“A Leap In The Dark”

Main Lesson

The First World War was an unprecedented catastrophe that shaped our modern world. Erik Sass is covering the events of the war exactly 100 years after they happened. This is the 129th installment in the series. 

July 14, 1914: “A Leap In the Dark” 

On July 14, 1914—the day Austria-Hungary’s leaders finally decided on war with Serbia—Germany’s Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg told his friend and advisor, the philosopher Kurt Riezler, that Germany was about to take “a leap in the dark” by backing the plan. But to be honest, Germany and Austria-Hungary were already operating in the dark, stepping on each other’s toes as they stumbled towards war.

By mid-July, Berlin and Vienna had agreed on exactly one thing: Austria-Hungary was going to use the murder of Archduke Franz Ferdinand as a pretext to crush Serbia, which would (hopefully) end the threat of Pan-Slav nationalism once and for all. But all the critical details, including the timing of the attack, remained undecided.

To be fair, nothing was ever simple in Austria-Hungary, especially if it involved big decisions, which were avoided whenever possible. When an important decision simply had to be made, it required consultation and consent from both the Austrian and Hungarian halves of the Empire. In this case, Imperial Foreign Minister Count Berchtold and chief of the general staff Conrad von Hötzendorf (both Austrians) had to convince Hungarian Premier Count István Tisza to support their war plan. But Tisza was not the kind of man to be maneuvered into a decision he disagreed with, even if it had the support of Emperor Franz Josef himself.

Wikimedia Commons (1, 2, 3

Following the first crown council on July 7, Tisza still had serious reservations about the plan to attack Serbia, warning it could easily lead to war with Serbia’s patron Russia. To reduce the risk, he demanded that Austria-Hungary first present its case diplomatically by documenting Serbian involvement followed by a “last chance” for Serbia to knuckle under. This was the origin of the ultimatum plan devised by Berchtold as a diplomatic fig leaf: Austria-Hungary would gather evidence of Serbian complicity and then present Belgrade with demands so outrageous the Serbs would have to reject them.

From July 10 to 14, 1914, everything finally came together to sway Tisza to the war party. First his demand for evidence was satisfied by the investigation of Baron Friedrich von Wiesner, who arrived in Sarajevo on July 11 and on July 13 sent a preliminary report that cleared Serbia’s government of involvement but traced the plot back to Serbian army officers, stating there was “hardly a doubt that the crime was resolved upon in Belgrade, and prepared with the cooperation of Serbian officials…" 

Around this time, the Austrians also received a promise of neutrality from Romania in the event of war, removing another source of hesitation for Tisza, who feared unrest in Hungary’s Romanian population. But the trump card was the attitude of Berlin. Tisza knew that Austria-Hungary depended on Germany for security, and Berchtold pounded home the message that Berlin expected Vienna to settle the Serbian problem now—and if it didn’t, the exasperated Germans might decide the alliance wasn’t worth the trouble.

The foreign minister could point to a string of messages from Berlin urging action (in a typically Byzantine ruse, Berchtold may have secretly asked the Germans to send these messages to help him convince Tisza). On July 12, the Austro-Hungarian ambassador to Berlin, Count Szőgyény, advised Vienna that “Kaiser Wilhelm and all other responsible personages here … invite us not to let the present moment pass but to take vigorous measures against Serbia and make a clean sweep of the revolutionary conspirators’ nest there once and for all.” As for the risk of a wider war, the Germans believed “It is by no means certain that if Serbia becomes involved in a war with us, Russia would resort to arms in her support… The German Government further believes it has sure indications that England at the present moment would not join in a war over a Balkan country…”

As a conservative nobleman, Tisza’s main goal was maintaining the traditional order, which above all meant preserving the Hapsburg monarchy, the source of all political legitimacy. On top of this and evidence of Serbian complicity, German pressure finally tipped the balance, and at a second meeting of the crown council on July 14, 1914, Tisza agreed to the plan for an ultimatum followed by war. This should have been cause for rejoicing in Vienna and Berlin—but now the allies found themselves at odds over timing, as the Germans pressed for immediate action and the Austrians pleaded for delay.

