second wave of assaults through, covered by combined aerial attacks launched from rudimentary airstrips across Saxony and Silesia. The nature of the terrain into which Germany was attacking limited their ability to move motorized vehicles through, particularly landships, but it was otherwise generally thought that Germany would quickly overwhelm Austrian defenders and soon therafter engage in battles of maneuver throughout Bohemia, particularly after the Austrian offensive into Italy on March 17th convinced the Germans, wrongly, that Vienna had manpower problems.

    While Eger fell late on the 14th, Germany had less luck attacking into their other sectors. While they were able to quickly seize the highlands above the Elbe near Tetschen, an attack towards Reichenberg was quickly bogged down by Austrian machine gun nests, pillboxes and other fortifications scattered around the city on both sides of the Neisse. Sixteen divisions attacked down the most natural path to cut Bohemia in half - the valley of the Morava, from the base in Glatz - but found themselves trying to invest Mahrish Schonberg as the other routes were held by Austrian troops able to rain fire down upon them from above. This "Battle of the Valleys" came to quickly and instantly show the hard limits that German offensive plans were to run up against.

    Nowhere was that more obvious than in the most crucial sector of the theater, however, which was the area at Ostrau - one of the most important coal mining and steelmaking regions of Bohemia - and at Teschen, the crossroads through which Galicia could be reached from the rest of Austria without transversing the Carpathian Mountains. Ostrau lay at a point known as the Moravian Gate, a critical cauldron which Austria had correctly identified decades earlier in previous conflicts with Prussia as the most logical axis of attack in a future war, especially as industry made Ostrau ever-more critical. On March 13th, one of the great artillery and air raids against a city began, and German soldiers settled in for what would prove to be a long haul as divisions were rushed from both sides to a place soon to be synonymous with great bloodshed.

    The greatest failure of the early German strike, however, was at Teschen. Time and time again, German soldiers with artillery and air support attempted to attack to seize the roads and rail that critically linked Galician defenders and oil to Ostrau, and time and time again, they were repulsed over the course of several bloody weeks. The rapid advance into Bohemia planned by German war planners had not occurred, and it was clear before long that other than the route through the mountains at Eger, the reduction of Austrian defenses along their front would take weeks, if not months, to fully penetrate to force the campaign of maneuver Falkenhayn and his general staff desired..."

    - The Guns of March
     
    Battleship: The First Arms Race
  • "...at the outset of the crisis, France was, unequivocally, the primary naval power of the four major combatants. Germany had sixteen dreadnoughts on the eve of March 13, 1919, with another two having begun construction, and Italy had twelve in service with an additional laid down in 1917 and with construction anticipated to be complete in early 1920. France, on the other hand, had nearly as much as double the dreadnoughts as each, with twenty-five in service as the war began and another two in construction, and having also deployed their first "battlecruisers" earlier in 1918, the Marseille and the Nantes, and having laid down three more battlecruisers as a complement. When taken together with Austria-Hungary's eleven dreadnoughts, the Iron Triangle enjoyed a daunting advantage in pure tonnage over their opponents, especially when cruisers, destroyers, and pre-dreadnoughts were taken into account.

    The issue for France and Austria, however, was one of geography. Austria's ports were entirely bottled up in the Adriatic, which could theoretically be closed by Italy, a state that had perhaps underinvested in cruisers but had a sophisticated submarine program inspired by Spain as well as a cutting-edge fleet of fast-attack torpedo boats known as the MAS craft; the idea was that in war, Italy could make the Strait of Otranto a living hell for the Austrians to try to navigate through with light naval vessels, submarines (referred to as U-boats in German and Austrian planning documents), well-placed minefields and even requisitioned fishing vessels strung in a line and laden with small explosives. This would, in theory, tie up the Austrians for some time and allow Italy to deploy her vessels into the heart of the Mediterranean, though for the first year of the war the Regia Marina served primarily as a fleet-in-being.

    Nonetheless, this fleet-in-being was a huge strategic problem for France, which had to keep ample naval assets deployed not only out of Brest to guard against Germany but also out of Toulon, aimed towards Italy, and Mers el-Kebir in Algeria or Port Said in Egypt to guard her southern Mediterranean holdings. In addition, the Marine Imperiale as a matter of policy always kept at least two dreadnoughts deployed to the Oriental Fleet, which though primarily destroyer-based maintained harbors sufficient for dreadnoughts at Cam Ranh in Indochina and Takau in Formosa, with additional, smaller bases in Hainan's Port-Napoleon, the French concession of Busan in Korea, and the small Chinese port of Chefou in Shandong. Trying to cover this vast territory on both ends of the Formosa Straits was an exceedingly difficult task, and in the weeks before the war, the French Admiralty elected to deploy an additional three dreadnoughts to Asia along with substantive cruiser and destroyer escorts, in order to safeguard the region from potential opportunistic Japanese aggression and to better position themselves to quickly annihilate German forces in the theater, which paled in comparison to what France could put in the field or to sea.

    Thus, at the start of the war, fourteen of Germany's sixteen dreadnoughts were in their North and Baltic Sea ports of Cuxhaven and Kiel; all of Italy's dreadnought fleet sat at anchover at La Spezia in Liguria or Taranto in Apulia; the Austrians were sitting in Pula, Fiume and Split with their fleet; and France had five dreadnoughts collecting in the East, thirteen at the ready in the Mediterranean between their various bases, and a further nine whose mission was to prevent any German operations "west of Calais" as the parlance became, an endeavor in which France expected to enjoy tacit British support for a demilitarized English Channel..." [1]

    - Battleship: The First Arms Race

    (I want to thank @Lascaris for his thoughts on realistic naval figures for all four of these powers.)
    [1] You'll notice I don't mention Denmark here; that's by design, and we'll get to them, mostly when their small navy is at the bottom of the Baltic.
     
    1919: How Europe Went to War
  • "...the most forgotten theater of the Central European War remains, perhaps unsurprisingly, the brief moment of the conflict that included Denmark, which in the long run became much more of a diplomatic problem for Germany than a military one. It is notable that in Denmark, the war is referred to not by the moniker it enjoys in the rest of the world but rather is referred to as Ti Dages Krig - the Ten Days War.

    That Denmark even found itself involved in the war is something of a quirk of history. In 1915, the Danish Cabinet had secretly elected to renew the Iron Triangle compact with France and Austria despite the loud protestations of the Foreign Minister Erik Scavenius, a lifelong civil servant from a noble family that in the tradition of certain elite families throughout Europe saw it as their duty to serve in the diplomatic corps. [1] Scavenius opposed the Iron Triangle and argued for Danish neutrality; considering his firmly Germanophilic line in the postwar years in which he became Denmark's powerful, long-serving Prime Minister, it has frequently been argued that his opposition was in part due to his preference for a Denmark aligned more with Germany than with France. While he was technically a nonpartisan figure, he associated with the governing Social Liberal Party, known in Danish as Radikale Venstre, more directly translated as the Radical Left; they were of the traditional liberal-progressive opposition to Danish conservatism (at one point in the 19th century among the continent's most rigidly absolutist) that had broken from the old Venstre liberal party that had shifted to the classically liberal soft-right position and pursued an ambitious, progressive platform in Denmark that had included labor reforms, the expansion of the franchise to include all women older than 22 regardless of property or marriage status, and had begun a process of "rationalization" of the Danish armed forces.

