Alternate History Thread III

I suppose that's politically viable, but remember that Egypt and Africa had plenty of chances to split off during the 500s with really crappy Emperors (Justin II and Phocas) and never did, nor did they split following the loss at Yarmuk. Ideological affinity or somesuch. IMHO such a split would have to be based on a personality - say, the Exarch - following a disastrous imperial military defeat in the field.

Well, they didn't have much time to split off after Yarmuk. I agree that it would probably have to be personal; a war with the Ostrogoths should help, especially if the latter have any naval successes. Do note that I'm not talking about Egypt here.

Oh, btw, can someone send me a 1914 map on the typical world map?

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Credit mostly goes to Panda. As does most of the blame. :p

For the chinese alt his, what happened to the neo confucianism and their opposition against seafaring?

Obviously it got ignored. ;) Technically the restrictions of seafaring begun to be lifted in OTL since the mid-16th century, and the Neoconfucianists failed to stop that (did they even try? I think that the 15th century was the zenith of their conservatism; they were either less significant or more flexible, or probably both, afterwards). Plus, the more conservative court factions have been dealt a major blow during the civil war, while the merchants and the "Chinese conquistadors" (ambitious nobles and generals) have gained in importance. That trend may be reversed with time, but I suspect that as long as China's capital is in the south and China holds so many colonies and receives such major commercial benefits, there shall be no huge changes of state policy in the regard of seafaring. Nan Ming Dynasty is generally more pragmatic than Bei Ming, anyway.
 
PoD-for-the-day (#2 - March 13th, 2007): Cecil Rhodes/the British South Africa is generally more succesful; the first thing that comes to mind is Katanga (southeastern Congo/Zaire), which the British had nearly managed to capture in 1891. Had the local king Msiri accepted the British offer of protection, the British would have been able to secure the wealthy province, though at the price of a Fashoda-type colonial clash with the Congo Free State. Nonetheless, the British are likely to emerge victorious in the long run, and Rhodes is likely to exploit this victory by capturing a corridor in eastern Congo, connecting his South African possessions with British East Africa and Sudan. Possibly the Boer issue could be handled better as well; distracted in the north, the British might not act as hastily and would probably have time to prepare the Jameson Raid equivalent more properly, as well as engineering an actual Uitlander rebellion. The Boer War equivalent is likely to go much smoother than in OTL in that case.

At the same time, a stronger and more aggressive British colonial policy in Central Africa will probably result in more clashes with France. Also, Joseph Chamberlain will be considerably stronger in this world. And ofcourse Wilhelm II wouldn't make so many blunders that arose from a presumption of British weakness.

All that would generally tilt things in favour of an Anglo-German alliance, or at least greater cooperation, especially in colonial issues. Incidentally, that would likely set Britain on a collision course with the USA (Samoa 1898, Venezuela 1902); although a war with the USA in the early 1900s would be extremelly unlikely, it still is a fun possibility to contemplate, and were it to actually occur it would make sense (odd sentance, I know; basically I mean that there were some serious clashes of influence and increasing economic competition between the two foremost European powers and the USA, and if the former two ally - probably signing some economic cooperation agreements as well - the USA would be at the very least as natural an enemy as France, if not moreso as the USA is definitely a larger threat; naturally those trends would be far more noticeable had they led to their logical result, as opposed to the counter-trends that are more noticeable in OTL). The Anglo-Germans would also get the Italians, and possibly the Japanese and Colombians (the latter had conflicts with Venezuela and considerable Germanophilia; Panama might also be a factor), over to their side. The goals of the anti-American coalition would naturally be the destruction of the American fleet and the capture of key American overseas possessions (mostly post-Spanish-American War gains). It is granted ofcourse that then there will be the difficult matter of actually getting the USA to surrender...

Other enemies are ofcourse France and Russia; still, I suspect that their leaders would realise that they are too weak to take on both Germany and Britain at the same time... So I'd imagine that the French will have to back down in Morocco, for one thing. I suspect that they would brood, build up their forces (probably with the help of American investments) and wait for a good opportunity. Or they might lose their nerve... Or ally with USA. Actually, for a mega-war, we could have the USA, France and Russia versus Britain, Germany and Japan (and ofcourse both sides would bring in some lesser allies). That would probably be way too contrived, but on the other hand quite original.

Anyway, barring an Anglo-German clash with the USA or a Franco-Russian attack on Germany, there would probably be no WWI, but instead a sort of a cold war, only with less monolithic alliances. Note that the Anglo-German relations may well run sour, especially if they score a major (not necessarily military) victory over their enemies; that would result in a 20th century Diplomatic Revolution. Alternatively, if the Anglo-Germans bite off more than they

There are ofcourse other possibilities. Including the admittedly dubious Anglo-German alliance never coming to be and Britain trying to maintain a policy of Splendid Isolation. Or things could remain very similar to the OTL; I suspect that would be the most likely outcome in this case, but still, unlikely turns of events are worthy of exploration as well as long as they aren't completely illogical.

Any other suggestions?
 
PoD-for-the-day (#3 - March 14th, 2007): For the birthday of King Umberto the Good (in this world, quite possibly the Great). In the famous battle of Adowa, the Italians have more adequate maps and so manage to execute their (pretty good) battle plan, as opposed to advancing in different (and wrong, to boot) direcitons and allowing the Ethiopians to defeat the Italians in detail. Superior firepower decimates the Ethiopian army, and even if Menelik manages to retreat and regroup, he has no supplies left and the countryside has had enough of having to supply his forces. In short order the army falls apart and the country rises up (as it did a bit later in OTL, only this time it will be much worse, ofcourse). The Italians receive reinforcements and drive forward to impose their puppet in Ethiopia, establishing an effective protectorate, although restoring order in the countryside will take some more time. Either way, the Italian prestige is enhanced, and the domestic situation is infinitely better, although the left-wing fascist ( :p ) rebellion in Sicily still occurs (and is put down). Umberto I survives, Francesco Crispi survives (as Prime Minister; and I suspect that he'll live longer as well, as the OTL late 1890s crisis sounds extremelly stressful for the one who has to deal with it all). As the colonial holdings are consolidated and order is restored, things generally start getting better for Italy, with Sonnino's economic measures bearing fruit.

Without the crisis and the colonial defeat, Umberto and Crispi are both more free and more willing to concentrate on foreign affairs, especially after Cirspi tackles some of the rampant corruption. Italy builds up its military, especially the navy, and begins eyeing North African real estate. Tripolitania and Cyreneica are natural targets, ofcourse. Here, however, the Italians are both more confident and, under Umberto and Crispi, more pro-German; so instead of a secret agreement with France they reach accord with Germany and Austria-Hungary, and possibly with Russia as well. Italy also establishes better relations with (likewise pro-German, under Constantine I) Greece in 1897, helping force the detachment of Crete from the Ottoman Empire. The Italians wait for the next crisis, continuing their military buildup. The stakes are heightened unexpectedly in the early 20th century (late 1900s), as the Ottoman Empire slides into chaos (the Young Turk Revolution). The Italians push the Greeks into escalating the renewed tensions with the Turks over Crete into war, and the other Balkan states couldn't help it but join in. Italy's German and Austro-Hungarian allies aren't too thrilled, but eventually join in, the Austrians formally annexing Bosnia, Herzegovina and Novipazar. The Entente is totally unprepared for such a development, and the Russians are unwilling to support the Ottomans, helping the Serbs grab land instead. Even in OTL Austria-Hungary and Italy were united in fear of the Serbs gaining access to the Adriatic (as that would increase Russian influence there), and the Italians always had some designs on Albania, so they intervenne there as well as grab the colonies. Greeks push northwards, Bulgarians push southwards and the Serbs soon find themselves boxed in and denied significant gains. Nikola Pasic is not amused.

Meanwhile, a countercoup occurs in Constantinople (an earlier and more succesful version of the OTL one), followed up by an escalating civil war and opportunistic Arab revolts.The Armenian Revolutionary Federation distances itself from the failed Young Turks and launch a rebellion of their own. Bulgarians enter Edirne and move towards fundamentalist-held, increasingly anarchic Constantinople. Italians and Greeks land in southwestern Anatolia.

At this point the Entente has to take action. Russian forces pour into Turkish Armenia, greeted by some Armenians as liberators and opposed by others, bitter by Russification policies in Russian Armenia; the British formalise their control over Egypt and send troops to secure points of economic interest in the Holy Land and Mesopotamia; the semi-autonomous Druze rulers of Lebanon ask the French for protection. At the same time, no formal annexations are made, and the comparatively liberal (as well as desperate) Young Turk government in Ankara is granted official recognition. An ultimatum demands the cessation of Italo-Greek advance and a special European Congress.

At this point, things could go either way. Perhaps the Congress of Constantinople effectively carves up the Ottoman Empire, most of its European possessions divided between Balkan powers and Italy, and the rest divided into spheres of influence (Russian in Armenia, British in the Holy Land, Hejaz and Mesopotamia, French in Lebanon and Syria, Italian in Libya and southwestern Anatolia and Greek around Smyrna). Maybe nothing so subtle; a rump Turkish National Republic, under the CUP, in central and western Anatolia, and the rest divided between the intervenning powers and client states (the French might use their ties with the Arab Nationalist movement to set up an allied Republic of Syria, for instance, while the British are the British).

Or we could have a World War One beginning in late 1908 or early 1909! Germany, Austria-Hungary, Italy, Bulgaria, Greece versus the United Kingdom, France, Russia, Serbia, Romania (?) and Turkey. Such a conflict might grow out of the Congress idea as well, as the occupying troops will clash frequently and the jingoist newspapers will call for war. I also doubt that the Austrians, especially Hotzendorf who proposed a preemptive invasion of Serbia on many occasions, will resist the temptation of engaging Serbia in a three-front war; possibly not to the death, but probably to the puppetification. Lots of possibilities either way. Not sure how will the war turn out, especially if the Italians (with an expanded fleet) and the Austro-Hungarians cooperate fruitfully in the Mediterranean Sea, while the Germans break out in the North. That would make for a more original Central Powers winning scenario. Then again, the Entente isn't weaker in all regards as compared to the OTL WWI; the Germans had less time to build up their army, and if the Straits and Anatolia are secured Russia's position will be MUCH better than in OTL; a Russo-Franco-British naval combination will probably be enough to dominate the Mediterranean, at least, while in the North Sea the British will be able to carry out the Borkum Plan without the distracting alternative of the Dardanelles.
 
Parts of those are scarily close to my TL, which only awaits me finishing the map at this point.

Overall, that PoD in particular seems fairly well thought out; I really don't hae any complaints of any real import. Making this one into a NES starting at the Congress would actually be really cool.

May other people fire off ideas about other PoDs of the Day?
 
I haven't even posted the TL itself, Moose...;)

Although that can be quickly remedied.
 
Parts of those are scarily close to my TL, which only awaits me finishing the map at this point.

Well, hopefully the base map that I posted is satisfactory.

May other people fire off ideas about other PoDs of the Day?

Naturally! The more ideas the better (usually).

By the way, #1 PoD is probably worthy of further development. Southeast Asia would seem to be quite interesting, from the religious/cultural point of view. Christianity probably won't really be able to replace Islam there, though I maintain that it will establish some presence there. Consequently, Indian and Chinese influences will be stronger. Indonesia will likely remain dominated by Hinduism and Buddhism (and a syncretic mix of the two and the local beliefs), but Neoconfucianist elements might also establish a presence at the courts, especially if a Chinese migration into Southeast Asia occurs. Another thought; if the Sui Chinese decide to expand into Central Asia instead of attacking Korea, the Goguryeo Koreans would be in a good position to expand into southern Manchuria (via existing alliances with local tribes), as opposed to their epic life-or-death struggle with the Sui that occured in OTL and drained them considerably. They would also be able to conquer the southern Korean kingdoms, and maybe even attack Japan. Korea actually has some good imperial opportunities in this timeline, even though they're a bit of a stretch. Either way, the scenario would drastically alter all of the civilised Old World in a comparatively short amount of time. That is my favourite kind of althist.

EDIT:

Although that can be quickly remedied.

Indeed it can. ;)
 
Part 1
Part 1.5

The Eternal Wait: Part 2
375 CE-440 CE​

It was late spring, the ferocious heat of the summer not quite making the city a baker’s oven. The Augustus, surrounded by various nobles and bodyguards lounged under a purple awning, alternating between sipping chilled wine, lazily talking, and groping the nearest female servant. Around them, separated by a cordon of space as well as influence, stood the citizenry of Rome, their eyes riveted to the scene below them. Suddenly a roar from the crowd went up, like a sudden clap of thunder. Looking up from a pretty little slave he had just bought, the Augustus saw that one of the gladiators was down, the triumphant victor holding his sword aloft; its point aimed downward, waiting for permission before delivering the final blow. All around the coliseum thumbs pointed down. Seeing this, the uncaring Augustus held his own thumb down, an action that caused the crowd to go into a frenzy as a small river of blood stained the sandy ground.

