The Note-Book of an Attache Part 6

We followed along the Pet.i.t Morin and the marshes of St. Gond. Here not far from Soizy-aux-Bois had been a furious bayonet fight in which a French colonial brigade had carried the German positions. At one point a regiment of Turcos had advanced across the Pet.i.t Morin and charged to the bare hill toward a long well-made trench held by a battalion of German infantry whose fire had not deterred them. As the Turcos closed in, the Germans jumped out of their trench and re-formed in a line behind it, but broke at the first shock of the Africans, who came on screaming, their knives and bayonets much in evidence. A scene of frightful carnage ensued as the rout spread along the hill. The Turcos chased the Germans over the fields and through neighboring woods, killing them right and left. The total casualties in the neighborhood must have been more than three thousand, the Germans being much the heavier losers.

I have read of such bayonet fights, but have always doubted their possibility in modern war. I have supposed that in close-range fighting a few men might be bayoneted, but that the majority of the casualties would be from gunshot wounds. In this melee, however, most of the wounds were inflicted with the bayonet, and frightful wounds they were. Many on both sides had been pierced through the face, neck, and skull. The head of one German officer who had not fled with his men, but had bravely fought on single-handed, had been completely transfixed by a bayonet, which had entered through the eagle on the front of his helmet and pa.s.sed through his skull and out behind.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE COMMON GRAVE OF NINE HUNDRED DEAD NEAR SOIZY-AUX-BOIS]

After pa.s.sing through many scenes of horror, we arrived at the castle of Mondemont which is near Allemant, and caps the summit of a steep wooded hill overlooking the marshes of St. Gond. It was a Louis XV.

chateau, but is now a ma.s.s of shattered ruins. Around it had been elaborate gardens with many paths, alleys, carp ponds, flower-beds, hedges, and walls. From its elevated position it commanded the valleys beneath. It had without much difficulty been captured by the Germans as they advanced southward, and when they later retreated to the north again they had left here a rearguard to hold back the victorious French.

All through the disastrous afternoon of Wednesday the 9th, these Germans had defended Mondemont against a furious cannonade and in the face of infantry a.s.saults which, in some cases, had to be repulsed with the bayonet. Meanwhile, the main German armies retreated many miles until on Thursday morning this heroic rearguard found itself hopelessly surrounded on all sides. The French commanders summoned the place to surrender, explaining that further resistance was madness, but were met by a firm refusal, whereupon the Germans were subjected to a most terrific bombardment by cannon, large and small. In all at least ten thousand sh.e.l.ls were fired at the chateau until it was reduced to a pile of rubbish. Even the garden walls remained standing only in isolated spots, and the surrounding forest was so completely wrecked that great boughs and whole trees lay criss-crossed in an inextricable tangle.

Near the chateau there was a field several acres in extent and in it alone we counted about a thousand craters which had been made by big sh.e.l.ls. The road which pa.s.sed in front of the chateau was full of great holes twenty feet in circ.u.mference blown out of the solid macadam. After this bombardment, a desperate infantry a.s.sault rolled up the hill and captured it, but only after a frightful melee in which the defenders fought and died to the last man. I noticed a shutter remaining upon one window of the chateau which had been pierced by fifty-two bullets. By a singular chance there was one room which had been little damaged. In it as we entered there stood a table at which the German officers had been eating when interrupted by the final attack; their knives and forks lay on the plates, which still held meat and carrots, partly eaten, and wine half filled the gla.s.ses; two of the chairs had been hurriedly pushed back from the table, while a third, overturned, lay upon its side.

_Sunday, September 13th._ We spent the night at Bar-sur-Seine, sleeping in the hallway of a little hotel, and next morning went to the headquarters of General Joffre which, during the battle, were at Chatillon-sur-Seine.

We returned to the battlefields in the neighborhood of Fere Champenoise early in the afternoon.

We entered Fere Champenoise for the second time after dark, meaning to spend the night there. The town was packed with transport wagons and troops. All the houses were dark, the only illumination being from lamps on wagons and automobiles which stood in the market-place and along the main highway through the town.

It had rained nearly all day and was still raining, and although we were loath to sleep outdoors or in the automobile, we at first saw no possibility of finding lodgings elsewhere. Captain Parker and I left the machine and started to reconnoitre through the side streets. The rain, the low-hanging clouds, and the high walls of the houses, all combined to make the bottom of the deep narrow streets blacker than any blackness I have ever experienced. The darkness was so dense that it seemed to have body and solidity, and one walked as if totally blind. The streets were alive with invisible soldiers, whom one heard breathing in the damp darkness and with whom one continually collided.

High above the roofs of the houses a distant glow was reflected upon the falling rain by fires where they were burning the dead.

