Book: In the World War

C >> Count Ottokar Czernin >> In the World War




One of the many reproaches that have been brought against me recently
is to the effect that I, as ambassador at Bucharest, should have
resigned if my proposals were not accepted in Vienna. These reproaches
are dictated by quite mistaken ideas of competency and responsibility.
It is the duty of a subordinate official to describe the situation as
he sees it and to make such proposals as he considers right, but the
responsibility for the policy is with the Minister for Foreign
Affairs, and it would lead to the most impossible and absurd state of
things if every ambassador whose proposals were rejected were to draw
the conclusion that his resignation was a necessary consequence
thereof. If officials were to resign because they did not agree with
the view of their chief, it would mean that almost all of them would
send in their resignations.

Espionage and counter-espionage have greatly flourished during the
war. In that connection Russia showed great activity in Roumania.

In October, 1914, an event occurred which was very unfortunate for me.
I drove from Bucharest to Sinaia, carrying certain political
documents with me in a dispatch-case, which, by mistake, was fastened
on behind instead of being laid in the car. On the way the case was
unstrapped and stolen. I made every effort to get it back, and
eventually recovered it after a search of three weeks, involving much
expense. It was found at last in some peasant's barn, but nothing had
apparently been abstracted save the cigarettes that were in it.

Nevertheless, after the occupation of Bucharest copies and photographs
of all my papers were found in Bratianu's house.

After the loss of the dispatch-case I at once tendered my resignation
in Vienna, but it was not accepted by the Emperor.

The Red Book on Roumania, published by Burian, which contains a
summary of my most important reports, gives a very clear picture of
the several phases of that period and the approaching danger of war.
The several defeats that Roumania suffered justified the fears of all
those who warned her against premature intervention. In order to
render the situation quite clear, it must here be explained that
during the time immediately preceding Roumania's entry into war there
were really only two parties in the country: the one was hostile to us
and wished for an immediate declaration of war, and the other was the
"friendly" one that did not consider the situation ripe for action and
advised waiting until we were weakened still more. During the time of
our successes the "friendly" party carried the day. Queen Marie, I
believe, belonged to the latter. From the beginning of the war, she
was always in favour of "fighting by the side of England," as she
always looked upon herself as an Englishwoman, but, at the last moment
at any rate, she appears to have thought the time for action
premature. A few days before the declaration of war she invited me to
a farewell lunch, which was somewhat remarkable, as we both knew that
in a very few days we should be enemies. After lunch I took the
opportunity of telling her that I _likewise_ was aware of the
situation, but that "the Bulgarians would be in Bucharest before the
Roumanians reached Budapest." She entered into the conversation very
calmly, being of a very frank nature and not afraid of hearing the
truth. A few days later a letter was opened at the censor's office
from a lady-in-waiting who had been present at the lunch. It was
evidently not intended for our eyes; it contained a description of the
_dejeuner fort embetant_, with some unflattering remarks about me.

Queen Marie never lost her hope in a final victory. She did not
perhaps agree with Bratianu in all his tactics, but a declaration of
war on us was always an item on her programme. Even in the distressing
days of their disastrous defeat she always kept her head above water.
One of the Queen's friends told me afterwards that when our armies,
from south, north and west, were nearing Bucharest, when day and night
the earth shook with the ceaseless thunder of the guns, the Queen
quietly went on with her preparations for departure, and was firmly
persuaded that she would return as "Empress of all the Roumanians." I
have been told that after the taking of Bucharest Bratianu collapsed
altogether, and it was Queen Marie who comforted and encouraged him.
Her English blood always asserted itself. After we had occupied
Wallachia, I received absolutely reliable information from England,
according to which she had telegraphed to King George from Jassy,
recommending "her little but courageous people" to his further
protection. After the Peace of Bucharest strong pressure was brought
to bear on me to effect the abdication of the King and Queen. It would
not in any way have altered the situation, as the Entente would
naturally have reinstated them when victory was gained; but I opposed
all such efforts, not for the above reason, which I could not foresee,
but from other motives, to be mentioned later, although I was
perfectly certain that Queen Marie would always remain our enemy.

