JULY 7 - JULY 14, 1914
THE JULY CRISIS
"The mistakes that have been committed in foreign policy are not, as a rule, apparent to the public until a generation afterwards."
- Otto von Bismarck -
Belgrade, Serbia
“You have my word,” Hartwig said.
“We knew of no plot to assassinate the Archduke.”
“And the Serbs?” Baron von Gieslingen asked without a moment of pause.
“I’m close friends with the Prime Minister.” Hartwig replied, as he drew another puff from his cigar.
“I’ve always urged him to maintain good relations with your country.”
Baron von Gieslingen squinted for a moment.
Nicholas Hartwig had gone to the Austro-Hungarian embassy to smooth things over. War was in the air and diplomats like them would be needed to clean up the mess. Baron von Gieslingen was a general, but also the ambassador to Belgrade. A man of tact and honor.
“And the unfortunate rumor that your embassy held a party in celebration on the evening he died?”
A tiny pearl of sweat appeared on Hartwig forehead.
“A despicable and unfounded rumor.” He said.
“Must have been spread by spies.”
Baron von Gieslingen did not seem too satisfied with the answer.
5 years ago, The Russians had sent ambitious Hartwig away. He was deemed too uncontrollable for a minister post, and so they sent him all the way to Serbia.
This had done little to stop the ambitious Hartwig.
He had worked the Balkans like a fiddle. Deals, and threats. Manipulation and information. He believed a strong Russia was a strong Serbia, and with his help the nation now had a web of strong allies. Of course, In the middle of this grand web he had placed himself: Nicholas Hartwig—the Russian ambassador to Serbia.
“Do you believe a war between Austria-Hungary and Serbia can be avoided?” Hartwig asked.
“Ah,” Baron von Gieslingen replied.
“I’m confident that a… mutually satisfactory solution will be found. One that accommodates both Austria-Hungary’s and Russia’s regional interests.”
“Wladimir,” Hartwig said.
“Whatever you boys are planning up there in Vienna. Remember that a cold head and a steady hand will get you further...”
He took one last puff from the cigar and stood up.
The meeting had not gone as he hoped, but at least they were exchanging information, and hopefully preventing matters from blowing out of proportion.
“I understand, Nicholas.” Baron von Gieslingen said.
“I’ll see what I can... Are you feeling well?”
Nicolas Hartwig, the ambitious Russian ambassador collapsed in front of Baron Von Gieslingen.
Dead before he even hit the floor.
-------------------------------------------------
London, England
Captain John Robertson looked over at the large map hanging on the wall in the office. Several thick red strings had been connected, going from one pin to another. All over continental Europe.
“It’s all coming down like a house of cards,” General Cecil declared.
“Just like we suspected.”
John wondered what his wife would say to this madness.
“Parliament seem more preoccupied with the Irish,” John blurted out.
Cecil cursed.
“The government will be in crisis soon enough, Captain Robertson.” He paced the room like an old lion.
“As soon as they wake up, the Irish will be the last of our worries.”
THE QUESTION OF IRELAND:
“But the parliament has passed the bill to give them home rule.” John said.
“Ah, took them long enough.” Cecil replied.
“They’ve been at it for ages. And now, at long last, a war will keep it out of their hands.”
John looked up at the map: A red string tied Belfast to London, and another tied Dublin to Dunkirk.
“What about Sir Asquith? He’s overseeing the whole ordeal.”
“Asquith’s days are numbered.” Cecil exclaimed.
“We need a war leader, not a liberal, pussyfooting about.”
“Sir..” John stood up, quite flustered.
“Ah, I didn’t take you as a liberal chap.” Cecil laughed.
“All right, all right. Asquith will have his hands full, and we will see to it that he has the best of help.”
“The Right Honourable H. H. Asquith, Prime Minister of the British Empire. The man that fate has seen fit to led us through this sordid mess.”
“He now leads the largest Empire in history, one on which the sun never sets. Countless of colonies and satellites spanning the globe. To patrol it we have the greatest navy in the world, and factories to supply and uphold it all. However, chap, there is an issue: Mobilization. Can we move thousands of men, not to mention
hundreds of ships to Europe, where the hammer will fall?”
THE AFTERMATH IN SARAJEVO:
“The aftermath in Sarajevo has been quite extreme. Anti-Serb demonstrations have become more violent as the locals are hunting for revenge. Only made worse by the fact that police and local authorities in the city are doing nothing to prevent it. Around 1,000 houses, shops, schools and institutions—such as banks, hotels, printing houses, and what have you—owned by Serbs have been razed or pillaged.”
RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR TO SERBIA DIES:
“On July 10, Nicholas Hartwig, Russian Minister to Serbia, died suddenly while visiting Austrian minister Wladimir Giesl von Gieslingen at the Austrian Legation in Belgrade. It appears he died of a massive heart attack. The Serbian press immediately published several inflammatory articles accusing the Austrians of poisoning Hartwig while he was a guest at their legation.”
“Oh, my,” John gasped.
“It really is coming to a boil down there.”
“I’m very much afraid that it is, dear boy.” Cecil sighed.
“Let us pray the Austrians aren’t daft enough to pull the trigger.”
-------------------------------------------------
Vienna, Austria-Hungary
Austro-Hungarian Foreign Minister Leopold Berchtold declared.
The Imperial Council had gathered again to look over his draft, which were to be presented, first to the Emperor, and with his approval, transmitted to Serbia.
Germany had already given them full support to do what was needed: Strike at the venomous head of the Serbs.
“I take them as quite mad.” Said the Chief of the General Staff, Conrad von Hötzendorf. His thick mustache gave him the appearance of an older Franz Ferdinand. who, coincidentally had pushed for him to be reinstated a few years back.
“They could accept the ultimatum, and then we will look like fools.” He grumbled. Never a man of political zest.
Leopold held his tongue.
As the Foreign Minister, he had focused exclusively on the Balkans, where during the wars he had failed to contain the rising Russian influence and thwart Serbian ambitions for a united Yugoslav state. This had meant diplomatic defeat for Austria-Hungary, but also a reputation of being weak and indecisive for Leopold himself.
“If I may speak.” Hoyos interjected.
“If perhaps we add something that undermines their sovereignty.” Hoyos was Leopold’s adviser, and most trusted aide.
“Let us have a say in their military, or better yet, in their justice process.” Hoyos proposed.
“That will make it legally impossible for them to accept it.”
General Conrad von Hötzendorf nodded in agreement.
“Whatever works.” He said.
“Gentlemen, mark my words; in 6 weeks, Serbia will fall.”