Few of the inhabitants had yet returned to the town and we were unable to find anyone who could tell us where to locate the Mayor. All the houses were tightly shuttered and nearly all were empty, though occasionally a faint suggestion of light showed through the crack under the door. When we beat a summons on such an entrance we never gained anything more satisfactory in the way of a response than a gruff and m.u.f.fled statement that "la maison est deja toute pleine de soldats." We persevered, however, and our efforts were finally rewarded, for we at last met an old woman to whom we could explain our dilemma. She seemed interested in our plight and, pointing to a man who was approaching and whom we discerned by the faint light of a dingy lantern which he was carrying, said: "Voila mon patron. Je lui expliquerai ce que c'est!" A whispered conversation followed, and then we were introduced to M. Achille Guyot, one of the leading citizens of the town, a champagne manufacturer of prominence and a man who proved to be a splendid example of French fort.i.tude and chivalry.

In the darkness we groped for each other's hands, and M. Guyot, with the greatest politeness, said that he would be charmed to have us sleep beneath his roof. He apologized because he had little but the roof to offer since "Les Allemands ont tout bouleverse." He suggested hesitatingly that we should also sup with him before retiring, and again apologized, saying: "Les Allemands ont tout pris." We remarked that we possessed a great many potatoes and would gladly contribute them to increase the bulk of the repast. This greatly relieved his mind, as he confessed that he had almost nothing to offer, but since we had so many potatoes they would be gratefully accepted.

We followed him to his residence, which proved to be a very large mansion with a great garden in front and a larger one behind.

As we entered the house the rays of the lantern revealed a most extraordinary sight. All the villagers who had remained in town agreed that this house had been occupied by German officers and that in leaving they had carried out much loot. The Teuton taste has been chiefly for enamels and lingerie. The interior of the house looked more like a pig-sty than a human dwelling. The Germans had broken all locks and emptied the contents of all bureaus, closets, and desks upon the floor, the more easily to pick and choose what they wanted. The floors were covered ankle-deep in the resulting litter which was composed of everything from lace to daguerreotypes, from bric-a-brac to hosiery. The relics and treasures of past generations of the owner's family carpeted the house, until each room seemed in a worse state than the last, and the whole was altogether a most superlative mess. M. Guyot had shoveled paths through the different rooms as one shovels through several inches of newly fallen snow.

We stood in amazement that anyone could so completely have turned upside down an orderly house. As an example of absolute disorder, the dining-room was a veritable work of art. The German orderlies had evidently prepared and served four or five meals to their officers.

Each time they had set the table with fine linen and old china and then as soon as the repast was over had taken up the tablecloth by its edges and corners and had thrown it with the china, bottles, linen, tableware, dirty dishes, and remnants of food, into a corner of the room. At each succeeding meal the process had been repeated with a new setting of china and fresh linen from the nearly inexhaustible supplies with which the house was furnished. This was housekeeping reduced by German "efficiency" to its simplest terms. The same "efficiency" had been employed in the kitchen where each meal had been prepared with a fresh set of cooking utensils which, after use, had been piled up under the tables and sinks, together with such debris as potato peels and coffee grounds. Perhaps a good housekeeper would have been most disgusted by the condition of the kitchen; to me the dining-room, where the post-mortems of meals were added to the results of pillaging, seemed the more shocking.

The house contained a dozen large bedrooms and all the beds had been slept in by Germans, some of whom had not taken pains to remove their boots. M. Guyot told us we might sleep where we chose and showed us where the fresh linen was kept, apologizing for the fact that we would be obliged to make up our own beds.

He introduced us to three French aviators who were already quartered in the house and who came in as we were preparing to depart for supper. They were Captain B----, Chevalier de la Legion, Lieutenant the Vicomte de B----, and their orderly. The officers immediately took possession of the lantern and conducted us out into the gardens to behold the piles of broken bottles which the Germans had strewn about. They informed us that these were some of the remains of fifteen thousand bottles of champagne which had been taken by the invaders from the warehouse cellars of our host alone. M. Guyot had not volunteered this information, but now confirmed that fact and added with simplicity that his champagne business and the prosperity of his house would be much curtailed for some time to come.

Our host's residence was in such disorder that he suggested that the supper table should be laid at the house of one of his employees who lived near-by in the village, and we all started together through the darkness, taking stock of our provisions as we walked. The French officers had tea and two loaves of bread which they had obtained from the Commissariat; M. Guyot, in the expectation of having guests, had managed to ama.s.s three pigeons, five eggs, and several tomatoes, and we Americans excavated such endless quarts of potatoes from our automobile that the Frenchmen amidst roars of laughter had cried "a.s.sez! a.s.sez!"

Our host and his friends decided that the repast should be called a dinner and should be given in honor of the new France and of the glorious victory just won, the first to rest upon the French arms in more than sixty years. What more fitting, they asked, than that we neutrals should witness this celebration? The Vicomte de B---- busied himself with reciting the menu: entree, omelette parmentier; game, pigeon roti; plat de resistance--pommes de terre Ma.r.s.eillaise; Salade, tomate--not to speak of toast and tea. M. Guyot hinted darkly and mysteriously that he would attend to the wine list; we should have laughed at this had we not realized that a wine merchant who has lost his entire store of wine is not a fit subject for jest.

