Fall of the Double Eagle: The Battle for Galicia and the Demise of Austria-Hungary

by John R. Schindler

"[A] must-read for students of history and historians alike." — Washington Book Review Although southern Poland and western Ukraine are not often thought of in terms of decisive battles in World War I, the impulses that precipitated the battle for Galicia in August 1914—and the unprecedented carnage that resulted—effectively doomed the Austro-Hungarian Empire just six weeks into the war. In Fall of the Double Eagle , John R. Schindler explains how Austria-Hungary, despite military weakness and the foreseeable ill consequences, consciously chose war in that fateful summer of 1914. Through close examination of the Austro-Hungarian military, especially its elite general staff, Schindler shows how even a war that Vienna would likely lose appeared preferable to the “foul peace” the senior generals loathed. After Serbia outgunned the polyglot empire in a humiliating defeat, and the offensive into Russian Poland ended in the massacre of more than four hundred thousand Austro-Hungarians in just three weeks, the empire never recovered. While Austria-Hungary’s ultimate defeat and dissolution were postponed until the autumn of 1918, the late summer of 1914 on the plains and hills of Galicia sealed its fate.

Genres: History, World War I, Military Fiction, Nonfiction, Military History, European History

360 pages, Hardcover

First published December 15, 2015

Reviews

[Bryan Alexander · Rating 3 out of 5]

When most people think of the First World War they envision the western front, with its trenches, horror, and deadlock. The rest of this truly global war usually receives little attention, or is simply forgotten. A series of recent books have challenged that skewed view, especially those published during WWI’s centenary. They have expanded our horizon to include fighting in the Middle East, central and southern Europe, and the eastern front.

John Schindler’s Fall of the Double Eagle (2015) is a welcome contribution to this new historiography. The book’s topic is the epic battle between the Russian and Austro-Hungarian empires in fall 1914, sometimes labeled the Battle of Galicia. Schindler narrates this struggle with intensity and storytelling flair, arguing for its enormous historical importance. Not only does it feature “the last major mounted cavalry engagement in world history” (168), but dealt the fatal wound to one of Europe’s largest and most ancient empires.

That battle actually takes place in the second half of Double Eagle. Schindler spends the first half setting the scene, and this is very welcome. We learn of the Austro-Hungarian political and cultural situation leading up to WWI’s outbreak, focused on a rickety governmental framework struggling to keep together an extraordinarily diverse set of nationalities, ethnicities, religions, and languages. The author is skeptical about how well this works, repeatedly turning to the German word schlamperei (slackness) to describe a shambling administrative ethos (8). Yet Schindler writes with some sympathy for the MacGuyvered state, perhaps from considering its wartime demolition.

With that political context Schindler explores the Dual Monarchy’s unusual military force. From 1867, following Austria’s defeat at the hands of Prussia, the empire maintained several formations. There was a main military, the kaiserlich und königliche Armee (k.u.k.). This force developed practices for communicating across multiple languages, including teaching officers and some soldiers a stripped-down form of military German. Due to the politics of competing nationalities, the empire also hosted a separate Hungarian force, the Honved, as well as an Austrian one, the Landwehr (32ff). These last two were less professional than the k.u.k., being closer to militias in quality and structure. All three were putatively led by a central staff command, the armeeoberkommando (AOK). Schindler’s assessment of this arrangement is clear: “the three-part army constituted the major liability of the Ausgleich [post-1867 political settlement]” (34)

Schindler is scathing about how this complex military force was supported and led up to 1914. He finds it grossly underfunded, especially due to Hungarian intransigence (“Hungarian elites… desired a joint army that was undermanned and underfunded, which would pose a diminishing threat to Hungary’s ambitions inside the Dual Monarchy. They got what they wanted – and more.” (40) Artillery was especially ill served, being out of date, lacking in ammunition, and few in numbers. The number of men serving in the armed forces was relatively low, compared to other European nations. Cavalry’s role was overstated and unclear (78-9). Air power was neglected (82). Intelligence was catastrophic, especially after a leading spy, Alfred Redl , was found to be selling secrets to Russia (84-9).

