Famously, the first outbreak of international war in Europe since 1908 came not in the heavily militarised states of Mitteleuropa or the tense Rhine frontier, but in the Eastern Mediterranean. Here, Field Marshal Baudissin later famously said, the match was lit that would explode the maelstrom of war. The Greek invasion of Crete and the Dodecanese in 1941 was motivated at least as much by the domestic unrest that threatened King George II as by any real desire or urgency to gain territory. In effect, Greece had already established all but complete control over the nominally Ottoman Cretan State and there was little in the Dodecanese worth having. The patriotic fervour that an invasion produced, however, proved short-lived. In the justified expectation that both Austria-Hungary and Germany were preoccupied with internal affairs (the fallout from the disastrous 1937 Ausgleich and the cabinet crisis leading to the 1941-42 cycle of Reichstag election, respectively) and that Britain would not oppose the move too strenuously, the Greek navy despatched a cruiser force to close the Straits to Ottoman vessels while troops were landed on Crete and Rhodes. Neither operation was initially met with significant opposition. The Ottoman navy, comprised almost entirely of old, slow vessels, stayed in port. But the Porte had no intention of surrendering meekly.
If Athens had hoped for a repetition of the Italian experience in Cyrenaica, a rude awakening was due. Thwarted at sea, the Ottoman Empire mobilised its armies to take the war on land. The Greek army meanwhile moved to force a surrender by attacking Salonika and Edirne, certain that they would not be allowed to threaten the straits, but confident that an attack would move Britain and France to enforce a favourable peace. October found them bogged down in the siege of Salonika with an Ottoman relief army edging closer by the day. Hastily expanded trench networks forced a stalemate, but the Greek attack had failed. A brutal winter campaign in the mountains of Thrace and Macedonia added to the drain that sustaining a counterinsurgency campaign resupplied by sea represented. By the spring of 1942, it was clear that Greek finances would run out well before manpower or ammunition.
The Greek spring offensive was the counsel of desperation, a brutal attempt to break through the Ottoman lines and take Salonika and Edirne as bragaining chips. Despite the liberal use of gas supplied by French manufacturers, it failed. The Greeks once more invested Salonika, but had not taken the city by July when the efforts of Russian secret diplomacy came to fruition.
Bulgaria and – in open violation of the peace treaty – Serbia joined the war, trapping Ottoman forces that had threatened Greece from the northwest and breaking up their defenses in Thrace from behind. The situation had escalated from embarrassing to dramatic within a few short weeks, and frantic diplomatic efforts ensued. Britain, unwilling to allow any Russian client control of the Straits, took the lead in early negotiations. France and Italy took a pro-Greek stance while Germany, late to the table, supported the Ottoman position, though without much conviction. Russian diplomats suggested a division of the spoils giving Greece its original war aims while most of European Turkey would be divided between Bulgaria and Serbia. This overreach proved fatal as it drove a wedge between uneasy co-belligerents and allowed British negotiators to force very limited territorial cessions. Meanwhile, the Ottoman government had succeeded in mobilising Albanian troops in numbers sufficient to threaten Serbia, effectively taking it out of the war. The late autumn froze fronts in place through mutual exhaustion. Ceasefire was declared in November and the peace conference in Berne apportioned gains and losses.
Greece walked away with Crete and the Dodecanese which it agreed to buy from Turkey using a bond issue it could ill afford. It signally failed to gain the 'heroic city' of Salonika, a symbolic victory that the Ottoman government played for all it could. Bulgaria received lands along its border, though nowhere near as much as it had hoped, while Serbia came away empty-handed. The Porte also agreed to the creation of a nominally subordinate, but de-facto independent Albanian state that would slip into the Italian orbit in short order. The Ottoman Empire, though again defeated, had acquitted itself surprisingly well and many considered the successful defense of Salonika and Edirne as akin to a victory. Nonetheless, the losses rankled.
Among the great powers, the events had put Russia back on the global stage. Britain and France, once arbiters of the Mediterranean, had been hesitant to intervene, allowing the situation to spiral out of control, but ultimately asserted their respective wills in a striking display of diplomatic unanimity. There was never the slightest suggestion that London and Paris might come to blows over what was, after all, a serious confrontation in a sensitive region. The threat of an Anglo-French war that had hung over the 1910s and 1920s was increasingly a distant memory.
