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The Gay Spy Scandal That Rocked Vienna

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The First World War was an unprecedented catastrophe that killed millions and set the continent of Europe on the path to further calamity two decades later. But it didn’t come out of nowhere. With the centennial of the outbreak of hostilities coming up in 2014, Erik Sass will be looking back at the lead-up to the war, when seemingly minor moments of friction accumulated until the situation was ready to explode. He'll be covering those events 100 years after they occurred. This is the 70th installment in the series.

May 25, 1913: Gay Spy Scandal Rocks Vienna

In late May 1913, Vienna was gripped by revelations of a spy scandal that shook the Austrian military to its very foundations. Lurid headlines splashed across every newspaper told of a sordid intrigue at the heart of the Dual Monarchy: on May 25, 1913 the former head of Austrian military espionage, Colonel Alfred Redl (above), had shot himself after being uncovered as a Russian spy and – almost more shocking, if that were possible – a homosexual.

Redl was unusual all around: the son of a poor railway clerk in the eastern Austrian province of Galicia (now Ukraine), his brilliant intellect propelled him into the top ranks of the army, usually an aristocratic preserve, where he served as chief of counter-intelligence from 1903-1907, then head of all intelligence operations from 1907-1912. In a conservative institution he embraced modern, innovative techniques like telephone and wireless eavesdropping, hidden cameras and recording devices, and dusting for fingerprints.

But Redl had more secrets than anyone could have guessed: in an era when homosexuality was a deviant crime punishable with prison time or worse, Redl’s double life was a huge liability that left him vulnerable to blackmail. During a visit to Russia to polish his Russian in 1889, Russian intelligence discovered his secret via a woman Redl employed as his “beard,” then supplied Redl with a series of young lovers to further incriminate him. Beginning in 1902 the Russians threatened to uncover Redl while also offering him huge sums of money for top secret information. The combination of carrot and stick was enough to convince Redl to turn traitor.

As head of counter-intelligence, Redl won recognition for his cutting-edge methods and amazing success rooting out Russian agents: in 1905 he was awarded the Military Service Cross and Military Service Medal, and in 1911 he was awarded a medal signifying the “Expression of Supreme Satisfaction” by Emperor Franz Josef himself. Meanwhile behind closed doors he led a flamboyant, rather bizarre secret life with his lover, a handsome Czech cavalry officer named Stefan Hromadka who became involved with Redl at age 14. In public Redl introduced Hromadka as his “nephew” and showered him with gifts; in private they attended extravagant parties (read: orgies) with other members of Vienna’s underground homosexual subculture.

The whole time Redl was also selling valuable information to the Russians, including the identities of Austrian agents in Russia, blueprints for Austrian fortifications, and secret codes. He also set up an intelligence-sharing partnership with Austria-Hungary’s ally Germany, which enabled him to sell German secrets to the Russians too. In his crowning betrayal Redl sold Austria-Hungary’s plans for wartime mobilization – then found himself in charge of the search for the culprit when the leak was discovered. To relieve Redl of the burden of searching for himself, the Russians set up several dupes whom Redl duly discovered in 1904, helping secure his advancement to chief of the entire intelligence service three years later. In 1913 Redl was promoted again, to chief of staff of the Eighth Army Corps based in Prague, where he continued spying for the Russians.

By the Letter

Ironically Redl was finally caught thanks to one of his own innovations. In early April 1913 Redl’s successor as head of counter-intelligence – his protégé, Maximilian Ronge – was alerted to several suspicious letters by his German counterpart, Major Walter Nikolai, through the intelligence-sharing channel created by Redl. The letters had been mailed anonymously to a certain Nikon Nizetas, care of the Vienna post office, but were later returned unclaimed and intercepted by German intelligence. One letter contained a large sum of money and references to espionage cover addresses in Vienna, Paris and Geneva, so Ronge decided to flag the name and see if anything else turned up.

Ronge’s diligence paid off: on May 9, 1913, another letter containing cash addressed to Nikon Nizetas was delivered to the Vienna post office. When a mysterious man turned up to claim the envelope on May 24, detectives tailed him to a nearby hotel, where they observed him unobtrusively and identified him as none other than Alfred Redl, just arrived from Prague.