    The core tension of Danish decision-making, even within Radikale Venstre, was that of elite nationalism which sought the return of the Danish-majority territories of Schleswig which had been lost in 1864 versus the soft anti-militarism of much of the party faithful. It was ironic that Scavenius, one of the leading figures of the progressive learned elite, was also one of the most fierce proponents of Danish neutrality, arguing that liberal, free-trading and Protestant Denmark had little in common with conservative, protectionist and Catholic France and Austria-Hungary. But the skew went to Carl Theodor Zahle, the long-serving Prime Minister who had effectively successfully implemented parliamentarianism in Denmark where fellow progressives had failed elsewhere in Scandinavia, who viewed the best guarantee of Danish neutrality to be its insurance by Paris and Vienna. This was a naive view, as ten days in March 1919 would quickly reveal.

    The Danish government, upon learning of French mobilization on March 7th, was thus split against itself. Zahle was a pacifist through and through but it was he who had lobbied for the renewal of the Triangle four years prior and driven Scavenius out of Cabinet and back to the civil service, where the influential ex-Foreign Minister now served as Denmark's ambassador to Sweden and Norway. Now, at the moment of truth, he blinked. It had always been the assumption in Danish elite circles that they would be joining a coalition to check some German outrage, but unlike in Belgium and France, the behavior of Stephane Clement that had triggered the chain reaction culminating in the mobilization of Europe's armies and a declaration of war hanging over the continent seemed so clearly beyond the pale that a great many found themselves sympathizing with Germany and being highly reluctant to follow France into the abyss "for the honor of a rapist and murderer." The Cabinet spent two days in debate over the matter, deep into the night on March 8th, and Zahle was fairly convinced he had persuaded his colleagues to pursue an "armed neutrality" and was prepared to communicate as much to Germany.

    On the morning of the 9th, however, came a critical intervention - that of King Christian X, who still jealously guarded his royal prerogatives as sovereign and was, as King, the exclusive voice in the choice to mobilize or not mobilize. While parliament was superior by custom, it was only custom because Christian X, despite his autocratic instincts, had never actually forced a constitutional crisis. [2] The King looked to North Schleswig, the so-called "lost province," and also did the math on Germany facing a two-front war against two powerful, industrialized enemies, and drew the conclusion that Germany was going to be defeated within nine months of war and that Denmark needed to be "at the table" to make sure it could absorb the lost territories when the time came. He suspected that Germany would be heavily distracted and that Denmark could make small, probing maneuvers on the frontier to tie down German forces and, hopefully, invite the intervention of third powers, ideally Britain or Russia with their half-Danish monarchs, to mediate or join an anti-German coalition to defend Denmark's honor.

    Zahle was at an impasse. Several Danish papers had, on the 9th, already begun calling for war and a "march on Flensburg." The revelation of the King's desire to order mobilization in Denmark caught the Prime Minister by surprise, and he went to Amalienborg Palace to tell Christian that the "sense of Cabinet" was against a declaration of war. Christian suggested that Zahle "reassess the sentiments" with the information that "the King and Danish people support this conflict." Zahle understood that Christian, who had never particularly cared for his progressive government, would not hesitate to dismiss him and install a caretaker Cabinet that did as he wished, but also understood that Germany was in every way militarily superior to Denmark and would likely overrun the country quickly. What unfollowed is now known in Denmark as the Mobilization Crisis; Zahle was caught between his principles of pragmatic governance as the Danish establishment and a good portion of the Danish bourgeoisie cried out for war, but also his personal pacifism and his reluctance to bend the knee to the King and allow him to override the will of the Cabinet.

    He was not forced to make a choice; upon learning of the King's opinion, several crucial Cabinet ministers flipped and voted to mobilize that evening. King Christian countersigned the mobilization order on March 10th, and a massive demonstration occurred in Copenhagen's Nytorv to celebrate what was assumed to be an imminent declaration of war. One hundred thousand Danish soldiers were mobilized with an additional twenty thousand reservists alerted, and the Danish Navy's war plan was activated with immediate effect. Denmark was, for the first time in fifty-five years, going to war.

    The only problem for them, of course, was that Germany was well-aware what the Nytorv demonstrations meant, and their war plans included Denmark, too..." [3]

    - 1919: How Europe Went to War

    [1] The Wallenberg and Hammarskjold families are good and more famous examples of this in neighboring Sweden; essentially, there were major Scandinavian aristocratic families where you went into diplomacy or the civil service as the family trade.
    [2] Nothing equivalent to the Easter Crisis of 1920 has occurred ITTL. Worth reading about if you're unfamiliar
    [3] I was only going to expend one post on Denmark but decided to split the Danish political situation off into its own before covering the Ten Days War separately
     
    Beltschlact - Part I
  • "...Denmark was, by European standards, a military minnow. It had a professional army that was modestly well equipped and with reserves could get close to two hundred thousand men in the field within twelve days; her land defenses were primarily a ring of forts defending western approaches across the island of Zealand towards Copenhagen, and a sturdy but aging defensive line running from Kolding to Esbjerg. As a country that was a combination of a long peninsula and an archipelago that controlled the entrance to the Baltic Sea, it naturally had much invested in the Royal Danish Navy, but the traumatic experience of the two Battles of Copenhagen a century earlier had dissuaded Denmark from building a grand fleet in being, especially in a time where her access to resources was highly controlled by foreign powers. Instead, Denmark had invested herself entirely in a flexible light vessel strategy that was meant to be able to close the Danish Straits; Denmark had not dreadnoughts and cruisers but rather a series of coastal defense ships with guns of excellent range, a large fleet of minelayers, and dozens of submarines modelled after the defensive Spanish Peral series of vessels. She was a popular recipient of outdated boats from France and Britain, and as the war kicked off, Denmark had the means and intention to close the Danish Straits entirely to German vessels.

    German planning around Denmark, in the Prussian tradition, allowed for a tremendous amount of initiative and improvisation. Diplomats and generals in Berlin alike were skeptical as to whether Denmark actually would mobilize, and if they did whether it would be to defend their neutrality or with hostile intent. Jagow, perhaps more than anybody else, was entirely convinced that Denmark's liberal, pacifist Prime Minister Carl Theodor Zahle would not even mobilize; Falkenhayn, ever the skeptic, rather advised the Kaiser and Furstenburg that Germany was better off assuming that Denmark would bow to pressure and likely start mining the Danish Straits if nothing else. That this prediction turned out to be true with news of Danish mobilization on March 10th tilted the conversation in Falkenhayn's direction; when Danish mobilization was not just filling the forts at Copenhagen but also the Jutland Line, Germany included Denmark in her declaration of war.

