With Joffre at Verdun Part 11

Yet that did not prove to be the case, for, as a matter of fact, the Germans, profiting by the lesson they had learned in Russia, and imagining that they could as easily--more easily, in fact--repeat their exploit on this Western Front, had set out to capture Verdun by the aid of their artillery alone, and had every confidence of smas.h.i.+ng their way to the town with but little else, and with but little use of their infantry. Continuing their tempest of sh.e.l.ls for many hours, till it seemed that not one French soldier could have survived the bombardment of that northern sector, they then sent forward their sappers and mere patrols to discover what damage had been wrought, and to take over the new position. Behind them, ma.s.sed in amongst the trees, were German battalions, prepared to advance at once and dig in and secure what the guns had gained for them.

"Attention! The enemy are coming," Henri bellowed through the mouth of the stairway leading to that dug-out where his platoon was sheltering.

"I can see them crossing the open."

"And the sh.e.l.l-fire, mon ami? It has ceased? No, surely not," came the voice of the Sergeant.

"Tiens! Halt a little, my friends," said the voice of an officer sheltering in an adjacent dug-out and coming at that moment to the exit from it, "one little moment, for sh.e.l.ls still rain upon the position.

Keep a careful watch, my gallant Henri, and warn us in due time."

Henri therefore once more stationed himself behind the battered edge of what had been once the parapet of a well-made trench, and peered through a broken loophole at the distant enemy. He could see scattered parties of men trailing across the open, emerging from the distant cover afforded by the trees, and marching steadily, without haste, it seemed, towards the French positions. Then, glancing to his left and to his right, he caught glimpses of other sentries like himself, solitary Frenchmen stationed in those battered fire-trenches to watch for the coming of the enemy--the thinnest of thin garrisons, indeed, placed there to guard the French lines from sudden attack, and to present as few men as possible to the devouring sh.e.l.ls cast by the Germans. It was the policy, in fact, of the French commanders to expose their men just as little as was possible; to hold up the advance of enemy attacks with as few numbers as was consistent with safety; and in the event of ma.s.sed attacks, where the pressure was enormous, to create havoc in the ranks of the enemy with their guns, their machine-guns, and their rifles--to kill Germans on every and any occasion, and then, if circ.u.mstances dictated such a move, to withdraw their slender garrisons to a line farther back, exchanging so many yards of territory willingly for the losses they had forced upon the Kaiser's soldiers. For this gigantic conflict in the West, this warfare devouring the nations of Europe, had, after the twentieth month of its outbreak, become more than ever a question of numbers. With teeming millions of soldiers at the commencement, Austria and Germany were able to fall upon their unprepared neighbours and almost to swamp their country; but the thin line of heroes who had dwelt in those trenches from the North Sea to the frontier of Switzerland had held the horde at bay, had kept it back until their comrades could rush to the rescue. Numbers were now far more equal; the toll of Germans taken by British and French and Belgians, and of Austrians and Germans by the Russians, had begun to tell upon the enemy effectives. Thanks to the mighty army which Britain had collected, the Allies were now greater in number than were the enemy, and, adopting a system devised by the French, were carefully saving their men, willingly giving ground if need be, if its tenure meant great losses, and always, both by day and night, taking every opportunity of killing Germans--yes, of killing Germans, of reducing the Kaiser's ranks, and of hastening the day when, with weakened numbers, Germany could no longer resist the onslaught of the armies of France and Britain and Belgium. Here, then, in front of Verdun, the French had but a mere handful in their first-line trenches--a mere handful--upon whom that torrent of sh.e.l.ls was rained.

Just a scattered, yet n.o.ble band, ready to hold up the a.s.sault which would most certainly follow.

Rifles cracked along the line while those sappers and patrols sent out by the enemy--who hardly believed life still possible in the shattered trenches--were shot down or driven back to cover. Henri then, peering over the trench, turned of a sudden and rushed to the entrance of the dug-out.

"Come!" he shouted. "Thousands of the enemy are coming from the shelter of the trees, and are ma.s.sing in the open. It is an a.s.sault in force that we must resist."