The detectives immediately informed the chief-of-staff of the Austrian army, Conrad von Hötzendorf, who nearly had a nervous breakdown on learning the news. Seized by panic, Conrad’s only thought was ridding the army of the traitor right away: four senior officers were dispatched to give Redl one last chance to spare himself (and the army) the embarrassment of a trial. The officers confronted Redl in his hotel room just after midnight on May 25, and he immediately confessed: “I know why you are here. I am guilty. I want only to judge myself.”  One officer put a pistol on the table and they filed out to wait in the street. A few minutes later, around 1 a.m., a gunshot rang out and the officers returned to find Redl’s blood-spattered body next to a note which read: “Passion and levity have destroyed me. Pray for me. I pay with my life for my sins. Alfred…” The following day, Sunday May 26, the press reported Redl’s suicide, supposedly resulting from “mental overexertion.” Redl was gone and the public was none the wiser – or so the officers thought. In fact a strange set of coincidences was about to blow the cover-up wide open.

Denied a chance to interrogate Redl, Ronge was understandably curious to find out as much as he could about his mentor’s career of high treason, and ordered investigators to break into his apartment in Prague. As it was Sunday all the locksmiths in Prague were closed, so the officers waylaid an expert locksmith they happened to know and hustled him into a car, telling him he had a secret, important task – breaking into Redl’s apartment. That’s when the evidence of “deviancy” started to come out: the investigators were stupefied to find the spymaster’s quarters full of pink leather whips, cosmetics, and pornographic photographs, framed in snakeskin, of Redl, Hromadka, and other men (including fellow officers), sometimes dressed in women’s clothing.

Still, Redl’s private life might have gone to the grave with him as well – if only the investigators had picked a different locksmith. As it turned out, their choice, one Hans Wagner, missed an amateur league soccer match as a result of his unexpected tour of duty that Sunday. His team lost the match and the team’s captain, a journalist named Egon Erwin Kisch (above), furiously demanded an explanation for his absence. Wagner told Kisch what he had seen and the latter, remembering the news of Redl’s suicide, soon put two and two together.

The story made Kisch’s career, and probably ended quite a few others: it would be hard to over-state the impact of the scandal, which irreparably damaged public confidence in the army, long viewed as the most functional part of a dysfunctional empire. Indeed, the details of Redl’s personal life are enough to leave a modern observer wondering how he got as far as he did without being detected: even before the revelation of his homosexuality, the extravagant presents Redl purchased for his “nephew” – including a custom Daimler that cost more than his annual salary, purebred horses, diamond rings, and a luxury apartment – probably should have raised suspicions (Hromadka himself, who apparently knew nothing of Redl’s spying, was found guilty of “unnatural prostitution,” dishonorably discharged, and sentenced to three months of hard labor).

The public was right to fear for the empire’s security. The Russians had passed the mobilization plans they bought from Redl on to the Serbs, giving them a preview of the Austro-Hungarian plan of campaign in the Balkans. Consequently the small kingdom’s general staff were able to anticipate their enemy’s moves in 1914 and deliver a humiliating defeat to Austria-Hungary in the opening days of the Great War.

See the previous installment or all entries.

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WWI Centennial: The Second Bolshevik Coup Attempt Succeeds
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Yakov Vladimirovich Steinberg, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Erik Sass is covering the events of the war exactly 100 years after they happened. This is the 293rd installment in the series.

November 6-8, 1917: Second Bolshevik Coup Attempt Succeeds

“The abyss has opened at last,” wrote Pitrim Sorokin, a moderate Socialist politician in Russia’s provisional government. In his diary, he recounted the incredible events of November 6-8, 1917 (October 24-26 in Russia’s old Julian calendar, which is why they’re known as the “October Revolution”) when Lenin’s radical communist Bolsheviks launched a second coup attempt—and succeeded:

Bolshevism has conquered … it was all very simple. The Provisional Government and the first All-Russian Soviet were overthrown as easily as was the Czarist regime. Through their Military Committees of Revolution the Bolsheviki got control of the regiments. Through the Petrograd Workers’ Soviet they became masters of the working classes. These soldiers and Petrograd workmen commandeered all automobiles in the street, occupied the Winter Palace, Petropavlovskaia Fortress, the railway stations, the telephones, and the posts. To destroy the old government and to establish the new required only a bare 24 hours.

As Sorokin’s stunned account suggests, Lenin’s second attempt succeeded where the first had failed, due chiefly to better planning and organization combined with a more favorable—that is, increasingly disastrous—external political and military situation.