Critical Delays

The first problem was the discovery by chief of the general staff Conrad that a large part of Austria-Hungary’s military was away on summer leave until late July. Second, Berchtold and his fellow ministers knew that French President Raymond Poincaré and Premier René Viviani were due to visit France’s ally Russia from July 20-23; if the ultimatum became public while they were still guests of Tsar Nicholas II in St. Petersburg, the French and Russian leaders would be able to confer in person and work out a coordinated response to the Austrian gambit—exactly what Berchtold didn’t want. On the other hand, if Austria-Hungary waited until after the visit to send the ultimatum, the French leaders would be at sea and relatively isolated, as long-distance ship-to-shore radio communications were still dodgy at best. The sudden death of the Russian ambassador to Serbia, Baron Nicholas Hartwig, on July 10 could only add to the confusion (hugely obese, Hartwig died of a heart attack while visiting the Austro-Hungarian embassy, fueling gossip of a covert assassination).

Beginning with the crown council on July 14, the Austrians formulated a plan employing deception on a grand scale. They would deliver the ultimatum to Serbia on the evening of July 23, after Poincaré and Viviani were safely at sea, and give Belgrade 48 hours to respond, so they could proceed immediately to mobilization on July 25. Until then, however, Vienna and Berlin would avoid any hint of belligerence in order to lull Russia, France and Britain into a false sense of security. 

The Germans weren’t happy about Vienna’s decision to wait until late July, reasoning it was better to strike now in the hopes of catching the Triple Entente flat-footed. On July 11 Riezler recorded Bethmann-Hollweg’s attitude: “[The Austrians] apparently require a frightfully long time to mobilize… That is very dangerous. A quick fait accompli, and then friendly toward the Entente, then we could survive the shock.” In the same vein, on July 13 the German chief of the general staff, Helmuth von Moltke (on vacation in Karlsbad, Bohemia) urged, “Austria must beat the Serbs and then make peace quickly.”

The Italian Question

Berlin and Vienna also disagreed on the critical question of whether to inform Italy, the unreliable third member of the Triple Alliance, about their plans. The only way Italy might be persuaded to join them in a war of aggression was the promise of territorial concessions—specifically Austria’s own ethnic Italian lands in the Trentino and Trieste (top and below, in red), long coveted by Italian nationalists as the final missing piece of a united Italy. But the Germans and Austrians didn’t see eye-to-eye on this issue: While the Germans were quite comfortable offering up chunks of their ally, the Austrians were understandably reluctant to give up lands that had been part of the Hapsburg patrimony for centuries. 

Main Lesson / Albanian Photography

As early as June 30, the German ambassador to Vienna, Tschirschky, urged Berchtold to consult Italy, and on July 2 he repeated the advice to Emperor Franz Josef, but the Austrians brushed off the German concerns. The issue reemerged in the following weeks, when it became clear Italy might not stand idly by if Austria-Hungary attacked Serbia. On July 10, Italy’s Foreign Minister San Giuliano (above) warned the German ambassador, Baron Ludwig von Flotow, that Italy would have to be compensated for any expansion by Austria-Hungary in the Balkans, naming Austrian Trentino as the price. Increasingly alarmed by the Italian attitude, on July 15 Germany’s Foreign Secretary Gottlieb von Jagow again urged Austria-Hungary to take Italy into her confidence in a message to Tschirschky, the German ambassador in Vienna:

There is no doubt in my mind that in an Austro-Serbian conflict, [Italian public opinion] would side with Serbia. A territorial extension of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, even a further spread of its influence in the Balkans, is viewed with horror in Italy and regarded as an injury to Italy’s position there… It is therefore in my opinion of the highest importance that Vienna should discuss with the Rome Cabinet the aims it proposes to pursue in the conflict and should bring it over to its side or… [at least] keep it strictly neutral… In strict confidence, the only compensation regarded as adequate in Italy would be the acquisition of the Trentino.