Along that draggled line of trenches, which were almost blotted out of existence by now, and over which sh.e.l.ls still rained in abundance, men whom the Germans imagined to have been killed long ago, to have been blown to pieces, popped out of the narrow entrances of dug-outs, clambered up the steep wooden steps from the caverns prepared in the earth, and, digging hard, made strenuous efforts to repair their trenches. Others sneaked along unsuspected galleries to holes far out in front of the line, where machine-guns were cunningly hidden; while, yet again, others plied to and fro along the communication-trenches, forcing their way past obstructions and falls of earth caused by the bombardment, hastening to procure more ammunition.

"It's an attack in force; hold your fire, mes enfants!" shouted the Commander of that section of the trenches in which Henri and Jules were stationed. "See them! Thousands of Boches coming from the trees and marching towards us. Hold them a little while, my comrades, and then we shall repay them for all that we have suffered. Hold, my friends, for though these trenches are now but furrows and holes in the ground, they yet give shelter enough for men who love their country and who would resist those who are advancing."

Shouts came along the line; men called across the battered traverses to one another; _poilus_ sat at their machine-guns in those cunningly hidden pits, gripping the handles, their eyes riveted upon the sights and upon the enemy. Rifles were jerked into position, while men grabbed at packets of reserve ammunition, and, finding some convenient ledge, placed them close and handy.

"It will be a fight to the death, my Henri," called the Sergeant as cheerfully as ever, drawing at the stout pipe which he favoured--"a fight to the death; for not until we are wiped out shall Germans advance over this position."

Yes, it was to be a "fight to the death"; for the opening battle of the long series of tremendous conflicts which raged round Verdun for weeks later was to be amongst the most momentous and fiercest of them.

CHAPTER X

The Thin Line of Heroes

"They are coming! See them swarming from the trees yonder. Watch them tramping through the snow!

"Steady! Hold your fire! Let the guns alone deal with them. Bravo, mes amis, you are doing grandly! This is a day for the sons of France to let the enemy know they are still in existence."

Very quietly, with that sang-froid which the French possess, perhaps, above all others, with determination written on every face, both young and old, and with heroism s.h.i.+ning from their features, those gallant _poilus_, all along the line sweeping across the crest of the hills facing the Germans--a stretch of ground ploughed deep now into a hundred furrows, shattered and sh.e.l.l-swept, and blasted in a thousand places into deep pits and craters--watched first as those small advance-parties, sent by the enemy to reconnoitre the situation, were shot down or driven back to shelter; and watched now with straining eyes and with many an exclamation as a horde of grey-coated infantry debouched from the evergreen woods encircling the eastern and northern slopes of the approaches to their position, and, forming up there, advanced steadily to attack them. They were still a great distance away, yet within effective rifle range; but as yet the time had not come to deal with them from the trenches. There were the guns right behind, cleverly hidden, dug in, posted in many an odd corner, laid upon the enemy from many a crevice in the ground and many a convenient hollow. Indeed, already the sharp snap of those soixante-quinze had begun to punctuate the air, and shrapnel-bursts could be seen above the evergreen tree-tops upon the snow-clad slopes, and over hollows where the enemy were ma.s.sing. But now, as the enemy cannonade died down a little, and that torrent of sh.e.l.ls which had been hurtling upon the French trenches ceased a trifle, the din of the German bombardment was rendered almost noiseless, was shut out, as it were, was eclipsed, by the demoniacal rattle of those French 75's casting sh.e.l.l at the advancing enemy. The ma.s.sed ranks marching from the cover of the trees, heads of columns appearing at the summit of many a ravine which gave access to the heights, battalions forming up outside their shelter, were smashed and rent by a tornado of shrapnel and sh.e.l.l which blew in the faces of the German formations, which severed the heads of columns from the bodies, which drove hideous gaps and holes in the centre of the ranks, and sent the ma.s.s, bleeding and broken and shattered, doubling back into cover.

