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British Back Russians on von Sanders

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Wikimedia Commons

The First World War was an unprecedented catastrophe that killed millions and set the continent of Europe on the path to further calamity two decades later. But it didn’t come out of nowhere. With the centennial of the outbreak of hostilities coming up in 2014, Erik Sass will be looking back at the lead-up to the war, when seemingly minor moments of friction accumulated until the situation was ready to explode. He'll be covering those events 100 years after they occurred. This is the 95th installment in the series. 

December 15, 1913: British Back Russians on von Sanders

In the autumn of 1913, Europe was gripped by yet another in a long series of diplomatic crises, this time triggered by the news that a German officer, Lieutenant General Liman von Sanders, was to be appointed commander of the Turkish First Army Corps guarding Constantinople. The Russians in particular vehemently opposed this arrangement, arguing that it would effectively turn control of the Ottoman capital over to Germany, thus threatening Russia’s foreign trade, half of which flowed through the Turkish straits; the Russians also hoped to conquer Constantinople for themselves someday.

As in the previous crises caused by the Balkan Wars, Europe’s Great Powers tried to avoid a wider conflict but nevertheless found themselves dragged into a cycle of escalation by less powerful client states—in this case, the Ottoman Empire.

For the Committee of Union and Progress (Young Turks) led by Enver Pasha, the German military mission was more than just a step towards overhauling the Turkish army; it also held out the possibility of a more serious commitment from Germany to protect the beleaguered Ottoman Empire against the other Great Powers. If the Turks could just get Germany to sign a formal defensive alliance, it would buy them time to carry out sweeping reforms to get the empire back on its feet. For their part the Germans were leery of deeper Turkish entanglements, viewing the ramshackle empire as essentially a lost cause and a dangerous liability in military terms (the von Sanders mission was as much about staking a claim to Turkish territory as it was about defending it). But the Young Turks were willing to play hardball with their reluctant partners.

On December 4, 1913, the Turks delivered a fait accompli to the Great Powers—including Germany—by formally announcing von Sanders’ appointment as commander of the First Army Corps. By escalating the situation the Turks hoped to force the Germans to make a clear stand at the side of the Ottoman Empire, using the diplomatic crisis surrounding the von Sanders Affair as leverage; with their prestige on the line, it would be harder for the Germans to back down and leave the Turks hanging.

Unsurprisingly the Russians were not at all happy with this turn of events. On December 6, Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Sazonov rang the alarm bells in St. Petersburg, warning Tsar Nicholas II that “to abandon the Straits to a powerful state would be to place the economic development of the whole of South Russia at the mercy of that state.” And two could play the escalation game: on December 7, Sazonov raised the stakes by suggesting that Russia might be forced to seek compensation in the form of Turkish territory—specifically the province of Erzurum in Turkish Armenia. Thus the wily foreign minister, ever opportunistic, hoped to either get rid of von Sanders or use the crisis to advance Russia’s devious long-term plan to annex Turkish territory.

As intended, Sazonov’s threat triggered serious alarm in Western capitals, with France and Britain hurrying to restrain their Entente partner while also urging Germany to back down—not unlike friends trying to prevent a drunken bar fight. But their efforts were overtaken by events: von Sanders left Berlin for Constantinople on December 9, arriving five days later. Meanwhile on December 12 Sazonov informed Britain and France that Russia considered this a test of the Entente, adding, “This lack of… solidarity between the three Entente Powers arouses our serious apprehension...”

Up to this point British Foreign Secretary Edward Grey (top) had avoided involvement in the von Sanders Affair, which didn’t directly affect British interests. But with war in the air, on December 15, 1913, the phlegmatic foreign secretary finally left the sidelines, warning the German ambassador, Prince Lichnowsky, that “Russia might demand compensations in Constantinople in the form of the transfer to her of a command in Armenia. Such a solution seemed to him to be fraught with danger, as it might mean the beginning of the end—the beginning of the partition of Turkey in Asia.” Later Grey told Lichnowsky “the Russians are more concerned than ever and must be satisfied somehow…”

Lichnowsky conveyed Grey’s warnings to Berlin, and the Germans—who had no desire for a confrontation with the Entente over the von Sanders mission—began thinking of ways to satisfy Russian demands while still maintaining German and Turkish prestige. The answer was clear enough: to save face von Sanders would give up command of the Constantinople army but remain in Turkey in a military capacity, which, in the Kabuki-like world of European power politics, would technically mean no one had backed down.