Although the July coup attempt failed, it succeeded in raising the Bolsheviks’ profile, adding tens of thousands of new members and giving it leverage on soviets (councils) representing workers and soldiers across Russia, including the main All-Russian Congress of Soviets. Meanwhile, the Provisional Government under Alexander Kerensky remained weak and discredited by the failure of the summer offensive.

Other events also favored the Bolsheviks: in September 1917, facing General Kornilov’s “counterrevolutionary” coup attempt, Kerensky was forced to release leading Bolsheviks from prison and allow the Bolshevik supporters in the Red Guard to arm themselves in order to suppress the Kornilov Rebellion. Kornilov’s abortive putsch stirred fears of military-led reaction among soldiers who feared the return of Tsarist discipline, further increasing their support for the Bolsheviks, while Kerensky’s clumsy handling of it alienated whatever support he could still claim in conservative and military circles.

In fact, following the mass resignation of his cabinet, Kerensky ruled as the virtual dictator of the Provisional Government. But his position was weak and he failed to crack down on the Bolsheviks, who had the support of other socialists in the Petrograd Soviet. Impressed by Bolshevik commitment to action, and especially calls for peace, workers and peasants were switching their allegiance from the Mensheviks and Social Revolutionary Party to Lenin’s party by the thousands. For his part, Lenin, still working in exile, signaled his commitment to political upheaval with his latest theoretical work, State and Revolution, calling for the destruction of the bourgeois state in its entirety.


Erik Sass

Then, in October (amid falling voter participation) the Bolsheviks won a majority in the workers’ sections of the Petrograd and Moscow Soviets, reflecting factory workers’ growing disillusionment with the more moderate socialist parties. This gave them political cover to sideline the Ipsolkom, the moderate socialist leadership chosen by the All-Russian Soviet, in effect creating their own parallel Soviet organization—stacked with their own supporters, of course. The Bolsheviks began convening ad hoc local and regional conferences of Soviets, only inviting pro-Bolshevik representatives to create an appearance of democratic unanimity. The other members of the socialist leadership, Ipsolkom, protested the Bolshevik actions as illegitimate but were powerless to stop them, in part because their supporters were now armed and receiving more overt support from rank-and-file troops.

By this time military discipline had deteriorated sharply, according to Anton Denikin, a former Tsarist commander who would become one of the top “White” counter-revolutionary generals. In September 1917, Denikin described how he and his colleagues narrowly escaped a lynch mob, composed of soldiers who openly debated executing one of Denikin’s fellow officers after he injured a rank-and-file soldier:

The meeting continued. Numerous speakers called for an immediate lynching … The soldier who had been wounded by Lieutenant Kletsando was shouting hysterically and demanding his head … The crowd raged. We, the seven of us, surrounded by a group of cadets, headed by Betling, who marched by my side with drawn sword, entered the narrow passage through this living human sea, which pressed on us from all sides … passing the pools left by yesterday’s rain, the soldiers fill their hands with mud and pelt[ed] us with it. Our faces, eyes, ears, are covered with its fetid, viscid slime. Stones come flying at us. Poor, crippled General Orlov has his face severely bruised; Erdeli and I, as well, were struck—in the back and on the head.

A young Russian officer, Ivan Stenvock-Fermor, later recalled an alarming experience as an aristocratic junior officer trying to travel incognito:

I realized that travelling all by myself, in boxcars filled with all kinds of people, mostly deserters and soldiers, and travelling there in the uniform of an officer was very, very risky. So I had my shoulder epaulettes, showing my rank, detached from my coat. It was an officers’ coat lined with sheepskin that every officer was wearing, and many soldiers had stolen or requisitioned similar coats, and they were all undisciplined—just a crowd all staring at me, trying to guess who I might be. Some suggested that I might be an officer and if so, I should be immediately thrown out of the freight car while the train was moving.

Against this backdrop of growing indiscipline, the Bolsheviks had little trouble convincing disaffected soldiers in the soviets, many who had been demanding peace for months, to support its attempt to overthrow the bourgeois Provisional Government. They were aided in this by the Petrograd Soviet’s panicked decision to create a Revolutionary Committee of Defense when the Germans menaced the capital, which the Bolsheviks immediately suborned and turned to their own ends (ironically while receiving financial support from the German enemy themselves).

