Meanwhile, on 8 November, the German delegation had arrived at Marshall Foch’s railway carriage in the Forest of Compiègne, approximately sixty kilometres north of Paris. Marshal Ferdinand Foch was the Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Armies in France. This meeting was altogether a far more sombre affair. This is where frank discussions were taking place over the terms of the armistice presented by the Allies to the German High Command. In effect, the Allies were demanding nothing less than complete, humiliating and unconditional surrender. According to them, all occupied territory, including Alsace-Lorraine, was to be evacuated by the Germans within fifteen days. In addition, the Allied generals demanded that the German military immediately surrender the 30,000 machine guns in its possession.
This led to some frank exchanges. The Germans, for their part, argued that they should be allowed to retain an armed force strong enough to deal with the danger of Bolshevism. After all, should the Revolution seize power in Germany, it would spread to France and further afield. But this argument was dismissed by the Allies. The German generals again repeated the cold facts that if they were forced to surrender their machine guns, “there would not be enough left to fire on the German people should this become necessary.” In the face of this truly compelling argument, agreement was reached that 5,000 machine guns should be retained for this express purpose.
Churchill, who feared Bolshevism more than the plague, had come to a similar conclusion in London. At a Cabinet meeting he stressed the possibility of building up the German Army, as it was “important to get Germany on her legs again for fear of the spread of Bolshevism.” (ibid., p. 38.) For him, his seething hatred of Bolshevism and what it stood for surpassed every other consideration.
Until the Armistice was signed, the warring parties were still formally at war. However, protocol clearly stated that only an officially constituted German government could sign it. But there was no government. Everything was in a state of chaos and revolution was spreading rapidly throughout the country. The Allies had to act quickly, with or without protocol.
On 11 November 1918, at 5:12 in the morning, the Armistice was signed in the railway sidings at Compiègne. It required the Germans to evacuate France and retire behind the Rhine. They had to relinquish the bulk of their aircraft, numbering 1,700 planes, together with the most modern of their fleet. This amounted to over six battlecruisers, ten battleships, eight light cruisers, and fifty destroyers. All her submarines were to be surrendered. It was a foretaste of what was to happen in Paris, when Germany was subjected to the humiliation of the Versailles Peace Treaty.
But events had overtaken the Armistice. The war had given birth to revolution. In Germany, the old regime had crumbled and had placed power into the hands of the revolutionary workers, soldiers and sailors. The German Revolution – unfolding hour by hour – represented the greatest blow to capitalism since the Russian Revolution of October 1917. If Germany succumbed to Bolshevism, then the revolution would prove unstoppable. Everything was in the balance. Lenin announced that he was even prepared to sacrifice the “besieged” revolution in Russia for a successful revolution in Germany. He knew full well that a victory in Germany, in the centre of Europe, would have sealed the fate of the European bourgeoisie and then the world. Such was the historic importance of these breath-taking events.
On Armistice Day, Beatrice Webb, the English Fabian reformer, wrote in her diary about the panic seizing hold of the British bourgeois establishment:
Thrones are everywhere crashing and the men of property everywhere secretly trembling. How soon will the tide of revolution catch up with the tide of victory? That is the question which is exercising Whitehall and Buckingham Palace and causing anxiety even among the more thoughtful democrats. (ibid., p. 2.)
Bruce Lockhart, the British diplomat, also noted in his diary after a meeting with the King, “The King was very nice… has a wholesome dread of Bolshevism.” (RHB Lockhart, The Diaries of Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, p. 47.)
There was certainly a deep sense of foreboding, not only in Buckingham Palace, but in the ruling classes of Europe. Their world had never seemed so fraught with danger. It reflected their fears that Bolshevism was at the gates and the rule of bankers and capitalists was about to come to an end. “The most serious question of the hour… is how far Europe is infected with Bolshevism,” stated a report from London in the New York Times. (A. Read, p. 38.)
In Scotland, workers on Red Clydeside were inspired by the events in Russia and Germany. When John Maclean, the Marxist and internationalist, was released from prison on 3 December 1918, he addressed the crowd in Glasgow and ended with the cry: “three hearty cheers for the German Socialist Revolution!”
In The Call newspaper, Maclean wrote an article entitled ‘Now’s the Day and Now’s the Hour!’ in which he stated:
We witness today what all Marxists naturally expected, the capitalist class of the world and their Governments joined together in a most vigorous active attempt to crush Bolshevism in Russia and Spartacism in Germany. Bolshevism, by the way, is Socialism triumphant, and Spartacism is Socialism in process of achieving triumph. This is the class war on an international basis, a class war that must and will be fought out to the logical conclusion – the extinction of capitalism everywhere. (N. Milton, John Maclean, pp. 185-186.)
In Germany, the victory of the revolution seemed assured as state power fell into the hands of the workers and soldiers. And yet, tragically, despite everything, the German proletariat failed to consolidate its hold on power. The revolution stopped halfway and the opportunity was tragically lost. “No one in the German Labour movement knew how to use the power which suddenly, on 9 November 1918, fell into their hands,” commented the historian Evelyn Anderson. (E. Anderson, Hammer or Anvil, p. 38.) The leaders of the Social Democracy had actively opposed the Revolution, but they ended up leading it. They did everything in their power to divert the movement into safe ‘democratic’ channels along the lines of a bourgeois republic, where they would play the role of a ‘loyal opposition’ or even be part of a governing coalition. In the absence of a real revolutionary party, the opportunity was lost to establish a socialist republic in the centre of the European continent.