On December 18, von Sanders (with a nudge from the German ambassador to Constantinople, Baron von Wangenheim) suddenly realized that reforming the Turkish army and commanding an active army corps was too much for one person to handle, and requested a transfer to command of the Turkish army corps at Adrianople, leaving Constantinople in Turkish hands once again. This wasn’t quite the end of the von Sanders Affair, as the Turks still required some convincing, but it showed that the Germans were trying to defuse the situation, and tensions began to subside.

However the Liman von Sanders Affair revealed dynamics that would help precipitate the First World War less than a year later. For one thing, the Turks’ decision to escalate the crisis showed that Germany, having encouraged its allies in a particular course of action, couldn’t necessarily control them once they embarked on it. At the same time Grey’s initial reluctance to take sides, which allowed the situation to escalate dangerously, foreshadowed Britain’s belated intervention during the final crisis of July 1914, when the world’s fate hung in the balance. 

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10 Facts About the Battle of Bunker Hill
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The battles of Lexington and Concord—which kicked off the clash between Great Britain and the colonies—were historically and politically important, but relatively small in scale. The battle of Bunker Hill, however, was another story: Fought on June 17, 1775, it had a sky-high body count. Though the colonies were defeated, American forces performed so impressively and inflicted so many casualties on their powerful opponent that most rebels took it as a moral victory. Here’s your guide to the Bay State’s most storied battle.


Massachusetts's Charlestown Peninsula, located just north of Boston, was a strip of land with great strategic value. In June 1775—less than two months after the bloodshed at Lexington and Concord—word was circulating that the British aimed to seize the peninsula, a move that would strengthen their naval presence in the area. To prevent this, the Massachusetts Committee of Safety (a patriot-run shadow government organization) ordered Colonel William Prescott to build a fort on Bunker Hill, near the peninsula’s northern shore.

On the night of June 16, Prescott marched 1000 men south of Charlestown Peninsula. Whether because he was intentionally disobeying orders or simply couldn’t find the right hill in the dark, he had his men fortify Breed's Hill rather than Bunker Hill. Toiling through the night, the militia men dug a wide trench surrounded by 6-foot dirt walls. In retaliation, the Brits attacked the next day. Following a barrage of cannonballs launched by His Majesty’s ships, hundreds of Redcoats landed on the peninsula and repeatedly charged the makeshift fortress.

The vast majority of this action took place on or around Breed’s Hill, but the name “Battle of Bunker Hill” remains in use. In the 1800s, Richard Frothingham theorized that the 110-foot Bunker Hill was a “well-known public place,” while the smaller Breed’s Hill was a less recognizable landmark, which might be the reason for the confrontation’s misleading moniker.


America’s fourteenth Commander-in-Chief, Franklin Pierce, is primarily remembered for signing the controversial Kansas-Nebraska Act during his one-term White House stint. Pierce’s father, Benjamin, fought on the rebellion’s side at Bunker Hill and later became Governor of New Hampshire. Another noteworthy veteran of that battle was Daniel Shays, after whom Shays’ Rebellion is named.


According to legend, this iconic order was either given by Prescott or Major General Israel Putnam when the British regulars first charged Breed’s Hill in the early afternoon. Because the rebels had a gunpowder shortage, their commanders instructed them to conserve their ammunition until the enemy troops were close enough to be easy targets.

But as author Nathaniel Philbrick pointed out in this interview, there’s no proof that anybody actually hollered “Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes,” which has been quoted in countless history textbooks and was even riffed in one of Gary Larson’s Far Side cartoons. “We know that someone said ‘Hold your fire until you see the whites of their half-gaiters,' which [were] the splash guards on the regulars’ feet,” Philbrick said. “That doesn’t have the same ring to it.”


An estimated 150 African-Americans, including both slaves and freemen, fought the British at Bunker Hill. Among them was Salem Poor, an ex-slave who bought his freedom in 1769 at the price of 27 pounds. During the battle, he fought so valiantly that many of his white peers later petitioned the Massachusetts General Court to reward Poor for his heroism [PDF]. Another black combatant, Peter Salem, is sometimes credited with shooting Major John Pitcairn, a British marine whose commanding role at Lexington had earned him notoriety in the colonies—though other sources cite Poor as the infamous redcoat’s killer. Salem himself had fought at Concord and would later see action in Saratoga and Stony Point.