The declaration of war created a very uncomfortable situation for all
Austro-Hungarians and Germans. I came across several friends in the
Austro-Hungarian colony who had been beaten by the Roumanian soldiers
with the butt-ends of their rifles on their way to prison. I saw wild
scenes of panic and flight that were both grotesque and revolting, and
the cruel sport lasted for days.

In Vienna all subjects of an enemy state were exempt from deportation.
In my capacity as Minister I ordered reprisals on Roumanian citizens,
as there were no other means to relieve the fate of our poor refugees.
As soon as the neutral Powers notified that the treatment had become
more humane, they were set free.

If we showed ourselves at the windows or in the garden of the Embassy
the crowd scoffed and jeered at us, and at the station, when we left,
a young official whom I asked for information simply turned his back
on me.

A year and a half later I was again in Bucharest. The tide of victory
had carried us far, and we came to make peace. We were again subjects
of interest to the crowds in the streets, but in very different
fashion. A tremendous ovation awaited us when we appeared in the
theatre, and I could not show myself in the street without having a
crowd of admirers in my wake.

Before all this occurred, and when war was first declared, the members
of the Embassy, together with about 150 persons belonging to the
Austro-Hungarian colony, including many children, were interned, and
spent ten very unpleasant days, as we were not sure whether we should
be released or not. We had occasion during that time to witness three
Zeppelin raids over Bucharest, which, seen in the wonderful moonlight,
cloudless nights under the tropical sky, made an unforgettable
impression on us.

I find the following noted in my diary:


"_Bucharest, August, 1916._

"The Roumanians have declared war on my wife and daughter too. A
deputation composed of two officials from the Ministry for Foreign
Affairs, in frock-coats and top hats, appeared last night at eleven
o'clock in my villa at Sinaia. My wife was roused out of her sleep,
and by the light of a single candle--more is forbidden on account of
the Zeppelin raids--they informed her that Roumania had declared war
on us.

"As the speaker put it, '_Vous avez declare la guerre_.' He then read
the whole declaration of war aloud to them both. Bratianu sent word
to me that he would have a special train sent to take my wife and
daughter and the whole personnel of the Embassy to Bucharest.


"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"The Roumanians really expected a Zeppelin attack at once. So far it
has not occurred, and they begin to feel more at ease, and say that it
is too far for the Zeppelins to come all the way from Germany. They
seem not to be aware that Mackensen has Zeppelins in Bulgaria. But who
can tell whether they really will come?


"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"Last night a Zeppelin did come. About three o'clock we were roused by
the shrill police whistles giving the alarm. The telephone notified us
that a Zeppelin had crossed the Danube, and all the church bells began
to peal. Suddenly darkness and silence reigned, and the whole town,
like some great angry animal, sullen and morose, prepared for the
enemy attack. Nowhere was there light or sound. The town, with a
wonderful starry firmament overhead, waited in expectation. Fifteen,
twenty minutes went by, when suddenly a shot was fired and, as though
it were a signal, firing broke out in every direction. The
anti-aircraft guns fired incessantly, and the police, too, did their
best, firing in the air. But what were they firing at? There was
absolutely nothing to be seen. The searchlights then came into play.
Sweeping the heavens from east to west, from north to south, they
searched the firmament, but could not find the Zeppelin. Was it really
there, or was the whole thing due to excited Roumanian nerves?

"Suddenly a sound was heard: the noise of the propeller overhead. It
sounded so near in the clear, starry night, we felt we must be able to
see it. But the noise died away in the direction of Colbroceni. Then
we heard the first bomb. Like a gust of wind it whistled through the
air, followed by a crash and an explosion. A second and third came
quickly after. The firing became fiercer, but they can see nothing
and seem to aim at where the sound comes from. The searchlights sway
backwards and forwards. Now one of them has caught the airship, which
looks like a small golden cigar. Both the gondolas can be seen quite
distinctly, and the searchlight keeps it well in view, and now a
second one has caught it. It looks as though this air cruiser is
hanging motionless in the sky, brilliantly lit up by the searchlights
right and left. Then the guns begin in good earnest. Shrapnel bursts
all around, a wonderful display of fireworks, but it is impossible to
say if the aim is good and if the monster is in danger. Smaller and
smaller grows the Zeppelin, climbing rapidly higher and higher, until
suddenly the miniature cigar disappears. Still the searchlights sweep
the skies, hoping to find their prey again.