Moreover, the k.u.k., Honved, and Landwehr were sapped by anachronistic doctrine emphasizing massive bayonet charges (74ff). This would not turn out well in the machine gun age, as students of WWI know. At the strategic level the k.u.k. command planned on a two-front war with Serbia and Russia (actually, general Conrad also longed for a campaign against Italy!), far beyond the empire’s capacities. Making things even worse, the dual monarchy underplanned operations against Russia (105ff), which turned out to be disastrous, as Moscow would throw the balance of its forces against Vienna.

Fall of the Double Eagle doesn’t spend much time on the causes and outbreak of the war, which isn’t a problem, since that ground has been so widely covered elsewhere. Instead the book starts the war with a welcome sketch of its first military events: the Austro-Hungarian invasion of Serbia. This turns out to be a disaster for Vienna, as their forces are defeated, notably at the Battle of Cer, and thrown back. Shortly afterwards the Serbs actually launch invasions of their supposedly far more powerful neighbor. “There was no escaping the fact that the ancient Habsburg Monarchy had been humiliated by the peasant regiments of a small Balkan kingdom.” (142)
That would be bad enough, but things devolved into catastrophe.

On page 149 the book at last turns to the battle or campaign of Galicia itself, and things begin with surprising Austria-Hungarian successes. At the Battles of Kraśnik and Komarów imperial forces use outmoded tactics, outrace their artillery, incur horrendous casualties, and yet somehow manage to beat back parts of the Russian armies in western Poland (170ff). These gains were rapidly blotted out when the major Russian forces, moving in from the east, hit underprepared and outnumbered dual monarchy units in eastern Galicia. At the battles of Gnila Lipa and Rawa Austria-Hungarian forces are massively defeated and driven back against the Carpathian Mountains. Russian Cossacks terrified imperial troops, and Russian artillery wreaked terrible casualties (187-8 and 258, for example). Major Austro-Hungarian units at the corps level were accidentally kept from battle as the AOK confusedly shuttled them between Serbian and Russian fronts.

Only hastily-staffed mountain passes and their own armies’ exhaustion kept Moscow’s troops from entering Hungary. By campaign’s end casualties were nightmarish:

From the approximately 900,000 Austro-Hungarian troops committed to the battle against Russia in late August, only slightly over half of them reached the safety of the San [River] in mid-September. In three weeks of fighting, Conrad had lost approximately 420,000 men, including over 100,000 killed, about 100,000 in Russian captivity, and some 220,000 wounded. The overall loss was equal to the size of Austria-Hungary’s prewar standing army. (253-4)

In the book’s final chapter Schindler sketches out events following Galicia. To stave off the Russian advance Conrad threw desperate assaults in winter over the Carpathians, awful attacks which Schindler describes as “[T]his horror, little understood beyond specialist historians et known to Austro-Hungarian troops as the Karpathenwinter, must rank among the cruelest follies of the Great War.” (273) The massive fortress of Przemyśl would fall, opening the Russian way into the empire’s heartland. After rebuilding the armies, Conrad launches the massive Schwarz-Gelbe offensive, which, after initial progress, falls apart.

It was apparent to AOK that something had gone dreadfully wrong, and the campaign… became known as Conrad’s “autumn swinery” (Herbstsau) among cynical staff officers who saw that the army was simply incapable of generating sufficient combat power against the Russians to win. (279)

(I can find very little about this campaign in English; surely this deserves more treatment!)

Fall of the Double Eagle succeeds very well as narrative history. The book sticks to a clear chronology, only branching out into simultaneous events when they become too complicated to handle at once. Schindler has an eye for character sketches, be they the major players or minor one, like proto-Nazi Blasius von Schemua (64). Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf (usually known simply as Conrad) is the book’s main actor, and frequently appears as distracted, oblivious, and semi-competent. Hard-charging Svetozar Boroević emerges as a fierce fellow and rare excellent player on Vienna’s side (181, 225). He needs greater attention in WWI historiography.