    However, German planners viewed Denmark as an obstacle rather than an enemy, and it ranked below Austria and certainly France and Belgium in the German hierarchy of hostility. The plan was to quickly overrun Danish defenses and cut off Zealand from the rest of occupied Denmark in order to force a negotiated peace. Germany allocated 12 divisions to this operation, ten of which were to cross via Jutland and another two that were to cross the Little Belt to Bojden on the island of Funen to rapidly march on Odense, the country's third-largest city. The main thrust of the German Jutland offensive, meanwhile, was meant to capture the small industrial triangle of Kolding, Fredericia and Vejle via overwhelming concentrated force at the eastern end of the Jutland Line and then continue pressing north, with the weight of German attackers ending their march at Aarhus while mop-up cavalry operations ended in Randers and Viborg. This would leave Germany in control of all of eastern Jutland's major towns and cities and, critically, its roads and railroads, and control of Odense would cut off Copenhagen from Jutland; the offensive ending where it did would also isolate Aalborg in the north. Due to the relatively low population of Denmark's west coast - flat, sandy, and marshy - this operation, known as Case D, would break the country in two by land and ferry.

    Secondary to this operation, but no less important, was the Kaiserliche Marine rapidly seizing control of the Danish Straits, known as the Belts. The idea was to quickly establish supremacy at sea on both sides of Funen and thus be able to cut off Zealand entirely, ending the ability of Copenhagen to resupply Aalborg, and vice versa. Ideally, this would force Denmark's hand into surrender, because Falkenhayn was highly confident that Denmark would fold rather than see a German force attacking across Zealand..."

    - The Reich at War

    "...Germany attacked Denmark a whole day later than Austria, in part due to skepticism up until the last second that Denmark indeed wanted to poke the bear. But with the arrival of a Danish declaration of war alongside the French one, Case D was triggered, and the 3rd Army under Ludwig von Estorff launched their attack across the full seventy kilometer frontier, with seven divisions attacking the Kolding end of the Jutland Line and three divisions tying down the rest with mobile artillery and sporadic probing attacks.

    On the 14th, Denmark was still only halfway into their mobilization and defenses around Vamdrup and Kolding were still undermanned; German troops quickly overwhelmed not just border checkpoints and fortified positions such as pillboxes and small open-aired forts but essentially marched into Kolding in force. A day later, the German Army had similarly seized Fredericia just twelve kilometers away, succeeding in quick fashion in achieving all of their second-day objectives. By the 16th, most Danish soldiers had regrouped and rallied towards the north, but the quick failure of the Jutland Line had essentially sealed their fate.

    Key to the rapid German advance of March 14-20 across Jutland was, of course, their deployment of motorized personnel carrier and armored vehicles. Germany had been a skeptic of landship development due to the mountainous terrain they would face in a war with Austria or France, but Denmark's wide, open and flat land proved to be an important testing ground for motorized offensive theory that Prussian generals were eager to study, and some concepts of what would within a few decades be known as "combined arms" were deployed across Denmark. German light bombers and strafing craft attacked Danish positions in combination with artillery while German infantry could be moved rapidly in short distances by truck or armored personnel vehicle; the rudimentary but effective A7V and B9 landships were able to scatter Danish defenders and force frequent retreats. Every few hours, German soldiers would stop, regroup, and then attack again with artillery and aerial barrages timed well together and designed more to harrass and concern the enemy than pulverize them. Late in the evening of March 20, the German Army had driven into Aarhus, one day earlier than their offensive timetable demanded.

    Military strategists have debated for decades the reasons for Jutland's quick fall. The Danes were a low spender on their army compared to other combatants but were clearly overwhelmed at Kolding with the speed, ferocity and innovation of Germany's offensive. Danish historians have faulted the Zahle government for a lack of preparation; German scholars, meanwhile, have been more complimentary, pointing out that Danish men fought bravely and doggedly all the way to Aalborg, but that the problem was that Danish military planning deployed over half of the standing army to defend the defensive lines towards Copenhagen and almost treated Jutland as a fait accompli in the case of a land war. This was not, on its own, an unreasonable strategy; even after the surrender of Denmark on March 24, Zealand remained untaken even if she lay blockaded, and the expense and effort it would have taken Germany to stage an amphibious invasion of the island and march on Copenhagen would have dramatically increased the damage and casualties for both parties, firmly against the political preferences of Berlin to execute a quick, relatively bloodless war on Denmark and knock them out of the conflict and into a pro-German camp once the war was over.

    Of course, the quick march to Aarhus is just part of the story, and Case D was a tale of two offensives: the smashing success of a proto-combined arms strategy across Jutland harrying Danish defenders much more quickly than the Danish (or their French and Austrian allies) had anticipated was offset by the dramatic failure of the German attempts to land on Funen for the first four days of the campaign. The Royal Danish Navy was small but enjoyed clever planners and an arsenal that was designed to defend the archipelago; minelaying had begun on March 10th, the day of mobilization, and the minefields in the Langelands Belt, the Great Belt, and the Fehmarn Belt were not entirely at their full capacity the morning of March 14th, but within two days they would be close to eighty percent of their planned coverage, in addition to minefields laid out on the southern approaches to Copenhagen on the Ostersund passage. Additionally, the Royal Danish Navy had twenty submarines deployed "below the Belts," designed with defensive purposes in mind; short-range, quiet, and heavily-armed due to the low diesel needs thanks to close-in submarine bases. As news arrived that the German Army was punching into the Kolding defenses early on the morning of March 14, a preemptive strike was ordered, with seven Danish subs attacking Apenrade's harbor facilities as an additional six slipped into the Flensburg fjord and fired their torpedoes at the gathered fishing and sailboats that were meant to serve as the primary troop transports to attack Funen; the Danish operation against Apenrade and Flensburg did not destroy all German capabilities, but badly limited them, badly delaying the ability to launch an attack across the Little Belt towards Odense on the first day of the war. German U-boats were deployed through the Kiel Canal ahead of the main battle group intended to clear the Great Belt, with the threat of Danish submarines clearly having been underestimated; the stage, thus, was set for the first major naval engagement of the conflict, and in Germany and Denmark the most famous - the Beltschlact, or the Battle of the Belts..."

    - The Central European War
     
    1919: How Europe Went to War
  • "...offensives of mid-March were the culmination of well over a decade of French Army planning. There was only one path forward, and that was into the heart of German defenses in the "Trier Triangle" but with the Belgian forces fully on their side and launching a well-equipped attack of their own, the French were convinced that the stars had fully aligned for their grand offensive and leaned into it fully.

