History of the World/History of the World (Bureau Development, Inc.)(1992).BIN/dp/0468/04687.txt

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$Unique_ID{how04687}
$Pretitle{}
$Title{True Stories Of The Great War
Behind The German Veil With Von Hindenburg}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{De Beaufort, Count Van Maurik}
$Affiliation{}
$Subject{hindenburg
general
german
russian
von
letter
officers
war
staff
berlin}
$Date{1917}
$Log{}
Title:       True Stories Of The Great War
Book:        Behind The German Veil With Von Hindenburg
Author:      De Beaufort, Count Van Maurik
Date:        1917
Translation: Benington, Arthur

Behind The German Veil With Von Hindenburg

I - Going To See Von Hindenburg

Record Of A Remarkable War Pilgrimage: Told by Count Van Maurik De Beaufort.

[This is the remarkable story of a titled Hollander, who was living in
America at the outbreak of the War.  "Europe called me," he says.  "Blood will
tell.  I soon found myself getting restless.  My sympathies with the Allies .
. . urged that I had no right to lag behind in making sacrifices. Before
starting for the War, I applied for my first American citizenship papers.  I
hope to obtain my final papers shortly, after which I shall place my services
at the disposal of the American Government." This Hollander was educated in
Germany and recalls how in his youth he was forced to stand up in front of the
class and recite five verses, each ending with: "I am a Prussian and a
Prussian I will be." He later became a student at Bonn.  Count De Beaufort has
written a book of sensational revelations in which the German veil is lifted.
With a magic passport, nothing less than a letter to Von Hindenburg from his
nephew, he gained access to German headquarters and to the Eastern front in
Poland and East Prussia.  We here record what he thinks of Von Hindenburg from
his book: "Behind the German Veil."]

[Footnote *: All numerals throughout this volume relate to the stories
herein told - not to chapters in the original sources.]

     Yes, if the truth be told, I must say that I felt just a wee bit
shaky about the knees.  I wondered what view they would take of my
perseverance, worthy, I am sure, of a kind reception.

     I would wager that in the whole of Germany there could not be found
one . . . whose hair would not have stood on end at the mere suggestion of
travelling to Hindenburg's headquarters without a pass.  Why, he would
sooner think of calling at the Palace "Unter den Linden," and of asking to
interview the Kaiser.

     I think I must describe to you the way I appeared at headquarters.
At Allenstein I had bought, the day before, a huge portrait of Hindenburg;
it must have been nearly thirty inches long.

     Under one arm I carried the photograph, in my hand my letter of
introduction, and in my other hand a huge umbrella, which was a local
acquisition.  On my face I wore that beatific, enthusiastic and very naive
expression of "the innocent abroad." I had blossomed out into that modern
pest - the autographic maniac.

     Army corps, headquarters, strategy and tactics were words that meant
nothing to me.  How could they, stupid, unmilitary foreigner that I was!
It was a pure case of "Fools will enter where angels fear to tread." You
may be sure that my subsequent conversation with the Staff captain
confirmed the idea that I was innocent of all military knowledge, and that
I probably - so he thought - did not know the difference between an army
corps and a section of snipers.

     Why had I come to Lotzen?  Why, of course, to shake hands with the
famous General, the new Napoleon; to have a little chat with him, and -
last, but not least - to obtain his most priceless signature to my most
priceless photograph.  What?  Not as easy as all that, but why?  Could
there be any harm in granting me those favors?  Could it by the furthest
stretch of imagination be considered as giving information to the enemy?
What good was my letter of introduction from the General's dear nephew?
Of course, I would not ask the General where he had his guns hidden, and
when he intended to take Petrograd, Moscow or Kieff.  Oh, no; I knew
enough about military matters not to ask such leading questions.

     But joking apart.  On showing my famous letter I had no difficulty
whatsoever in entering the buildings of the General Staff.  The first man
I met was Hauptmann Frantz.  He didn't seem a bad sort at all, and
appeared rather to enjoy the joke and my "innocence," at imagining that I
could walk up to Hindenburg's Eastern headquarters and say "Hello!" to the
General.

     He thought it was most "original," and certainly exceedingly
American.  Still, it got him into the right mood.  "Make people smile,"
might be a good motto for itinerant journalists in the war zones.  Few
people, not excepting Germans, are so mean as to bite you with a smile on
their faces.  Make them laugh, and half the battle is won.

     Frantz read my letter and was duly impressed.  He never asked me
whether I had any passes.  He advised me to go to the General's house,
shook hands, and wished me luck.

