The Guns of August

Tuchman’s play-by-play of how each major player comes into the war continues with England. In outlining the reticence of the civilian leaders, the enthusiasm of General Wilson, the actions of antiwar groups, and the elections that lift the liberal party into leadership, Tuchman outlines the slow movement of the beginning of the war. Detailed descriptions of meetings between cabinet members and colonels and generals of different countries show that not only was the war a long time in coming, but also that none of the countries did much to try to stop it. England sends emissaries to Germany, but only to attempt to halt the building of the German navy. When the talks fail, England makes no other attempts. Much as France’s spirit and Germany’s nationalism make them eager for war, England sees Germany as not only an aggressor but also as the biggest threat to England’s colonial power. All the major players thus seem bent on going to war—so much so that neither England nor France cares how Russia fares in the conflict as long as it provides a distraction.

Tuchman’s portrayal of the belligerence of high-ranking officials in each country dovetails with its portrayal of their incompetence, developing themes of The Ripple Effects of Individual Actions and The Courage of Ordinary Soldiers Versus the Military Machine. Despite their eagerness, none of the nations are ready for a modern war. Tuchman makes this point most forcefully in the chapter on Russia; the Russian minister of war who believes in bayonets over bullets is a symbolic stand-in for all those stuck solidly in the past, reliving old glory. Germany, France, and England understand that to win a war, they will need supply lines such as railways and roads, modern, functioning equipment and factories to build it, and a spirited army. Nevertheless, prior chapters have shown them to be similarly beholden to a 19th-century image of warfare. Tuchman thus continues to argue that War Is Caused by Hubris, Not Inequities or other putative explanations. Hammering this point home, Tuchman’s discussion of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the catalyst of the conflict, takes up just two pages: The killing might have sparked the war, but it was not the war’s true cause, Tuchman implies.

Nevertheless, Tuchman underscores how easily things might have gone differently, asking, “A question has haunted the annals of history ever since: What Ifs might have followed if the Germans had gone east in 1914 while remaining on the defensive against France?” (82). Wilhelm, faced with the impending prospect of war and not just the idea of it, has second thoughts. He does not want to fight on two fronts. In fact, he does not want to fight at all:

More cosmopolitan and more timid than the archetype Prussian, he had never actually wanted a general war. He wanted greater power, greater prestige, above all more authority in the world’s affairs for Germany but he preferred to obtain them by frightening rather than by fighting other nations (73).

In the last minutes before the world breaks into war, Wilhelm tries to find a way out, and when that doesn’t work, tries to find a way to fight on only one front. Tuchman also spends considerable time showing that what Moltke says is impossible—reversing the mobilization and sending all troops east against Russia—is in fact quite possible. Tuchman here delves into the possibility to show that war—even a war that in hindsight seems inevitable—is not. It is also not the simple result of preconceived alliances. Rather, World War I is the result of many leaders on many levels in many countries making decisions based on hubris and false assumptions.