"Suddenly utter silence reigns. Have they gone? Is the attack over?
Has one been hit? Forced to land? The minutes go by. We are all now on
the balcony--the women, too--watching the scene. Again comes the
well-known sound--once heard never forgotten--as though the wind were
getting up, then a dull thud and explosion. This time it is farther
away towards the forts. Again the firing breaks out, and machine-guns
bark at the friendly moon; searchlights career across the heavens, but
find nothing. Again there falls a bomb--much nearer this time--and
again comes the noise of the propellers louder and louder. Shrapnel
bursts just over the Embassy, and the Zeppelin is over our heads. We
hear the noise very distinctly, but can see nothing. Again a sudden
silence everywhere, which has a curious effect after the terrible
noise. Time passes, but nothing more is heard. The first rays of dawn
are seen in the east; the stars slowly pale.

"A child is heard to cry somewhere, far away: strange how clearly it
sounds in the silent night. There is a feeling as though the terrified
town hardly dared breathe or move for fear the monster might return.
And how many more such nights are there in prospect? In the calm of
this fairylike dawn, slowly rising, the crying of the child strikes a
note of discord, infinitely sad. But the crying of the child--does it
not find an echo among the millions whom this terrible war has driven
to desperation?

"The sun rises like a blood-red ball. For some hours the Roumanians
can take to sleep and gather fresh strength, but they know now that
the Zeppelin's visit will not be the last.


"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"The Press is indignant about the nocturnal attack. Bucharest is
certainly a fortress, but it should be known that the guns are no
longer in the forts. It was stated in the _Adeverul_ that the heroic
resistance put up in defence was most successful. That the airship,
badly damaged, was brought down near Bucharest, and that a commission
started off at once to make sure whether it was an aeroplane or a
Zeppelin!


"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"The Zeppelin returned again this evening and took us by surprise. It
seemed to come from the other side of Plojest, and the sentries on the
Danube must have missed it. Towards morning the night watch at the
Embassy whose duty it is to see that there is no light in the house
saw a huge mass descending slowly over the Embassy till it almost
touched the roof. It hovered there a few minutes, making observations.
No one noticed it until suddenly the engines started again, and it
dropped the first bomb close to the Embassy. A direct hit was made on
the house of the Ambassador Jresnea Crecianu, and twenty gendarmes who
were there were killed. The royal palace was also damaged. The
Government is apparently not satisfied with the anti-aircraft forces,
but concludes that practice will make them perfect. Opportunity for
practice will certainly not be lacking.

"Our departure is being delayed by every sort of pretext. One moment
it seems as though we should reach home via Bulgaria. This idea suited
Bratianu extremely well, as the Bulgarian willingness to grant
permission was a guarantee that they had no plans of attack. But he
reckoned in this without his host. E. and W. are greatly alarmed
because the Roumanians intend to detain them, and will probably hang
them as spies. I have told them, 'Either we all stay here or we all
start together. No one will be given up.' That appears to have
somewhat quieted their fears.

"As might be expected, these nocturnal visits had disagreeable
consequences for us. The Roumanians apparently thought that it was not
a question of Zeppelins, but of Austro-Hungarian airships, and that my
presence in the town would afford a certain protection against the
attacks; after the first one they declared that for every Roumanian
killed ten Austrians or Bulgarians would be executed, and the hostile
treatment to which we were subjected grew worse and worse. The food
was cut down and was terribly bad, and finally the water supply was
cut off. With the tropical temperature that prevailed and the
overcrowding of a house that normally was destined to hold twenty, and
now housed 170, persons, the conditions within the space of
twenty-four hours became unbearable and the atmosphere so bad that
several people fell ill with fever, and neither doctor nor medicine
was obtainable. Thanks to the energetic intervention of the Dutch
Ambassador, Herr von Vredenburch, who had undertaken the charge of our
State interests, it was finally possible to alter the conditions and
to avert the outbreak of an epidemic."