    The French were, at the outset of the war, able to mobilize one hundred and ten divisions of men before raising any reserves, and the Belgians had raised two armies of their own even while filling their fortress network at Liege for what was considered an inevitable counterattack. France had the world's second-largest standing army, behind only Russia (and only narrowly behind), the world's largest contingent of landships, and its largest, most modern and best-trained army air force. While none of this was particularly sustainable for the French treasury, 1919 saw France near the peak of her modern martial powers, and as the columns of French troops were transported through Belgium past cheering crowds as biplane bombers zoomed overhead, it was considered highly likely that the Franco-Austrian alliance would prevail, probably within a year. "It is the advantage we did not enjoy in 1867," remarked French Chief of Staff Joseph Joffre, "the advantage of an ally."

    Key to this, however, was the French desire to execute a knockout blow against Germany, not unlike what Berlin was doing in Denmark in the first weeks of the war, and that was termed the "Race to the Rhine." Joffre had in the weeks prior to the war adjusted his deployment timetables and plans minutely, drawing down the number of divisions to be deployed against Italy on an Alpine front and abandoning his hopes of taking Turin within a month; news of the rapid Austrian advance through Veneto from Istria quickly persuaded him that this was the right choice, and that the smaller forces he sent into the Alps against Italy were perfect as a screening force. Rather, he focused the weight of his army towards the narrow "Maastricht Gap," the space east of Liege between the Dutch border and the Ardennes Plateau, a natural chokepoint at the border town of Eupen and beyond, Aachen, one of the most symbolic cities to the French country due to its siting as Charlemagne's capital. However, the easily-defended ground around Eupen did not lend itself to simply cramming a huge army through, and thus the offensive also called for trying to punch through northern Luxemburg towards the city of Bitburg.

    Bitburg was a strategic goal for one main reason - it lay essentially "behind" the Trier Triangle, the network of defenses arranged in a rough triangle throughout the Moselle Valley, anchored by the "Gibraltar of the North" in Luxemburg and the city's surroundings and then a latticework of fortresses, pillboxes, pre-built defense in depth trenches and even two or three suspected fields of new, innovative and difficult-to-spot landmines, with a focus on the border town of Saarbrucken and then Trier itself. While dozens of divisions were to be deployed into the maw of this defensive network, it would involve huge bloodshed to break through (and Luxemburg herself was regarded as unseizable) and so Bitburg became a way to get behind that network, collapse some of its logistic support lines, and potentially scramble German forces. The only problem? Separating Bitburg from the Belgian frontier was a wooded, hilly country known as the Eifel, split roughly equally between Luxemburg and Belgium and sluiced through in the south by the river canyon of the Sauer, which France would need to control to make this offensive work.

    The first week of March, then, saw French and Belgian soldiers plunge headfirst into German defenses. Artillery roared, bombers danced overhead to try to break defenders from the sky, hundreds if not thousands were ripped up by machine gun fire as they pressed ever-closer to Luxemburg and the outskirts of Aachen, and Saarlouis fell on March 16th, abandoned as German soldiers withdrew into safer ground. But during that first week, French elite forestry corps were pushing through the Eifel north of the Sauer, until March 20, 1919 - the First Battle of the Sauer, and the first major French defeat.

    The engagement occurred near the bridge over the river at Dasburg, a strategic point that the French simply could not cross. The German defenders held doggedly on the river's east bank, their machine guns so hot that they melted, and after ten hours of brutal fighting, they took down the bridge with artillery so that the French could not attempt to break through during the night, thus cutting off one of the most important routes across the Sauer. The strategy to push on Bitburg rapidly to cut into the German rear had failed; France would need to grind their way through in the sector to the north, the hard way..."

    - 1919: How Europe Went to War
     
    Ferdinand: The Last Emperor
  • "...quite famously, the Emperor, especially as Crown Prince, had been amongst the greatest skeptics of a general war on Austria's part, and had even been a dovish skeptic of the intervention in Serbia in 1911-13. He may have been politically reactionary and a centralizing conservative, but he was not an adventurist, that much was clear.

    Nonetheless, war had arrived thanks (in Ferdinand's view) to the militancy of the French and he was not going to let the war go to waste. Uniquely amongst the belligerents, Austria had few if any territorial goals to attain or achieve; Vienna had little interest in absorbing more troublesome Italians and if there were to be any border revisions with Germany, they would be minor ones at best. While some planners had dreamed of detonating the Reich into smithereens and re-imposing Austrian influence over Bavaria and the other Catholic South German states, that went out the window with the Hofburg Affair. Rather, the goal from the get-go was to end any German auspices of unilateral intervention and political interference in Central Europe and the Balkans for good, and cripple Italy economically and militarily to end any threats to Istria and Trent. As such, the military strategy for Austria was simple - hold Germany in the Bohemian passes and upon the Inn River, and then massively attack Italy across the Isonzo River and southeastwards from Trent. The goal, and hope, was to draw the Italian Army in, defeat it in the vicinity of Udine with overwhelming numbers, and then cut off its route of retreat across the Piave by seizing the high grounds of the Asiago Plateau and the massif of Monte Grappa immediately to its south, from which that valley could be controlled.

    Ferdinand was skeptical that this plan would be as easy as Dankl and others suggested it would be, as aware as anyone else of Italy's rapid rearmament starting in early 1917 over concerns of France's growing technological and naval edge, but approved the plan. Because in the end, as the first weeks of the war proved, the goal for Austria was not a military victory so much as a unifying political one; tens of thousands of volunteers rallied to the call across both halves of the Empire, with the Honved as eager to march to glory as anyone else. Magyarism seemed snuffed out, at least in that instant, and quite suddenly the culmination of the crisis begun in the days after his succession seemed to require the war to continue and, most importantly, the war to be won.

    As such, on March 15, 1919, the Austrian elite Alpenkorps launched a massive attack from their primary base at Trent, using sparing air cover to harass Italian defenders, with the main thrust aimed at Asiago and a smaller mobile mountaineer division attacking from their high ground towards the plateau of Feltre and Santa Giustina, from which the headwaters of the Piave flowed. The next day, March 16, came the main attack, with over a million men, split roughly evenly from the two halves of the Habsburg Empire, crossing the symbolic border of the Isonzo (Suca in Slovene) into the teeth of Italy's prepared forward defenses, which while stoutly-built were underequipped in terms of modern guns; they were aided by an artillery barrage as well as naval and aerial bombardment beyond anything modern European armies had yet experienced. The goal was to take Udine within five days, and to seize Treviso within twenty, and after the success of overrunning a number of Italian fortresses in the first day of the war, Vienna was optimistic that the knockout against the Italians would, indeed, work.

    Austria would not just sit on the defensive in the Bohemian passes mowing down Germans as they attacked into chokepoints - they had a war to win..."

    - Ferdinand: The Last Emperor

    (Up next - the Austrian offensive of mid-March from the Italian perspective)
     
    In Rome's Image: Italy and the 20th Century
  • "...there was much to critique about Italian war planning in the time immediately preceding the outbreak of the Central European War, and much to critique about the first weeks of the conflict ahead of the twin stands at the Asiago and the Piave that arrested the Austrian advance in early April.