But if the French had withstood that terrific bombardment to which a short sector of their front before Verdun had been subjected for so many hours, and had held on to a position, which others might well have termed untenable, with grim determination, the Kaiser's infantry were to prove on this eventful day--as on many another which followed--that they too were possessed of the strongest heroism. Governed by the strictest discipline, hounded on by armed officers if they showed the smallest hesitation, yet, to do them scant justice only, eager and ready for the fight in the majority of cases, the shattered ranks of the invader of France's soil re-formed under cover--under the shelter of the evergreen trees, under a persistent deluge of shrapnel from the 75's--re-formed, and, shoulder to shoulder, having debouched again into the open, set their faces once more uphill towards that shattered and battered line where the French were awaiting them.

No need to detach smaller parties to go forward and reconnoitre the ground, to tell them whether the enemy were still existing. It had been the sanguine hope of the Crown Prince--who was conducting this enormous manoeuvre--and his War Staff, that what had been done in Russia might well be repeated on the Western Front. Guns--a superiority of guns--guns and more guns, were the solution of the difficult problem which had faced the Germans for so many months past.

That unbroken line on the west, those Frenchmen and soldiers of Britain and Belgium, in spite of their courage and tenacity, in spite of their trenches and redoubts and fortified positions which seemed impregnable, might yet be driven before the hordes of the Kaiser, and that with comparatively little loss; for, thanks to their gigantic preparations before the war commenced, Germany and Austria had still a preponderance of guns, and sh.e.l.ls in amazing quant.i.ties. Here then was the opportunity: ma.s.s the guns--bring every available piece to this spot--and turn upon the enemy trenches such a torrent that trenches, redoubts, and fortified positions would be blotted out of existence, a way hewn through the Western line, with the expenditure of ammunition alone and with the loss of but few German lives. It was theory--German theory--which perhaps they were ent.i.tled to rely on, seeing what had happened in Russia; and yet a theory destined on this occasion, and in the weeks which followed, to prove utterly unreliable, utterly wrong, a grievous disappointment. For see! Those scattered parties sent to reconnoitre the battered ground had been killed or driven back; the preparations for a ma.s.sed attack had been broken up and set at naught by the terrible 75's; and now, as the German infantry debouched again, and, marching swiftly forward, came into full range of the slopes which the guns would appear to have rendered absolutely untenable, such a storm of bullets swept the ranks that the ma.s.s quivered, rocked and reeled, and then halted. Torn by shrapnel from above, its lines rent by machine-gun and rifle-firing, the attackers stood and rallied for a moment; then shouts burst from them of terror, of hatred, and of execration, only to be followed by hoa.r.s.e commands to move forward.

Then the ma.s.ses broke. Isolated units started to charge up the slopes, and soon the ma.s.s of men, now no longer shoulder to shoulder, scattered over the slope, keeping yet so close together that bullets could scarce miss individuals, came doubling uphill, their heads down, their bayonets flas.h.i.+ng in the wintry sun, their feet carving wide zigzag paths in the snow with which the ground was covered.

"They come! Fire on them! Let go! And prepare, if they come closer, to meet them with the bayonet."

The shout went along that shattered trench-line, and men stood on what was left of the firebank, or leaned their pieces on the edge of a sh.e.l.l-crater or some pit into which they had crawled for shelter, and, turning the muzzles on the enemy, blazed into their ma.s.ses. Rifles grew hot, ammunition became exhausted, and yet only for a little while, for men fell on every side, and their comrades gripped at the contents of their pouches. Half in and half out of a trench, the sides of which had been blown into the interior almost filling it up, lying full length on his stomach, Henri poured bullets into the enemy, as cool as any cuc.u.mber, while Jules lay beside him, picking off his man at every shot, laughing, gesticulating, and quivering with excitement.

"Tiens! It's done! They fly! Bravo!"

The sergeant of Henri's platoon, one arm dangling helpless by his side, stretched out a brawny hand and gripped our hero's, while Jules--the somewhat hysterically inclined Jules--laughing uproariously, would have embraced the gallant Henri if the latter would have allowed it.