That very night, if ancient historians are to be believed, it was the Augustus’ blood that stained the ground, mingling with the growing red ocean of blood from those, who, only a few hours earlier, had been cheering at the sight of death. Rome, the city of conquerors now laid conquered, for one violent night her streets echoing with the unfamiliar screams of her inhabitants. Wraithlike, Romans flirted around the city, their feet slipping on pools of blood, occasionally tripping over a body. This had to be a dream…right? But it wasn’t a dream, the citizens, many of whom slept the eternal sleep, did not wake up.

In the provinces, it seemed as if no one noticed that the Queen of all Cities lay raped and bruised, sprawled in the gutter. For as long as anyone could remember, the various Augusti of the West made no effort to oversee the provinces, preferring reports about the size of women’s breasts to reports on the size of border legions. Thus as long as tribute to fund their extravagant lifestyles and grain to feed the masses continued to flow into Rome, the Augusti left the provinces to their own devices. In addition, there were no ties of paternal loyalties binding the various western Caesars to Rome. Many Caesars, including all of the border ones, were themselves lately classified as “barbarians” by Rome, trading the power of their tribal armies for land and political power within the west. Already, the cords which bound the west together were becoming undone, as the legions of Britannia, refused to obey the orders of the Augustus to abandon the island, proclaiming their independence by their inaction.

It was only the Augustus of the East that showed any interest in the fate of Rome. Fearing that if the barbarians continued to wander about they would eventually turn back to attack the east, or almost as bad, interrupt the trade route between the wealthy western north Africa and the east, the Augustus named a new Western Augustus from one of the patrician families of Rome, making preparations that made it seem as if he was planning on backing up his appointment with military force if necessary. But whether this was his actual intentions or just a ruse, the world never found out because, the barbarian king, who remembered all to well the defeats the Eastern army had given him before he had turned west, accepted an offer which made him Caesar of northern Italy, as well as giving his tribes plenty of land to settle in exchange to his loyalty to the Western Empire.
Thus in the West, things continued in the pre-established pattern. Various tribes or alliance of tribes from outside of the Empire’s borders would periodically sweep in a migrating invasion. Occasionally these tribes would be turned aside, held back by the armies at the disposal of the local Caesar. More often than not, however, the tribes would break through, or in some cases be let through, passing through the Empire to settle in some spot where they would force the local authorities to name their leader Caesar of the Empire. Once this process had started, the Western Augustus proved powerless to stop it, even if he desired to. The armies had long since turned from “Roman” armies into local armies raised and equipped by the various Caesars from their local tribes. At the most, all the Augustus could do was play the various Caesars against one another, though even this, as time passed, they increasingly seemed disinclined to do.

Meanwhile, the Eastern Empire also continued its trend of decentralization, though for entirely different reasons from the west. Because of the almost constant pressure created by the Parthians and their successors in the east and the various tribes to the north meant that most Augusti spent virtually their entire lives with their armies on the field. Because of this, as well as because very little of the bureaucratic mechanizations transferred over to the capital of Caesaropolis, most of the governing of the realm was taken over by local rulers who were given the title of Caesar. Unlike in the west, however, while having significant local political power, these eastern Caesars had no military power, as the armies were concentrated almost solely on the border under the authority of the Augusti.

However, because the Augusti and their heirs spent so much of their lives protecting the borders of the realm, there was the continuous threat of a succession crisis as the Augusti and their heirs were in perpetual risk of dying in battle. The fear was that in such a crisis, the various border generals would all strive against one another for the title of Augustus, leaving the border defenseless and the heartlands of the Empire vulnerable. Meanwhile, the Caesars themselves stood little chance of attaining the title in such a scenario as any significant faction of the standing army could easily brush past any levies that the Caesar’s attempted to raise.

It was one of the many reforms of Augustus Julius, himself heirless, that a solution to a possible succession crisis was reached. At the death of an Augustus, it would be the Caesars who would meet to appoint the successor. This successor, however, must be one of the border generals. In this way, both spheres of power in the East, the Caesars and the generals, remained satisfied. The Caesars not only gained the power of appointment of the next Augustus, but they also ensured that the border would remain stable, its armies not wasted in dynastic struggles. In addition, by electing only generals, they ensured that no Augustus would attempt to combine military with political power, threatening their own local political power. The generals ensured that the throne of Augustus would always be held by a military man, that the defense of the borders would always remain a priority. In addition, all generals had, in theory at least, the possibility of ascending to the throne without the risk that warfare brought. In warfare, if one sought the throne but failed, death was the only possible outcome. In this system, however, one could seek the throne and if failed, would still be able to keep their generalship, losing nothing. Lastly, the future Augusti benefited from this arrangement. With their own army combined with the wealth of the united provinces, they were virtually unassailable from civil war. Because of this, the wealth of the East wouldn’t be drained by constant succession crises and so each Augustus would inherit a stronger Empire than they would without this system. Thus, while there were occasional civil wars, they never reached a significant magnitude, each one being easily crushed by the elected Augustus in a relatively short time.

While the East managed to keep semi-unified, even the illusion of unity in the West was soon to evaporate like dew before the flaming sun. After the sack of Rome, the eternal city had never recovered. The patrician Justus, who the East had made Augustus after the fall of Rome, had attempted to revitalize it, but had been thwarted by lack of funds and hostility towards the plan by the Caesars, who feared that a stronger Rome would attempt to encroach on their by now traditional powers. Eventually, Justus was forced to abandon his project, even eventually leaving the city in order to live in one of his vast estates outside of it. Before the sack, the Augusti could at least count on some of the wealth, if not the power, from the provinces to trickle in to the capital in order to finance their extravagant lifestyle. After the sack, even these funds were diverted, some going East through trade networks, more going into the pockets of the local Caesars.

Despite this, the title of “Augustus” still held some value and thus the Augustus were still kept around. Coins were minted, taxes were raised, troops were trained, all in the name of the Augustus. In reality, however, the Augustus had as much power as the Caesars of northern Italy, descendants of those who had sacked Rome, gave them. But they still had their title, and the oversight, at least in name, of a still vast empire. Still, all it took was one ambitious man…

As fate would decree, that ambitious man was Augustus Marius. As a rule, the Italian Caesars refused to put an ambitious man on the throne, preferring a weak mouthpiece to someone who might be a real emperor. Nevertheless, Marius managed to gain the title when the northern Caesars were threatened by internal strife, and one of the younger sons by the name of Aetius sought the support of Marius’ own legions to secure the Caesarship. However, Aetius found that Marius was less pliable than an Augustus should be, ignoring his “advice” and daring to pursue an independent policy. This caused the Caesar to raise his own army and appoint a new Augustus, marching on Rome to enforce this regime change.

While this had been going on, Marius had not been idle, sending out messengers to other Caesars for their support. A coalition was formed, its members fearing the actual power of Aetius more than the potential power of Marius. Thus, while Aetius was besieging Marius in Rome, another army moved behind Aetius, encircling the besieging army. Unfortunately for Aetius, the Roman army had deteriorated since the namesake of his title, Julius Caesar, won in a similar situation at Alesia. Facing a combination of attacks from both the inside and outside of his encirclement, Aetius’ army broke, abandoning the siege. Aetius himself disappeared in the rout, most likely killed by a soldier who didn’t recognize him, though his body was never found.

Had Marius been content with this, history might have turned out much different. However, Marius’ ambition showed itself again. Using the same tactics of dividing the Caesars that had worked so successfully in his war against Aetius, Marius marched northward, accepting the homage of some Caesars and defeating others. However, Marius had made the crucial mistake of overestimating his oppositions disunity and well as the unity of his own allies. Seeing an Augustus act, well like an Augustus, a second coalition of Caesars was formed, this time against Marius. Marius again sent out messengers to allies and potential allies to augment his own personal army. However, the bonds of homage which Marius had just received proved their own worth, as he was ignored by many of the same Caesars who had just promised undying loyalty. Thus, when Marius went out to meet the coalition, he found himself outnumbered, deserted by those whose support he had counted on. Predictably, when the two armies met like crashing waves, those allies of Marius, seeing that their cause would not be victorious, abandoned Marius, offering Marius up as a sacrifice in order to gain a more favorable peace for themselves. Marius’ own army, however, proved their loyalty with their blood, surrounding him like chicks surround the mother hen, paving the ground with their corpses.

After the battle, Marius fled to the East, hoping to find an army there willing to support his bid for the West. Unfortunately for him, however, the East he fled to was not the East which had saved Rome after its sack by the threat of its arms. For the East was itself facing a challenge that would irrevocably change the history of the region forever. For from the north came, as their Jewish citizens would proclaim, as if from the very gates of Sheol came the Riders of Abaddon.[1]


[1] Hebrew for “The Destroyer” having no connection to the NESer by that name…or do they???
 
Interesting system(s). The East reminds me of the Shogunate, as it was initially intended (and, ofcourse, more centralised). The Marius episode is also curious, though the succesful flight would have been harder to pull off had his army literally surrounded him. :p

Looking forward to how things will work out with "the Riders". Might their leader claim greater power WITHIN the system? Because if he is who I think he is, he would make for a good, if... disturbing Augustus of the East.
 
Well, hopefully the base map that I posted is satisfactory.
Oh, more than so; the GIMP on my computer is simply giving problems. And of course, Paint isn't on these Unix boxes. The main changes have been made; it's really only a matter of coloring at this point.
das said:
Christianity probably won't really be able to replace Islam there, though I maintain that it will establish some presence there.
Replace what religion? I don't see any Islam...just some heretical Christians, that's all. ;)
das said:
That is my favourite kind of althist.
Aye.

I would think that it's a bit early for that particular Rider of Abaddon, but eh...

By the way, that's a smashing althist Strategos. Good show. Mine's a bit ridden with grammatical errors and poor writing, but you get the general idea, eh?

In August 1914, Europe, master of the entire planet, suddenly burst into flames, begun by the undying embers of Balkan crises and fanned by the wind of jingoist nationalism. With the European descent into chaos came an outbreak of all that any nation had ever had against another: ancient conflicts, never quite resolved to the satisfaction of one party or the other, were oil poured on the already vast fire. The alliance system of Europe solidified in the past seven years with the Anglo-Russian agreement on Persia and the two Balkan Wars, which in turn shattered Turkish power in the Balkans and subsequently damaged Bulgaria. These alliances, the Dual Alliance of Germany and Austria-Hungary, and the Anglo-French and Anglo-Russian agreements (including the famous entente cordiale) shackled those who would douse the conflagration and urge a return to peace and sanity, as did the masses, who saw the return to war as a release from the infuriating bondage of peace, whereas the war would return things to their rightful state and strengthen their cause at the expense of their opponents, who would only weaken and perhaps perish. Only the strongest would survive, and so all attempts – halfhearted as they were – to stop the beginning conflict were rejected as not merely contempt for the weak, but a survival tactic, a paring of the superseded elements from the nation.

It is well known how the most influential and critical events in the history of the modern world began: the attack on the Belgian Meuse forts, the battles in Alsace-Lorraine and the Ardennes, where the Germans repulsed the French assault, the inexorable German right wing swinging down upon the French flank, with the French commander in chief Joseph Joffre brilliantly reorganizing his shattered armies, coercing the British Expeditionary Force to rejoin the fray, and directing a left hook of his own that blunted the German drive and saved the Third Republic at the Marne - how in the east, the Germans, outnumbered and on the verge of retreat, transported their armies by rail to reposition and encircle the Russian Second Army in the most decisive battle of the war, Tannenberg, where Germany was saved from the Allies at the same time as Joffre was saving the Allies from Germany - how the Austrian drive on Serbia was blunted by the heroic holding action of General Putnik’s men, and how the Russian hordes swept through Galicia to the edge of the Hungarian Plains, bottling up hundreds of thousands of the Kaiser und König’s men inside Przemysl and Lemberg – how the great navies of the age, the German and British, avoided a major clash but still skirmished in the Heligoland Bight, how the German ships Goeben and Breslau slipped the British net in the Mediterranean and made it to the Ottoman Empire to lead that nation’s naval attack on Russia to open that phase of the war, and how German Unterseeboots began to cruise the waves, sinking several British capital ships and merchantmen. All these events combined, by the beginning of 1915, into what was essentially stalemate. The Allies, at the beginning of the year, launched major attacks in Artois and Champagne to regain the lost French soil; in what was the first of many blood-soaked Western Front slugging matches, the Germans repelled the attack with some 400,000 French casualties and similarly-heavy German and British ones.

The British First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, had been the mastermind of the rapid British fleet mobilization and the subsequent blockade of the North Sea. However, even as he took these measures, designed to eventually end the war by starving Germany of her necessary fighting resources, Churchill knew that another strike was necessary against the German periphery, as the Western Front was already turned into the hemorrhage of men and arms it would remain for most of the rest of the war. In the beginning, his plan was for the obsolescent battleships that were not suitable for action in the North Sea against the formidable German High Seas Fleet to force the Hellespont (which was guarded by a fairly formidable defensive belt of many batteries and several minefields) and the Bosphorus, and sail straight up to Constantinople, put it under their guns, and demand surrender. Over time, this limited end run at the Ottoman capital, expected to bring in Greece, and Rumania, and possibly Bulgaria, to the Allied side, was transformed into a fair-sized undertaking, with Lord Kitchener, the Secretary of State for War, adding an extra amphibious landing if the naval attack itself did not suffice. On November 3, 1914, Churchill had already shown his hand by having the Indomitable and Indefatigable bombard the Hellespont guns in conjunction with some of the obsolete French ships in the Mediterranean, with the result that when the main operation began, with bombardments commencing on 19 February 1915, the Turks had a clear idea that the British were going to come in through the Straits, and they were feverishly preparing accordingly.