    Diaz had expected fewer Austro-Hungarian forces to pour across the Isonzo and had not anticipated as many of the elite Alpenkorps to attack southeast from Trento, and he had presumed that France would send a considerably larger contingent in the direction of Menton trying to pierce the "Alpine Wall" at its most vulnerable southern anchor, with the support of naval barrage. While confident that a small, three-division force could hold the Alpine defenses in the west, he had nonetheless scaled up his forces in the West while maintaining the same forces planned to hold against Austria as-is, and had limited the amount of mobile artillery deployed all the way to the front. As such, the attack of March 15th across the Isonzo was much larger than Diaz had anticipated, but his preparations and the careful logistical work of his predecessor Cadorna had left Italy well-prepared to quickly respond.

    Nonetheless, between March 15-28, Italy looked to be in dire straits. Italy had invested only miniscule amounts of in the development of landship technology, while the Austrians had, through Skoda, built the sophisticated S3 machine that required a crew of only four and was loosely based on the best of French and German models, and with the wide open Venetian Plain before them threw two hundred landships - what would be considered a full landship division in present day terms - into the maw with artillery support, overrunning Italian defenses on the frontier that had been expected by Rome to hold for days, if not weeks. Where Austria lay behind Italy was both the number of planes at their disposal and the quality, but even there Italy held back, with Diaz reluctant to deploy his full light bomber force all the way forward as Austrian forces surged ahead, quickly breaking through.

    The attack towards Asiago was a major reason why. The Italian defenses in the Alps had been designed to hold against a smaller force but targeted breakthroughs quickly threatened the entire rear of Italy's own Alpini in territory that was unsuitable for quick deployment of trenches. For a few grim days, the gamble by Austria to defend against Germany along the Bohemian frontier and on the Inn River while throwing the weight of their army towards the Piave seemed to be working, and having rushed the First and Second Armies into Veneto, Diaz was critically aware that he stood at risk of having his retreating army cut off or threatened from its rear if the Austrians achieved a breakthrough at Asiago. Suddenly, the massif of Monte Grappa was hugely important, a position from which Austria could with artillery threaten the whole of northeast Italy, and a genuine panic broke out.

    To an extent, Diaz had planned for this. The Italian grand strategy of the war was, in the event of minor or moderate breakthroughs by Austria, to retreat off of their first-line defenses at the Isonzo and regroup behind the Tagliamento, whose crossings they would dynamite. Secondary and tertiary defenses - pillboxes, small fortresses, and trenchworks - would be thrown up in rows between this river, which was much broader and thus harder to cross in the north than in the south, and the Piave, which was where Italy's reserves would begin to be organized and prepared for a counterattack after luring the Austrians forward in a fighting retreat meant to bleed the enemy as much as possible. This was, in part, based on straightforward Italian geography, but also Diaz's careful study of the recent Great American War, specifically the lengthy stalemate of Brazil and Argentina along the Parana as well as the bloody battle along the Susquehanna in Pennsylvania between the United and Confederate States.

    As such, for two long and grueling weeks, Austrian forces pressed ahead, seizing Udine in what would be the first major victory outside of Denmark for any country at war on March 20th but then finding themselves at the mercy of a hail of artillery fire, strafing runs from light fighters, and then the arduous crossing of the Tagliamento. The Italians always had a defensive line ready which bled the enemy, and when it was clear that they were outnumbered or losing the initiative, the Italians would retreat under cover of intensifying, and more consistent, artillery fire.

    By April 1, the Austrians had suffered tens of thousands of casualties and despite having successfully forded the Tagliamento practically limped into the town of Ceggia, their forward operating position. With supplies largely provided by horse and their movements having been too rapid, they had reached the end of their reasonable initial supply lines and were exhausted by two weeks of unrelenting fighting that had revealed exactly the kind of war that Europe was in for, but Italy not only still stood but had successfully executed its strategic retreat with considerably lesser casualties and Diaz's preparations had seemed sound.

    Now, just for Asiago to hold..."

    - In Rome's Image: Italy and the 20th Century
     
    God's Kingdom: The Catholic Church and the 20th Century New
  • "...so seriously did Ignatius take his responsibility that the Pope personally left the Leonine for the first time since the days of the Maltese Exile and traveled surreptitiously to Milan, where he hoped to speak to Prime Minister Vittorio Orlando personally on the matter.

    Orlando was a liberal, but not unsympathetic to the Church and indeed was privately devout. Ignatius was ideologically opposed to the Unione Liberale due to its tradition as an anti-clerical party but its alliances with Catholic voters had become more formalized over the previous decade and he was confident that in Orlando he would be heard out properly. The meeting between Pope and Prime Minister was to take place away from prying eyes in Rome, at a small villa on the outskirts of Milan arranged for the occasion.

    Ignatius had a compelling case to make. He came from a family of diplomats, after all, and he was confident in his abilities as a conciliator. By the time of the March 29th meeting between him and Orlando, Europe had been at war for more than two weeks, with Austrians upon the Piave, Germany having seized Denmark, [1] and the French succeeding in their breakthroughs at Eupen and Aachen and the Siege of Luxemburg having begun. Nonetheless, the stubborn Austrian defenses against the Germans in the Bohemian Mountains and upon the Inn (though with the loss of Salzburg) had proven to show that this would be a much longer war than most anticipated, and Ignatius implored Orlando to consider the bloodshed that could be avoided with a mediation.

    Orlando did not entirely disagree, in part because Italy was at war through treaty obligations (and, it must be said, out of desire for claiming irredenta in Istria, Trento, and Nizza and Corsica) but also because he privately thought the detonation of war over the Hofburg Affair was, in a word, absurd. However, upon probing Ignatius on this point, he found the Pope's response lacking, too qualified and diplomatic, even if in fairness to the Pontiff, he was simply trying to not promise the Italian a result he could not deliver. With the Church's condemnation of Stephane Clement's behavior not forthcoming as a prerequisite, Orlando politely thanked the Pope for his time and offered him a military escort back to Rome, and then elected to communicate with his German counterparts via Switzerland, the required conduit for all allied communications during the Central European War that would turn her cantons into a den of spies and intrigue.

    The Germans, unsurprisingly, were even more hostile to the idea of Pope Ignatius as a mediator to end the conflict before it spiraled further out of control, and not just due to the Protestantism of the House of Hohenzollern. While much of Ignatius' plan was pragmatic and intended to use his brother Alfonso, a high-ranking and experienced Spanish diplomat, as an initial go-between for Italy and France (the two belligerents who in the first months of the war did little more than lob artillery shells at mountains near Italian-held Menton and thus had the least bad blood), there was a major stumbling block for Germans - Ignatius' father, Rafael Carlos Merry del Val, who had been the Spanish legation chief in London fifty years earlier and at that time close friends with Dowager Empress Eugenie of France, a friendship he would maintain through the rest of his life. This was a critical problem because Eugenie had, perhaps by accident, become something of a shibboleth figure in the German imagination, an ultra-reactionary and manipulative grandmother whose notorious conservative Catholicism lay behind every French (and perhaps even Austrian decision) as a puppet-mistress pulling the strings of her vapid and gullible grandson. While this had been her reputation for years, the Hofburg Affair had accelerated it, as German partisans simply could not understand - despite France's constitutional monarchy - how Eugenie could have been so callous towards the murder of the brother-in-law of her grandson and Emperor, and behind that must lie something sinister.