The book offers some nice set pieces and anecdotes illustrating the madness and complexity of the war. For example, Schindler describes one unit’s charge by noting not only its regimental identity, but adding its ties to historical events, and even the origins of its favorite song (238). Later we see an officer surprised by one of his men reading poetry (256). Or:

The fourth day brought rain, making the soupy trenches even more intolerable, and at 10:00 a.m. one of the militiamen jumped out of his trench, stripped off all his clothes and ran amok, dancing naked before the enemy. The Russians, perhaps in awe, fired no shots at the crazed soldier, or at the two comrades who ventured out to rescue him by dragging him back to the trench. (232)

The author also has a nice way with acidic statements, like “There were already indications that galloping blindly toward the Russians would end badly” (166). “[Italian commander Cadorna] was a callous incompetent who made Conrad look like Napoleon.” (280) “[Y]et again [k.u.k. commander] Conrad dispatched his forces into an unequal fight.” (224) “Brusilov believed the Austrians would make their stand behind the Gnila Lipa [river line], since it would be foolishness to fight before it, with the river at their backs. Which is exactly what [k.u.k. general] Brudermann proceeded to do.” (191)

Most of the text is Schindler’s, and his prose works very well. He studs pages with some letters and other contemporary accounts. I was moved by his inclusion of Georg Trakl’s “Grodek” (216), which was new to me:

At evening the autumn woodlands ring
With deadly weapons. Over the golden plains
And lakes of blue, the sun
More darkly rolls. The night surrounds
Warriors dying and the wild lament
Of their fragmented mouths.
Yet silently there gather in the willow combe
Red clouds inhabited by an angry god,
Shed blood, and the chill of the moon.
All roads lead to black decay.
Under golden branching of the night and stars
A sister's shadow sways through the still grove
To greet the heroes' spirits, the bloodied heads.
And softly in the reeds Autumn's dark flutes resound.
O prouder mourning! - You brazen altars,
The spirit's hot flame is fed now by a tremendous pain:
The grandsons, unborn.

I do have some problems with this book, as excellent as it otherwise is. I am not an expert on Austria-Hungary in WWI, but Double Eagle at times undermines its arguments. For example, Schindler (and others) clearly despises Conrad as a lousy commander. But the text also notes with approval his early appreciation of air power (82) and very effective embrace of signals intelligence (226-7). After Galicia Conrad and his staff learn some crucial lessons and apply them, including improving artillery supply. “[I]nfantry-artillery coordination had improved considerably.” (278) Perhaps a more balanced assessment is due.

Moreover, if Galicia was such a disaster, how was Vienna able to keep fighting for four more years? The empire would go on to successfully quash Serbia and invade Italy for several years. Russia would try to invade Hungary and fail, then would be massively defeated and driven back. Admittedly, these efforts depended on German assistance. But Belgrade and Rome also depended heavily on allies, so the Austria-Hungarians were tackling them as well. This was, after all, a war of competing alliances. One reading of Double Eagle is that the catastrophe of Galicia did not fatally wound the old empire, but injured it, and constrained its subsequent reach.

An especially irritating problem with Double Eagle is that it lacks any maps whatsoever. This is a particular obsession of mine, but I think the absence of visuals will irk nearly any reader. A general map of central and eastern Europe would help situate the grand strategy. Maps of the Serbian and especially Galician areas are essential for grasping troop movements and command choices. Time and again, despite having read widely in this topic, I found myself going online to consult multiple digital maps. Publishers and authors cannot create hobbled books like this.

These problems aside, Fall of the Double Eagle is a welcome addition to the literature of World War I. It effectively illuminates a neglected campaign, and situates it very well in context. The book succeeds in arguing for the vital importance of the Galicia battles Schindler writes engagingly and well. It’s a nice complement to Prit Buttar's more Russian- and German-focused Collision of Empires. Strongly recommended for any student of WWI, or anyone interested in modern central-eastern European history.

[Christopher · Rating 2 out of 5]

Basically a more readable version of Geoffrey Wawro's A Mad Catastrophe . The subtitle is somewhat misleading, in that the book has a fair amount to say about the assassination of Francis Ferdinand and the initial (bungled) attempt to crush Serbia before the disaster in Galicia gets going.

The descriptions of the tactical and strategic manoevring is rather hard to follow. Schindler has even less geographical discussion than Wawvo, so that unless you're very conversant in the geography of eastern Europe and the Balkans, the description of movements is a concatenation of gibberish involving meaningless Slavic place names. One huge failing of the book is the complete absence of a single map. For instance, the bottom of p. 119 expects the reader to know how the upper Drina river and the Sava relate to each other as well as the locations of Valjevo, Kragujevac and "the Užice mountain gap". The number of readers who can figure out what any of this means is, I would guess,… limited.