     Phew!  I was glad that my first contact with the General Staff had
come off so smoothly.  I had been fully prepared for stormy weather, if
not for a hurricane.  Cockily, I went off to Hindenburg's residence, a
very modest suburban village not far from the station, and belonging to a
country lawyer.  There was a bit of garden in front, and at the back; the
house was new, and the bricks still bright red.  Across the road on two
poles a wide banner was stretched, with "Willkommen" painted on it.

     Two old Mecklenburger Landstrum men guarded the little wooden gate.
I told them that I came from Great Headquarters, and once more produced
the letter.  They saluted, opened the gate, and one of them ran ahead to
ring the door bell.

II - He Enters The Strange House

     I walked up the little gravel path with here and there a patch of
green dilapidated grass on either side.  I remember the window curtains
were of yellow plush.  In the window seat stood a tall vase with
artificial flowers flanked by a birdcage with two canaries.  It was all
very suburban, and did not look at all like the residence of such a famous
man.  An orderly, with his left arm thrust into a top-boot, opened the
door.  In a tone of voice that left no chance for the familiar War-Office
question: "Have you an appointment, sir?" I inquired whether the
Field-Marshal was at home, at the same time giving him my letter.  The
orderly peeled off his top-boot, unfastened his overalls, and slipped on
his coat.

     Then he carefully took my letter, holding it gingerly between thumb
and third finger, so as not to leave any marks on it, and ushered me into
the "Wohnzimmer," a sort of living- and dining-room combined.  It was the
usual German affair.  A couch, a table, a huge porcelain stove, were the
prominent pieces of furniture.  All three were ranged against the long
wall.  The straight-backed chairs were covered with red plush.  On the
walls hung several monstrosities, near-etchings representing the effigies
of the Kaiser, the Kaiserin, and, of course, of "Our" Hindenburg.  There
was the usual over-abundance of artificial flowers and ferns so dear to
the heart of every German Hausfrau.

     The two canaries lived in the most elaborate homemade cage.  (I
understand they were the property of the "Hausfrau," not of Hindenburg!)
On the table, covered with a check tablecloth, stood a bowl containing
three goldfish.  The floor was covered with a bright carpet, and in front
of one of the doors lay a mat with "Salve" on it.  Over the couch hung a
photographic enlargement of a middle-aged soldier leaning nonchalantly
against a door on which was chalked "Kriegsjahr, 1914." Over the frame
hung a wreath with a black and white ribbon, inscribed "In Memoriam,"
telling its eloquent story.

     Behind me was a map of the Eastern front, and pinned alongside of it
a caricature of a British Tommy sitting astride of a pyramid and pulling a
number of strings fastened to the legs, arms and head of the Sultan, who
was apparently dancing a jig.

     That room impressed itself upon my memory for all time.  I often
dream of it.

     I had waited only a few minutes when a young officer came in, who,
bowing obsequiously, wished me a very formal good-morning.  I took my cue
from the way he bowed.  He explained that the General was out in the car
but was expected back before noon.  Would I condescend to wait?  Needless
to say, I did "condescend."

     I forgot to mention one point in my meditations.  When I took the
chance of continuing East instead of returning to Berlin, I thought there
might just be a possibility that the Adjutant or Staff Officer who had
spoken with von Schlieffen had entirely taken it upon himself to say "No,"
and that it was not unlikely that the General knew nothing whatever about
my letter or my contemplated visit.  If my surmise was correct, I would
stand a sporting chance, because it was hardly to be expected that out of
the thirty-odd officers comprising the Staff, I should run bang into the
very man who had telephoned.

     I soon knew that the officer in immediate attendance on Hindenburg
was not aware of my contretempts at Allenstein on the previous day.
Neither did he inquire after my passes.  You see, they take these things
for granted.  Would I prefer to wait here or come in his office, where the
stove was lit?  Of course, I thought that would be more pleasant.  I
thought, and am glad to say was not mistaken, that probably the young
officer felt he needed some mental relaxation.  This will sound strange,
but I have found during my travels through Germany, that in spite of the
many warnings not to talk shop, every soldier, from the humblest private
to the highest General - I am sure not excepting the War Lord himself -
dearly loves to expatiate on matters military, his ambitions and hopes.
This one was no exception.  He chatted away very merrily, and more than
once I recognized points and arguments which I had read weeks ago in
interviews granted by General Hindenburg to Austrian journalists.  He
quite imagined himself an embryo Field-Marshal.