    In that sense, despite Ignatius' skill as a diplomat and administrator in many ways making him a perfect mediator between warring states on paper, his presumed (and, indeed fairly, actual) sympathy for the "Catholic powers" of France and Austria already closed too many doors in Italy, and his family's longstanding friendship with the House of Bonaparte bolted the door permanently shut in Berlin. The Leonine City, for its best efforts in March and April of 1919, would not serve as a mediator to cool passions or bring an end to a war that Ignatius feared would "break civilization" - and the Central European War would continue to plunge the heart of Christendom into further bloodshed..."

    - God's Kingdom: The Catholic Church and the 20th Century

    [1] Don't worry, we'll be getting back to this soon
     
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    Beltschlact - Part II New
  • "...the Kaiserliche Marine was Europe's third-largest navy, behind the world-leading Royal Navy of Great Britain and France's Marine Imperiale. Nonetheless, despite this overwhelming advantage over Denmark, naval planners both at the Admiralty in Berlin as well as forward operating bases such as Wilhelmshaven or Kiel were known for a conservatism that bordered on paralysis. Germany had little seagoing tradition, and the KM was one of the few truly unifying institutions in a Germany where the constituent kingdoms and duchies still fielded their own armies. Germany had not engaged in direct naval warfare since participating in the multinational intervention in China in 1900-01, and had not fought a naval conflict alone since 1887, when an otherwise disadvantaged United States had otherwise humiliated them in the South Pacific during a brief gunboat war over suzerainty in Samoa. Thus, for all their dreadnoughts and U-boats, the German naval high command was exceptionally cautious about making a mistake, especially considering the advantages that Danish coastal defenses both on land and at sea would enjoy as well as the minefields known to be strewn across the Belts.

    The Battle of the Belts thus boiled down to a straightforward paradigm - Germany needed to clear the Little Belt of Danish vessels in order to safeguard an amphibious assault upon Funen (along with an attack from Jutland across the narrows at Middelfart) and also needed to secure the Langelands Belt and Great Belt to cut off the Royal Danish Navy from being able to maneuver between Aalborg and Copenhagen at will. From the very beginning of the Ten Days War, Germany had no interest in attempting to attack Copenhagen from the south, rather deducing that they could place a battleship squadron at the southern entrance to the Kattegat beyond its minefields as a screening force while making the decisive action to Zealand's north.

    Thus, on March 17th, the Beltgruppe was launched out of Kiel. It contained the dreadnoughts Nassau and Bayern, as well as six cruisers and, crucially, twenty U-boats and seventeen minesweepers, deployed well ahead of the main battle formation. Three more dreadnoughts were sent past the Fehrman headland through the Femer Belt, which Germany was highly confident had yet to be mined, to take up a position east of Klintholm where they would watch for Danish naval action. The Beltgruppe moved ahead into the Langelands Belt at approximately nine o' clock in the morning, with the minesweepers escorted by U-boats that could sweep under the mines.

    Submarines were not, in 1919, yet ready for the role of "hunter-killers" that could engage in underwater duels, but the German U-boats routed ahead were not meant for that purpose; rather, they were to go beneath the minefield and harry Danish vessels on the other side, especially small but well-armored coastal defense vessels. As the minesweepers did their work, Danish submarines suddenly appeared, opening fire upon them and sinking five; the cruisers responded by coming forward ahead of the dreadnoughts and engaging them with rapid fire..."

    - 1919: How Europe Went to War

    "...late in the afternoon of March 17th, the Danish coastal defense ships Herluf Trolle and Peter Skram rounded the headland at Kalundborg escorted by torpedo boats and submarines as reports arrived that the Germans had, despite heavy losses of minesweepers, punched their way through the initial line of sea mines in the Langelands Belt and would soon be in striking distance of Nyborg. German U-boats had been lying in wait for especially this circumstance and released their torpedoes upon making visual read on these main vessels, sinking the Herluf Trolle shortly before sundown and striking Peter Skram above the water line and forcing her into harbor at Kalundborg, where most of her crew could evacuate ashore before another torpedo struck her aft and half-beached it.

    Nonetheless, the German advance through the minefield was not entirely unmolested; two cruisers were sunk successfully by Danish submarines even as they managed to take out the enemy with well-aimed shots, and the Nassau struck a mine and took on a dangerous amount of water in one of her midships compartments, forcing her to turn around back to Kiel. Upon this being signaled, the Herzog was recalled from its position at Klintholm to replace her, and she would enter the Langelands Belt at night escorted by three more minesweepers.

    For Danish policymakers, the events of March 17th were a disaster; while real damage had been dealt out to the Germans, they had failed to sink any dreadnoughts and a narrow path through their minefield had been secured. U-boats were operating with impunity in the north of the Great Belt, striking at harbor facilities and any Danish vessel they could find; the night of March 17-18 was tense and uncertain, and when dawn broke the next day, it was with Bayern and Herzog and their escorts steaming into the Samso Belt, with Danish submarines pulling back, having lost close to half their number, to defend the approaches around the north of Zealand.

    The initial punch into the Belts completed, the German high command ordered another attempted crossing to Funen to be launched on March 20, with the Beltgruppe protecting the center of the Samso Belt against a Danish counterattack. Both from Middelfart and from Apenrade, twenty thousand German soldiers successfully made the crossing, even though the teeth of defenses around Bojden and Assens managed to kill hundreds of Germans, particularly through the sinking of landing boats before they could get to the shore and seeing those within them drowned in the freezing cold Little Belt. Nonetheless, by the early morning of March 21, the full division of men deployed forward onto Funen had secured their beachheads, and what few Danish submarines were still operating "below the Belts" had been identified and driven out by German destroyers and cruisers operating in tight packs and deploying extremely crude depth charge prototypes developed thanks to observations of American counter-submarine action in the Caribbean in 1914-15.

    The Danish losses by March 21 were thus staggering - two coastal defense battleships, leaving just two other of the Trolle-class as well as the flagship Niels Juel available, and more than half of their submarine fleet. While many torpedo boats and monitors were concentrated around Copenhagen, those were needed to defend the approaches to the capital, the north of which was still not mined. The Germans, despite suffering great losses in the Langelands Belt minefield themselves, had achieved their breakthrough, and the Beltgruppe was now rounding to the north of Zealand towards the Kattegat and screening the southern entrance to the Oresund. That evening, a German U-boat formation dove under the minefields south of Copenhagen and struck the Niels Juel at its patrol point near the south of the island of Kastrup, scoring two wounding hits that forced it back into harbor at a lilt, with smoke billowing from one of its engine rooms, for hundreds of stunned Danes to see from the shore. The next morning, word arrived that the first line of defenses on Funen were broken entirely, and that an additional two divisions of Germans had crossed through Middelfart and were marching towards Odense, with Funen's defenders entirely cut off from reinforcements across the Belts by the German Navy. Denmark had, in just eight days, been sliced up into three parts. That afternoon, a demonstration was held in front of the Radhus, Copenhagen's iconic city hall - a demonstration to demand an immediate suspension of hostilities, with Danish citizens terrified that Germans would be marching across Zealand before long..."