Also like Wawro, Schindler adopts an entirely Germano-centric perspective that chastises the Hungarian half of the "Austro-Hungarian" empire without having the least understanding of it. The obstruction of the Hungarian parliament in not supporting the Habsburg army that Schindler thinks it ought to have is actually described as "antics" and "shenanigans".

In terms of the analysis, the running themes are: a) Austrian tactics were ridiculously clumsily aggressive given the effectiveness of modern firepower and b) the Russians had much better artillery. The Austrian chief of the General Staff Conrad von Hötzendorf comes in for a lot of (undoubtedly deserved) opprobrium for coming up with grandiose and unrealistic battle plans and for failing to face reality once these ill-conceived plans were launched. One surprise is that little attention is paid to the idiocy of sending Second Army to the bungled attack on Serbia before realizing that it actually had to be sent against the Russians in Galicia, so that the chaos of turning it around meant that it didn't do much good in either place.

The prose is generally readable enough, but the author misuses a certain number of words (e.g., "rue"="regret"; "actionable"="something you can act on", which is business jargon; "parlous"="disspirited", I think), and occasionally throws in jarring non-standard vocabulary (like "savvy" and "politico").

[Jim Pfluecke · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a well organized history of the opening battles of WWI on the Austrian fronts. The book focuses on the Austrian Army at the start of the war-its doctrine, organization, and recent history. Schindler describes an under funded institution weakened by the politics of Austria-Hungry, in which Hungry focused more on gaining as much independence as possible (while stifling the rights of other minorities in its territory) at the expense of the strength of the Empire as a whole. Overall, he paints an image of an army that had outdated technology, outdated methods, substandard standards of professionalism (compared to the Germans or French), that was much smaller than its rivals.

The bulk of the book is a well organized, clear description of the battles and campaigns in Galicia and Serbia. His approach is to describe that campaigns mostly at the operational level and to discuss their strategic importance. He then zooms in on representative examples of actions or crucial points.

I have read to other recent books that covered this campaign in detail and Schindler's book compares favorably to both of them. Wawro's A Mad Catastrophe covers very similar ground and, in fact, in more detail, but Schindler's description of the swirling battles in Galicia are much more clear. Both authors spend extensive time detailing the politics of the Austrian army (as I detailed above) and largely do not disagree in substance. The other is Prit Buttar's Collision of Empires, covering all of the Eastern Front in 1914. His description of the battles in Galicia and Serbia is the briefest yet most coherent. He and Schindler both make excellent sense of the moves and counter moves but Buttar gives a little more detail on the battles, but he is shorter on the background.

In all, I recommend this book as an excellent read on an often neglected yet crucial part of WWI. Schindler does an excellent job of showing how the army Austria-Hungary went to war with was largely destroyed in the first months of the war, and a second army was basically incorporated on the fly. His description and explanation of this sets his book apart from the other two (although they both discuss it, Schindler is much more clear).

[Anton · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really liked it. Austria-Hungary in the Great War is an overlooked subject in the mainstream and its total destruction a fascinating story, and Schindler sheds a lot of light on the mechanisms of the disintegration. The book is quite like a well-structured drama with vivid character portraits and familiar narrative beats, which was very enjoyable. Though the prose tends to the repetitive it's nevertheless very difficult not to become immersed in the summer of 1914.

[Dana Johnson · Rating 4 out of 5]

3 to 4 stars, depending on how badly you need maps...

To me, this book serves as a sort of "Guns of August" for Austria-Hungary. Schindler has written a quite entertaining thesis on the causes for the downfall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, in which he argues that the massive defeat in the month of August 1914 in Galicia was the the catalyst for an avalanche of failure leading to ultimate demise. This is a well-known argument, but here it is explained fully from the sole perspective of the A-Hs, and I think it is a critical addition to the literature about the war, and the author is also adept at writing an entertaining and easy to follow narrative.