* * * * *

It was just about that time that our Military Attache, Lieut.-Colonel
Baron Randa, made a telling remark. One of our Roumanian slave-drivers
was in the habit of paying us a daily visit and talking in the
bombastic fashion the Roumanians adopted when boasting of their
impending victories. The word "Mackensen" occurred in Randa's answer.
The Roumanian was surprised to hear the name, unknown to him, and
said: "Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce Mackensen? Je connais beaucoup
d'Allemands, mais je n'ai jamais fait la connaissance de M.
Mackensen." "Eh bien," replied Randa, patting him on the shoulder,
"vous la ferez cette connaissance, je vous en guarantie." Three months
after that Mackensen had occupied all Wallachia and had his
headquarters at Bucharest. By that time, therefore, his name must have
been more familiar to our Roumanian friend.

At last we set off for home via Russia and had a very interesting
journey lasting three weeks, via Kieff, Petersburg, Sweden, and
Germany. To spend three weeks in a train would seem very wearisome to
many; but as everything in this life is a matter of habit we soon grew
so accustomed to it that when we arrived in Vienna there were many of
us who could not sleep the first few nights in a proper bed, as we
missed the shaking of the train. Meanwhile, we had every comfort on
the special train, and variety as well, especially when, on Bratianu's
orders, we were detained at a little station called Baratinskaja, near
Kieff. The reason of this was never properly explained, but it was
probably owing to difficulties over the departure of the Roumanian
Ambassador in Sofia and to the wish to treat us as hostages. The
journey right through the enemy country was remarkable. Fierce battles
were just then being fought in Galicia, and day and night we passed
endless trains conveying gay and smiling soldiers to the front, and
others returning full of pale, bandaged wounded men, whose groans we
heard as we passed them. We were greeted everywhere in friendly
fashion by the population, and there was not a trace of the hatred we
had experienced in Roumania. Everything that we saw bore evidence of
the strictest order and discipline. None of us could think it possible
that the Empire was on the eve of a revolution, and when the Emperor
Francis Joseph questioned me on my return as to whether I had reason
to believe that a revolution would occur, I discountenanced the idea
most emphatically.

This did not please the old Emperor. He said afterwards to one of his
suite: "Czernin has given a correct account of Roumania, but he must
have been asleep when he passed through Russia."


3

The development of Roumanian affairs during the war occurs in three
phases, the first of which was in King Carol's reign. Then neutrality
was guaranteed. On the other hand, it was not possible during those
months to secure Roumania's co-operation because we, in the first
period of the war, were so unfavourably situated in a military sense
that public opinion in Roumania would not voluntarily have consented
to a war at our side, and, as already mentioned, such forcible action
would not have met with the King's approval.

In the second phase of the war, dating from King Carol's death to our
defeat at Luck, conditions were quite different. In this second phase
were included the greatest military successes the Central Powers ever
obtained. The downfall of Serbia and the conquest of the whole of
Poland occurred during this period, and, I repeat, in those months we
could have secured the active co-operation of Roumania. Nevertheless,
I must make it clearly understood here that if the political
preliminaries for intervention on the part of Roumania were not
undertaken, the fault must not be ascribed to the then Minister of
Foreign Affairs, but to the _vis major_ which opposed the project
under the form of a Hungarian veto. As previously stated, Majorescu,
as well as Marghiloman, would only have given his consent to
co-operation if Roumania had been given a slice of the Hungarian
state. Thanks to the attitude of absolute refusal observed at the
Ballplatz, the territory in question was never definitely decided on,
but the idea probably was Transylvania and a portion of the Bukovina.
I cannot say whether Count Burian, if he had escaped other influences,
would have adopted the plan, but certain it is that however ready and
willing he was to act he would never have carried out the plan against
the Hungarian Parliament. According to the Constitution, the Hungarian
Parliament is sovereign in the Hungarian State, and without the use of
armed means Hungary could never have been induced to cede any part of
her territory.

