o were directing these vast
armies, the greatest numerically and the most advanced technically which
mankind has ever seen assembled in its entire history. To go into
details concerning the hundreds of military geniuses which found
occasion to display the fruits of their training and talent would be
impossible. But on each side there was among all these leaders one
supreme leader on whose ability and decision depended not only the
results of certain battles, but the lives of their millions of
soldiers--yes, even the fate of millions upon millions of men, women and
children. The Russians had intrusted their destiny to a member of their
reigning family, an uncle of the czar, Grand Duke Nicholas, while the
Germans had found their savior in the person of a retired general,
practically unknown previous to the outbreak of the war, Paul von
Hindenburg. Each had been put in supreme command, although the former's
burden was even greater than that of the latter, including not only the
Russian forces fighting against the Germans, but also those fighting
against the Austro-Hungarians. On both, however, depended so much that
it will be well worth while to devote a short space of time to gain a
more intimate knowledge of their appearance, character and surroundings.
We will spend, therefore, a day each at the headquarters of these two
men by following the observations which some well-known war
correspondents made during their visits at these places.

The war correspondent of the London "Times" had occasion during his
travels with the Russian armies to make the following observations:
"Modern war has lost all romance. The picturesque sights, formerly so
dear to the heart of the journalist, have disappeared. War now has
become an immense business enterprise, and the guiding genius is not to
be found on the firing line, any more than the president of a great
railroad would put on overalls and take his place in an engine cab. Here
in Russia the greatest army which ever met on a battle field has been
assembled under the command of one individual, and the entire
complicated mechanism of this huge organization has its center in a
hidden spot on the plains of West Russia. It is a lovely region which
shows few signs of war. In a small forest of poplars and pines a number
of tracks has been laid which connect with the main line, and here live
quietly and peacefully some hundreds of men who form the Russian General
Staff. A few throbbing autos