By the fall of 1917, Lenin felt confident enough to strike at the Provisional Government directly, using Kerensky’s hollow dictatorship as a foil to rally the support of workers and soldiers with the slogan, “all power to the Soviets!” In late October the Bolsheviks sent out invitations for the Second All-Russia Congress of Soviets, which would form the Constituent Assembly, but once again only pro-Bolshevik deputies were included. After slipping back into Petrograd in mid-October, Lenin brushed aside objections from fellow Bolsheviks Kamenev and Zinoviev and argued in favor of a coup attempt that would precede the Second Congress of Soviets, hopefully taking their opponents by surprise.

The Bolshevik leadership remained divided over the coup plan until the last minute, with Lenin and Trotsky pressing for an immediate attempt to seize power. The Bolsheviks shouldn’t expect the Second Congress of Soviets to seize power on its own behalf, he reasoned, but instead should present it with a fait accompli, leaving the Congress and the Constituent Assembly to ratify the Bolshevik seizure of power. However, the Bolsheviks were forced to delay the coup repeatedly, ultimately launching it during the Second Congress of Soviets.

In early November the Bolshevik-controlled Revolutionary Committee of Defense sent out 200 commissars, most of them former junior officers who had been imprisoned for sedition, with instructions to rally Bolshevik sympathizers in the Petrograd garrison. A relatively small proportion of the garrison would respond to the call—about 8000 men, or 4 percent of all the troops in the Petrograd area—but this was enough, as the rest of the soldiers, who universally loathed Kerensky’s Provisional Government, opted to stay neutral.

With the Bolsheviks openly preparing for a coup, on the morning of November 6, 1917 Kerensky took belated action to defend the Provisional Government—but received no support from the army’s officer corps, which faulted his treatment of the imprisoned General Kornilov, whom they considered a patriot. Thus Kerensky was forced to order young cadets, a handful of Cossacks, and the “Women’s Battalion of Death” to defend key installations, while also ordering the arrest of the Revolutionary Committee of Defense to no avail. This just gave the Bolsheviks an excuse to proceed with the coup, to defend the Soviet against this “counterrevolutionary conspiracy.”

In Petrograd the coup came off so smoothly that many inhabitants didn’t notice at first. Under the direction of Trotsky acting through the Revolutionary Committee of Defense, soldiers and sailors in Bolshevik-controlled units seized control overnight of almost all the key buildings in Petrograd, including the telephone and telegraph exchanges, military staff headquarters, bridges, railroad stations, and post offices—gathering all of Petrograd’s communications and key transportation facilities in one swoop. Only the Winter Palace held out, with some ministers remaining after Kerensky fled the city in disguise on the morning of November 7, 1917, to beg frontline commanders for help.

The defenders of the Winter Palace held out bravely, forcing back several attempts by Bolshevik forces to capture the remaining government ministers, but at 10 a.m. Lenin went ahead with the proclamation of the seizure of power on behalf of the Petrograd Soviet, along with vague promises of a “democratic peace” and “worker control of production.” Lenin presented the coup as a move on behalf of Russian soldiers and workers, aiming to secure the power of the Soviet won in March 1917—even though it was obviously a Bolshevik coup.

Finally, facing fire from both the neighboring Peter and Paul Fortress as well as the cruiser Aurora, both under Bolshevik control, the last holdouts at the Winter Palace gave up shortly after midnight on November 8. As a furious mob looted the palace, the remaining ministers of the Provisional Government were placed under arrest; Kerensky, still trying to drum up support from the Russian army, was deposed in absentia.

Moderate socialists in the Second Congress of Soviets, including Mensheviks and Right Socialist Revolutionaries, initially denounced the coup, but they were outnumbered by hand-picked Bolshevik delegates and sympathizers from the Left Social Revolutionaries, allowing Lenin to give a democratic veneer to the coup. The Congress of Soviets, in reality a Bolshevik-controlled rump assembly, duly approved his proposals to form a Council of People’s Commissars to run the country until the constituent assembly, immediately begin peace negotiations, and redistribute all commercially owned land. It also voted for a new Soviet leadership, Ipsolkom, which would control the upcoming constituent assembly.