     He showed me several excellent maps, which gave every railroad line
on both sides of the Polish frontier.  They certainly emphasized the
enormous difference and the many advantages of German versus Russian
railroad communications.  Many of his predictions have since come true,
but most of them have not.  He hinted very mysteriously, but quite
unmistakably, at a prospective Russian debacle, and predicted a separate
peace with Russia before the end of 1915!  "And then," he added, "we will
shake up the old women at the Western front a bit and show them the
'Hindenburg method.'"

     The room we were in was fitted up as an emergency staff office.
There were several large tables, maps galore, a safe, a number of books
that looked like ledgers and journals, six telephones and a telegraph
instrument.  Two non-commissioned officers were writing in a corner.  In
case anything important happens at night, such as an urgent despatch that
demands immediate attention, everything was at hand to enable the General
to issue new orders.  A staff-officer and a clerk are always on duty.

     I learned later on, though, that a position in that auxiliary
staff-office at Hindenburg's residence is more or less of a sinecure.  All
despatches go first to Ludendorff, Hindenburg's Chief-of-Staff, who, in
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, issues orders without consulting his
Chief.

III - He Stands Before Von Hindenburg

     In the midst of a long explanation of the Russian plight, the voluble
subaltern suddenly stopped short.  I heard a car halt in front of the
house, and a minute or two later the door of the office opened and
Germany's giant idol entered.  I rose and bowed.  The officer and the two
sergeants clicked their heels audibly, and replied to the stentorian
"Morgen, meine Herren," with a brisk "Morgen, Excellence."

     Hindenburg looked questions at me, but I thought I would let my young
friend do the talking and act as master of ceremonies.  He handed
Hindenburg my letter, and introduced me as "Herr 'von' Beaufort, who has
just arrived from Rome." (I had left Rome nearly three months before!) The
General read his nephew's letter and then shook hands with me, assuring me
of the pleasure it gave him to meet me.  Of course, I was glad that he was
glad, and expressed reciprocity of sentiments.  I looked at him - well,
for lack of a better word, I will say, with affection; you know the kind
of child-like, simple admiration which expresses so much.  I tried to look
at him as a certain little girl would have done, who wrote: "You are like
my governess: she, too, knows everything." I felt sure that that attitude
was a better one than to pretend that I was overawed.  That sort of homage
he must receive every day.  Besides, as soon as I realized that he knew
nothing of the telephone message from and to Allenstein, my old
self-assurance had returned.

     Now for my impressions of Germany's - and, as some people try to make
us believe, the world's - greatest military genius.  They might be summed
up in two words: "Strength and cruelty." Hindenburg stands over six feet
high.  His whole personality radiates strength, brute, animal strength.
He was, when I met him, sixty-nine years of age, but looked very much
younger.  His hair and moustache were still pepper and salt color.  His
face and forehead are deeply furrowed, which adds to his forbidding
appearance.  His nose and chin are prominent, but the most striking
feature of the man's whole appearance are his eyes.  They are steel-blue
and very small, much too small for his head, which, in turn, is much too
small compared with his large body.  But what the eyes lacked in size they
fully made up for in intensity and penetrating powers.  Until I met
Hindenburg I always thought that the eyes of the Mexican rebel Villa were
the worst and most cruel I had ever seen.  They are mild compared with
those of Hindenburg.  Never in all my life have I seen such hard, cruel,
nay, such utterly brutal eyes as those of Hindenburg.  The moment I looked
at him I believed every story of refined (and unrefined) cruelty I had
ever heard about him.

     He has the disagreeable habit of looking at you as if he did not
believe a word you said.  Frequently in conversation he closes his eyes,
but even then it seemed as if their steel-like sharpness pierced his
eyelids.  Instead of deep circles, such as, for instance, I have noticed
on the Kaiser, he has big fat cushions of flesh under his eyes, which
accentuate their smallness.  When he closes his eyes, these cushions
almost touch his bushy eyebrows and give his face a somewhat prehistoric
appearance.  His hair, about an inch long I should judge, was brushed
straight up - what the French call en brosse.  The general contour of his
head seemed that of a square, rounded off at the corners.

     Speaking about the stories of cruelty, one or two of them may bear
re-telling.

     When during the heavy fighting, early in 1915, General Rennenkampf
was forced to evacuate Insterburg somewhat hastily, he was unable to find
transport for about fifty thousand loaves of bread.  Not feeling inclined
to make a present of them to the Germans, he ordered paraffin to be poured
over them.  When the Germans found that bread and discovered its
condition, Hindenburg is reported to have been frantic with rage.  The
next day, after he had calmed down, he said to one of his aides: "Well, it
seems to be a matter of taste.  If the Russians like their bread that way,
very well.  Give it to the Russian prisoners."
     You may feel certain that his orders were scrupulously carried out.