It is obvious, however, that it would have been impossible during the
world war to have stirred up an armed conflict between Vienna and
Budapest. My then German colleague, von dem Busche, entirely agreed
with me that Hungary ought to make some territorial sacrifices in
order to encourage Roumania's intervention. I firmly believe that
then, and similarly before the Italian declaration of war, a certain
pressure was brought to bear direct on Vienna by Berlin to this end--a
pressure which merely contributed to strengthen and intensify Tisza's
opposition. For Germany, the question was far simpler; she had drawn
payment for her great gains from a foreign source. The cession of the
Bukovina might possibly have been effected, as Stuergkh did not object,
but that alone would not have satisfied Roumania.

It was quite clear that the opposition to the ceding of Transylvania
originated in Hungary. But this opposition was not specially Tisza's,
for whichever of the Hungarian politicians might have been at the head
of the Cabinet he would have adopted the same standpoint.

I sent at that time a confidential messenger to Tisza enjoining him to
explain the situation and begging him in my name to make the
concession. Tisza treated the messenger with great reserve, and wrote
me a letter stating once for all that the voluntary cession of
Hungarian territory was out of the question; "whoever attempts to
seize even one square metre of Hungarian soil will be shot."

There was nothing to be done. And still I think that this was one of
the most important phases of the war, which, had it been properly
managed, might have influenced the final result. The military advance
on the flank of the Russian army would have been, in the opinion of
our military chiefs, an advantage not to be despised, and through it
the clever break through at Goerlitz would have had some results; but
as it was, Goerlitz was a strategical trial of strength without any
lasting effect.

The repellent attitude adopted by Hungary may be accounted for in two
ways: the Hungarians, to begin with, were averse to giving up any of
their own territory, and, secondly, they did not believe--even to the
very last--that Roumania would remain permanently neutral or that
sooner or later we would be forced to fight _against_ Roumania unless
we in good time carried her with us. In this connection Tisza always
maintained his optimism, and to the very last moment held to the
belief that Roumania would not dare take it upon herself to attack us.
This is the only reason that explains why the Roumanians surprised us
so much by their invasion of Transylvania and by being able to carry
off so much rich booty. I would have been able to take much better
care of the many Austrians and Hungarians living in Roumania--whose
fate was terrible after the declaration of war, which took them also
by surprise--if I had been permitted to draw their attention more
openly and generally to the coming catastrophe; but in several of his
letters Tisza implored me not to create a panic, "which would bring
incalculable consequences with it." As I neither did, nor could, know
how far this secrecy was in agreement with our military
counter-preparations, I was bound to observe it. Apparently, Burian
believed my reports to a certain extent; at any rate, for some time
before the declaration of war he ordered all the secret documents and
the available money to be conveyed to Vienna, and entrusted to Holland
the care of our citizens; but Tisza told me long after that he
considered my reports of too pessimistic a tendency, and was afraid to
give orders for the _superfluous_ evacuation of Transylvania.

After the unexpected invasion, the waves of panic and rage ran high in
the Hungarian Parliament. The severest criticism was heaped upon me,
as no one doubted that the lack of preparation was due to my false
reports. Here Tisza was again himself when, in a loud voice, he
shouted out that it was untrue; my reports were correct; I had warned
them in time and no blame could be attached to me; he thus took upon
himself the just blame. Fear was unknown to him, and he never tried to
shield himself behind anyone. When I arrived back in Vienna after a
journey of some weeks in Russia, and only then heard of the incident,
I took the opportunity to thank Tisza for the honourable and loyal
manner in which he had defended my cause. He replied with the ironical
smile characteristic of him that it was simply a matter of course.

But for an Austro-Hungarian official it was by no means such a matter
of course. We have had so many cowards on the Ministerial benches, so
many men who were brave when dealing with their subordinates, toadied
to their superiors, and were intimidated by strong opposition, that a
man like Tisza, who was such a contrast to these others, has a most
refreshing and invigorating effect. The Roumanians attempted several
times to make the maintenance of their _neutrality_ contingent on
territorial concessions. I was always opposed to this, and at the
Ballplatz they were of the same opinion. The Roumanians would have
appropriated these concessions and simply attacked us later to obtain
more. On the other hand, it seemed to me that to gain _military
co-operation_ a cession of territory would be quite in order, since,
once in the field, the Roumanians could not draw back and their fate
would be permanently bound up with ours.

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