But once again, the German warnings fell on deaf ears in Vienna. Frustrated by Vienna’s repeated refusals, the Germans took matters into their own hands on July 11, when Flotow tried to get the ball rolling by secretly outlining Austria-Hungary’s plans in a meeting with Foreign Minister San Giuliano. Even worse from the Austro-Hungarian (and later German) perspective, the leak began spreading as San Giuliano sent telegrams to Italy’s ambassadors across Europe, warning that Austria-Hungary was planning something big. Because all the Great Powers routinely eavesdropped on diplomatic communications, Russian intelligence probably decrypted the Italian messages and informed Russian diplomats, who in turn spread the word to France and Britain. Thus Poincaré and Viviani likely knew something was afoot when they met the tsar and his ministers from July 20 to 23, giving them plenty of time to coordinate their response. 

See the previous installment or all entries.

Welcome to the Party, Pal: A Die Hard Board Game Exists

USAOPOLY/Amazon
USAOPOLY/Amazon

On the heels of the 30th anniversary of the classic Bruce Willis action film Die Hard last year, tabletop board game company The OP has created a game that will see John McClane once again battle his way through Nakatomi Plaza. Die Hard: The Nakatomi Heist is a board game officially licensed by Fox Consumer Products that drops players into a setting familiar to anyone who has seen the film: As New York cop McClane tries to reconcile with his estranged wife, he must navigate a team of cutthroat thieves set on overtaking a Los Angeles high-rise.

The game has a one-against-many format, with one player assuming the role of McClane and the other players conspiring as the thieves to eliminate him from the Plaza.

The OP, also known as USAOpoly, has previously created games based on Avengers: Infinity War and the Harry Potter franchise. Die Hard has spawned four sequels, the most recent being 2013’s A Good Day to Die Hard. Willis will likely return as McClane for a sixth installment that will alternate between the present day and his rookie years in the NYPD. That film has no release date set.

The board game is available for purchase on Amazon now for $40.

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12 Good Ol' Facts About The Dukes of Hazzard

Getty Images
Getty Images

When The Dukes of Hazzard premiered on January 26, 1979, it was intended to be a temporary patch in CBS’s primetime schedule until The Incredible Hulk returned. Only nine episodes were ordered, and few executives at the network had any expectation that the series—about two amiable brothers at odds with the corrupt law enforcement of Hazzard County—would become both a ratings powerhouse and a merchandising bonanza. Check out some of these lesser-known facts about the Duke boys, their extended family, and the gravity-defying General Lee.

1. CBS's chairman hated The Dukes of Hazzard.

CBS chairman William Paley never quite bought into the idea of spinning his opinion to match the company line. Having built CBS from a radio station to one of the “Big Three” television networks, he had harvested talent as diverse as Norman Lear and Lucille Ball, a marked contrast to the Southern-fried humor of The Dukes of Hazzard. In his 80s when it became a top 10 series and seeing no reason to censor himself, Paley repeatedly and publicly described the show as “lousy.”

2. The Dukes of Hazzard's General Lee got 35,000 fan letters a month.


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While John Schneider and Tom Wopat were the ostensible stars of the show, both the actors and the show's producers quickly found out that the main attraction was the 1969 Dodge Charger—dubbed the General Lee—that trafficked brothers Bo and Luke Duke from one caper to another. Of the 60,000 letters the series was receiving every month in 1981, 35,000 wanted more information on or pictures of the car.

3. Dennis Quaid wanted to be The Dukes of Hazzard's Luke Duke—on one condition.

When the show began casting in 1978, producers threw out a wide net searching for the leads. Dennis Quaid was among those interested in the role of Luke Duke—which eventually went to Wopat—but he had a condition: he would only agree to the show if his then-wife, P.J. Soles, was cast at the Dukes’ cousin, Daisy. Soles wasn’t a proper fit for the supporting part, which put Quaid off; Catherine Bach was eventually cast as Daisy.

4. John Schneider pretended to be a redneck for his Dukes of Hazzard audition.

New York native Schneider was only 18 years old when he went in to read for the role of Bo Duke. The problem: producers wanted someone 24 to 30 years old. Schneider lied about his age and passed himself off as a Southern archetype, strutting in wearing a cowboy hat, drinking a beer, and spitting tobacco. He also told them he could do stunt driving. It was a good enough performance to land him the show.