Officers shook hands with their men, while _poilus_ turned and congratulated one another: for the thing was done. That handful of men which manned what was left of the French trenches had shattered the first German attack made upon the Verdun salient; and, with the help of the deadly soixante-quinze, had driven the Germans back to the place from which they had started--had driven back all who were still living.

"See them, those Germans still lying out there in the open," cried the Sergeant, standing now, his head and shoulders exposed, forgetful of his wounds, pointing down the snow-clad and trodden slopes to the part where the Kaiser's infantry had debouched from the forests. "See, the place is grey with their bodies; they are piled high one upon another, and there must be hundreds of them. Good! This is a devilish war, mes amis, a devilish war; for see how we gloat over their losses. But listen still more: this is France, and none shall invade her save at their peril."

For a while silence settled down over the scene of that sanguinary conflict, the guns of either side going out of action, while once more no sign was to be perceived of the Germans. Yet it was evident enough already that gigantic preparations had been made to beat in and flatten the Verdun salient; and, surprised to some extent as the French undoubtedly were, not by the attack itself, but by the immensity of the German arrangements for it, that lull after the first attack was at once put to service. Where possible, reinforcements were sent up to the front, while everywhere spades and picks were plied with energy.

"It's life or death to us," said an officer cheerfully as he came amongst the men of Henri's platoon. "See how the line has been broken up and our trenches smashed out of all recognition. But the Germans, too, have been smashed for a while, and therefore, while they rest, let us work and prepare other shelters. But wait! Yes, I have a message from the Commander. The Sergeant who was wounded has made a report.

Tell me, then, where are those two men, Henri and Jules, who came from Ruhleben to bear their part in this fighting?"

Smeared with earth, coated with the soil of France from their steel helmets down to their army boots, their hands and faces grimy, their hair dishevelled, and yet their faces s.h.i.+ning with enthusiasm and courage, Henri and Jules stood to attention before the officer and waited.

"So it is you, you two," he said, regarding them for some few seconds--"you two, Henri and Jules--names which every _poilu_ seems to know most thoroughly--then, attention! These are the Colonel's words, uttered on the report of that Sergeant, who states that Henri and Jules showed conspicuous courage and determination, and have set a fine example to their comrades: you are no longer just plain soldiers of France, you are now ent.i.tled to wear the stripes of a corporal. And now, Corporal Henri, and you, Corporal Jules, back to your digging."

If our two gallant young heroes had laboured before with energy, they now put the utmost exertion into their work; for see what had happened!

They were corporals, and had won promotion so early after joining the French army, not because of any social position they may have had in those days, now so long past, when these two young elegants thought of little that was serious; no, they had won promotion for bravery in the face of the enemy, because of the example they had set, because, indeed, they were good soldiers. It made them flush all over; it made them more determined than ever to prove themselves of value to their comrades; and, as we have said, it set them digging with such furious energy that those about them marvelled, and then, taking an example from them, well knowing that the time available for improving their shelter was limited, they too redoubled their efforts, till the perspiration was pouring from them.

It was perhaps two hours later, when dusk was falling and the wintry air was filled with snow-flakes, that the silence--that unnatural silence which had hung for so short a while about the northern area of the Verdun salient--was broken by a salvo of enemy guns, and then by a roar, as each one of the two thousand and more pieces joined its voice in the chorus.

"Into your dug-outs! Take shelter! Get below as fast as you can!"

The order sailed along those broken trenches, now repaired in some measure, and sent men, who were not to remain on duty, down into the cleverly-constructed holes prepared for such an eventuality. And then commenced once more that terrible rain of sh.e.l.ls, those devastating explosions, those upheavals of earth, and that process of smas.h.i.+ng the French trenches. The dusk grew, until the darkness of night had fallen, and still the guns pounded, searching every inch of the line and not sparing a single corner. Yet, in spite of the gunners' efforts to do their best for the Kaiser, there were still nooks and crannies where French _poilus_ sheltered, where men controlling search-lights played their beams over the slopes before them, and presently those self-same beams, flung along the broken face of the wooded country below, discovered movement.

"Another attack; men creeping from the forest and forming up out in the open. Let us hope that our gunners and observation-officers see them,"

said an officer who stood behind Henri at his post in the fire trench.