The British did not fire the first shot of what was to become the Gallipoli Campaign. That honor went to the Turkish battery at Orhaniye Tepe, whose German-made Krupp gun opened up on the Royal Navy destroyers probing the Straits. With that, the British battleships Cornwallis and Vengeance moved in and began to fire. The results on the nineteenth were not nearly as promising as the bombardment of last fall, and the British ceased fire and attempted another bombardment six days later. During the bombardment of the 26th, the Turks evacuated the outer defenses on the peninsula, and the Royal Navy battlewagons were able to sail further into the Straits. In the next three weeks, the British would try again and again to blast the Turkish batteries to splinters, but even the support of the superdreadnought Queen Elizabeth was not enough to cow or kill the Ottoman troops, nor were the raiding parties of Royal Marines that landed on the beach and attempted to destroy batteries or blockhouses. On March 18, the major British effort was launched.

The night before, a Turkish minelayer had added an extra line of mines in the Hellespont, which the British had failed to sweep in the morning as Rear Admiral John de Robeck took the fleet in. His sixteen battleships began to fire, and by mid-afternoon his ships had silenced the Narrows batteries. Beginning to pass into the Narrows themselves, six battleships were suddenly sunk or disabled, one by gunfire but the rest by the undetected mine layer. De Robeck, at wit’s end, and having suffered the Royal Navy’s worst losses in over a hundred years, decided to withdraw his fleet; unbeknownst to him, the Ottomans’ troops were at the end of their own rope, both mentally and supply-wise. As the British hurried out of the Straits, de Robeck planned to mount another attack later; unfortunately for him, the decision was taken out of his hands. Kitchener immediately began to organize landings, to be carried out in part by Australian and New Zealander troops just arriving in Egypt, and some with British men from home, part of Kitchener’s “New Army”, the first real British mass army in history.

On April 25, the first troops from the ANZAC (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) and the 29th British division disembarked on the Gallipoli (Chersonese) peninsula. The ANZACs, landing at Z Beach, were put ashore at the wrong place; instead of crossing the peninsula at its flattest and narrowest point, they would have to struggle up high, treacherous terrain well-guarded by the Fifth Turkish Army, under the German Liman von Sanders. Their initial landing was unopposed; as the ANZAC troops pushed further in, a division under a rising star in the Turkish Army, Mustafa Kemal (who had helped lead the original Young Turk revolt against the Sultan, Abdülhamid II, in 1908) moved in to block their path. Kemal began to throw his men straight into the battle, to hold the Australians from reaching the crest of Chunuk Bair. Thousands of Turkish and Arab troops were slaughtered by the ANZAC machine guns, but the Turks held the high ground. The initial landing, at least up north, had failed.

Further south, the British 29th Division landed at Cape Helles. At five beaches, lettered S, V, W, X, and Y, the British troops pushed off their boats quickly. At Y Beach, Lieutenant Colonel Godfrey Matthews of the Plymouth Battalion found a complete lack of Turkish troops anywhere from the coast to the village of Krithia. Due to confusion in the orders and chain of command, the British did not advance inland and didn’t even fortify their landing site until 1500, when a Turkish counterattack, desperately gathered from troops all over the southern edge of the peninsula, nearly pushed them off the beach. By midnight the next day, Y Beach would be utterly abandoned by both British and Turks, the British because they were about to be pushed into the sea and the Turks because the landing at Helles proper was far more important. That landing, led by the Lancashire Fusiliers, a unit with a great history in the British Army, was made in the teeth of what little Turkish fortifications there were. Suffering horrendous casualties, the Lancashires would secure a tiny beachhead at W Beach that would develop into the main British base for the Gallipoli campaign.

After these initial landings, the Turks were largely able to hold the British to small gains. Tremendous numbers of dead on both sides didn’t deter the British commander, Hamilton, or his Central Powers opposite numbers, von Sanders and Kemal. The British were repulsed at Krithia, in three massive battles that saw the British and Turks slaughter each other in close quarters without large gains at all by either side. At Z Beach, now dubbed “ANZAC Beach” or simply ANZAC, the Corps slowly began to gain ground. In August, another landing was proposed by the reinforcements trickling in, with the target of Suvla Bay. In conjunction with this attack, the ANZACs would launch their own strike at Chunuk Bair, a critical height that they had thus far been unable to seize. At Suvla itself, General Stopford, in command of the British troops, took too much time in securing his beachhead and failed to exploit his surprise and position. This had a horrifying result in that the Turks were able to concentrate as usual on the ANZACs and the troops at Helles.

On August 8, the New Zealand Infantry Brigade managed to take and hold the Chunuk Bair heights and repelled the halfhearted Turk counterattacks. The following morning, they were relieved by the Loyal North Lancashires and the 5th Wiltshires, two of the New Army battalions newly arrived from the Home Islands. Mustafa Kemal, at the Turkish frontline near Chunuk Bair, carefully prepared his counterattack, and early in the morning of August 10, his troops, which outnumbered the New Army troops three to one, formed up on the other side of the hill. Kemal gave the signal by raising his hand and walking forward, and the Turks slid up the hill in silent assault. But thousands of men cannot easily avoid detection, and a few of the Lancashire men noticed the scramble up the slope and opened fire. In a prolonged slugging match, the Turks were able to force the New Army men off the hill, but with severe casualties on both sides. The worst casualty by far was suffered by the Ottoman troops, though – Mustafa Kemal was wounded in the abdomen and survived just long enough to direct the last attack on Chunuk Bair before expiring. At age 35, he had just been awarded the Iron Cross, First Class, and had recently been promoted to Colonel. For the duration of the Gallipoli campaign, he had been the darling of the Turkish press; his rapid rise was fueled by brilliant resistance at most of the major British attacks. The Turks had won the battle for the critical ground, but at the expense of a man who may have been the greatest Ottoman military man since Mehmet the Conqueror.

Following the capture and loss of Chunuk Bair and the subsequent failure of offensives at Scimitar Hill and Hill 60, the British entered a period not unlike those on the Western Front: waiting and trading shots with the Ottoman troops, across a deserted, mountainous no-man’s-land where many a man keeled over from the heat as easily as he could be shot by the other side or blown up by artillery. Throughout the early fall, Hamilton resisted withdrawal, but he had little choice: the fall of Serbia and the entrance of Italy had opened up the Balkans far more, and the war leaders at home believed that such fronts as a new one at Thessalonika or in the Tyrolean Alps held more merit than did a stalled, failed offensive in the desert of Gallipoli. Serbia, which had resisted so valiantly in 1914, was about to come under attack from Bulgaria, which had begun mobilization in late September, and Germany, who was moving more and more troops east to take part in the offensives of Gorlice-Tarnow, where they and the Austrians cleared Russian Poland and Austrian Galicia, and this new one against the Serbs. In mid-September, the Allies began to withdraw troops from the W and ANZAC Beaches; these were to be transported to Thessalonika, Greece, from where the British and French could try to reinforce Serbia. The problem of continuing Greek neutrality was worked on by the British Government and that of the Greek Prime Minister, Eleutherios Venizelos, hero of Cretan independence. King Constantine, while connected to both sides by marriage ties, was more interested in a “wait-and-see” proposition to avoid the destruction visited on Serbia, but Venizelos appealed to his desire for the fulfillment of the Megali Idea, the Great Idea of reuniting the Byzantine Empire and restoring Greek control over Anatolia, reversing Manzikert, Myriocephalum, and the Great Siege of 1453. With a good deal of reluctance but also a good deal of motivation, Constantine began his own mobilization on 1 October, opened channels of military cooperation to Putnik in Serbia, and took control of the Greek army in Thrace for operations against the Bulgars and Austrians. British and French troops began to pour away from Gallipoli and sail into Thessalonika harbor.

Meanwhile, in Serbia, the situation was dire. The front had remained fairly inactive all year up until this point, because the Austrians and Germans under General August von Mackensen, one of the most brilliant German generals who had masterminded the Gorlice-Tarnow breakthrough, had been marshaling their men for a lightning autumn campaign. The Austro-German Fourth and Eleventh Armies, on the Danube River opposite Belgrade, would begin a massive artillery barrage, and cross the river on October 7. Four days later, Bulgarian mobilization would be complete, and King Ferdinand would send his men west into the Serbian flank and roll them up completely. Putnik knew something of these plans, but the Serbs could do little to counter them, as even a spoiling attack would be impossible across the Danube River against such a preponderance of force. Outnumbered two-to-one, the Serbian Army was only able to stand its ground and cry out to the West for reinforcements. The small Greek standing army and what Anglo-French troops there were at Salonika, under the French general Sarrail and King Constantine (still very lukewarm about the whole scheme) began to entrain and move north into Serbian Macedonia as the first week of October passed.

When Mackensen opened his attack on the seventh, the Allies had about 50,000 men in three divisions under Sarrail, positioned in the vicinity of Skopje, and 70,000 under Constantine, walling off the eastern flank in the Vardar valley across the border from Bulgarian Strumitsa. Putnik’s 225,000 men were initially concentrated mainly at the Danube crossings and on the northern part of the mutual border with Bulgaria, and resisted heavily against Mackensen’s incoming columns. Bit by bit the Serbs were forced back, and after three days Belgrade was reentered by the Austro-German troops as Putnik withdrew his battered command south towards Nish, where Sarrail’s extemporized Tenth French Army could provide support. The following day, King Ferdinand’s Minister of War, Nikola Zhekov, ordered a general advance by the Bulgarian First and Second Armies on Nish and Skopje respectively.

The Serbs had already gotten the Second Army to Nish, and a bloody battle ensued over the next few days as the Bulgarian drive was first blunted and then turned back by the battle-hardened Serbs. However, the lack of ammunition and other supplies wore the Serbs down, and in two weeks the Second Army had been driven just outside of Nish. The railroad Nish controlled was vital to supplying Putnik’s other troops, still engaging in a fighting retreat against Mackensen’s superior numbers. Without the railroad, the remaining Serb troops were unable to keep cohesion. By the end of October, hard pressed from three directions, Putnik’s main command, still northwest of Nish, was broken up in an attempt to get men out through neutral Albania and Montenegro. Putnik himself made his way south to command the troops still around the vital Nish junction.

Meanwhile, further south, the French had taken the brunt of the Bulgarian blow. At Kumanovo on October 15-7, Sarrail smashed the leading echelon of the Bulgar attack, and drove them back towards Sofia. Further south, Constantine began probing attacks after the complete lack of Bulgar efforts into Thrace directly towards Thessalonika, while continuing to gather the mobilizing army. As the Tenth Army began to push the Bulgars back towards their capital in true French offensive à outrance fashion, Sarrail began to complain about the lack of Greek movement. By the time Putnik’s army was disbanding and moving south in an effort to maintain some sort of Serbian armed forces, the French commander was apoplectic at what he believed was a complete lack of motivation on the part of his allies the Greeks (just as he had been furious when Sir John French’s BEF nearly vacated the Continent following the Battle of Le Cateau). To be sure, there was some truth to that: Constantine had been trained by the Germans and had strong familial ties with the Central Powers, and part of the relative lack of movement was due to his unwillingness to commit Greece to an immediate attack. However, the dilatory Greek movement was mainly due to the lack of troops under arms. Many soldiers had not yet reached the front, as mobilization had only recently begun from a state of near-peace.

These burning tensions in the Allied camp were averted when Constantine finally felt as though he had enough men to begin an attack in early November. The Greek First and Second Armies advanced vigorously into the Rhodope Mountains for a week, while Sarrail’s offensive bogged down and he began to pound against a stone wall in the mountains between his position and Sofia, his new objective. These Allied missions were far exceeding their real grasp, however. Despite the lessening pressure on what troops Putnik had left south of Nish due to Bulgarian redeployment to guard against Constantine’s advance, Mackensen still had over three hundred thousand men pushing against the Serbs. Fortunately for Putnik, thus far it was from the front and no flanking movements had been attempted. However, it was only a matter of time until the spring of 1916, when Mackensen’s Austrian allies would easily be able to smash Montenegro and Albania and perhaps pocket his army. For his part, Mackensen recognized the limited success of his attack and prepared winter cantonments, as did the other combatants in the Balkans.

Further north, the Italians had declared war on Austria-Hungary following the Gallipoli landings. The Italian politicians, led by Salandra, that wanted war with their erstwhile partner in the Triple Alliance, declared the reconquest of Italia irredenta to be their main goal. Those who attempted to oppose Salandra’s coalition were led by Giolitti, who embodied the neutralist movement, which included the Church and most of the voters. However, Salandra was in charge of the government, and his signature on the Treaty of London with the British guaranteed Italy significant gains in Austria and the Balkans at the conclusion of the war. Benito Mussolini, a Socialist who had opposed the Tripolitanian war with the Ottomans in 1911, now swung to the other extreme and advocated war against the Austrians, as did the poet Gabriele d’Annunzio, who organized mass demonstrations for war where people chanted “Death to Giolitti!” and called for immediate war. When Italy declared war on Austria-Hungary on May 23, following the attempt to force the Straits and the landing at Lancashire Beach, only a few of die-hard Giolitti supporters had voted against the resolution.

