Prussia’s overwhelming success against Austria in 1866 and then over France in 1870 confirmed German military pre-eminence in Europe, and in the years that followed the Imperial German Army set the standard against which others were measured. But Germany’s ineptitude in matters of foreign policy led to the formation of a hostile Franco-Russian alliance in the 1890s. This demanded a new focus to German military strategy, which acknowledged that the combined French and Russian forces possessed a substantial material superiority that could not be ignored.
The eventual German strategic response was to rely on its geographical advantage of operating on interior lines, and to use its extensive rail network to strike first against France and then to redeploy its armies eastward against Russia. The strategy was undoubtedly a gamble, but its planners reassured themselves with their belief in the superiority of the German Army’s organization and tactics.
Central to the German approach to waging war was Auftragstaktik, which roughly translated means ‘a mission-based command’. This concept gained momentum during the 19th century, as German armies became too large and dispersed for a single commander to control in detail. Rather than issue a specific set of orders to a subordinate, the commander provided a directive or goal to be achieved. The subordinate was expected to display initiative and was given latitude in how the mission was to be carried out, but central to its success was the subordinate’s fundamental knowledge of the commander’s intent, which was made possible by the establishment of a commonly accepted military doctrine.
This form of command depended on a dynamic relationship between commander and subordinate, with each aware of the other’s actions. Auftragstaktik acted as a model for what might be achieved and inevitably did not always work perfectly in actuality, but it was superior to the passive and restrictive nature of the British way of command.
The German Great General Staff, which dated back to the Napoleonic Wars, was at the heart of the German command system. It was an elite organization that secured the services of able and ambitious officers, with a close relationship between positions on the staff and command in the field. The rather facile distinction – often made in the British Army – between staff officers (over-privileged) and regimental officers (lacking in intelligence) would have been scorned by members of the German General Staff.
Within each large German formation the commander was supported by his chief of staff. He acted as the junior partner in the command relationship, but his advice was to be ignored at the commander’s peril. This concept of dual command was rejected by most armies, but according to one German commentator, ‘the relationship between the commander and his chief of staff is expected to conform to that prevailing in a happy marriage. The two men are expected to form a unity rather than two distinct personalities, supplementing each other, composing any differences that might arise without distinguishing the share which each of them contributes to the common good.’1
A further reason for the exalted position of the chief of staff was a throwback to the aristocratic system of senior commanders being drawn from Germany’s noble houses, so that deficiencies in military expertise were rectified by the presence of the professionals from the General Staff. By and large, the system of dual command worked well. The Kaiser’s son, Crown Prince Wilhelm, was given command of Fifth Army, although it came under the direction of the army chief of staff, Major-General Konstantin Schmidt von Knobelsdorf.
On the eve of war the German peacetime field army stood at 782,344 soldiers, which on mobilization increased to 2,100,000.2 Men called to the colours came from those recently discharged from military service; they were still in good physical condition and were familiar with the latest weapons and tactics. And ties with their parent unit remained strong, as one British observer noted: ‘A German squadron, battery or company officer will recognize his command after mobilization whereas our officers will not.’3
Germany’s system of conscription stated that all males were liable to military service for two years on reaching the age of 20. Each year produced a cohort of 600,000 men, but around half were turned away. This allowed the army to select the more promising recruits but, on the other hand, it failed to provide sufficient numbers of regular troops to realistically carry out the plans of the General Staff for the successful conduct of a two-front war.4
Set against a population of 65 million in 1914, the German Army was surprisingly small, especially when compared with that of its main rival, France (39 million), whose field army stood at around 700,000 (excluding colonial troops).5 That the German Army had failed to expand to meet the demands of a two-front war was a product of several factors: a fear that expanding the size of officer corps would dilute its aristocratic character; the restrictions on funding from the German government (also paying for a massive programme of naval expansion); and a general belief in quality over quantity.
This inability to match numbers to operational requirements led to the anomalous situation where second-line formations were required to take their place alongside regulars at the outbreak of war. This would have disastrous consequences for the Germans when forced to deploy reserve divisions en masse against the Allies at Ypres in October 1914.
Two years of military service was considered sufficient to produce a well-trained soldier, although the German Army worked on the principle of each man being combat-ready at a basic level by the end of the first year. The recruit was instructed in the two essentials of a successful infantryman: to march long distances, and to achieve a high level of competence in the use of his rifle. He was armed with the 7.92mm Mauser, a bolt-action rifle with a five-round magazine. It was comparable to the British Lee-Enfield, being slightly more accurate but with a slightly slower rate of fire. German infantry training was rigorous and took into account the realities of modern warfare. And despite Allied claims to the contrary, the German soldier was not an automaton driven on by his officers.