     Another incident which they are very fond of relating in Germany is
more amusing, though it also plays on their idol's cruelty.

     It is a fact that both officers and men are deadly afraid of him.  It
is said that the great General has a special predilection for bringing the
tip of his riding boots into contact with certain parts of the human
anatomy.  A private would far rather face day and night the Russian guns
than be orderly to Hindenburg.

     But one day a man came up and offered himself for the job.

     "And what are you in private life?" the General snorted at him.

     "At your orders, sir, I am a wild animal trainer."

IV - "What Von Hindenburg Told Me"

     Hindenburg and I talked for about twenty minutes on various subjects
- Holland, Italy, America, and, of course, the campaign.

     When he tried to point out to me how all-important it was for Holland
that Germany should crush England's "world-domination," I mentioned the
Dutch Colonies.  That really set him going.  "Colonies," he shouted.
"Pah!  I am sick of all this talk about colonies.  It would be better for
people, and I am not referring to our enemies alone, to pay more attention
to events in Europe.  I say 'to the devil' (zum Teufel) with the colonies.
Let us first safeguard our own country; the colonies will follow.  It is
here," and he went up to a large map of Poland hanging on the wall, and
laid a hand almost as large as a medium-sized breakfast tray over the
center of it - "It is here," he continued, "that European and colonial
affairs will be settled and nowhere else.  As far as the colonies are
concerned, it will be a matter of a foot for a mile, as long as we hold
large slices of enemy territory."

     He spoke with great respect of the Russian soldier, but maintained
that they lacked proper leaders.  "It takes more than ten years to reform
the morale of an officers' corps.  From what I have learned, the morale of
the Russian officer is to this day much the same as it was in the
Russo-Japanese war.  We will show you one of their ambulance trains
captured near Kirbaty.  It is the last word in luxury.  By all means give
your wounded all the comfort, all the attention you can; but I do not
think that car-loads of champagne, oysters, caviare and the finest French
liqueurs are necessary adjuncts to an ambulance train.  The Russian
soldier is splendid, but his discipline is not of the same quality as that
of our men.  In our armies discipline is the result of spiritual and moral
training; in the Russian armies discipline stands for dumb obedience.  The
Russian soldier remains at his post because he has been ordered to stay
there, and he stands as if nailed to the spot.  What Napoleon I. said
still applies to-day: 'It is not sufficient to kill a Russian, you have to
throw him over as well.'

     "It is absurd," the General continued, "for the enemy Press to
compare this campaign with that of Napoleon in 1812." Again he got up, and
pointing to another map, he said: "This is what will win the war for us."
The map showed the close railroad net of Eastern Germany and the paucity
of permanent roads in Russia.  Hindenburg is almost a crank on the subject
of railroads in connection with strategy.  In the early days of the war he
shuffled his army corps about from one corner of Poland to the other.  It
is said that he transferred four army corps (160,000 men - about 600
trains) in two days from Kalish, in Western Poland, to Tannenberg, a
distance of nearly two hundred miles.  On some tracks the trains followed
each other at intervals of six minutes.

     "Our enemies reckon without two great factors unknown in Napoleon's
time: railroads and German organization.  Next to artillery this war means
railroads, railroads, and then still more railroads.  The Russian built
forts; we built railroads.  They would have spent their millions better if
they had emulated our policy instead of spending millions on forts.  For
the present fortresses are of no value against modern siege guns - at
least, not until another military genius such as Vauban, Brialmont,
Montalembert, Coehoorn, springs up, who will be able to invent proper
defensive measures against heavy howitzers.

     "Another delusion under which our enemies are laboring is that of
Russia's colossal supply of men.  He who fights with Russia must always
expect superiority in numbers; but in this age of science, strategy and
organization, numbers are only decisive, 'all else being equal.' The
Russian forces opposed to us on this front have always been far superior
in numbers to ours, but we are not afraid of that.  A crowd of men fully
armed and equipped does not make an army in these days."

     This brought him to the subject of the British forces, more
especially to Kitchener's army.  "It is a great mistake to underestimate
your enemy," said Hindenburg, referring to the continual slights and
attacks appearing in the German Press.  "I by no means underrate the
thoroughness, the fighting qualities of the British soldier.  England is a
fighting nation, and has won her spurs on many battlefields.  But to-day
they are up against a different problem.  Even supposing that Kitchener
should be able to raise his army of several millions, where is he going to
get his officers and his non-commissioned officers from?  How is he going
to train them, so to speak, overnight, when it has taken us several
generations of uninterrupted instruction, study and work to create an
efficient staff?  Let me emphasize, and with all the force I can:
'Efficiency and training are everything.' There lies their difficulty.  I
have many officers here with me who have fought opposite the English, and
all are united in their opinion that they are brave and worthy opponents;
but one criticism was also unanimously made: 'Their officers often lead
their men needlessly to death, either from sheer foolhardiness, but more
often through inefficiency.'"