With nearly 900,000 men, General Luigi Cadorna’s objective was to force his way across the Isonzo River to Gorizia and thus to Trieste, the major Austrian Adriatic port, and thence through the Ljubljana Gap towards Vienna. The Austrians had a hundred thousand men on the front, under the overall command of Erzherzog Eugene; General Borojevic held the critical Isonzo River defenses. Cadorna wasted little time, battering in vain against the Isonzo defenses in the First of what would become many more Battles of the Isonzo River. The Second and Third Armies, commanded by Frugoni and the duca di Aosta, had attempted to batter their way in with double the Austrian troops; they failed. In a second attempt, the Italians massed even more guns to support the attack; that too failed. The Third and Fourth Battles, ending on December 2, were able to make not a dent in Borojevic’s defensive lines. For the loss of 180,000 men, Cadorna had gained exactly nothing – although the Austrians lost nearly two-thirds that number. Isonzo campaigns were planned with even more intensity by General Cadorna, who expected the Austrians to break at any moment.

The previously-mentioned Battle of Gorlice-Tarnow had been the decisive battle of the year. Mackensen’s Eleventh Army, to later lead the charge against Putnik’s veterans in Serbia, had spearheaded the attack, which crashed through Russian lines in May and June. The Russians had yielded Przemysl and Lemberg, and Velikiy Knyaz Nicholas lost control of his armies as the Russians began to flee Poland. Throughout the summer, the Germans and Austrians rushed through the Polish plain, attempting encirclement after encirclement of the fleeing Russian masses; with what skill he had, Nicholas managed to prevent utter destruction and began to reorganize and rally his men, who finally managed to halt the Germans as the autumn rains fell and turned the Eastern Front into a complete quagmire. By the end of it, the Germans had smashed their way into Warsaw, Vilna, Brest-Litovsk, and Grodno, and the Russians were sitting in a demoralized mass on the Bug River. Nicholas, who had prevented complete collapse, was rewarded for his efforts by removal at Rasputin’s behest and his replacement by the Tsar himself, while he got demoted to the backwater Armenian Front.

Speaking of that front, it seemed to be the only place where the Allies were having definite success in 1915. At the beginning of the year, the Russian general Vorontsov had won the Battle of Sarikamish, halting a Turkish drive and forcing them back to Erzerum. Enver Pasha, Minister of War, was forced to return to Constantinople, where he began to search for someone to blame for the defeat of that winter, settling on the Armenians of the Caucasus. Vorontsov, as the American McClellan had before him, failed to pursue after his victory; he was replaced by Nikolai Yudenich, his former Chief of Staff, who had far more drive and initiative. Yudenich would advance into Turkish Armenia, attempting to rally support from the Armenian populace. In Constantinople, thousands of prisoners were freed to form a special organization to arrest and deport the Armenian intelligentsia, which was carried out on April 24. (The next day, British and ANZAC troops would land at Gallipoli, just near the capital, fueling further fear of the Armenians as collaborators and revolutionaries.) As the Russians moved deeper into Turkish Armenia, they were greeted with popular support from the Armenians, who launched a revolt inside the fortress of Van and held it for a month until the Russian arrival in May. In that month as well, the Ottoman legislature passed a deportation law forcing Armenians out of the war zone and its environs. Enver forced all Armenians in the armed services to lay down their arms and report to labor battalions, where most of them were summarily executed by the troops serving nearby. As the Russians neared the site of the Turkish victory of Manzikert, from nearly a millennium prior, twenty-five concentration camps were set up for holding and later exterminating Armenians.

The new Turkish commander on the Caucasian front, Abdul Kerim, prepared a counteroffensive against the Russians in July. North of the site of the Byzantine fortress of Manzikert, the Turks prepared an offensive with twice the number of troops as the Russians believed they had in-theater. Striking north of Lake Van, Kerim’s troops shattered a Russian corps of 22,000 men under Oganovsky, who had begun probing attacks in an area where the Turkish front was supposed to be denuded. After smashing through the Russians, the Turks began to pursue Oganovsky’s broken men towards Charachosia. Yudenich, having just learned of the situation six days after the event, quickly formed a mobile group, mainly made up of Cossacks under N. N. Baratov, to hit the Turkish left. Baratov’s extemporized army broke up the disorganized, pursuing Turks at Charachosia (Turkish: Kara Killisse) and forced Kerim to withdraw. The remainder of the year saw the Turkish recapture of Van from the Armenians and Russians, the reassignment of the Velikiy Knyaz to the Caucasus Front (where he wisely left most of the commanding to the able Yudenich), and accelerating Armenian killings. In America, publication of these events in such periodicals as the New York Times and speeches against the Turks by former President Theodore Roosevelt and just-resigned US Secretary of State William Jennings Bryan worked to inflame the populace, who sent several million dollars of aid to the Armenians.
 
The Ottoman Empire was very heavily engaged in the war throughout 1915, as not only the Russians in the Caucasus and Black Sea and the ANZACs at Gallipoli but also the British in Mesopotamia were fighting against the CUP-dominated government. With two divisions, General Sir John Nixon had landed at Basra and slowly expanded his beachhead. Nixon sent General Charles Townshend up the Tigris with half of the British Mesopotamia force, with a smaller expeditionary unit under George Gorringe holding Townshend’s flank. The British defeated the Turks at Qurna and advanced to Amara in June, where they halted as Gorringe defeated the Turks in a hard-fought battle at Nasiriya the following month. Townshend began to move again in August, with the objective of Kut, at the confluence of the Tigris and Shatt-el-Hai. With slightly more men than the opposing Turkish commander, Nur-ud-Din, Townshend smashed the Turks at the Battle of Kut in late September, and advanced to Ctesiphon, where he defeated the Turks again with judicious use of his reserve, his riverboat support, and his airplanes, which gunned down Nur-ud-Din’s fleeing Turks following a disastrous attempt to attack the British troops. Townshend garrisoned Ctesiphon, unable to pursue the Turks due to heavy losses, and was reinforced during early December by another complete division under Fenton Aylmer, while Gorringe guarded the rear and lines of communication.

On the Western Front, 1915 was another bloody year of failure on both sides. The Champagne-Artois offensive early in the year failed, as did the French attack on the St.-Mihiel salient at the Battle of the Woëvre in April. Following that, the Germans used a novel tactic in Flanders, chlorine gas, to break through a few terrorized French divisions. However, this attempt, the Second Battle of Ypres, was not exploited well due to a lack of reserves, that in turn due to the buildup in preparation for the great offensive of Gorlice-Tarnow. May and June were finished out by the British and French attacks on the German line in the Second Battle of Artois, which only really succeeded in securing a chunk of Vimy Ridge for the French in a seesaw battle throughout most of June. After this, both sides rested and refitted their armies, as the French and British prepared for further offensives to clear the Germans from northeast France and the Germans prepared to bring more troops out to allow for further operations in the Balkans and the Eastern Front and more support for the Turks in Mesopotamia and Palestine. As they year ended, the Anglo-French armies launched more attacks in Champagne and Artois, and the British hammered away at Loos. In the end, the Allies would suffer three times the number of German casualties, and gain very little ground. The West looked more and more like a stalemate line.

At sea, developments continued in favor of the Allies. A brief sortie by the German battle-cruiser squadron of the High Seas Fleet ended badly as Admiral Franz von Hipper’s ships ran afoul of David Beatty’s British squadron off the Dogger Bank. The British, who had intercepted the German radio transmissions, outnumbered the Germans two-to-one, and Hipper wisely elected to flee, and as he returned fire the British flagship, Lion, was hit badly and fell out of the line, while the remaining Royal Navy ships contented themselves with completely wiping out a few of the smaller destroyer and torpedo boat escorts. The Kaiser ordered the High Seas Fleet to no longer sortie except with his express permission to avoid losses. Instead, the German U-boats initiated an unrestricted submarine warfare campaign. All ships in the vicinity of the British Isles were now targets; an American tanker, Gulflight, was hit by a torpedo and blew up in a terrific explosion, killing two of her crew. In order to avoid further US public opinion going against them, the German Embassy in Washington took out an ad in several newspapers, warning Americans to stay off the next major ship to Britain, the Lusitania; when the Americans ignored the warnings and the ship was torpedoed with the loss of 120 American lives, anti-Central Power sentiment in the United States began to run high, despite the fact that the liner was carrying ammunition and gold for the Allies on the Western Front, and was under orders not to halt if hailed by a German ship. Further unlimited submarine warfare was halted after the Americans were whipped up into a fury when several more United States citizens were killed when the Arabic was sunk in August.

The Germans’ upcoming strategy for 1916 was one of concentration on the periphery. In order to save the failing Ottomans and Austrians, German troops were to be dispatched to Mackensen in Serbia and Enver Pasha’s government in Turkey, while a new offensive in Livonia would be made in order to try to force the Russians in Petrograd to surrender. The head of OHL (Oberste Heeresleitung, or the German Supreme Army Command), Erich von Falkenhayn, briefly toyed with the idea of a campaign of attrition in northern France, perhaps at Verdun, but it was quickly vetoed by the Kaiser, who insisted that Franz Josef be assisted. The firm of OberOst (German abbreviation for “Supreme Command of All German Forces in the East), Ludendorff and von Hindenburg, were given second priority, and the West took a distant third. Franz Josef, for his part, insisted upon the subjugation and complete destruction of Serbia, which was to be completed by the invasion of Montenegro and Albania to pocket the last Serbian defenders under Putnik at Nish. The Ottomans, for their part, intended to try to eradicate Townshend’s troublesome army near Baghdad, hold in Armenia while continuing to wipe out the civilian population there, and send reinforcements to the Bulgarians. Another important Turkish project was the strengthening of the famed Chatalja Lines in front of Constantinople, should the Allies attempt to force the city. As the Anglo-French troops at Gallipoli had been almost completely withdrawn, the Turks prepared to draw down their garrison there as well.

Meanwhile, the Allies’ plans for 1916 were many-layered and manifold. On the Western Front, Joffre decided on a limited attack on the St.-Mihiel salient, led by H. Philippe Pétain, in order to remove the major threat to Verdun. The balance of French troops would be sailing from Marseilles to the Balkans, though, as two projects were planned. Sarrail would be reinforced by another Army, the Army of Macedonia under Robert Nivelle, and was directed to continue attacks against Sofia to dislodge the Bulgars and drive them from the war. The Greeks under King Constantine would operate with naval support along the Thracian coastline to eliminate first the port of Dedeagach (Alexandroupolis) and then to exert pressure on the Chatalja Lines at Constantinople. They would be assisted by landings by the troops withdrawing from Gallipoli, who were mainly concentrated at W Beach by this time. The second attack would be made in conjunction with the Italians under Aosta, who would land with troops under Ferdinand Foch along the Dalmatian and Albanian coastline, to both secure Sarrail’s flank and threaten that of Mackensen, as well as open up a back route into Trieste. Cadorna would be directed to maintain pressure on Borojevic’s army at Gorizia and to further entrench in the Trentino to prevent an Austrian sally from that mountain fastness. Townshend was to be reinforced to a heavy corps, and directed to seize Baghdad; in Palestine, the army under Archibald Murray was to extend the Suez Canal defenses and begin to open up inroads into Palestine. On the Russian side, the army ably reorganized by Nicholas was to be taken over by one Alexei Brusilov, who would mount a fast attack on the Austrians in Galicia to try to break up the Habsburg Empire – if another success on the scale of the 1914 victory was made, the Czechs and maybe the Magyars would start to split up the ramshackle, welded-together state. Meanwhile, in Armenia, the Knyaz and Yudenich were instructed to once again smash up the Turks, perhaps join with the British in forcing Baghdad, and neutralize the Turkish Black Sea coast – a rather tall order.

Of all the opposing plans to be put into place, the first one was the Russians’ scheme to clear the Caucasus. Wily General Yudenich, figuring that the Turks wouldn’t be ready for a winter offensive in the mountains, and wanting to beat the transferring divisions from Gallipoli to the punch, had his army leave winter quarters in the second week of January and for three days advanced without opposition. At two major battles, Koprukoy and Tafta, Yudenich’s men encircled and smashed one Turkish division and forced the surrender of the other, still in its winter cantonments. By the beginning of February, the great fortress of Erzerum was under siege, its defenders clueless and confused. The Russians took only a week to break in, and the garrison quickly surrendered, giving up 13,000 prisoners as well as the Ottoman Caucasus commander, Kerim Pasha. Yudenich’s army now moved unopposed deeper into Armenia, and by March Mus and Bitlis had fallen to his men, and the new Ottoman troops, under Vehip Pasha, were unable to offer effective resistance. Yudenich, attempting to entice Vehip’s troops into a rash counterattack, seized Trebizond, and under orders from a frantic government in Constantinople, Vehip took the bait and led his corps – the only real Ottoman troops left in Armenia – into oblivion. By June the Russians were in control of Erzinjan and Cossack patrols were sweeping as far south as Mosul.