A foolish myth propagated in the British Official History, and repeated in a succession of memoirs and histories, was that the Germans were so overwhelmed by British rifle fire that they literally confused it with that of machine guns.6 It should hardly need saying that the steady chugging sound of a belt-fed Maxim or Vickers machine gun (from a single source) bore no resemblance to the dispersed, uneven crackle of bolt-action rifle fire. Numerous contemporary accounts confirm this distinction; medical officer Arthur Martin compared the sound of the ‘typewriter Maxim’ against the ‘phut of a Mauser bullet’.7
There is also a lack of documentary evidence to suggest that such claims were made at all. German troops were often impressed by the discipline, accuracy and intensity of British rifle fire.8 In a British report on the battle of the Aisne, one German prisoner apparently said of the British infantry, ‘that every man must be equipped with a machine gun, so hot was the fire’. But this was intended as a flattering metaphor, and no more than that.9
Nor did German infantrymen advance firing from the hip, as has often been claimed. Again, the idea in itself is nonsensical, a counter-intuitive practice that would be seen as bizarre to a well-trained infantryman of any army. Terence Zuber reasonably suggests that this fallacy came from a British miss-sighting of German troops advancing with their rifles at the trail, that is, held in one hand to the side of the soldier’s body.10
Within the German Army, special attention was paid to the development of Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs), selected from the ranks or from special NCO training schools where promising adolescents looking for a military career were fast-tracked in military and leadership skills. The NCO was expected to demonstrate initiative and, in keeping with the concept of Auftragstaktik, was given an opportunity to make his own decisions in the light of operational requirements. The NCO enjoyed a high status within the army, and on successful completion of his time with his regiment was guaranteed a job within the civil service.
The army corps was the largest permanent formation in the German Army, and each of the original 25 active corps was assigned a specific area – usually corresponding to a historic region – from where it drew its recruits. Thus each corps had its own regional character, providing an emotional attachment for the troops of that formation. As an example, Kluck’s First Army possessed a strong Prussian feel, with II Corps based in Pomerania and III Corps drawing upon Brandenburgers.
Each corps comprised two infantry divisions, along with specialist troops that included a battalion of Jäger light infantry, pioneers, a squadron of aircraft and four batteries of 15cm heavy howitzers. The German division was broadly similar in size, organization and equipment to that of its British equivalent, each fielding 12 infantry battalions and an artillery component of 70-plus guns.
Germany’s field artillery was organized on a divisional basis, with each division deploying two regiments (a total of 72 guns) that were subdivided into two sections each of three six-gun batteries. There were two kinds of artillery piece: a 7.7cm field gun and a 10.5cm light howitzer. Both guns were capable of firing either shrapnel or high explosive (plus a not very successful composite shrapnel/high-explosive shell). The howitzer was a modern weapon, and its shell’s high trajectory would become increasingly useful as trench warfare developed. The older field gun, however, compared less well with the French 75mm field gun and the British 18-pounder.
Where German artillery excelled was in its mobile heavy field pieces, notably the 15cm (5.9in.) and 21cm (8in.) heavy howitzers, the latter organized at army level. They had a fearsome psychological effect against troops in the open and were capable of ripping apart trenches and other field fortifications. The British and French had neglected heavy artillery, preferring the fast-firing light and medium guns of open warfare. Both nations would be forced to repair this omission, raiding their arsenals for obsolescent guns to fill the gap until new models could be manufactured.
As in other nations, the cavalry enjoyed an exhalted social position within the German Army. Massed cavalry charges had been a traditional feature of the German autumn manoeuvres, their prime function seemingly to please the Kaiser. But these colourful displays obscured the reality of German cavalry deployment in 1914, with horsemen relegated to less exalted but more useful reconnaissance duties.
The German mounted arm was divided into divisional cavalry, with a cavalry regiment assigned to each infantry division, and strategic cavalry, organized as independent cavalry divisions or corps. The strategic cavalry formations combined the twin functions of reconnaissance, providing intelligence of enemy positions and movement, and screening, protecting the main army by repelling the enemy’s own reconnaissance patrols. Ten cavalry divisions were assigned to the West, but as they were evenly deployed along the German line there were insufficient numbers on the open German right flank where horsemen would be most useful. They were also poorly handled by senior commanders during the 1914 campaign, so that Kluck remained largely in the dark as to the whereabouts of French and British forces.
