Austria-Hungary declares war on Serbia

AT 11.10 AM ON 28 JULY 1914, Count Leopold von Berchtold, the Austro-Hungarian foreign minister, sent a telegram to ‘M. N. Pašić, Serbian Prime Minister’. It arrived at the Serbian Government’s wartime location at Niš at 12.30 pm:

Under extreme backroom pressure from Berlin, Austria-Hungary thus declared war on Serbia – the first time it had been declared by telegram – despite continuing mediation attempts and in the teeth of fierce Russian opposition.

Berchtold had extracted ‘permission’ to declare war from the Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph that morning. He did so in two ways, both of which redound to the foreign minister’s disgrace: first, by hastening the march to war in order to kill off any hope of peace talks: ‘The Triple Entente,’ Berchtold wrote to His Majesty, ‘might make another attempt to achieve a peaceful settlement of the conflict unless a clear situation is created by the declaration of war.’ Second, by informing the emperor that Serbian forces had fired on Austro-Hungarian troops at Temes-Kubin – a lie that was deleted from the final declaration.

Berchtold later denied he had deliberately deceived the emperor. ‘The view,’ he wrote to the Italian historian Albertini in 1932, ‘that the Emperor was “pushed into war” is totally false. His Majesty was in full possession of a clear mind and unimpaired judgment and convinced of his lofty mission . . .’

If that were true, why did Berchtold delete the claim that Serb forces had fired on Austrian troops from the declaration? Clearly, Berchtold had lied to his emperor in order to extract a stronger case for war, then erased the evidence.

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After receiving Austria’s declaration, the Serbian leaders were confused. Was it real or a hoax, they wondered. Their legations in St Petersburg, London and Paris soon apprised Prime Minister Nikola Pašić of its authenticity.

European capitals bridled at the news. All talks, and talks about talks, ceased or hovered aimlessly in limbo, while the imminence of a European war removed the fragile hope of peace.

‘The declaration of war will make very difficult the initiation of pourparlers by the four Powers,’ Alfred Dumaine, the French ambassador to Austria, informed Paris.

Dumaine had disquieting suspicions that Germany had pushed Austria into war with Serbia ‘in order to be able herself to enter into war with Russia and France, in circumstances which she supposes ought to be most favourable to herself’.

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The Russians sent messages of warm support to the Serbs at Niš, eliciting tearful replies of gratitude from their Slavic allies.

On reading them, Pašić crossed himself and exclaimed, ‘The Tsar is great and merciful!’ Overcome with emotion, he hugged the Russian chargé d’affaires.

‘Deeply touched by the telegram which your Majesty was pleased to address to me yes-terday,’ Prince Alexander, the Serbian heir apparent, wrote to the Tsar on 29 July. ‘Your Majesty may rest assured that the cordial sympathy which your Majesty feels towards my country . . . fills our hearts with the belief that the future of Servia is secure . . .’

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Austrian newspapers published the emperor’s official statement the following morning. Stripped of bombast and plain lies, Austria’s true motives for going to war became clear.

Punishing the Serbs and avenging the murder of Franz Ferdinand (whose name the Emperor didn’t mention) had little to do with the declaration of war. These were mere triggers.

Austria-Hungary went to war to protect the imperial system and perpetuate the divine right of kings, as the Emperor told his people that day:

‘To My Peoples!’ he began. ‘To protect the honour of our monarchy, to protect its reputation and its position of power, and to protect its vested interests, the activities of a hate-filled enemy force Me, after many long years of peace, to reach for My sword.’

Many Austrians and Hungarians rejoiced. ‘Never before have you seen Vienna so full of people than this evening,’ reported the German military newspaper Daheim (Home):

‘The people didn’t know what else to do with their emotions but to crowd towards the War Office and sing patriotic songs there. There was no window unlit in that gigantic new building. . .’

The Austrian army commandeered the postal and telegraphic service and took charge of the railways. The stock exchange closed, and newspaper sales soared.

Speakers on the pedestal of the Radetzky monument hailed the German emperor and the king of Italy. Every officer received loud applause:

‘Our Count Berchtold played like a virtuoso on the instrument of the people’s soul,’ Daheim continued. ‘Austria has another face now. It can act again, it is raising itself upwards in a manly fashion, carrying all its peoples along: none of them refuses to follow the Emperor who has now finally mounted his horse.’

The rabidly jingoistic Austrian press fanned the fires of war, portraying the Slavs as a kind of vermin that had to be exterminated. Take the organ of the Lower Austria’s Farmers’ Union, Der Bauernbündler (circulation 74,000), on 1 August 1914. Describing the Serbs as ‘devious and hateful people’, it thundered:

‘RISE AGAINST THOSE SERBIAN CUTTHROATS! . . . Our allies, Germany and Italy, are standing by us, too, and so we join into the words of the poet: “Old Austria awake! Dawdle no longer! Grab these scoundrels by the throat and use unmerciful force to impose respect of your good sword on them! . . . Don’t hesitate to put them to the sword . . .!’

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On 31 July, a darker mood intruded. Daheim warned of a world war and issued a furious call to arms:

‘The thundering of Serbian canons conjured up a world war. From border to border, Germany will echo with rage. The time of our trial has come. Europe is trembling, but we are not afraid . . . If Russia thinks it can try and overrun Germany and the Ostmark with the help of France and England and so open up the way to the Mediterranean sea, it will – God willing – bash its head in on Germany and Austria’s military walls . . . [T]here is a sense of horror in the air, of the dreadful and unforeseeable consequences of the world war; a horror though that doesn’t just make our blood run cold, but also sweeps us upward, ready to make the highest sacrifices of both blood and possessions . . .’