In Palestine, the German commander Kress von Kressenstein took control of the Turkish troops and attempted to prevent the British from expanding their bridgehead into the Sinai. He was initially repulsed with some loss, but when the British drew away troops to assist in Greece and Mesopotamia, a second attack at Rumani was successful. The Ottoman troops managed to secure the Great Bitter Lake, but a rash attack on Port-Said was defeated by Murray’s remaining garrison with heavy loss. By August the Ottomans were confined once more to their own bridgehead as the British hammered away at their troops. Kressenstein had been withdrawn to save the situation in Armenia, so the new battlefield commander, Halil Pasha, chose to withdraw rather than sit there and be pounded by British artillery and airplanes. As the summer ended, the two sides sat in entrenchments on each side of the Suez Canal in a staring match, such that the Turks were able to withdraw troops to defend on the Armenian Front as well as dispatch some men to seize Mecca and Medina from a rebellion by the Grand Sherif, Hussein. Hussein and his British adviser, one T.E. Lawrence, were killed in the confused fight in Mecca itself, but Hussein’s son Emir Faisal withdrew to the desert and began to harass the Ottoman troops’ rail lines.

In Mesopotamia, incompetent Nur-ud-Din had been replaced by elderly German General Kolmar von der Goltz, who commanded the extemporized Sixth Army. Von der Goltz quickly erected defenses around Baghdad, and began probing Townshend’s flanks, but was halted by Gorringe’s men, who held the expedition’s left flank. Townshend himself began to advance from Ctesiphon north to Diyala, where he ran into the teeth of the Ottoman defenses. After several attempts to force the lines, the British began to erect their own fortifications and switched troops to the desert flank under Gorringe, who first seized Najaf and then Hilla before running into more of von der Goltz’s fortifications at Babylon. Renewed British efforts, by Maude on the Persian (right) flank, were managed better, and the Allied troops were able to smash through to Baghdad in June, as von der Goltz managed a masterly withdrawal to Samarra.

On the Western Front, now a second priority for everyone but perhaps Joseph Joffre, the French launched their attempt to clear the St.-Mihiel salient on February 21. The French enjoyed some surprise as they stormed across the Meuse in the first few days, but as German resistance toughened the commander of the operation, Pétain, switched his pressure to the base of the salient. The German commander, Kronprinz Rupprecht von Bayern, initially launched savage counterattacks towards the French bridgeheads over the Meuse but by mid-March, the Germans were moving back to better prepared defenses nearer the Meuse. Such a shortened front also allowed Rupprecht to outnumber the attacking French in places, so that Pétain’s offensive quickly ground to a halt amid fierce German resistance. The Germans wisely refrained from counterattacking to get the lost territory back, but instead launched minor holding attacks elsewhere along the line, at Rheims and St.-Die. By mid-year the line hadn’t changed much, but for that one minor salient pinched out. To most of the high commands of both sides, what happened on the Western Front was a “minor action”, “skirmishing”, “brief holding attacks” and the like, but in reality this was a deadly time for the individual soldiers on the front line, where long pauses of no movement were punctuated by night attacks, sniping, all-out attacks on platoon level, and desperate hand-to-hand combat and knife fights in the trenches. However, nobody cared about the little man in the trench. Indeed, everyone’s mind was on the Balkan Front, and in consequence that is where we shall go.

The Serbs had a fairly simple mission: hold. Putnik’s men, now reinforced by British troops from the fight at Gallipoli, were to retake Nish (if possible), reorganize their fleeing comrades (who had been disbanded last year, cut off and about to starve), and protect the northern flank of Sarrail’s advancing army. The vast amounts of supplies coming into Thessalonika were now parceled out to the Serb armies, which during the winter had gained a respite to refit and rearm. The Serbian Army, reorganized into two Armies, opened minor attacks along the line from Pristina to Nish in order to put Mackensen’s Austro-Germans off balance and perhaps spoil the coming attack. The Serbian Second Army (Gen. Petar Bojovic), on the left wing, scored the most successes, forcing the Austrian Third Army to withdraw some thirty miles to Kosovska Mitrovica, which held the gateway out of the Kosovo valley into Serbia proper. Bojovic pursued with energy, and what had been a mere holding attack turned into a full-on effort as the ailing Putnik poured more troops into the developing battle in order to smash Mackensen’s right wing. By March, the Germans had been forced to shift troops from the planned offensive against the Serbs south of Nish to halting the near-rout that forced the Central Powers’ Balkan Army Group back to Novi Pasar. Skillfully redeploying troops, Bojovic smashed his way into Podujevo further east, opening up the Toplica river valley to Serb exploitations. This particular breakout was not stemmed until Mackensen, overcoming logistical and bureaucratic issues with the Austro-Hungarian government, counterattacked and managed to take the town of Kursumlija, splitting the two Serb armies and forcing them into a long slog to retake the town. While Putnik and Bojovic exerted themselves in the Battle of Kursumlija, Mackensen used the break to reorganize the Austrian troops and feed more Germans into the line. He also was able to evaluate the rather disturbing reports from his left and right flanks, where more Allied troops had begun their own attacks.

In Dalmatia and Illyria, the Central Powers had a real mess on their hands. In mid-March, Foch had started his campaign by landing Italian and French marine units on the islands of the Austrian Adriatic coastline, such that within a month, the only remaining Austrian holdouts were on Krk, off the coast of Fiume. The Austrian navy, in the fine tradition of Tegetthoff and Don Juan, sailed out of their ports to engage the Allied navy, mainly made up of ships from the Regia Marina. The ships SMS Szent Istvan, Tegetthoff, and Viribus Unitis were quickly destroyed by Italian human torpedoes and fire from the battleship Leonardo da Vinci in a brief action off Krk. In May, the Italians’ Fourth Army, under Aosta, landed at Pola and Rovinj and began their drive to secure Istria. At the same time, Cadorna launched an offensive against the Austrian position at Gorizia and kicked off the Fifth Battle of the Isonzo. Erzherzog Eugene, forced to redeploy to face the threat in Istria, held the Gorizia position for a few days, then withdrew to halt Aosta. Sensing blood, Cadorna renewed his push, although the Italians were rapidly losing men and running low on ammunition, especially from the four exhaustive pushes of the previous year. Eugene, finally receiving reinforcements, launched his own savage counterattacks which stopped the Italians ten miles from Trieste. Meanwhile, to his rear, the Italian assault on Istria was gradually grinding to a halt, too. After seizing the major city in the inland part of the peninsula, Pazin, Aosta switched his main effort towards Fiume, but now Eugene’s redeployments began to have an effect. Austrian resistance stiffened, and the Italians were held to a bloody stalemate south of Lupoglav, about fifteen miles from the crucial port. The front here began to solidify as more reinforcements, German and Austrian, poured in, and the Italian Fourth Army finally halted offensive action in early July. However, they were not alone on this front. British troops, comprising the Fifth Army (originally the Reserve Army on the Western Front) under Hubert Gough, landed at Privlaka near Zara, intent on capturing that port. However, the Gallipoli experience had seared what seemed to be a salutary lesson into the British mind, and the troops, unopposed on their beachhead, made a dash towards their target in an effort to not waste time. However, the new German commander, Alexander von Kluck (infamous for his role at the Marne, von Kluck had been wounded in 1915 but was allowed command of the Twelfth Army due to a shortage of commanders) had kept most of his troops at railheads near the beaches, not knowing exactly where the enemy attacks would come. The British managed to reach Zara before the Germans did, but that was as far as they got. Von Kluck managed to build up a large force in the outskirts of the city, and bloody quasi-urban warfare began. Gough took this head-on, feeding more and more of his own troops into the meat grinder instead of pushing out elsewhere, with the result that the Germans were able to bring in more troops and seal the Fifth Army inside its tiny beachhead. The British were able to bring in supplies through the Zara port initially, but as the Germans began to get more artillery, the British had to run a gauntlet to even get into the harbor. By July, the British were demoralized from relative lack of supplies, while making little progress in the bloody urban warfare they were being fed into. Von Kluck, on the other hand, was too cautious to plunge headlong into a counterattack, preferring to let the British come to him and get cut down. (This was probably a result of his bloody failure at the Marne two years previously.) Gallipoli was being replayed, but instead of fighting in the dry desert mountains, the British were getting cut to pieces in a once-picturesque Dalmatian port town.

The main Dalmatian landing, that of Spalato, was probably the most successful Allied operation. Foch commanded the French troops of the Fifteenth Army personally instead of staying back to conduct the campaign as a whole (which was probably a better idea, since the British and Italians would have chafed at French command), and began his drive as soon as the troops set foot on the beach at Podstrana. Spalato, on its peninsula, was quickly occupied and its harbor fortifications seized, while Foch continued to funnel troops into the field. The Austrian Eleventh Army, under Generalfeldmarschall Erzherzog Friedrich, which had been the planned spearhead of the attack on Montenegro, was forced to redeploy and race to enclose Foch, but the Frenchman had built up a great head of steam. The Austrians, originally only able to enter the field piecemeal, were individually smashed division by division at Sinj and Trogir. Foch, exploiting the breach in the Austrian lines, turned northwest along the Dinarian Alps to hit von Kluck’s Army in the rear. Friedrich’s Austrians, however, finally managed to get their collective act together and shortly after the fall of Sebenico to the leading elements of the Fifteenth Army, the French ran smack into the Austrians standing on the Krka River. After several attempts to force crossings, Foch reluctantly entrenched and then struck out in a new direction, south. Unfortunately for him, the net was tightening, and eventually in August the French found themselves hemmed in, their beachhead stretching from the Krka in the north to Macarscu in the south.

Further south, the Italians landed in Albania to assert their claims to it as a colony. Since late 1914 the country had been in a state of anarchy after the departure of Prince Wilhelm zu Wied, the head of state. Parts of the country had been occupied by Montenegro and Italy, which served as springboards for the current Italian offensive. The Italian Fifth Army, led by Luigi Capello, landed at Durazzo and pushed rapidly inland, securing the capital, Tirana. A secondary force from the Italian base at Vlore secured much of the rest of the country in conjunction with an army corps under the Greek general Anastasios Papoulas. From there, the Fifth Army moved north to shore up the Montenegrins and prepare to launch an offensive against Erzherzog Friedrich’s rear at Macarscu. However, this was all set back by Mackensen, who decided to hit Montenegro with as much force as he could muster at Novi Pasar. Three army corps under the Austrian Viktor Weber von Webenau smashed their way across the Lim River, broke apart a few Montenegrin brigades at the Tara River, and soon were within striking range of Podgorica. Capello, skillfully maneuvering his army to the right, managed to plug the gaping hole in the Montenegrin defenses with heavy losses, halting von Webenau at Kolasin and even driving the Austrians back a few miles. The spoiler had served Mackensen’s purpose, though, and had bought Friedrich’s Eleventh Army time, which the Austrians belatedly used to heavily fortify and entrench from Ragusa north to Foca, all along the Montenegrin border.

On Sarrail’s right flank, King Constantine had begun his own attack in March. Weak Bulgarian resistance slowed the Greek First and Second Armies down a little, but Xanthi was reached on the thirty-first of that month and Constantine was in front of Komotini a few weeks later. The British remaining at Gallipoli were withdrawn in masterful operations planned and executed by William Birdwood and Charles Monro, and subsequently landed all along the Thracian coast to assist the Greeks in their drive. To the north, Constantine’s flank was protected by the formidable Rhodope Mountains, which shielded the Greeks from a devastating flank blow from the Bulgarians out of Plovdiv, and vice versa: the Greeks could not relieve the pressure on Sarrail and Putnik by an attack north except through the Strymon river valley at Petrich. At this juncture, though, Enver Pasha decided to intervene. Ahmet Izzim Pasha took a re-formed Turkish Second Army out of its cantonments at the Chatalja Lines and formally took responsibility for the safety of Dedeagach (Alexandroupolis). In May, the Greek and Turk armies contacted each other all along the line from Mesimvria to Kotronia in a minor offshoot of the Rhodopes. Both sides rapidly entrenched and prepared extensive defenses, but both sides were pressured by higher commands (in this case, Sarrail and Enver) to launch attacks. Izzim, forced to follow a direct order, squandered many of his men in fruitless attacks on Mesti; Constantine was able to wait until the Turks had exhausted themselves before launching his counterblow, crashing through the Second Army on a fifteen mile front from Kirki to Leptokaria and shattering Izzim’s defenses. Izzim withdrew to the south with one remnant of an army corps, sheltering in Dedeagach, while the other broken troops fled through the Evros Delta across the Maritsa, where a new commander, Kara Bekr, tried to reorganize the ruined Second Army on a battle line at the Maritsa. Constantine took full advantage of this free space, investing Izzim at Dedeagach (now best called Alexandroupolis), constructing his own lines on the other side of the Maritsa, and swinging with the entire Second Army north towards Edirne. The Bulgarians, however, were in no position to stop his drive, as they had plenty of troubles of their own.