Mayhem in Moscow

Things didn’t go nearly as smoothly in Moscow, Russia’s main industrial city and the center of Russian arms production, where the Provisional Government’s defenders put up a surprisingly stiff resistance from November 7-15 (top, a Bolshevik patrol). Again, young officer cadets played a major role in the defense of the dying liberal regime, this time with more success, while soldiers sympathetic to the Bolsheviks were apparently slower to get involved. Eduard Dune, a young Latvian Red Guard member working at a factory in a Moscow suburb, remembered receiving a breathless report from a fellow Bolshevik recently returned from the city, pleading with the soldiers’ council for help:

Sapronov outlined what he had seen on the streets of Moscow and reported that cadets and officers were laying siege to the Moscow Soviet in the mansion of the governor-general and the party committee in the Dresden Hotel. The district was still holding out, thanks to the selfless efforts of several dozen Red Guards, armed with revolvers, but they had neither rifles nor cartridges. He explained that similar street fighting was going on in Petrograd and asked for the soldiers’ help in overcoming the counterrevolutionary forces.

Of course it probably didn’t help that many of the Red Guards, including Dune himself, had never used firearms before:

We young people had never held a weapon in our hands before, and here we were, face to face with a real “cannon.” The long thick rifle was so heavy that we could barely hold it in a horizontal position on our shoulders. It was made still longer by the bayonet-saber. In addition, the several dozen thick cartridges with lead bullets were heavy enough to tear our pockets. As soon as dawn arrived, we resolved to study our weapons and use one cartridge on a test fire.

On November 8, 1917, after a unit sympathetic to the Bolsheviks briefly seized control of the Kremlin, the cadets successfully counterattacked, recapturing the historic fortress the following day. After a short-lived ceasefire, with more pro-Bolshevik troops on hand, on November 12, 1917 the Moscow Revolutionary Committee ordered a new attack, leading to a wave of violence across the city, including fierce fighting from building to building. Despite his lack of familiarity with his weapon, Dune found himself caught up in his first firefight with defenders of the Provisional Government near Lubianka Square, where he also saw his first combat death:

We ran to the other side, under shelter of the building itself, but couldn’t get inside, as this section of the street was under fire from the opposite direction. We had no alternative but to return fire. It was now daylight and we were clearly visible. The only cover we had were the iron posts of the street lamps, so we returned fire from behind them… Soon, seeing the futility of our shooting, I cried to him: “Come on, let’s get away.” It was only then that I noticed he was stretched motionless on the sidewalk, with his rifle lying across his body. While I ran for the nurse, I thought how easy and quietly a man can die, without words or groans. Perhaps he had had a premonition of something painful, for he had been humming a sad and melancholy tune as we were coming on the train, and he had walked along, weary and silent.

Another participant, Anna Litveiko, then a teenager, remembered nursing wounded Bolshevik fighters in the besieged offices of the Moscow Soviet:

All of a sudden there was a loud noise. Shattered glass fell all over the floor, and someone started moaning. Someone else shouted: “We’re being shot at from an armored car!” Everyone rushed down the street. We did, too. Outside, everybody was shooting at an armored car that was standing right in front of the building. There was so much shooting that I was totally confused. I had my Smith & Wesson in my hand… While I was trying to decide where to aim, the armored car fired one last round and quickly disappeared.

The arrival of artillery on the Bolshevik side finally settled the issue, forcing the pro-government Committee of Public Safety to surrender on the afternoon of November 15, 1917. Spared the fate of cities destroyed by the First World War, much of Moscow lay in ruins after the fighting. Dune described the scene in the Moscow telephone exchange, where pro-government defenders had holed up:

When the occupied building had been cleared of all the prisoners, we were told to go around the rooms in search of any people still hiding and to collect weapons and cartridges that had not been handed over. We couldn’t get to the top floor, as the staircase had collapsed after the explosion of the shell. The other floors were intact, but the windows of all the rooms were either smashed or peppered with bullet holes. Under a layer of dust, plaster, and broken glass, the parquet floors no longer shone. Tables and cupboards had been moved from their original places. Apparently people had been sleeping on some of them, for pillows and stacks of paper were piled on them. Everything else—inkwells, pens, pencils, rulers, a lot of clean paper—was strewn on the floor.