All cavalry units were equipped with lances, hence their blanket description by the Allies as ‘uhlans’ (lancers). They were additionally armed with swords and carbines, the latter weapon inferior in range and accuracy to the Lee-Enfield rifles carried by their mounted British opponents. As a consequence, German cavalrymen were not expected to engage in sustained fire-fights but, instead, retire on their supporting infantry when under attack. In the strategic formations, a cavalry division was equipped with a machine gun company and a large battalion of Jäger light infantry. As well as the standard four infantry companies, the Jäger battalion had a bicycle company and its own six-gun machine gun company, which, along with extra ammunition transports, gave it a total strength of around 1,500 men.
That the Jäger battalions fielded six machine guns was evidence of the army’s commitment to this new weapon. The Germans had been slow in adopting the machine gun, believing it too cumbersome and too likely to jam for front-line deployment. But their successful use by the Japanese Army in Manchuria – where swathes of Russians were mown down by Japanese bullets – changed attitudes, as did a reduction in the weapon’s weight and an improvement in reliability. Utilizing the Maxim recoil action, the MG-08 was still a cumbersome weapon, and mounted on a sled it required three or four men to manhandle it over rough ground. Its advantages, however, more than compensated for any shortcomings: not only did it have a high rate of fire (500 rounds per minute) but the machine-gun commander could immediately concentrate fire on a given point in the enemy’s line when required.
In contrast to the British, who assigned two machine guns per infantry battalion, the Germans brigaded their weapons into a six-gun company for each (three-battalion) regiment. In 1912 a move was made to increase the number of machine guns to six per battalion, and although only partially achieved by August 1914 ‘most active regiments,’ according to Samuels, ‘went to war with two six-gun companies’.11 By 1914 machine guns were well integrated into tactical doctrine, both for offensive and defensive operations, with an emphasis on concentrated and aggressive front-line action.
Of even greater significance than the machine gun for the future conduct of war was another new technological development: aviation.12 Baron Ferdinand von Zeppelin had pioneered rigid airships, building the first of his distinctive cigar-shaped craft that would bear his name in 1900. Prompted by public enthusiasm, the army bought two Zeppelins in 1909 to supplement the non-rigid blimps already in service. Little interest was shown in aircraft, until German observers at the Reims air week of 1909 became aware of advances made by the French Army.
The Taube monoplane – with its distinctive bird-like wings, more hawk than dove – entered German service in 1911, and would become the most numerous aircraft type during the 1914 campaign. Aircraft were faster and more manoeuverable than airships, and could operate in fairly bad weather. The Germans still persevered with the Zeppelin, because it could communicate directly with the ground by radio-telegraph and its range of 280 miles was far greater than that of any aircraft. And its strong, internal aluminium frame provided a means for carrying bombs and machine guns. In 1914, five Zeppelins were deployed in the West, but Z-9, based in Düsseldorf and assigned to overfly Belgium in support of Kluck’s First Army, was grounded during August because of turbulent atmospheric conditions.13 This deprived the Germans of the long-range intelligence that might have located the presence of the BEF, then marching to take up position alongside the French Fifth Army.
A further reconnaissance failing was revealed in the operational deployment of German aircraft; while they had a flying time of up to five hours and a maximum range of 125 miles, they were typically restricted to shorter ranges – between 35 and 60 miles – replicating cavalry reconnaissance patrols.14 As a consequence, aerial intelligence was confined to the tactical rather than strategic sphere. But the Germans were in the forefront of air-artillery co-operation. From the outset of hostilities, the soldiers of the BEF would see aircraft circling over them, letting off flares and dropping streamers for German gunners to locate their positions.
As in all armies, the constituent elements of the German Army varied in quality, but, crucially, the Germans were better in welding these components into an effective whole. The 1888 Regulations formed the bedrock of German tactical practice and demonstrated a prescient understanding of how the power of the defence could only be overcome by attackers gaining a localized fire superiority through the co-ordination of rifle and artillery fire (and subsequently that of machine guns).
The 1888 Regulations were amended in 1906 and 1911, with a greater emphasis given to encouraging the offensive spirit, whatever the cost. This was a retrograde step but it reflected the understandable fears of senior officers that their troops would buckle under the strains of modern combat. There was always a discontinuity between the training manuals’ idealized proposals and what regimental officers and NCOs could or would carry out. The new regulations therefore attempted to make tactical movements easier to carry out.15 Even on manoeuvres the natural fallibility of ordinary soldiers was evident, so that, for example, infantry would be seen bunching together at critical moments or attacks would be rushed forward without the necessary artillery support.