5. The Dukes of Hazzard co-stars John Schneider and Tom Wopat met while taking a poop.

After Schneider was cast, the show needed to locate an actor who could complement Bo. Stage actor Wopat was flown in for a screen test; Schneider happened to be in the bathroom when Wopat walked in after him. The two began talking about music—Schneider had seen a guitar under the stall door—and found they had an easy camaraderie. After flushing, the two did a scene. Wopat was hired immediately.

6. Daisy's Dukes needed a tweak on The Dukes of Hazzard.

Bach’s omnipresent jean shorts were such a hit that any kind of cutoffs quickly became known as “Daisy Dukes,” after her character. But they were so skimpy that the network was concerned censors wouldn’t allow them. A negotiation began, and it was eventually decided that Bach would wear some extremely sheer pantyhose to make sure there were no clothing malfunctions.

7. Nancy Reagan was fan of The Dukes of Hazzard's Daisy.

Shirley Moore, Bach’s former grade school teacher, went on to work in the White House. After Bach sent her a poster, she was surprised to hear back that then-First Lady Nancy Reagan was enamored with it. “I’m the envy of the White House and I’m having your poster framed,” Moore wrote in a letter. “Mrs. Reagan saw the picture and fell in love with it.” Bach sent more posters, which presumably became part of the decor during the Reagan administration.

8. The Dukes of Hazzard's stars had some very bizarre contract demands.

Wopat and Schneider famously walked off the series in 1982 after demanding a cut of the show’s massive merchandising revenue—which was, by one estimate, more than $190 million in 1981 alone. They were replaced with Byron Cherry and Christopher Mayer, “cousins” of the Duke boys, who were reviled by fans for being scabs. The two leads eventually came back, but it wasn’t the only time Warner Bros. had to deal with irate actors. James Best, who portrayed crooked sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane, refused to film five episodes because he had no private dressing room in which to change his clothes; the production just hosed him down when he got dirty. Ben Jones, who played “Cooter” the mechanic, briefly left because he wanted his character to sport a beard and producers preferred he be clean-shaven.

9. A miniature car was used for some stunts in The Dukes of Hazzard.

As established, the General Lee was a primary attraction for viewers of the series. For years, the show wrecked dozens of Chargers by jumping, crashing, and otherwise abusing them, which created some terrific footage. For its seventh and final season in 1985, the show turned to a miniature effects team in an effort to save on production costs: it was cheaper to mangle a Hot Wheels-sized model than the real thing. “It was a source of embarrassment to all of us on the show,” Wopat told E!.

10. The Dukes of Hazzard's famous "hood slide" was an accident.

A staple—and, eventually, cliché—of action films everywhere, the slide over the hood was popularized by Tom Wopat. While it may have been tempting to take credit, Wopat said it was unintentional and that the first time he tried clearing the hood, the car’s antenna wound up injuring him.

11. The Dukes of Hazzard cartoon went international.


YouTube

Warner Bros. capitalized on the show’s phenomenal popularity with an animated series, The Dukes, which was produced by Hanna-Barbera and aired in 1983. Taking advantage of the form, the Duke boys traveled internationally, racing Boss Hogg through Greece or Hong Kong. Perhaps owing to the fact that the live-action series was already considered enough of a cartoon, the animated series only lasted 20 episodes.

12. In 2015, Warner Bros. banned the Confederate flag from The Dukes of Hazzard merchandising.

At the time the series originally aired, little was made of the General Lee sporting a Confederate flag on its hood. In 2015, after then-South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley spoke out against the depiction of the flag in popular culture, Warner Bros. elected to stop licensing products with the original roof. The company announced that all future Dukes merchandise would drop the design element. Schneider disagreed with the decision, telling The Hollywood Reporter, “Is the flag used as such in other applications? Yes, but certainly not on the Dukes ... Labeling anyone who has the flag a ‘racist’ seems unfair to those who are clearly ‘never meanin’ no harm.'”

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