The Bolsheviks had triumphed in Petrograd and Moscow, and soon set to work gaining control of local and regional soviets across Russia. But their support outside the big cities was scant, and large parts of the countryside soon descended into quiet anarchy, as peasants appropriated landlord land and waited for the chaos in the cities to pass. Meanwhile Russia was still at war with Germany, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, and the Ottoman Empire, and despite their calls for immediate peace talks, Lenin, Trotsky, and the rest of the Bolshevik leadership didn’t have a realistic program for a negotiated settlement (reflecting their hope that the Bolshevik coup would trigger a worldwide communist revolution).

Finally, for ordinary and elite Russians alike, the Bolshevik coup came amid worsening conditions, according to Sorokin, who lamented the situation in Petrograd in the winter of 1917:

Everything is closed, schools, shops, banks, offices. Hunger is everywhere increasing. Kerensky is defeated. The Bolsheviki have taken the banks, state and private, and my former friend Pyatakoff has been made Commissary of Finance. From the front come new tales of horror … Our army is now a wild flying mob which destroys everything that stands in its path. German invasion is inevitable.

It wasn’t long before Lenin’s Bolsheviks showed their true faces, crushing dissent and imprisoning hundreds of “bourgeois” and “liberal” figures without charges. They also moved quickly to stamp out free speech, triggering protests from their Socialist comrades—to no avail. Sorokin himself was forced to go on the run after writing a signed column criticizing the Bolshevik coup:

Invasion of editorial offices and printing plants have become an everyday routine. Bolshevik soldiers destroy copy and even presses. As a matter of form, we obey orders to cease our publications, but they reappear immediately under slightly altered names … Today again I narrowly escaped arrest. As I entered the courtyard of our building a band of persecutors followed me, some going to the office, other remaining at the gate. Fortunately, they did not know me by sight, and as it was dark I lingered outside devising plans of escape.

See the previous installment or all entries.

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WWI Centennial: British Victory at Gaza and the Balfour Declaration
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Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Erik Sass is covering the events of the war exactly 100 years after they happened. This is the 292nd installment in the series.

October 31-November 2, 1917: British Victory at Gaza and the Balfour Declaration

In the secret Sykes-Picot Agreement of May 1916, in which Britain and France agreed on the post-war division of the Ottoman Empire’s Middle Eastern territories, the territory of Palestine was assigned to the British sphere, reflecting British concerns about its proximity to the Suez Canal, among other strategic concerns. But first the British would have to conquer it—and this conquest would give them a central role in the formation of a Jewish homeland in the modern era.

After a long, painful advance across the Sinai Peninsula in 1916-1917—assisted by Zionist scouts who helped locate desert wells on the way to Palestine, and accompanied by the pro-Allied Arab Rebellion organized by T.E. Lawrence on the other side of the Gulf of Aqaba—the British Egyptian Expeditionary Force seemed fated, like Moses, to remain trapped outside the promised land. Due in part to relatively scarce artillery support, in March-April 1917 the EEF’s first two attacks on the Turkish Fourth Army, fortified at Gaza in southern Palestine, failed decisively, leaving the Turks well entrenched in strong defensive positions stretching from the coast at Gaza inland to Beersheba (above, Turkish machine gunners at the Second Battle of Gaza).

There followed a long period of stalemate in southern Palestine, but the British were determined to have their prize. After the defeat at the Second Battle of Gaza the British war office removed the commander of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force, General Archibald Murray, and replaced him in June 1917 with General Edmund Allenby—a skilled campaigner, diplomat, and politician, who’d previously led the British Third Army on the Western Front, winning praise for both his thorough, methodical preparations and willingness to take calculated risks.


Erik Sass

By the end of October 1917, the reinvigorated EEF under Allenby was ready to attack again, thanks to the arrival of more artillery and the reorganization of his three cavalry divisions into the Desert Mounted Corps, including ANZAC horsemen who received special training in desert maneuver warfare. They would fight in coordination with British infantry, the XX and XXI Army Corps, drawn mostly from England, Wales, and Ireland. Altogether the EEG now numbered around 200,000, including 100,000 fighting men.