Sarrail had begun his attack on Sofia under cover of Bojovic’s mad dash into Kosovo, and on the first of April had managed to seize the important Bulgarian bastion of Kyustendil. The Minister of War, Zhekov, initially only retreated across the Strymon, but the French momentum kept them going through the Bulgarians, who eventually fell back towards Radomir. Sarrail kept many of his men moving towards the Bulgarians at Radomir, where a defensive position was being feverishly constructed, but sent Nivelle with his new Army of Macedonia south to clear out the rest of the Strymon valley. The Bulgarians, in their haste to protect Sofia, cleared the garrison out of Blagoevgrad so rapidly that Nivelle only needed to replace their garrison with one of his own, and then strike out in conjunction with Sarrail in a two-pronged offensive, to begin in June: the Tenth Army, bolstered by new reinforcements, would continue towards Sofia, while Nivelle’s troops, after a brief pause to reorganize and switch direction, would break through the Bulgar lines at Stanke Dimitrov.

The Russians’ attack, led by General Alexei Brusilov but under the general command of the Tsar himself, was slated to hit the remnants of the Austro-Hungarian Army between Pinsk and Czernowitz in April. The Russians made an admirable effort at gathering their troops and ammunition (contrary to Brusilov’s plan, which had been conceived on a shoestring budget). However, the general plan of the attack was to siphon troops off the front to elsewhere in order to allow the massive attack to go forward and shatter the Austrians in Galicia. To this end, Alexei Kuropatkin, the former Minister of War who had led the Russians in Manchuria during the war with Japan eleven years earlier was to make an attack at Lake Naroch against an enemy who was vastly inferior in size and strength. Kuropatkin’s attack was little more than a diversion, but with typical Russian twists such as the large amount of cannon fodder he had in the form of about 300,000 stolid Russian peasants. With stolid Russian peasant spirit they threw themselves at the defenses of the German Tenth Army under von Eichhorn, and were slaughtered accordingly with very little gain. However, German attention, already focused on the planning for the Livonian Offensive of the summer, was now drawn to another place far from Brusilov’s Schwerpunkt. When the brief artillery bombardment ended after fifteen minutes, the main German armies were far from the place where they could shore up the Austrians.

In the first few days of the attack, the Russians managed to smash their way into Lutsk right behind the rather belated flight of Erzherzog Josef Ferdinand, and continued to break up Austrian resistance on a wide front. Falkenhayn, in Berlin, was aghast; Conrad von Hötzendorf in Vienna was furious. This last and greatest of the simultaneous attack to clear Austria-Hungary from the war was most dangerous and the Germans quickly decided to draw down their troops for the Livonian Offensive to help the Austrians hold. The Germans, though, were forced to draw troops from parts of the front which were not well railroaded, and thus could not get effective amounts of men into the Kovel-Stanislav area until early May, while Brusilov’s Southwestern Front was driving the armies of Böhm-Ermolli and Bothmer before him. To the south, Rumania, vacillating for so long despite fair Allied success, finally threw her rapidly-mobilized armies into the fray, launching an all out attack into Austrian Transylvania in early June that gained the major passes and threw the Austrian First Army under Straussenberg back towards Klausenburg. More Rumanian troops, supported by a Russian Army under Zaionchovsky, got across the Danube at Ruse and near Pleven and destroyed a Bulgarian army corps at Dobrich in early July.
 
By the first of July, 1916, Austria-Hungary had pretty much been defeated. To recap: on the Italian Front, Archduke Eugene and General Borojevic had lost Gorizia and Trieste was seriously threatened. In Dalmatia, several multinational armies were clashing at Allied landings in Istria, Zara, Spalato, and in Albania, with some British, Italian, and French gains all around. The German spoiler attack on Montenegro had also been halted. In Serbia itself, Putnik’s Armies had retaken much of Kosovo and were holding on to their ground against halfhearted Austrian attacks that endangered the German position. Sarrail and Constantine, along with the entry of Rumania, had seriously compromised Bulgaria and almost knocked her out of the war. Rumania and Brusilov’s men had thrown her armies back into Galicia and were nearing Lemberg once more. In most cases, all that was holding Austria-Hungary together was Germany. This, of course, was not particularly good for Austria herself. This was made more not-good by the death of His Imperial Majesty Franz Josef I on the twenty-seventh of June. Instantly, the country was thrown into chaos. Franz Josef’s heir, Karl I, tried to secure his claim on the throne, but the Hungarians refused to crown him King of Hungary. On the fourth of July, General Borojevic resigned his commission as general and commander of the Austrians on the Italian Front, and took instead leadership of a Croatian independence movement. With those two moves, all hell broke loose. The Allies smuggled Tomas Masaryk into Bohemia to agitate for Czech independence and Istvan Tisza declared Hungary to be a republic. Troops began to melt away from the fronts, leaving startled German contingents to be surrounded and attacked by the Allies. Karl attempted to reinstitute order but found that within two weeks the only authority he had existed in Vienna, and even then there was constant rioting in the streets. With these disasters, the Allies renewed their stalled offensives in the last week of July, with Sarrail and Nivelle breaking into Sofia after a two-week siege, and Putnik’s Serbs, now reinforced by more French, driving north and seizing Nish from Mackensen’s Germans, who were now isolated in hostile country. The Croatian independence movement linked up with the Allies on the Dalmatian invasion beaches and surrounded or wiped out the Austrian troops still loyal. Von Kluck’s Army tried to cut its way out of this mess towards Mackensen, who took refuge in Belgrade, but he was too heavily engaged in the bloody wreck of Zara, where Gough’s British, exhausted as the Germans were, finally accepted his subordinates’ surrender in mid-August. (Von Kluck himself refused to do so and fled overland, managing to reach Bavaria in the first week of September.) At Trieste, the Italians redoubled their efforts and were rewarded with the complete collapse of Eugene’s Army, assailed from three directions; Cadorna immediately struck out through the Ljubljana Gap towards Vienna and began attacks on the mountainous fortress of the Trentino. In Galicia, Brusilov’s efforts were rewarded with the Austrians suddenly melting away and the few loyal troops hiding in Lemberg and Przemysl, where they were besieged by Polish partisans of the Polish Legion, which had mutinied with their chief, Jozef Pilsudski. Pilsudski reluctantly made his peace with the hated Russians as the Eleventh Army under Sakharov began to move up and start artillery bombardments. The Rumanians, under Prezan and Averescu, continued their attack into Transylvania, fighting against both isolated Austrian units and the Hungarians who tried to maintain their control over their eastern marches.

The Ottoman Empire was also beginning to collapse in anarchy. Unlike the Kaiser und König, Mehmed V was a real figurehead in the CUP government led by Enver Pasha. With the increasing failures of that government to lead correctly and well, the populace began to seethe and numerous generals met together and decided to try to overthrow the government. As Izzim Pasha surrendered his small command at Alexandroupolis on August 13, Kara Bekr took his command from the Maritsa River and struck out for Constantinople, overwhelming the small garrison at the Chatalja Lines and besieging the city. At the same time, in Armenia, Kress von Kressenstein with the remains of that command managed to give Yudenich the slip and marched on Ankara to establish control of Anatolia. Kolmar von der Goltz, organizing resistance to Townshend and Maude in Ramadi, was easily co-opted into their plans, as was Halil Pasha in Palestine. Unfortunately, at that juncture, everything went wrong. Papoulas, taking command of the Greek First Army, broke through Izzim’s rear guard on the Maritsa and seized Edirne (which shall, of course, be henceforth referred to as “Adrianople”). Kolmar von der Goltz contracted cholera and was bedridden throughout most of this time, leaving the Turkish forces in Mesopotamia without effective leadership. With Maude spearheading the drive, the British smashed the confused Sixth Army in a series of battles around Tharthar Lake and drove its ruined remnants north along the Euphrates and Tigris. In Palestine, Halil was able to prevent the British from recrossing the Suez Canal, but he took heavy losses not only to the Allied infantry and artillery but also to the disparate Arab partisans in his rear, led (after a fashion) by Faisal (who even as they were attacking each other managed to seize a few Turkish blockhouses and carry out several massacres in the hinterlands). In Armenia, of course, the worst happened. A few loyalists delayed Kressenstein at Sivas long enough for Yudenich and Nicholas to realize what was going on and start smashing into his rear. Meanwhile, more columns were dispatched south, where Cossack patrols and infantry units were seizing Batman, Diyarbakir, and Malatya with virtually no resistance. As August turned into September, Kara Bekr managed to break into Constantinople but himself was soon besieged by Papoulas and the Greek First Army; the Russians’ and the British cavalry scouts linked up at Mosul in a historic meeting for the press; Mecca and Medina were vacated by the Turks and soon turned to complete chaos; and Halil was forced to flee after exhausting most of his men in fruitless attacks on Port-Said. The Ottoman Empire, same as that of Austria, was disintegrating.

Germany was really the only viable partner in the Central Powers at this point, but she was bloody well viable indeed. German troops maintained an excellent position in northern and eastern France which several attacks had failed to dislodge; German troops still held Livonia and Poland against all hazards; and the terrible Hochseeflotte had not yet been destroyed by a stymied Grand Fleet. Kaiser Wilhelm, whose support at home was growing rather thin as ally after ally collapsed in anarchy or defeat, was intent on a saving blow, some knockout punch that could still be delivered. He insisted to a rather despondent-but-still-functioning Falkenhayn that victory, or at least non-defeat, could still be pulled out of the hat; the Chief of the Generalstab, grasping at straws, turned to Hindenburg and Ludendorff at OberOst for a solution. After promoting corps commander Oskar von Hutier to Army command, the firm of OberOst insisted that he carry out the now-critical Livonian Offensive with but half of the troops originally intended for it. Meanwhile, in the West, the reserve armies in place to stop up a hole in the lines were now readied to exploit any breakthrough by the armies in Flanders, who would attempt to shatter the British there.

Von Hutier’s troops broke into Riga and smashed up the Russian troops against the Dvina River as they moved north towards Narva and Revel. With not much success the Russians tried to counterattack; von Hutier managed to keep the attack going until it ran out of supplies and steam not far from Pskov. Meanwhile, in the West, the German plan was to attack along the Somme River and break through at the junction of the British and French armies, separating the French from their allies and maybe smashing through to the Channel ports. Apparently the Germans had forgotten the deadly proposition of attacking on the Western Front, as the extemporized German attacking force was shredded quickly by Allenby’s Third Army. What few gains they did make were far out of proportion (as usual) to the amount of casualties they suffered. Falkenhayn ordered both attacks halted on September 16 and then asked the Kaiser and Bethmann Hollweg to request an armistice.

Meanwhile, Austria-Hungary was still utter chaos. After consolidating control over Austria proper (minus the Trentine Tyrol, which was still under heavy attack by Cadorna’s troops), Kaiser Karl decided to try to crush the Bohemian insurrection, now ably organized by Masaryk and Benes. The few remaining mobile troops answering to the Austrian high command (now separated into two Armies) moved north under the overall command of Böhm-Ermolli, who skillfully maneuvered against the ad-libbed Czech defenses at Budweis and Brünn. Now assisted by the German Army under von Linsingen who had come to stop up Brusilov’s breakthrough, Böhm-Ermolli managed to break through the Czechs at Brünn, and the Austrian Second Army began to pour into the breach. In the midst of the chaos, a Sudeten German shot Masaryk, and Benes narrowly avoided similar assassination, escaping to Hungary, where Tisza was having his own problems. With the loss of the important leaders, the nascent Czech state began to collapse itself, and by September 16 the former Kingdom of Bohemia was almost completely under Austrian control.

The Kingdom of Hungary had no allies. It was trying to maintain the borders of the Crown Lands of Szent Istvan, but that brought it into friction with the Allies, especially Rumania. At the same time, it had declared itself a separate entity from Austria, bringing the wrath of the Central Powers (such as it was) against it. An attempt by the Honveds, under Kövess von Kövesshaza, to take Pressburg to shield Budapest from Austrian retaliation failed, as did the attempts to hold Transylvania against the ill-disciplined and ill-led but very large Rumanian Army. At the same time, Mackensen’s troops were holed up in Belgrade, withstanding the attacks of the vengeful Serbian Army under Putnik. These men were very effectively blocking further Allied attacks on Hungary, which gave it a little breathing room. However, that was not even close to enough. Borojevic’s Croatian partisans were pressing in on the south, where Agram and Banja Luka fell and enemies began to pour across the Drava River. By the sixteenth of September, the Hungarians were reduced to pretty much just the Hungarian Plain, except the parts across the Drava.

In the two weeks between the beginning and end of the Siege of Constantinople, the Ottoman Empire was virtually destroyed. The Greeks, having prepared for this all year, landed two more armies (Third and Fourth, naturally) under Crown Prince George and Prince Alexander respectively at Smyrna and Miletus (Turkish Aydin). These troops, in the two weeks from the fifth to the seventeenth of September, drove what conscript Turkish troops existed away and established firm control of the coast from Nicaea (Iznik) south to Attaleia (Antalya). Movements inland were initially beaten back by a few CUP diehards under Refet Pasha, but he was defeated by Prince Alexander at Laodicea and was forced to retreat to Eskisehir. Meanwhile, in Armenia, Yudenich’s Russians swept through Pontus behind Kress von Kressenstein’s Turko-German Army. Von Kressenstein reached Ankara with little opposition on the twelfth, and contented himself with consolidating there and repelling a few halfhearted Cossack attacks as the edifice of Turkish rule came crumbling down around him. In Mesopotamia, the British faced no real organized opposition save for a single army corps under Ismet Pasha, which made a brief stand at Dayr-az-Zaur before retreating to Antioch. Eastern Anatolia was almost completely cleared by the sixteenth, as was southern Palestine, as Halil’s men continued to flee towards Jerusalem, leaving Beersheba, a vital blocking point, open to Murray for free.