Yet most striking was the impotence of Austria-Hungary, caught up in internal squabbles and unable to formulate a coherent policy position even in the face of Serbian defiance. Germany, long accustomed to leaving the southern flank to its ally, was wrong-footed by this inaction and failed to adequately support the Ottomans, concerned over its inability to conduct operations in the Balkans if the veto of the Hungarian government neutralised the Habsburg monarchy and worried about the potential of the war to spread to greater powers, leaving it exposed to French and Russian hostilities. This show of weakness would embolden Moscow to the point of taking excessive risk, bringing the eventual confrontation to the brink of war and beyond.
If Athens had hoped for a repetition of the Italian experience in Cyrenaica, a rude awakening was due. Thwarted at sea, the Ottoman Empire mobilised its armies to take the war on land. The Greek army meanwhile moved to force a surrender by attacking Salonika and Edirne, certain that they would not be allowed to threaten the straits, but confident that an attack would move Britain and France to enforce a favourable peace. October found them bogged down in the siege of Salonika with an Ottoman relief army edging closer by the day. Hastily expanded trench networks forced a stalemate, but the Greek attack had failed. A brutal winter campaign in the mountains of Thrace and Macedonia added to the drain that sustaining a counterinsurgency campaign resupplied by sea represented. By the spring of 1942, it was clear that Greek finances would run out well before manpower or ammunition.
The Greek spring offensive was the counsel of desperation, a brutal attempt to break through the Ottoman lines and take Salonika and Edirne as bragaining chips. Despite the liberal use of gas supplied by French manufacturers, it failed. The Greeks once more invested Salonika, but had not taken the city by July when the efforts of Russian secret diplomacy came to fruition.
Bulgaria and – in open violation of the peace treaty – Serbia joined the war, trapping Ottoman forces that had threatened Greece from the northwest and breaking up their defenses in Thrace from behind. The situation had escalated from embarrassing to dramatic within a few short weeks, and frantic diplomatic efforts ensued. Britain, unwilling to allow any Russian client control of the Straits, took the lead in early negotiations. France and Italy took a pro-Greek stance while Germany, late to the table, supported the Ottoman position, though without much conviction. Russian diplomats suggested a division of the spoils giving Greece its original war aims while most of European Turkey would be divided between Bulgaria and Serbia. This overreach proved fatal as it drove a wedge between uneasy co-belligerents and allowed British negotiators to force very limited territorial cessions. Meanwhile, the Ottoman government had succeeded in mobilising Albanian troops in numbers sufficient to threaten Serbia, effectively taking it out of the war. The late autumn froze fronts in place through mutual exhaustion. Ceasefire was declared in November and the peace conference in Berne apportioned gains and losses.
Greece walked away with Crete and the Dodecanese which it agreed to buy from Turkey using a bond issue it could ill afford. It signally failed to gain the 'heroic city' of Salonika, a symbolic victory that the Ottoman government played for all it could. Bulgaria received lands along its border, though nowhere near as much as it had hoped, while Serbia came away empty-handed. The Porte also agreed to the creation of a nominally subordinate, but de-facto independent Albanian state that would slip into the Italian orbit in short order. The Ottoman Empire, though again defeated, had acquitted itself surprisingly well and many considered the successful defense of Salonika and Edirne as akin to a victory. Nonetheless, the losses rankled.
Among the great powers, the events had put Russia back on the global stage. Britain and France, once arbiters of the Mediterranean, had been hesitant to intervene, allowing the situation to spiral out of control, but ultimately asserted their respective wills in a striking display of diplomatic unanimity. There was never the slightest suggestion that London and Paris might come to blows over what was, after all, a serious confrontation in a sensitive region. The threat of an Anglo-French war that had hung over the 1910s and 1920s was increasingly a distant memory.
Yet most striking was the impotence of Austria-Hungary, caught up in internal squabbles and unable to formulate a coherent policy position even in the face of Serbian defiance. Germany, long accustomed to leaving the southern flank to its ally, was wrong-footed by this inaction and failed to adequately support the Ottomans, concerned over its inability to conduct operations in the Balkans if the veto of the Hungarian government neutralised the Habsburg monarchy and worried about the potential of the war to spread to greater powers, leaving it exposed to French and Russian hostilities. This show of weakness would embolden Moscow to the point of taking excessive risk, bringing the eventual confrontation to the brink of war and beyond.