    - The Central European War
     
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    The Guns of March New
  • "...there is a certain dark irony that the rapid collapse of Denmark after a mere ten days at war did not encourage the doves of peace but rather the hawks of war; the speed with which Germany overran the small country, in particular taking the defenses of Jutland, persuaded other powers involved, in particular Austria as she advanced through northeastern Italy, that the war could be won swiftly and a decisive knockout blow was attainable and how the war would be concluded. For a few strange weeks in April 1919, this assumption sank in across central Europe, but Denmark was very much an edge case, not an indicative one.

    The decisive day, perhaps of Danish history, would be March 23, 1919. The protests that overran and occupied the Copenhagen Radhus on March 22 were followed early the next morning by the resignation of the Zahle Cabinet that had led Denmark into war. It was thus an open question who, if anyone, Christian X would appoint as the new Prime Minister. The morning of the 23rd had seen the Amagertorv seized by anti-war protestors and the city was in a state of open revolt, with overwhelmed police calling on soldiers to help them keep the peace. Around noon that day, the mob arrived at Amalienborg, the palace complex in the north of city where the royal family resided and which Christian X, for reasons that still elude historians, had not yet evacuated. Palace staff hurried artwork and furniture down to the Olfert Fischer, docked in harbor within walking distance, as soldiers opened fire on the protestors, killing over a dozen but buying the royal family time to flee down to the boat and escape. At 1:17 in the afternoon, Christian X of Denmark left Copenhagen Harbor, gazing back at pillars of smoke above the city. It would be the last time he ever saw it. An hour later, his vessel rendezvoused with the British cruiser HMS Minotaur, which had surreptitiously slipped into Danish waters near Helsingor, at the narrowest point of the Kattegat and within sight of Swedish shores.

    The British mission to evacuate the Danish royal family was both secret from the Danish people and had received the tacit signoff of the German Navy; the Bayern signaled the Minotaur as it approached Denmark, and the German ambassador in the Netherlands had been informed of the plan well in advance, boosting his importance in the months and years to come as a conduit for back-channel negotiation. George V's mother, Princess Alexandra, was Danish, and he had spent a great deal of time in Copenhagen as a young man and with his children, having a certain affinity for the city. The evacuation of his cousin Christian X, his son Crown Prince Fredrick, and other senior members of the Danish royalty was thus his way of protecting immediate family, as much from an outraged Danish public as from the advancing Germans, and the German high command was more or less fine with those circumstances, not wanting to give the British any reason to intervene on Denmark's behalf.

    The evacuation of Christian X was nonetheless hugely controversial, as it plunged Denmark into a constitutional crisis. The sovereign had fled into exile without formally abdicating even though the Germans were not advancing on the city; Zealand's defenses were still filled with close to half of Denmark's army, and though most of the Danish fleet had been destroyed in the Beltschlact over the previous few days, the Germans had still not seized Odense as of early afternoon on the 23rd. Zahle's resignation, and Christian's flight without having formally appointed his replacement, opened the question of who, exactly, was in charge of the country. The short answer, of course, was nobody.

    Stepping into this abyss was former Foreign Minister Erik Scavenius, who had returned from Sweden a few days prior and was known to represent both the Radikale Venstre party that was the largest in Denmark's parliament as well as the Germanophile, pacifist line. While he was of the nobility and thus hostile to many of the socialist current that made up the "22ers" in Copenhagen, he was nonetheless the most straightforward path to a quick exit from the war, a position that much of Radikale Venstre had consolidated behind, especially as the Zealand defenses remained manned. A peace in March of 1919 would be a peace of dignity, without the heart of Denmark destroyed and ravaged by war. As such, twelve hours after Zahle's resignation and nine hours after Christian had fled, Scavenius invited a number of parliamentarians of the three major non-socialist parties to form a caretaker government that included technocrats and military officers, with himself as Prime Minister; in the absence of a royal invitation, Scavenius declared from the well of parliament that "parliamentarianism has ruled supreme in Denmark since 1901" and, in essence, unilaterally consigned Danish monarchism to being purely constitutional, and at that moment it was an open question if Danish monarchy would even survive the month of March.

    The next morning, with Copenhagen largely pacified and close to a hundred people killed in the riots, Scavenius ordered an offer of an unconditional ceasefire be extended to the Germans, both in Odense (where the forces under Ludwig von Estorff accepted it and retreated to defensive positions) as well as in Berlin via the Swedish embassy, which was accepted there, too. Denmark and Germany would both lay down their guns and get to work hashing out a peace treaty; the Ten Day War was over. But the question of Denmark's royalty, and what its relationship with the rest of Europe after the war ended, remained open-ended, and would be a question that would define Danish history thereafter..."

    - The Guns of March
     
    The Root of the Problem: The Tumultuous Term of America's 29th President New
  • "...variety of factors; the Root administration was of course on its own simply instinctively Anglophile, a position that post-1918 was less controversial in Irish-American communities, but the American political spectrum as a whole was Francophobic going back decades. Other than ultra-conservative and Catholic French-Canadian immigrants in the mill towns of New England (a constituency the Liberals were never carrying to begin with), there was no political subgroup who would be offended by a hard line against Paris, and there was much to gain for the flailing Liberal Party in appealing to German and Italian revanchist sentiment in the heady early days of the war.

    What really outraged ordinary Americans and severely limited the appeal of French positions west of the Atlantic, however, was the so-called "Parisian Panic" or "French Crash" of March and April 1919, a financial panic triggered by the onset of the war. It was often said that the nadir of the postwar depression had come and gone in September of 1918; in the six months since then (for all its efforts at improving the collection of economic statistics, the Root Labor and Treasury departments still had fairly limited data by modern standards) there had been evidence that the worst was over and while unemployment, homelessness, and productivity were still at a post-1904 low, the situation was at least not getting worse and in some parts of the country seemed to be slowly improving into the spring of 1919. This came to a screeching halt on March 24, 1919, known as Black Monday, when French banks - the second-largest foreign investor in the American economy - liquidated millions of dollars worth of investments to withdraw capital to fund their war against Germany and Italy that had been declared just ten days earlier. As the size of the selloff became clear, panic selling reverberated across Wall Street; on the 24th alone, the Dow Jones lost sixteen percent of her value, and over the course of the entire week fell by more than half as other brokerages went to cash. This was followed up by a run on gold, squeezing the Treasury, and Andrew Mellon refused to order the New York Stock Exchange be closed to help manage the outflow [1], believing that the panic would subside in time and that there was nothing fundamentally unsound about the shares being dumped, even as brokerages struggled to find buyers. The eventual bottom of the market was found a few weeks later on April 11th, a Friday, sixty-three percent below the close of March 21. It was the worst crash in Wall Street history, eerily occurring around the same time - the last two weeks of March - as the 2002 global financial crisis eighty-three years later.