Allenby’s successful attack in the Third Battle of Gaza began with a punishing bombardment of the Turkish line, held by the new Turkish Eighth Army under the unforgettably named German commander, General Kress von Kressenstein, starting October 27, 1917. On October 31, British forces included ANZAC horsemen captured Beersheba, guarding the eastern end of Ottoman defensive lines in Palestine, allowing the advancing EEF to threaten to turn the Turkish flank from the east. One British medical officer serving in the EEF, Oskar Teichman, described the fighting at Beersheba on October 31, 1917, where a dashing, last-minute Australian cavalry charge (of the kind not seen in Europe since 1914) yielded a surprise victory:

We could see the explosions caused by our guns from Karm and the Buggar Ridge occurring on the outskirts of Beersheba on the west. The batteries of Desert Mounted Corps were active from the east, south-east and north-east … Although the infantry were now closing in from the west and the cavalry from the east, the garrison in Beersheba, which had remained after the last train had left for the north, appeared to be going to make a very stubborn resistance; however, about 5 p.m. the 4th Australian Light Horse, in the fading light, galloped the trenches just outside the town and broke the resistance of the enemy.

On the evening of November 1, 1917, Teichman wrote about entering recently captured Beersheba in his diary, noting that the retreating Turks had sabotaged some key infrastructure:

We rode into the town and saw the railway station and one railway train which had been unable to escape. The hospital, Governor’s house, and chief mosque were imposing buildings. Some of the houses and factories, and especially the waterworks, had been blown up by the Turks, and the ground was strewn with corpses and dead horses.

The capture of Beersheba opened the road to Hebron and Jerusalem and exposed the Turkish left flank to envelopment from the east. Meanwhile Allenby unleashed the main attack against the Turkish lines, beginning with a furious artillery bombardment including participation by British and French warships targeting Turkish positions exposed to the sea. In many places the high explosive shells flattened the Turks’ trenches in sandy areas, although poison gas shells had little effect.

Finally, at 11 p.m. on the night of November 1-2, 1917, British infantry attacked on the western portion of the front, rushing Turkish positions in sand hills and dunes at Umbrella Hill, which was captured with relatively light casualties. After that, the attackers turned their focus to the El Arish redoubt, a Turkish strong point, and later phases of the battle expanded to include the Rafa redoubt. Although the Turks launched several desperate counterattacks, some of which succeeded in temporarily capturing lost defensive positions, but most were forced to withdraw again.

After the fall of the main Turkish trenches protecting Gaza, the Turkish commander in the city itself held out until November 5, when dwindling artillery supplies and the threat of envelopment from the east forced the last elements of the garrison to withdraw. As the Turkish defenses collapsed, on November 6-7 the advancing British forces discovered that Gaza had been abandoned, and occupied the city. However Anglo-Egyptian forces remained vulnerable to aerial attack by German planes operating with the Turkish Eighth Army, according to Teichman, who wrote on November 2:

We began to wish that our anti-aircraft guns would arrive soon, as Fritz was again very spiteful … In the afternoon many more prisoners were rounded up and brought into the camp. When night fell we had a very bad doing from Fritz, who dropped a hundred bombs and caused a large number of casualties in our Field Ambulances.

Like their peers in Europe and elsewhere, ordinary British and Egyptian soldiers in the EEF found conditions remained abominable. A British soldier, William G. Johnson, recalled their arrival outside Tell-el-Sheria on November 7, 1917:

We are hard on the heels of the Turk … From dawn all Tuesday we have ploughed through sand and sun, no food to speak of … The grit on my teeth! The mud on my tongue! Lord! I can taste it now! Trekking the best part of a month, we are tired, ragged, verminous, and itchy with septic sores. Now we have halted and know we are close to the Turk. Petulantly through the twilight half-spent bullets whine out their last breath overhead. Nobody cares; we are too fagged out to heed them … Our spirits are low with fatigue and thirst and dirt. This hopeless, unending misery, this madness, this ultimate futility! Would I could sleep for ever.

They were also worried about the attitudes of the locals towards the British invaders: Would local Arab tribes view them as liberators or just the latest in a series of occupiers? Teichman did make some promising contact with Zionist settlers, writing in his diary on November 15, 1917:

During the morning two of us rode over to a Jewish village east of Beit Duras, in order to buy provisions. This was the first of the European-looking Jewish villages, founded under the Rothschild Colonization Scheme, which we had come across. After being accustomed for many months to see nothing but mud-huts and Bedouin tents, it seemed extraordinary to come across a clean, European-looking village with red-tiled roofs and well-kept roads. The Jews appeared to be of all nationalities, including English … the village seemed to be thriving, and we were able to purchase a considerable amount of food without any difficulty.