"Now, my friend, shout into the dug-outs to warn the men, for it seems to me that very soon we shall need them."

Running along the trench, Henri put his head through the narrow opening of each of the dug-outs, while the men on either side of him did likewise. Then, returning to his post beside the officer, he watched, just as he had watched earlier in the day, though under different conditions; for then, but for the indifferent visibility of the atmosphere, the scene was clearly outlined to him; but now, what with the flakes of snow whirling hither and thither, what with the trampled snow-slopes between the trenches and the German positions, what with the cold, flickering beams of the search-lights, everything wore a strangely weird and ghostly appearance. Yes, ghostly, for the beams, travelling along those scattered lines of grey corpses down towards the fir-trees, made play with their figures. It looked, indeed, in that curious light, as if some of them were kneeling, and as if others were rising to their feet and were advancing uphill; and behind them, at the fringe of the woods, there were others, hundreds of others, seeming to stand still just now, and different in no way in appearance from those others lying out before them. But wait! In a little while, in a few minutes indeed, they were moving, they were sweeping on under the cold, inquisitive beams of the search-light, on under the pelting hail of shrapnel which the French 75's were now hurling at them, and, crossing those irregular lines of grey corpses, das.h.i.+ng to the a.s.sault, were charging uphill at a rate which threatened to bring them to grips with the French in a very few moments.

"Into the trenches! Stand to your rifles! Open fire on the enemy!"

Hoa.r.s.e commands were called along the battered trenches, while once again men came stumbling up the wooden steps of their dug-outs, or went creeping along secret channels to machine-gun posts well in advance of the trenches.

"Now, let go at them; we have them in the open!"

A machine-gun immediately in front of Henri, hidden in a pit which was indistinguishable from the hundreds of others formed by exploding sh.e.l.ls, suddenly spluttered, and, as Henri looked, the first line of German troops, racing uphill immediately before that gun, fell flat, was wiped out, and became non-effective. But other figures filled the place, men pushed themselves, or were pushed, forward into the vacated position, and without halt, without pause, or so much as a waver, torn though it was and shredded by the storm of bullets, that German ma.s.s still came charging uphill. Nothing stopped it. Suffering appalling losses, their front blown in in fifty different places, the enemy yet re-formed their ranks, and though, perhaps, r.e.t.a.r.ded in their charge, were not definitely halted. Shouts were coming from that ma.s.s, shouts of men worked into a fever, of men crazy with terror or with hatred; of men perhaps drugged for this terrible ordeal, and who, having determined to capture the position, were prepared to welcome death rather than fail in their object.

"And what if they reach us, what then?" asked Henri of the officer still beside him, who in the meanwhile had seized the rifle of a wounded soldier and was emptying it into the ranks of the enemy. "What then, mon Capitaine? A charge with the bayonet--eh?"

"Yes, a charge with the bayonet! Make ready for it; pa.s.s the word to right and left! Fix your bayonets and make ready!"

But every bayonet along the line was already fixed, for indeed it is the habit of French troops to carry them so. Only, the men who wielded them, were they ready? Were they as full of courage and determination as were those Germans now so close to them? They, the handful of _poilus_ whom the French High Command had alone spared for the protection of their front lines, had they the nerve, the grit, for a hand-to-hand combat? Shouts came from many a man, loud cheers burst from the throat of many a bearded veteran, while one young officer sprang on the battered parapet of a trench, and stood there facing his friends, calling to them, exhorting them, as the rays of a search-light played on his figure; indeed, for more than a minute he stood there, sharply outlined, a sight for all eyes, a figure which attracted the attention of every _poilu_ within reach of him. And then, what a yell burst from the throats of the soldiers; they leapt from the trenches, and as the scattered beams, falling for just a few seconds here and there amongst them, lit up their figures, they could be seen ma.s.sing on the pitted and furrowed ground in front, prepared for a last encounter.

"Charge! At them with the bayonet! Bravo, mes enfants!"

A tall, lithe officer--a colonel--was in front of the men already, his sword waving overhead, his head turned towards the men as he led them.