The Bulgarians had collapsed already by the sixteenth; on September 8 they signed an armistice with the Allies as troops closed in from several directions. Sarrail’s Tenth Army had reached Montana and Vratsa the week before, linking up with the Rumanians from the north; King Constantine and Nivelle shook hands on September 2 at Plovdiv, at the same time as more Greek troops stormed Sliven with Rumanian fire support. Russian troops, intent on securing the Black Sea coast, had seized Varna on the seventh. Burgas was really the only Bulgarian territory remaining at the armistice, and guarding it were the pitiful remnants of the once-proud Bulgarian Army: four seriously under strength army corps that could barely mass fifty thousand effectives. Admiral Souchon, choosing to take no part in the disaster that was the Ottoman Empire, had fled with Goeben and Breslau to Burgas in August, where he too gave up his ships. Following the armistice, the Allied armies crawled all over Bulgaria, establishing occupation bases and putting down any sign of revolt.

The Fall of Constantinople itself was a historic event. Occurring on the same day as such tragedies as Myriokephalon, the Yalu River, and Antietam, as well as on the same day as such peaces as Fredrikshamn and such great documents as the United States Constitution, it was also a Tuesday, the same day of the week as the other Fall of Constantinople. When Kara Bekr raised the white flag and surrendered his troops – and the hapless Sultan, who had been under house arrest but was now nearly killed by vengeful Greek soldiers – General Papoulas, who had been accompanied by his sovereign for this exact purpose, completed the requisite rituals prescribed for the recapture of the Second Rome. Many Turkish citizens of the city, expecting retributive measures, fled the city as best they could, and indeed before 2200 local there was a fairly large amount of looting and pillaging, and the minarets on the Hagia Sophia were unceremoniously yanked down. Several mosques were destroyed such that several hundred Turks attempted to hide with the Orthodox priests in churches around the city, asking for sanctuary to protect them from the victorious army. It took nearly until the Armistice Hour for the generals to get their troops under control, halting the orgy of pillage and murder directed at the Turks.

So it was that on the day before Constantinople fell that the Chancellor of Germany was asked to ask for an armistice. At first, Bethmann Hollweg had Arthur Zimmermann, the acting Foreign Minister (in place of the nonentity von Jagow) wire the Embassy in Washington, asking for President Woodrow Wilson’s mediation; however, Wilson’s response indicated that although he would indeed be delighted to mediate a peace conference between the two sides of the War, he would likely as not be a rather ineffectual intermediary in view of the catastrophes the Central Powers had suffered of late. Eventually, though, Zimmermann was able to contact the British and French governments and ask for a cease-fire to negotiate an armistice, to which Asquith and the French government of Poincaré and Briand rather enthusiastically agreed, to the annoyance of their generals. At 2000 hours Greenwich Mean Time on the night of 17 September 1916, the guns stopped on fronts from France to Anatolia, from Hungary to Livonia, from Tanzania to the Trentino. The War was over; the Peace, such as it would be, was about to begin.

Already the location for the negotiations was the subject of great argument, as was the attendance list. The French, British, Russians, and Italians all would be attending, and the Greeks, Rumanians, Serbs, Japanese, Chinese, and Belgians would also have a major place. Wilson managed to get Americans installed as observers (at the very least), and Zimmermann made several demands to attend, backed up with threats to resume offensive action on the Western Front; reluctantly, the Allied nations allowed Germany and what passed for Austria to send representatives as well. However, there was the minor issue of where the conference was to be held. The Germans floated Potsdam and Berlin as ideas, and the French suggested Versailles; these were both rejected by the other side as well as the Balkan states, who didn’t want to travel so far. London and Washington were both given a ‘no’ vote due to similar reasons, and Vienna – the site of the last great peace treaty (no, Berlin doesn’t count) – was in no condition to be used as a meeting site, as the Hungarians and Croats were notorious for breaking the peace already. Finally, everyone settled on Rome – nice weather, fairly centrally located, capital of one of the clear victors, and stuffed with nice architecture to visit during breaks. The conference that began on the ninth of November in Rome, brought about partly through the good offices of the Catholic Church, partly through those of the Italian government, was to arbitrate the fate of the world for the next century.

The first issue was Serbia and the Balkans. That whole mess had started the war, and most were inclined to reward Serbia for her steadfast fighting and victories near the end of the war. With minor protestation from the Austrian representative, Berchtold (reinstated due to the end of the union with Hungary), Serbia was awarded the Austrian Banat, Vojvodina, and about half of Bosnia-Herzegovina, with the other half going to the new Croat nation. Montenegro also needed to be rewarded in some way, but that problem was solved by the Montenegrins themselves, who voted overwhelmingly for union with Greater Serbia at the Podgorica Assembly in December 1916. The rest of Austria-Hungary needed to be partitioned, and no bones about it. Trieste, the Dalmatian islands (along with Spalato, in a move that the Croatians decried but could really not do anything about), Istria, the Trentine Tyrol, and Albania were all awarded to Italy for its exemplary service. (Salandra was particularly pleased about pretty much all of this.) Hungary was also deprived of much of Transylvania, which was awarded to Rumania on the basis that a) it was ethnically Rumanian and b) they had conquered it anyway. Galicia, of course, was given to the new Poland. Russia had initially proposed creating Poland out of eastern Germany, but basically nobody had wanted that; instead, the former Congress Kingdom was granted full independence under Pilsudski. Attempts to give Posen to the new state were beaten down by the German, Austrian, British, and American representatives (the last of which didn’t really have a say, but oh well…). Bohemia had been planned as a separate country as well, but with the deaths of Masaryk and the flight of Benes, there was no core around which to form the country, which was completely occupied by the remnant of the Austrian army, as were the Slovak-majority lands. Liechtenstein, over its protestations, was given to Switzerland for “convenience”. (The Swiss already had a monetary and customs union with the Principality anyway, so it wasn’t hard to make it into a canton and chase out the prince.)

The solution to Alsace-Lorraine was harder. Germany claimed that it was ethnically German-majority anyway (probably), historically German until Louis XIV (definitely), Germany had managed to keep control of it (almost entirely) and a vital German buffer zone to the French (maybe). France’s argument rested on the fact that France had gone to war partly to get Alsace-Lorraine back, that it was ethnically French (maybe), that it was historically French (in a way of speaking), and that it was a springboard for a German attack on France (possibly). Here, unlike with most other situations, Germany did not get her way with bluster and threats to reenter hostilities; France, likewise, was not able to threaten to storm out of the negotiations without Zimmermann laughing in Briand’s face. Other solutions were sought, the most realistic of which was attachment to Switzerland (which made some sense in some areas, but absolutely none in others, and the Swiss didn’t want to fight a war anyway). Eventually, though, the solution came in the form of the abdication of Kaiser Wilhelm II due to pressure from several quarters (to be discussed later), and the accession of the Crown Prince as Wilhelm III. Wilhelm III, although nearly as militaristic as his father (he had served on the Western Front for the entire war), recognized the necessity of giving up Alsace-Lorraine to the French in hopes of recompense elsewhere, such as a union with Austria.

Sadly for Germany and Austria both, that idea was vetoed by the Brits, Russians, and French, all of whom were terrified at the immense power Germany had already and who were chomping at the bit take away more German land. German protests were ignored once again when the negotiators turned to the Middle East. The Ottoman Empire ceased to exist in name as well as fact; the Sultan was divested of that title and reduced to that of caliph. Greece came out a big winner when Bulgaria was reduced to borders similar to those of before the Balkan Wars and the Serbs and Greeks each got a piece; much of Anatolia, already under Greek and Russian occupation, was made Greek as well. The Straits were initially a bone of contention between Venizelos and the Russian Foreign Minister, Sazonov; however, after a few back-room conversations including King Constantine and the Tsar, the Russians emerged as a strong supporter of Greek occupation. The rest of the Ottoman Empire was partitioned between the major Powers that had assisted in its dismemberment; Palestine, the Transjordan, and Mesopotamia were taken by the British as a protectorate, the French were allowed Syria and the Hatay, and a Russian puppet state of Armenia was created in eastern Anatolia, while Russia herself annexed a fair-sized chunk of land.

Belgium's neutrality was once more agreed upon, with all parties reconfirming their guarantees. The British briefly considered forcing the Germans to relinquish parts of Schleswig-Holstein to the Danes, but the German flexibility on the issue of Alsace-Lorraine nixed that idea. Although briefly agitating for Finnish independence, the Germans quickly dropped the subject and pretty much everyone ignored Russia as the Tsar took the opportunity to crush Mannerheim and his ski troopers. Meanwhile, the European countries made a mutual agreement to demobilize at Wilson's request. In addition, the Americans brought up some other subjects, such as freedom of the seas and a ban on secret treaties, but the European Powers pretty much ignored the President on those subjects. The Germans and British did, to Tirpitz's consternation, agree on naval limits (the German navy was to be about two-thirds the size of the British one). Joint Anglo-German exercises in the North Sea were planned for 1918. In return, the British agreed to guarantee German commerce on the high seas (although this was really rather useless in the event of war). When several insistences on reparations and war guilt were made, the absence of Austria-Hungary and the death of Franz Josef made a convenient scapegoat, although no free monies could be exacted from a nonexistent country. The remainder of the treaty agreements, those over colonies, were relatively simple. The new Kaiser wasn't too into that wasteful stuff, and agreed to allow the Brits to divvy them up as necessary, with the South Africans taking South-West Africa, Tanganyika and the German Pacific colonies going to the British, and Kamerun and Togoland switching to French control.

I suppose I'll have to go over the world in some fashion after the signing of the Lateran Treaty on June 2, 1917. Britain, first off, had had rather mixed success in the war. Everywhere but the North Sea, her fleets had destroyed those of Germany, but in that critical theater, the Germans had managed to retain a “fleet-in-being” and remain extant. Britain's armies had had mixed success as well, with the costly failure at Gallipoli, the chase of von Lettow-Vorbeck, and the bloodbath at Zara contrasted with undeniable victory in Mesopotamia and success on the Marne and in Palestine. Asquith's government didn't fall, and was actually given a new lease on life following the Lateran Treaty. In Ireland, ferment had boiled in 1916 into the Easter Rising, for which several Irish “terrorists” were killed. These rebels, initially hoping for assistance from the dying Central Powers (perhaps the Hochseeflotte would sally from the Heligoland Bight to land troops in Ireland or something), were quickly smashed; the British government decided not to heavily retaliate against the general Irish population because of the lack of support for the rebels as a whole. With that, the revolutionary sentiment in Ireland pretty much died out, and attention switched to the soldiers coming home from the war. The remains of Kitchener’s New Army, who had fought so hard for the Allies in the war, now began to agitate for the vote. Most of them hadn't the property to qualify for voting, despite the Reform Acts of the previous century. Asquith's Liberal government, to try and preempt the still-weak but coalescing Labour party, managed to get through the Representation of the People Act in 1917, abolishing male property qualifications for voting and allowed women over age 35 to vote. (Emmeline Pankhurst and her suffragettes were extremely happy at the latter provision.) King George raised Asquith to the peerage in 1919, after which he stepped down as Leader of the Liberal Party and was replaced by David Lloyd George, former Minister of Munitions. As of 1920, the Liberals had basically eradicated the Labour threat, as Ramsay Macdonald, an important Labour leader, was discredited as an antiwar activist and the successful passage of the RPA, which gave the Liberals a large amount of strength from the new electorate.

France, following the Great War, was still led by Raymond Poincaré and Aristide Briand (as President of the Republic and President of the Council of Ministers aka Prime Minister respectively). Poincaré, in an effort to maintain his Presidency's strong position (indeed, the strongest it had been since Marshal MacMahon), was very opposed to the Lateran Peace on the basis that it was not particularly strong against the Germans; Briand embodied the sentiment of many Frenchmen of “thank God the war is over and we got Alsace-Lorraine back”, and was far more conciliatory. The attempts by Poincaré to enforce a harsher peace against the wishes of the French public led to his resignation in 1918, after which he was replaced by Viviani. Most of the remaining years were spent in attempting to rebuild the shattered economy of the northeast and in drawing down occupation forces, as well as the fun stuff occurring in the remnants of the Ottoman Empire, which is examined below.
 