In the ultimate challenge of combat itself, German troops would also sometimes fail to maintain the standards set by the army regulations. During the initial assault on the Belgian city of Liège on 5 August, General Otto von Emmich launched a clumsy attack on Fort Barchon that was repulsed with heavy loss. The engagement, described by a Belgian officer, did not reflect well on German tactical ability: ‘They made no attempt at deploying, but came on line after line, almost shoulder to shoulder, until as we shot them down, the fallen were heaped on top of each other in an awful barricade of dead and wounded that threatened to mask our guns.’16
The assault by the German 4th Cavalry Division on Halen on 11–12 August was also poorly handled, with whole regiments mounting vainglorious charges against well-prepared Belgian positions and suffering heavily as a consequence.17 And at least one of the attacks made against British positions along the Condé canal at Mons on 23 August was poorly planned and executed.18 But in the main, the Germany Army demonstrated a high level of competence in the tactical and operational spheres.
In the realm of grand strategy, however, Germany was to demonstrate fundamental weaknesses that would ultimately bring about its downfall. Despite the growing influence of the German parliament (Reichstag), ultimate power in Germany still resided in a highly militarized aristocratic elite with the unstable and bellicose Kaiser Wilhelm at its head. Both Wilhelm and the leaders of the German Army and Navy had a poor grasp of international affairs but felt no hesitation in making ill-conceived interventions in foreign policy – both before and during the war.
Within the General Staff, its renowned technical ability was undermined by a cynical naivety towards the wider world. When drawing up plans for an assault against France, the Chief of the General Staff, Count Alfred von Schlieffen, openly contemplated a breach of Belgian neutrality, working on the assumption that the French would have already done so.19 He even harboured the possibility that Belgium might ally itself with Germany as a consequence of the French actions. His successor, Helmuth von Moltke, and the General Staff were astonished to learn that the invasion of Belgium had produced a strongly negative response in Britain. ‘In its presumptions as to British intentions,’ writes Hew Strachan, ‘the German General Staff showed how it projected its own strategic outlook, its cavalier approach to the question of neutrality, on to its opponents.’20
As to the attack in the West, the debate over German strategic planning remains controversial. After the war, German generals, eager to avoid responsibility for the failure to secure victory in 1914, heaped blame on the deceased Moltke on the basis that he had ‘tampered’ with a plan developed by Schlieffen. Recent research has revealed that the ‘Schlieffen Plan’ – written in 1905 at the end of Schlieffen’s tenure of command – was not a fixed set of operational orders but a memorandum (Denkschrift), a discussion document that was also an oblique request to the War Ministry for an increase in the size of the army.21
Moltke’s 1914 strategy was more flexible than the ‘Schlieffen Plan’ suggested. He did place the main weight of German forces on the right (northern) flank, with the intention of driving through Belgium to outflank the French, but, rightly or wrongly, he also hoped to exploit weaknesses in the French offensive into Lorraine, with German counterattacks being launched in the central part of the line depending on circumstances. And, deep in the psyche of all German General Staff officers, was the golden prospect of repeating Hannibal’s great victory over the Romans at Cannae, with both flanks encircling the enemy forces to bring about their annihilation. As a consequence, the left (southern) flank of the German line, while expected to defend in the first instance, was always more than a holding screen. But Moltke’s central problem remained constant: he lacked sufficient manpower to guarantee success against Russia and a resurgent France, soon to be be joined by Belgium and then Britain. This dilemma was never satisfactorily resolved.
In the hours before war was declared, Germany attempted to browbeat the Belgians into letting its armies march through their country, but the refusal led to the German invasion. Small and poorly equipped, the Belgian Army could not halt the German juggernaut, but after the loss of Liège and Brussels it retreated back to the fortress of Antwerp to continue to fight. General von Kluck’s First Army marched through Brussels on 20 August, and while the bulk of his army swung southward to begin its envelopment of the French left wing, he was obliged to divert forces to contain the Belgians in Antwerp. On the 21st, Bülow’s Second Army smashed into Lanrezac’s Fifth Army, throwing it back across the Sambre. If Bülow could lock Fifth Army in battle, it would allow Kluck’s forces to drive around Fifth Army’s left flank and rear to destroy it in detail. But, unknown to the Germans, the BEF now lay between Kluck’s First Army and the French.