Schindler spends a good deal of time setting the stage (the book's subtitle leaves out quite a lot in terms of content to expect), covering the political setup of the dual-monarchy, how the army fit into the politics between Vienna and Budapest, the major characters within the army (primarily Conrad), the health of the empire, ethnic strain within, and of course Franz Ferdinand and the assassination. Much of this information is often left out in other overviews, which is a shame because it really is fascinating toward explaining coming events. The battles in Serbia and Galicia take up about the other half, and because of a tighter focus, we get to read about events from the eyes of people at all levels. Much is made of the failures at strategic as well as tactical levels, most of which goes toward explaining the reasons for the failure: poor command (deservedly laid at the feet of Conrad) and inadequate equipment. These led to such a decisive defeat that the majority of A-Hs experienced officers were lost, and this was the thing which ultimately could not be recovered from. I think this is well-explained and increasingly shows how Germany became "shackled to a corpse", undoubtedly leading to their defeat much later.

There are a few main criticisms. The first matters less to me, as I'm pretty familiar at this point with the geography in Serbia and Poland/Ukraine where events take place, but there are no maps. This probably affects some people. Luckily, the operational/tactical maneuvers described are simpler than the Frontiers or Tannenberg, or at least related in a easy to comprehend way.

Another is the tendency to not elaborate on the obstruction from the parliament in Budapest. Often they are guilty of causing underfunding and thus unpreparedness, but the reasons why are mostly left unsaid. Hungary no doubt was invested in maintaining its imperial borders with Romania and Serbia, but there's a missing link in this narrative. I would have enjoyed more detail about this; it feels like an editor got to it...

Finally, this could benefit from better language and copy editing. There's an annoying tendency to double negatives (i.e. "far from uncertain", which in the first half are liberally applied. Also, there's a decent amount typos.

Overall though, this is a worthy addition to WW1 pop history, and opens the door to examining a great power that is mostly neglected. I really enjoyed this.

[Diane · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book looks at Austria-Hungary during World War I. It focuses on an early battle, in which Austria suffered heavy losses, and which effectively pushed it out of the war. The war started with the assassination of the heir to the Austrian throne, but most histories of the conflict never speak of Austria again, until the empire collapses. This book tries to fill this gap. The author did admirable research, and is very up front about what he was able to find out, and what sources are unavailable. The author was a former military and intelligence officer, so he brings a unique perspective to military history. He begins with a history that puts the empire's situation in the late 19th and early 20th centuries into perspective. He discusses nationalism, both the ways that it posed a severe threat to the empire, and also the fact that many people ignored it and remained loyal to the emperor. He talks quite a bit about Emperor Franz Joseph, and his family, including his nephew and heir Franz Ferdinand. His insights are consistent with other writings, but he does bring some unique information, particularly related to intelligence and military intelligence. He then discusses the first great battles that Austria fought against Russia and Serbia. He goes in to quite a bit of detail about the battle itself, and makes it interesting to the lay reader without military experience. He then discusses how the Austrian military's collapse set the stage for the end of the empire. The book is well-researched, and well-argued. It is also written in an engaging style that is interesting even to the lay reader, but also to the professional historian.

[Michael Samerdyke · Rating 3 out of 5]

Something of a disappointment.

This book needs maps. As the author points out, this is one of the most important, yet unfamiliar campaigns of the First World War, one that has not been covered well in English-language books, and yet there are no maps. One or two maps would have added enormously to the book.

The book itself is not long, and it spends a lot of time on topics that are not the Galician Campaign, such as a chapter on the July Crisis and a chapter on an ill-fated invasion of Serbia. That struck me as a puzzling choice.

"The Fortress" by Alexander Watson impressed me as a better account of the initial catastrophe of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the first year of the First World War.

[Didier "Dirac Ghost" Gaulin · Rating 4 out of 5]

A detailed account of the Austro-Hungarian context for WW1 , the first 4 chapters were especially insightful and full of obscure details and eye opening conspiracies. The Russian involvement in the Alfred Redl case and the actual murder of Franz Ferdinand have rarely been talked of when retelling the events that propelled the war of 1914-1918, at least, the version told to the layman, and the author does not make such a mistake. Also, if you need a map, google it.