Balfour Declaration

As British forces advanced in the Holy Land, the British deepened their commitment to the troubled region with the Balfour Declaration, an official statement of support for the Zionist aspirations of European Jews to establish a Jewish homeland in Palestine—a cause dating back to before the founding of the World Zionist Organization in 1897. On November 2, 1917 Foreign Secretary Arthur Balfour sent a public letter to Walter Rothschild, 2nd Baron Rothschild, a Jewish member of Parliament who had served as an organizer and representative for the Zionist cause in Britain, declaring:

His Majesty’s government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country.

The British promises to the Jews were made in the context of the First World War, and were part of a complex, multifaceted global campaign by the Allies to win support for their cause wherever they could. The global Zionist movement became one of many nationalist causes courted by both sides in the war, often with the tantalizing promise of self-determination or an independent state.

For example, Germany used the promise of independence for Flanders, in northern to Belgium, in an attempt to divide Belgium (possibly leading to the outright annexation of the Germanic north), while Germany, Austria-Hungary and Russia all promised independence or more autonomy to ethnic Poles in a new, expanded kingdom of Poland—which would still wind up being a client state of someone, of course. The Allies also promised postwar independence to the Czechs, successfully persuading tens of thousands of Czechs in the Habsburg Army to switch sides and serve under the Allies on first the Eastern and then Western fronts. The Allies also made conflicting promises of territory around the Adriatic Sea to Serbia, the nucleus of a new Yugoslav state, and Italy. And Russia had been using Armenians as pawns before the war even resulted, with tragic results.

The Zionist cause, which had already seen Jewish settlers from Europe colonizing Palestine, gained adherents among Jewish populations on both sides during the upheaval of the Great War, which seemed to promise liberation and nationhood for small peoples. It also reflected a new embrace of a specifically Jewish identity in many places, resulting partly from a rise in anti-Semitism and nationalist feeling overall, as well as the dissolution of old communities based on loyalty to kings and dynasties.

Maximilian Reiter, a Jewish officer in the Austro-Hungarian Army, wrote in his diary of an incident in the final days of the war, which illustrated how Jewish identity seemed to become more important through even casual interactions:

I boarded the train that day and in my compartment found two officers already seated. One of them, a Hungarian, asked his companion, as would be quite normal, where he came from, which Regiment and what was his Nationality. The officer answered the first two questions, but gave as an answer to the last enquiry, about his Nationality, the reply 'Jewish.' The Hungarian was astonished: 'I didn’t mean your Religion, I meant your Nationality: are you Hungarian, Rumanian, German, or Czech?' 'I am a Jew,' the other persisted. Whereupon the Hungarian, who seemingly already knew something about Zionism, remarked: 'Well, then, you must be a Zionist?' 'Most certainly,' came the answer. And then the inquisitive traveler turned to me with the same questions. I had been much impressed by the proud reply of the previous traveler … So, when the question of Nationality was addressed to me in turn, I too replied 'Jewish.'

As history would soon reveal, the British Foreign Office (and their French colleagues) had once again made conflicting promises to local allies, in this case the Arabs under Prince Faisal. If they cared about these contradictions at all, British and French officials would probably have shrugged and justified their strategy of calculated ambiguity and deliberate deception on the grounds that “the ends justify the means”: there was a war to be won, and the exact nature of Allied obligations to smaller groups—who aspired to nationhood eventually but were currently little more than Allied pawns—would simply have to wait until after the defeat of the Central Powers.

Tragically, ethnic tension and hatreds were already roiling Palestine, as the Turks and Germans exploited the British public statement of support for the Zionist cause to stir up hatred among native Palestinian Arabs against both the Allies and the Jews (not to mention Arab and Assyrian Christians). Growing dissension boiled over in the form of riots and official persecution of these groups by increasingly paranoid Ottoman administrators, according to the Spanish consul in Jerusalem, the Conde de Ballobar. He wrote in his diary on November 30, 1917:

We find ourselves in a complete mania of anti-Semite persecution, since the governor does nothing but arrest right and left all the Jewish notables: Dr. Thon, the leader of the Zionists; Astroc, director of the Rothschild hospital; Dr. Ticho, Farhi of the Israeli Alliance; Barouchan and Dr. Schatz of Bezalel, also the dragoman of the Franciscans, and other notable Christians and even a Muslim from Jaffa.

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