The German press let fall the country’s mask, relishing the coming conflagration. Newspapers published military songs to rally the soldiers, such as The Emperor is Calling!:

‘Germany, take a grip with a strong fist / to scare enemies both left and right / rise up in angry flames! . . . / All of Germany stands united! / Now the day of redress is finally come! . . . / The Emperor is calling! Would anyone not come immediately?! / It’s for our homeland! Emperor and Reich!’

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One blot on Vienna’s new-found self-confidence was the untested quality of the Austro-Hungarian troops.

As Daheim reported: ‘The Austrian army will not have any easy work of it, and the war won’t be a walk in the park. Even if the Serbian army is outnumbered . . . it still has an advantage not to be underestimated: its experience in the Balkan wars.’

In July 1914, Austria-Hungary fielded 378,000 combatants, from a total standing army of 36,000 officers, 410,000 non-commissioned officers and men, about 87,000 horses and 1200 artillery pieces.

After full mobilisation, Austro-Hungarian forces would grow to more than three million men, most of them unfit for combat.

The Serbian Army was far smaller, though much better motivated. It contained a ruthless core of warriors, blooded in the worst of the Balkan Wars. Though it had recently doubled in size, adding five well-trained divisions, the total Serbian army numbered just 250,000 combatants. They were poorly equipped, with fewer modern rifles (180,000) than men. Up to a third of its front-line units would rely on clapped-out old pieces until Russian replacements arrived halfway through August.

Fierce Serb nationalism and hatred of the Habsburgs compensated for these deficiencies, unifying the Serbs into more than a match for the enemy, a confused, polyglot army of Austrians, Hungarians, Croats, Italians, Czechs, Ukrainians, Poles, Slovenes, Slovaks and others.

The half- witted enthusiasm of the ‘Good Soldier Švejk’ more accurately reflected the calibre of the Austro-Hungarian army than all the bluster of the emperor and the press.

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The Serbian Army also mobilised faster than the Austrians.

At the solemn opening of the Skupchtina (parliament) on 30 July, Serbia’s Prince Regent read a speech in his own name. He urged the people to ‘Defend your homes and Servia with all your might’.

He emphasised ‘the gracious communication’ of the Tsar, that Russia would never abandon Serbia. At each mention of the Tsar and Russia, ‘the hall resounded with loud bursts of wild cheering’. The names of France and England also ‘called forth approving plaudits’.

Throughout that night, Austrian guns pounded the near-deserted city of Belgrade, provoking fury in Russia. Serbia held back, awaiting their chance.

No soldier or commander then realised they were embarking on a four-year campaign that would kill or wound 1.1 million Serbian people: 60 per cent of the total adult male population and 27 per cent of the overall population – the worst casualty rate of the Great War.

Selected sources and further reading:

Albertini, Luigi, The Origins of the War of 1914 (3 vols), Enigma Press, New York 2005

Bethmann Hollweg, Theobald von, Reflections on the World War, (transl. by Young, George), Cornell University Library, New York, 1920

French Yellow Book, Chapter II, No. 8. M. Dumaine, French Ambassador at Vienna, to M. René Viviani, President of the Council, minister for foreign affairs, Vienna, 2 July 1914.

Geiss, Imanuel, July 1914 The Outbreak of the First World War: Selected Documents, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York 1967

Hochschild, Adam, To End All Wars: A Story of Loyalty and Rebellion, 1914–1918, Mariner Books, Boston 2012

Hötzendorf, Conrad von, Aus meiner dienstzeit, 1906–1918, University of Michigan Library, Ann Arbor 1921

Keiger, John, Raymond Poincaré, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1997

Ludwig, Emil, July 1914, Putnam, London 1929

Ludwig, Emil, Wilhelm Hohenzollern: The Last of the Kaisers, AMS Press Inc, New York 1978

Margutti, Albert von, La Tragédie des Habsbourg, Bibl. Rhombus, Vienna 1923

Paléologue, Maurice, An Ambassador’s Memoirs, (transl. by Holt, Frederic), George H. Doran Company, New York 2008

Seton-Watson, Robert, Sarajevo: A Study in the Origins of the Great War, Hutchinson, London 1925

Smith, David James, One Morning in Sarajevo: 28 June 1914, Phoenix Press, London 2009

Sondhaus, Lawrence, Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf: Architect of the Apocalypse, Brill Academic Publishers, Leiden, Netherlands 2000

Sosnosky, Theodor von, Franz Ferdinand. Der Erzherzog-Thronfolger. Ein Lebensbild, Verlag Von R. Oldenbourg, Munich 1929

Strachan, Hew, The First World War: Volume I: To Arms, Oxford University Press, USA 2003

Sulzberger, Cyrus Leo, The Fall of Eagles, Crown Publishers, New York 1977

The World War I Document Archive, ‘The Assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand’: http://wwi.lib.byu.edu/index.php/The_Assassination_of_Archduke_Franz_Ferdinand

The World War I Document Archive, Records of national diplomatic communication: The Belgian Grey Book, The French Yellow Book, The German White Book, The Russian Orange Book, The Serbian Blue Book, The Austro-Hungarian Red Book, see also: http://www.gwpda.org/

This essay is an edited extract from my book 1914: The Year the World Ended published by Penguin Random House (UK and Australia).