    Mellon's assessment that French banks liquidating their American holdings was a matter for the Bourse rather than American markets was not entirely incorrect, but it nonetheless did little to help a panic that dwarfed 1904 in terms of balance sheet losses in New York, and the 1919 crash would have a lasting impact on the American economy. Beyond smothering the nascent recovery and likely extending the 1918 depression conditions for another six to eight months deep into late 1919, it also saw the collapse in June of the great, legendary house of Drexel & Morgan; indeed, many noted that had J.P. Morgan still been alive, he likely could have leapt in to head off the worst of the "French Crash" as he had been able to do in 1904. Other firms such as Charles Barney and Co. collapsed in mid-1919 as well after suffering grievous losses, and Baker, Perkins & Co. only barely survived thanks to an infusion of her partners' personal wealth. The stock market would remain depressed for years to come as lending for investments on the New York Stock Exchange dwindled from a banking sector unwilling to take on severe risks, and the tight credit of 1919-20 prevented necessary loans to finance industrial recovery and development, especially as lending to the German and Italian governments came to occupy much of Wall Street's attention.

    However, the crash - which could have plunged the United States into a truly apocalyptic financial crisis and existential depression - avoided such permanent damage for a few reasons. One, the post-1904 reforms of the Hearst administration allowed the National Bank flexibility and prevented devastating bank runs thanks to federal deposit insurance, which while unable to prevent several banks from failing nonetheless gave ordinary depositors a great deal of confidence. Secondly, the French Crash was primarily tied to American equities and direct investments, not the considerably larger holdings of debt and war bonds that had financed the Great American War and which most middle class investors had more exposure to thanks to war bond drives; thus, the selloff that tanked the Dow saw bond prices rise slightly, and the greatly ballooned debt exposure of the United States of the postwar era was not engulfed in crisis. While the recovery's momentum was halted and partially reversed, 1919 - as spectacularly bad as it was - could have been much, much worse.

    For Wall Street, however, that was little help, and after the sudden firesale of French-owned investments on March 24-26, the appetite of the Street's brokerages and lenders to extend credit to Paris was greatly diminished; Jack Morgan, the great financier's son and heir, remarked shortly after the dissolution of his famed firm and inheritance that the Bourse could have coordinated between their grand banks to gradually liquidate overseas investments (similar, if much smaller, panics enveloped economies like Mexico, Egypt and Brazil with large French investment holdings) in the way that his father coordinated a consortium of banks to save the American economy in 1904, and that this "un-cautious approach to French economy of trade," as he phrased in, "has left a great many men in Manhattan quite burned and now twice shy." The Root administration, now facing more economic headwinds and a new round of criticism of Mellon's failure to act quickly, certainly could sympathize with such feelings..."

    - The Root of the Problem: The Tumultuous Term of America's 29th President

    [1] William Gibbs McAdoo prudently did this in OTL August 1914
     
    The Second Act of the Georgian Age: Britain 1906-1924 New
  • "...the Chamberlain government's reaction was one trying to balance a general shock - in particular at the speed with which Austria advanced towards the Piave and France's early, remarkable successes breaking through at Aachen - with the pragmatism for which the Cabinet was trying to build its cachet, in particular with the universally respected Lord Crewe at the helm of the Foreign Office.

    Unsurprisingly, Crewe quickly went to work. He reiterated in diplomatic cables through Amsterdam - an obvious and key neutral arbiter close to Britain as well as the belligerent parties - that the stance of the Crewe Note issued in reaction to the start of the Great American War five and a half years earlier had not changed. Britain would tolerate no molestation of neutral shipping or the impediment of free trade on the high seas, nor would it countenance "a policy of blockade." In addition to this, Crewe made sure that this reissuance of his eponymous note contained an additional pronunciation, which came to be known as the Dover Addendum or, in France, as the Dover Policy: that the Royal Navy would consider the use of the Straits of Dover by warships as a deliberate act of war against the United Kingdom, and that the British government would not tolerate belligerent behavior in those waters. As if the point was not made clearly enough, the Home Fleet was mobilized and placed near the mouth of the Thames to enforce the Dover Policy directly.

    The decision to issue this addendum to the Crewe Note was not taken lightly, and indeed Chamberlain - who was only obliquely consulted on it [1] - was hesitant. The sense of the Cabinet was almost unanimously one of neutrality and considerable animus towards Belgium, with any voice suggesting that Britain was still legally bound to enforce the Treaty of London more or less snuffed out by March 1919. Nonetheless, that neutrality was more nuanced and complicated than met the eye; the majority of Cabinet was softly pro-German, as was much of the opposition, and the Dover Policy by virtue of simple geography effectively foreclosed the use of the English Channel by the Kaiserliche Marine entirely, while placing essentially no such restrictions on the French Marine Imperiale operating out of Brest and meant the French port of Le Havre would, under a strict reading of the Crewe Note, be unable to be threatened.

    Crewe saw the matter differently; he deduced quickly that the French, already having to split their navy between the Atlantic, the Mediterranean and the South China Sea, would already be limited in their ability to interdict neutral, German-bound shipping through the Channel and he took the view that his Note would defend neutrality in the Channel. He also believed that a Franco-German naval skirmish near British shores would substantially raise the risks to British shipping and potentially drag Britain in as a party should something go awry; the Crewe Note's additional policy thus was meant to serve as much as a deterrent to defend British neutrality as it was high-minded to protect the principles of open and free trade.

    With the Dover Policy laid out, however, Britain still had a role to play, especially the banking houses of the City. Geostrategic rival that France may have been, the Paris Bourse was the third-largest financial center on earth in 1919 behind London and narrowly New York, and British and French bankers and businessmen were remarkably intertwined both financially and socially; Paris was where the British elite enjoyed spending long weekends, a libertine oasis in a conservative and Catholic country. There was therefore a great deal of turbulence around the idea of Britain overtly signaling her support for Germany, and the question of how disentangle its relationship with France in a way that proved neutrality became a difficult one; the spring of 1919 would be a strange, uncertain and worrisome one for the British establishment and public alike, and indeed there was a brief recession for some months before the war orders from all warring parties began to truly trickle in..." [2]

    - The Second Act of the Georgian Age: Britain 1906-1924

    [1] The Cabinet was much more of a group of equals in this time rather than the more top-down, Presidential arrangement PMs enjoy in present day; Foreign Secretaries enjoyed wide latitude to conduct foreign policy
    [2] Now I know what you're thinking, "Is Britain really going to let Italy and Austria shithouse with their navies to cut each other off" and the answer is yes, sort of, because the assumption at this point is still that Italy is about to get knocked out of the war and Germany will face the full brunt of the Iron Triangle on her own.
     
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