The German Empire seemed to be comparatively victorious in the War. It held Poland, Livonia, northern France, and Belgium at war's end, and her navy had not been defeated. The Kaiser and Bethmann Hollweg had been rather reluctant to sign a peace based on this, but the heavy defeats dealt to Germany's allies, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, and the Ottoman Empire were what forced the Germans to the negotiation table more than anything else. During the initial peace talks, the Kaiser was seen as increasingly irrelevant – but then again, there really was no one strong person in the government to replace him. In the Reichstag, the SPD (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands – German Social Democratic Party) was gaining support due to the general dislike of the Chancellor and ministers. Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg, among others, had founded the ultra-left-wing Spartacist League in January 1916; with the fall of Constantinople and the armistice in September, Liebknecht tried to act, rallying support in the Berliner Tiergarten and urging the start of the revolution of the proletariat. However, without the support of most of the population – who were put down by the returning army troops, such as those of Mackensen from Belgrade or OberOst out of Poland and Livonia – the revolution was stillborn and the Spartacists were scattered and then executed by the German military. With these events, the Kaiser decided to abdicate in favor of his son, who had the support of the Army (being an army commander himself). Wilhelm III took charge of the negotiations in Rome and forced Bethmann Hollweg to resign and replaced him with the moderate Matthias Erzberger. Erzberger, after concluding the Lateran Treaty, quickly cracked down on the Spartacists and left-winger parts of the SPD, who were replaced by the leadership of Friedrich Ebert. Germany nearly burst out in complete revolution at this point, but the socialists and workers really didn't have any leadership or support from the soldiers coming back from the war. Erzberger led the country through somewhat rough times, including inflation due to the admittedly-small reparations. The soldiers who came home began to turn their hands to writing, including one Adolf Hitler, who published a book in 1920 entitled Dolchstoß (backstab), in which he laid out the full reasons for German defeat: not France or Britain or Russia – none of the Entente, who had only been fighting for their side – but the idiots in charge of the Habsburg Empire, and the previous governments post-Bismarck, who had allowed the alliance system to atrophy and fall apart, dooming Germany to real encirclement instead of the myth that had caused the war. Hitler's book popularized the idea of the Habsburg and government Dolchstoß, and induced a good deal of anger towards Erzberger's centrists and especially the right wing which had led Germany poorly in a war she should have won. Ebert's SPD was rebuilding strength by 1920, and was fast becoming the most political party in the Empire.

I'm sorry, but I wanted to get something out there, and I shall soon be elsewhere and won't be able to write much. Map soon, and the Rest of the World soon as well.

Unlikelihoods need to be reported to me plz. I can tell you why I made such things so.
 
Looking forward to how things will work out with "the Riders". Might their leader claim greater power WITHIN the system? Because if he is who I think he is, he would make for a good, if... disturbing Augustus of the East.

I would think that it's a bit early for that particular Rider of Abaddon, but eh...

No it is not that particular Destroyer. The cumulative effects of over four hundred years of butterfly wings flapping have ensured that particular birth never happened. However, there will be one born (I’m thinking of naming him Octar, for the simple fact that it is still a period name without carrying with it the connotations of the more famous period name) who will share many similarities with that one, most importantly his ambition.

And no, it is not too early, in fact it is right on schedule (the Rider you should be thinking of became co-king in 434 CE). When Marius flees to the east, he will find himself in the middle of about roughly the fifth year of this particular conflict.
 
And no, it is not too early, in fact it is right on schedule (the Rider you should be thinking of became co-king in 434 CE). When Marius flees to the east, he will find himself in the middle of about roughly the fifth year of this particular conflict.
I wasn't thinking of him (Odoacer or Theodoric Amal, actually), but our good scourgish friend would have been nice to see.

Would it kill you to stick dates in the TL? ;)
 
I wasn't thinking of him (Odoacer or Theodoric Amal, actually), but our good scourgish friend would have been nice to see.

But both Odoacer and Theodoric were in the west, my scenario clearly said east ;)

Would it kill you to stick dates in the TL? ;)

I do, right below the title :p. But within the actual prose, yes, it would kill me to stick dates. The entire prose structure that I choose to use to convey the timeline would be interupted by the insertion of dates. Besides, there is no AD/CE here, so such dates would be meaningless.
 
But both Odoacer and Theodoric were in the west, my scenario clearly said east
Actually, Theodoric got his start in the Eastern Empire, who got tired of him after he won a Gothic civil war and sent him off to conquer Italy. That's beside the point, though.
The Strategos said:
But within the actual prose, yes, it would kill me to stick dates. The entire prose structure that I choose to use to convey the timeline would be interupted by the insertion of dates. Besides, there is no AD/CE here, so such dates would be meaningless.
Yeah, I understand. Be bloody helpful to the reader, though.

Sketch of a PoD-of-the-Day: Benedetti doesn't demand more of the Germans after the withdrawal of the Hohenzollern Candidacy. Bismarck takes his diplomatic defeat and simply continues the economic and military union of the North German Confederation with the southern states as it was going, which would result in the far less glorious but still equally as factual foundation of the German Empire, if slightly later and sans Alsace-Lorraine. With no Franco-German tension in those years, France and Germany could conceivably ally against the British, especially when Germany enters her Kaiser Wilhelm phase and starts cranking out warships. Also, Austria is not necessarily needed as a counter to Russia or even to keep the southern flank guarded; an Austro-British alliance against France, Germany, and Russia is not out of the question, although there are several other factors to be considered, such as the Balkans. There's probably not going to be nearly as much militarism or preparations for war, which might not even happen (although those damnfool things in the Balkans and the colonies will certainly cause enough tension to induce lesser statesmen to choose the nuclear option of mobilization). China might even be partitioned between the Western Powers, or there could be a situation similar to the Eurasian War TL, with an Anglo-Japanese alliance facing off against some combination of France, Germany, and Russia.

No thoughts on my TL? ;)

EDIT: Luckymoose, I'm working on it - it takes awhile, and I haven't even finished describing the other events up to 1920.
 
Replace what religion? I don't see any Islam...just some heretical Christians, that's all.

I meant replace OTL Islam. The Arabic Rite Christians will probably be part of that influence, ofcourse.

Besides, there is no AD/CE here, so such dates would be meaningless.

As you are talking to an Ancient Rome enthusiast, you probably already know what he would reply to that. ;)

Interesting althist, Dachs. Its very refreshing to read other people's stuff here. ;) Good work with that unique epic feel of the Great War. The butterfly effect is well done as well, though some of the details are tough to keep track of, at least without a map.

In mid-March, Foch had started his campaign by landing Italian and French marine units on the islands of the Austrian Adriatic coastline

Sounds familiar. :p

(Von Kluck himself refused to do so and fled overland, managing to reach Bavaria in the first week of September.)

A bit reckless of him, isn't it?

Not sure if I understand what exactly happened in Turkey in the Summer of 1916. Did the Germans decide to ally with the rebels, or simply tried to make some sort of a landgrab? Or what?

Kingdom of Hungary

Wasn't it a Republic just now?

Galicia, of course, was given to the new Poland.

All of it?

as were the Slovak-majority lands.

So, what happens there? Does Austria annex Slovakia? Return it to Hungary? Grant it independence?

Wilhelm III, although nearly as militaristic as his father

I think if anything he was MORE militaristic; Wilhelm II wasn't as militaristic as megalomaniacal (in the positive meaning of the word ;) ).

Bulgaria was reduced to borders similar to those of before the Balkan Wars

Who gets the southwestern Bulgarian lands? Greece? Those would be some funny borders...

much of Anatolia, already under Greek and Russian occupation, was made Greek as well.

How much?

a Russian puppet state of Armenia was created in eastern Anatolia, while Russia herself annexed a fair-sized chunk of land.

Any border details?

the Tsar took the opportunity to crush Mannerheim and his ski troopers.

Nicholas II was incompetent, not mad. Why would he crush his own troops, even if they're commanded by a Swede (who also happens to be an aristocrat and a Russian war hero)? :p

the German Pacific colonies going to the British

The Japanese will really like that one, won't they? :p Although, that would have been very cunning of the Germans. A wedge is placed between Britain and Japan, while the wedge between the Germans and Japan is presumably removed.

The Germans conceding their colonies just like that sounds a bit too easy. Even had they decided to scrap decades of colonial development, wouldn't they have tried to get some money for it at least (i.e. agreeing to sell the colonies instead of simply handing them over)?

With that, the revolutionary sentiment in Ireland pretty much died out

Quite unlikely considering that a civil war in Ireland was only averted by the beginning of a world war. I suspect that in the wake of the usual post-war recession and social tensions, the Irish will rise again, though the British probably won't give up on Ireland so easily. The worst-case scenario here (a fully-fledged uprising, with the British having to fight an Irish version of the Second Boer War, and the Ulstermen commiting loud atrocities) would be quite... interesting, if only because it is likely to put a significant dent in the Anglo-American relations.

urging the start of the revolution of the proletariat

Liebknecht was way too cautious to actually act, though, at least before there are any chances of success. Plus he was already under arrest by then, I think.

Ebert's SPD was rebuilding strength by 1920, and was fast becoming the most political party in the Empire.

"The most political party"? :p Nonetheless, that does look promising. Ebert was himself a kind of a monarchist, and would no doubt have been far more pleased by this situation than by the OTL one. I think the SPD could do quite well if it picks up Hitler's message; it was, after all, pro-war, so it could combine a right-wing foreign agenda with a left-wing domestic one, and ally with the Kaiser and the army as it had done in OTL.

Btw, Poland is a German ally, right? I think that a Hohenzollern king is in order, though Pilsudski will ofcourse wield the real power (whether as dictator or as prime minister, or both).

EDIT:

if slightly later and sans Alsace-Lorraine.

Actually, I think it will also lack the four southern German states. The Franco-Prussian War didn't really do much to increase unity in the NORTH; rather, it brought the south over to the NGC's side, thanks to the Wacht am Rhein card Bismarck had played so well (and ofcourse fighting on the same side; that always helps). And I'm pretty sure Austria and France, still disturbed by Prussia's strenghthening, will do their best to offset a complete unification of non-Austrian Germany; a southern federation will probably be set up, with ties to Paris and Vienna, and also with Northern intrigue to get around this somehow. The Italians might also get involved, playing the Catholic solidarity card and trying to win over the Southern Germany as an ally against Austria (or to help the Northerners; but would Bismarck, a Prussian patriot first and foremost, really want another war with Austria? and would the Italians, aware of his stance on this issue, believe him if he said that he would?).

Still, that's a different althist.

With no Franco-German tension in those years, France and Germany could conceivably ally against the British, especially when Germany enters her Kaiser Wilhelm phase and starts cranking out warships.

1) Why no tension? The French still want Rhineland, which Bismarck had promised them previously; the Germans still want Lorraine-Alsace. Although they could get around it, I suppose.
2) Would the Germans still pursue the exact same policies as in OTL? Their position in Europe will be much weaker here, so Wilhelm might want to, say, create a "Greater German Reich" (just to spite Bismarck ;) ), or say ally with Austria-Hungary and fight Russia to extend German influence into Eastern Europe. The OTL Weltpolitik was at least partially a result of the Germans being "dizzy with success" and in fact really more safe to try and build a colonial empire as opposed to securing the European borders (in OTL, who would have seriously considered attacking Germany, which had defeated the world's most reputable fighting force? But here, all they beat up were some deeply-troubled Austrians, and even then not very thoroughly. Oh, and the Danes. Scary.).

an Austro-British alliance against France, Germany, and Russia is not out of the question, although there are several other factors to be considered, such as the Balkans.

Cooperation with Austria on the Balkan issues is actually the best meeting point they (the British) have with Vienna. HOWEVER, I really doubt that Austria-Hungary would want to set itself against France, Germany AND Russia at the same time. It is more likely to try and choose an European ally, otu of which France actually looks by far the best, especially if the French keep defending Rome (=Italy as a mutual enemy).

There's probably not going to be nearly as much militarism

There will probably be MORE militarism; see above for Germany's motivations. As for France, it still has a high military prestige, and DOESN'T have a republican government scared of the very notion of the army getting stronger. Napoleon IV is very damn likely to launch a new round of the Napoleonic Wars, possibly in alliance with Austria-Hungary or Russia (or even both, though that would be quite a feat of diplomacy; nothing inaccomplishable though, just promise the Austrians a lot in Italy and Germany, and the Russians in Prussian Poland, while establishing a balancing French influence in the Balkans). Austria-Hungary will be more paranoid, ofcourse, so more militarism there as well.

China might even be partitioned between the Western Powers

Actually, not likely. Imperialism and colonialism will be much reduced from the OTL; after all, it was France's defeat in the Franco-Prussian War that made it so keen on acquiring more colonies - and provoking Britain to do likewise - and eventually resulting in the Berlin Congress that brought in the others as well. Here most of Africa will probably remain in native hands until an European confrontation and its aftermath cause both sides to seek additional advantages in Africa. Probably same for China; it might actually manage to modernise here.

I think you really are neglecting France too much here. Napoleon III will be free to take on another foreign adventure in this world, in the early 1870s, intervenning in the Third Carlist War. That may well evolve into a Second Peninsular War, though the British will probably be beaten up badly if they fail to secure allies (and who would want to attack France? the Prussians/Germans will probably not risk it, though the Italians will probably ally with Britain to defend the Savoyard Spanish king and claim Rome; but how much good is the Italian army against the French army?) and Napoleon III is actually likely to establish a puppet regime - possibly under "Prince Plon-Plon", just to get rid of him and because of his ties to the House of Savoy, which would definitely make the diplomatic side of things easier - in Spain and to annex Catalonia, while knocking Italy down a bit. The British may be able to win a war of attrition, but that would take way too many resources and I doubt that they would even try it. France will replace Germany as the main badboy of European politics - and as it won't be so damn colonial, it will be really aggressive in Europe itself, though probably seeking out allies elsewhere in the world as well (Japan will be an important battlefield for French and British diplomats).
 
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