V - "When I Left Von Hindenburg"

     Although he did not express this opinion to me personally, I have it
on excellent authority that Hindenburg believes this war will last close
on four years at least.  And the result - stalemate.  He does not believe
that the Allies will be able to push the Germans out of Belgium, France or
Poland.

     Personally, I found it impossible to get him to make any definite
statement on the probable outcome and duration of the war.  "Until we have
gained an honorable peace," was his cryptic reply.  He refused to state
what, in his opinion, constituted an honorable peace.  If I am to believe
several of his officers - and I discussed the subject almost every day -
then Hindenburg must by now be a very disappointed man.  I was told that
he calculated as a practical certainty on a separate peace with Russia
soon after the fall of Warsaw.  (I should like to point out here that this
"separate peace with Russia" idea was one of the most popular and most
universal topics of conversation in Germany last year.)

     When Hindenburg learnt that I had come all the way from Berlin
without a pass from the General Staff, he appeared very much amused; but
in a quasi-serious manner he said:

     "Well, you know that I ought to send you back at once, otherwise I
shall risk getting the sack myself; still, as all ordinary train-service
between here and Posen will be suspended for four days, the only way for
you to get back is by motor-car.  It would be a pity to come all the way
from sunny Italy to this Siberian cold, and not see something of the men
and of the hardships of a Russian winter campaign.  Travelling by
motor-car, you will have ample opportunity to see something of the
country, and, if you feel so inclined, of the fighting as well.  And then
go home and tell them abroad about the insurmountable obstacles, the
enormous difficulties the German has to overcome."

     Hindenburg does not like the Berlin General Staff officers, and that
is why he was so amused at my having got the better of them.  He describes
them as "drawing-room" officers, who remain safely in Berlin.  With their
spick and span uniforms they look askance at their mud-stained colleagues
at the front.  His officers, who know Hindenburg's feelings towards these
gentlemen, play many a practical joke on their Berlin confreres.  The
latter have frequently returned from a visit to some communication
trenches only to find that their car has mysteriously retreated some two
or three miles . . . over Polish roads.

     Any one who can tell of such an experience befalling a "Salon
Offizier" is sure to raise a good laugh from Hindenburg.

     At the conclusion of our conversation he instructed the young A.D.C.
to take me over to Headquarters and present me to Captain Cammerer.  "Tell
him," and I inscribed the words that followed deeply on my mind, "to be
kind to Herr Beaufort."

     My introduction to Cammerer proved to be one of those curious
vagaries of fate.  He was the very man who less than twenty-four hours ago
had spoken with General von Schlieffen, and who had assured him how
impossible it was for me to continue, and that I was to be sent back to
Berlin at once!

     "Beaufort, Beaufort," he sniffed once or twice before he could place
me.  Then suddenly he remembered.  "Ah, yes, him!  You are the man General
von Schlieffen telephoned about yesterday?  But did he not instruct you to
return to Berlin?"

     However, I remembered Hindenburg's injunction: "Tell Cammerer to be
kind to him," so what did I care for a mere captain?

     Consequently, as they say in the moving pictures, I "registered" my
most angelic smile, and sweetly said:

     "Ah, yes, Captain, quite so, quite so.  But, you see, I felt certain
that there was some misunderstanding at this end of the wire.  Probably it
was not clearly explained to you that I had this very important letter of
introduction to General von Hindenburg from my friend his nephew.  As you
see," and I waved my hand at the A.D.C., my master of ceremonies, "I was
quite right in my surmise."

     However that may be, you may be certain that I saw to it that when we
mapped out my return journey, Cammerer was being "kind" to me.
Consequently, I spent two most interesting weeks in the German Eastern
war-zones, much to the surprise and disgust of the "Drawing-room Staff" in
Berlin.

     (Count De Beaufort's revelations form one of the most valuable
records of the war.  He tells about "Spies and Spying;" "German Women;"
"When I Prayed with the Kaiser;" "An Incognito Visit to the Fleet and
German Naval Harbors;" "Interviews with the Leading Naval, Military and
Civil Authorities in Germany" - closing with an interview that upset
Berlin, caused his arrest, and as he describes it, "My Ultimate Escape
Across the Baltic.")