[Dugy · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fine read. There are two drawbacks imho. The first is the absence of battle without which it is difficult to observe troop movements and battles if you're not acquainted with geography. I was also having difficulties with tracking various army components such as regiments, etc. Maybe if they were listed in a form of a table or a graph indicating movements, strengths etc.

[Philjones62 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reasonably in-depth analysis of (poor) showing of Austrian army at start of WW1.

Good use of maps, though sometimes I was wondering where exactly everyone is. Ocassionally, I wasn't sure whose 2nd, 8th army was being referred to.

[Bryan D. · Rating 5 out of 5]

A great read about a forgotten part of WWI. The failure of the Austro-Hungarian intelligence is spectacular. If you like reading about real-life intelligence matters, I highly recommend it.

[Alwyn Vorster · Rating 5 out of 5]

An excellent book!

An excellent book about a less known front of World War I. Mr. Schindler has a very good and easy to read writing style as well. I only wish the book was longer!

[Frank Szafranski · Rating 4 out of 5]

A good comprehensive book on Austria-Hungary’s involvement in WWI from beginning to end with focus on the Eastern Front of the war.

[Martin Samuels · Rating 3 out of 5]

John Schindler opens his book by noting that the First World War began with three immense military campaigns. Two of these, the failure of the Schlieffen Plan on the Marne and the destruction of the Russian Second Army at Tannenburg, are well represented in the literature. The third, the disaster that befell the Austro-Hungarian Army in Galicia, is almost unknown. This book represents Schindler’s attempt to restore the balance.

It is perhaps unsurprising that the Galician campaign has not attracted much scholarly attention. It was waged between the forces of two empires, neither of which survived the war, with forces whose records were in a myriad of different languages, and in a province that was itself divided between two new states after 1919. Yet, as Schindler argues, the defeats there settled the fate of the ancient Habsburg monarchy.

The picture that Schindler paints of the Imperial-and-Royal Army is hardly flattering. Although its longstanding chief, Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, had done much to drag the disparate forces of the country into the twentieth century, it is clear that the tradition of Schlamperei (carelessness) remained strong in the organisation. Officers were generally distant from the men, while NCOs lacked authority. Tactics remained largely stuck in the nineteenth century, failing to respond to the dramatic increase in firepower offered by modern weapons, especially so in the cavalry, which retained 11 divisions of gaudily uniformed horsemen. Logistics was overlooked as an issue for serious consideration. Reputation was more important than performance. This was shown nowhere more clearly than when it was discovered in May 1913 that the former chief of the army’s intelligence service, Alfred Redl, had been passing classified intelligence to the Russians. Rather than ensure his thorough interrogation, in order to reveal the extent of his activities and connections, Conrad pushed him into a rapid suicide, as a means to protect the army’s standing.

The result in 1914 was disaster. Conrad’s strategic wishful thinking led him to launch simultaneous offensives against both Serbia and the vastly superior forces of Russia. Both failed with ignominy, hundreds of thousands of troops being lost as they attempted to use Hurrataktik (bravura attacks by dense masses of infantry) in the face of superior Russian artillery. The war that Conrad had long pushed for, as a means to bolster the weakening Habsburg grip through famous military victories, served to do the opposite.

Yet Schindler’s book ultimately fails to satisfy. From a practical perspective, it is let down by the absence of maps, vital for campaigns fought in areas with which most readers will be unfamiliar. Similarly, some form of Order of Battle would have been helpful as a means to keep track of the commanders. More importantly, there is very little attempt to place the fate of the Austro-Hungarian Army in the wider context of 1914. Conrad’s focus on bold infantry attacks as the route to victory was little different from the focus on élan that characterised the French Army. The Russian Army was hardly better with regard to its views on logistics. The British Army maintained a wide gap between officers and men. Even the vaunted German Army discovered a gulf between its expectations and the reality of modern warfare. All suffered huge casualties in 1914 and had to rebuild their armies during the remainder of the war. Schindler makes only limited attempts to explain how the experience of Conrad’s army differed from that of these other forces, and hence why it was so much less able to respond to the challenges and instead became so utterly dependent on stiffening from the Germans.

Nonetheless, despite these weaknesses, Schindler’s account is accessible and instructive. While not the definitive account of the Galician campaign, it is highly welcome as starting to fill a significant gap in our knowledge of the key campaigns at the start of the First World War.