The British's first march on Breed’s Hill quickly devolved into a bloody mess. Rather than spreading themselves out, the advancing infantry arrived in a tightly-packed cluster, making it easy for rebel gunmen to mow them down. The redcoats were also hindered by the rough terrain, which was riddled with rocks, holes, and fences. These factors forced the British into an inglorious retreat. After regrouping, the infantrymen marched on the hill once again—and, just as before, they were driven back.

The first two assaults had thoroughly depleted the colonists’ supply of ammunition, leaving them vulnerable. When the redcoats made their third ascent that day, the rebels had nearly run out of bullets. Struggling to arm themselves, some colonists improvised by loading their muskets with nails, scrap metal, and broken glass. As a last-ditch effort, several dropped their firearms and hurled rocks at the invaders. Such weapons proved insufficient and the Americans were finally made to abandon the hill.


Charlestown, now one of Boston’s most historic neighborhoods, was originally a separate village seated at the base of Breed’s Hill. Once a thriving community with 2000 to 3000 residents, the locals—afraid for their safety—started abandoning the area after that infamous “shot heard round the world” rang out at Lexington. By June 17, Charlestown had become a virtual ghost town. During the Battle of Bunker Hill, American snipers took to stationing themselves inside the empty village. So, to protect his own men, British General William Howe ordered that Charlestown be burned. The troops used superheated cannonballs and baskets filled with gunpowder to lay the town low.

The inferno didn’t spread to Breed’s Hill, but its effects were most definitely felt there. “A dense column of smoke rose to great height,” wrote an eyewitness, “and there being a gentle breeze from the south-west, it hung like a thunder cloud over the contending armies.”

Some 380 buildings went up in flame. Such destruction was without precedent: Although the British had torched some isolated homes at Lexington, this was the first occasion in which an entire village or town was deliberately set ablaze during the Revolutionary War. Unfortunately, the colonies hadn’t seen the last of these large-scale burnings.


Though the redcoats prevailed, their victory was a Pyrrhic one. Nearly half of the estimated 2400 British troops who fought at Bunker Hill were killed or wounded. How many men did the Americans lose? Four hundred and fifty—out of an overall force of 1200. The rebels may have been bested, but they’d also put on an impressive showing against some of the most feared and well-trained troops on Earth. Bunker Hill thus became a morale boost for the patriots—and a cause for concern back in England.

One day after the showdown, a British officer lamented “We have indeed learned one melancholy truth, which is that the Americans, if they were equally well commanded, are full as good soldiers as ours, and as it is are very little inferior to us, even in discipline and steadiness of countenance.”


Fun fact: On top of being a silversmith and perhaps the most famous messenger in American history, Paul Revere was a part-time dentist. He learned the trade under an Englishman named John Baker in the 1760s. Revere’s mentor taught him the art of forging replacement teeth out of ivory and other materials, and the future rebel eventually established himself as an in-demand Boston dentist. One of his clients was Dr. Joseph Warren, the man who would dispatch Revere—and fellow rider William Dawes—to warn some Massachusetts statesmen that British troops were headed towards Lexington and Concord on a fateful, much-mythologized night in April 1775.

During the Battle of Bunker Hill, Warren, a Major General, decided to fight right on the front line with patriot volunteers despite his rank and was killed. When the battle was over, Warren's body was dumped into a shallow grave with another slain American..

When the British pulled out of the area in 1776, Warren’s kin finally had the chance to give him a dignified burial. But there was a big problem: Several months had elapsed and the corpses were now rotted to the point of being indistinguishable from each other.

Enter Revere. The silversmith joined a party of Warren’s family and friends in searching for the General’s remains. They knew they'd found the right body when Revere identified a dental prosthetic that he had made for Warren years earlier.


The Bunker Hill Monument Association wanted to create a grand memorial honoring those who’d given their lives in the Revolution’s first major battle—and on June 17, 1825, 50 years after Putnam and Warren’s men squared off against the British, the monument’s cornerstone was laid at Breed’s Hill. Putting the rock into place was the visiting Marquis de Lafayette, a hero of the Revolution who was, as the musical Hamilton put it, “America’s favorite fighting Frenchman.” (For the record, though, he personally didn’t fight at the battle site he was commemorating that day.) Due to funding issues, this granite structure—a 221-foot obelisk—wasn’t finished until 1842. As for Lafayette, he was later buried in Paris beneath soil that had been taken from that most historic of battle sites, Bunker Hill.


In 1786, Bean Town began the tradition of throwing an annual parade in honor of the patriots who saw action on the Charlestown Peninsula. It takes place the Sunday on or before June 17—which itself is celebrated throughout Boston and its home county as “Bunker Hill Day.”


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