The three of us sat there for some time, drinking coffee, eating German cakes, and smoking German cigars. I did not do much of the talking, but the conversation of von der Goltz and Wangenheim seemed to me to shed much light upon the German mind, and especially on the trustworthiness of German military reports. The aspect of the Dardanelles fight that interested them most at that time was England’s complete frankness in publishing her losses. That the British Government should issue an official statement, saying that three ships had been sunk and that four others had been badly damaged, struck them as most remarkable. In this announcement I merely saw a manifestation of the usual British desire to make public the worst--the policy which we Americans also believe to be the best in war-time. But no such obvious explanation could satisfy these wise and solemn Teutons. No, England had some deep purpose in telling the truth so unblushingly; what could it be? “_Es ist ausserordentlich!_” (“It is extraordinary!”) said von der Goltz, referring to England’s public acknowledgment of defeat. “_Es ist unerhört!_” (“It is unheard of!”) declared the equally astonished Wangenheim. These master diplomatists canvassed one explanation after another, and finally reached a conclusion that satisfied the higher strategy. England, they agreed, really had had no enthusiasm for this attack, because, in the event of success, she would have had to hand Constantinople over to Russia--something which England really did not intend to do. By publishing the losses, England showed Russia the enormous difficulties of the task; she had demonstrated, indeed, that the enterprise was impossible. After such losses, England intended Russia to understand that she had made a sincere attempt to gain this great prize of war and expected her not to insist on further sacrifices. The sequel to this great episode in the war came in the winter of 1915-16. By this time Bulgaria had taken sides with the Entente, Serbia had been overwhelmed, and the Germans had obtained a complete unobstructed railroad line from Constantinople to Austria and Germany. Huge Krupp guns now began to come over this line, all destined for the Dardanelles. Sixteen great batteries, of the latest model, were emplaced near the entrance, completely controlling Sedd-ul-Bahr. The Germans lent the Turks 500,000,000 marks, much of which was spent defending this indispensable highway. The thinly-fortified straits through which I passed in March, 1915, are now as impregnably fortified as Heligoland. It is doubtful if all the fleets in the world could force the Dardanelles to-day. CHAPTER XIX A FIGHT FOR THREE THOUSAND CIVILIANS