When we took our places at dinner, our host sat at one end of the table and Colonel Allen at the other. The former then explained that a little cellar where he kept his most precious wines had been undiscovered by the invaders and that the wine list would include the precious champagne of '93 and a very old Bordeaux. His aged employee, who had served the meal, then entered amid loud acclamations, her arms full of bottles, and we drank to "La France" in Bordeaux of the color of a ruby.

The table was set with wooden-handled knives and forks, as no others remained, and was lighted by candles set in bottles and broken candlesticks; no gas, electricity, or kerosene having survived the invasion. The French aviators had in their possession five spiked helmets which they had taken as trophies from the heads of dead Germans. It was suggested that since all ordinary means of lighting had been destroyed by these same Germans, their casques might fittingly be used as candlesticks, and each bear a taper upon its point. This suggestion was about to be put into effect when M. Guyot, whose business had been so recently ruined and whose house had been ruthlessly pillaged by these invaders, quietly made objection and said that it was not fitting or proper that the headgear of fallen soldiers should be used as candelabra.

_Monday, September 14th._ One's respect and affection for horses is greatly increased after seeing them in war. They are there so essentially necessary. They share so patiently and faithfully on almost equal terms the good and ill fortune of the men; they work with their masters, go into battle with them, and the two die side by side, killed by the same sh.e.l.l. It is a stirring example of unity to see men and horses straining and striving and pulling together to get a gun out of difficulties. The horses do not understand what it is all about and going to war was not of their choice, but the same things may usually be said of the men beside whom they live and die.

The feeling which the French soldiers on the firing-line have for the Germans is very different from the bitterness one finds in the civilian population of France. We have heard more than one French soldier say in a voice tinged with admiration, "Ah, ce sont de bons soldats!" At the front and in the trenches one gets down to basic principles and realizes that "the other man" is a fellow human being and not something with horns and a forked tail. The French soldier is grimly determined to go through the war to the bitter end and to accept nothing short of a complete victory, but at the same time he realizes that this mutual slaughter is indeed a sorry business. I shall never forget the face of a serious French Territorial soldier of forty with whom I spoke today. He was one of a burying squad on the scene of the charge of the African brigade near Soizy-aux-Bois. Nine hundred dead were being buried in one big trench and as I came to inspect it, my Territorial and a comrade were about to pick up a dead German who lay face down in a muddy field, with arms outstretched. A hundred others lay close about us. I offered the Territorial cigarettes and, as he took one, he indicated the field about us with a sweep of his arm and said sadly: "If Guillaume could have foreseen all this, do you think that he, one man, would have begun this war?" And he looked down with an expression full of sorrow and brotherly compa.s.sion at the dead German who lay at his feet.

In the four days of our trip we have had innumerable punctures and six blow-outs, in consequence of which we were finally forced to return to Paris today. The Germans raided all the wine cellars throughout this whole region and when they retreated left broken bottles along all the streets and roads.

CHAPTER V

a.n.a.lYSIS OF THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE

_Monday, September 14th._ The equipment of the German soldier is in every detail a marvel of perfection. This impresses me more than any other single element of the war excepting only the bravery of the French, and the imperturbable _sang froid_ of the English. A striking example of this perfection is the spiked helmet. Contrary to appearance, it is not heavy, weighing indeed scarcely more than a derby hat. Everyone who picks one up for the first time exclaims in astonishment, "How light it is!" These helmets are made of lacquered leather, are nearly indestructible, shed water perfectly, and give excellent ventilation to the head by means of a clever arrangement of holes under the f.l.a.n.g.e of the spike. They also s.h.i.+eld the eyes and the back of the head from the sun, and are strong enough to break a heavy blow.

The German uniforms are of a light gray with a slight green tinge, and are virtually invisible against the greenish mist-gray fields of Europe, excepting only when the sun is behind to project a deep shadow.

The German bayonet is a formidable weapon with a heavy double-edged blade twenty inches long. Both edges are extremely sharp. I easily sharpened pencils with one which I picked up.

The German knapsacks are made of cowhide with the hair left on, the grain of the hair pointing downward to shed rain. The hair may get wet, but the leather seldom and the contents never.

The German military boot comes half-way up the calf of the leg and the trouser is tucked into its top. They are without laces and pull on to the foot like the American "rubber boot." They are made of heavy, undyed leather, singularly soft and pliable, and thoroughly waterproof. The soles are shod with hobnails, but the boot is not very heavy. We often noted dead Germans who were bootless, their footgear having been appropriated by some victorious Frenchman, who had left near-by his own less desirable shoes.

The three-compartment wicker sh.e.l.l-containers in which field-gun sh.e.l.ls are carried from caisson to gun are as carefully and neatly made as an expensive tea-basket. We saw thousands of them lying about the battlefields and carefully examined scores, sliding sh.e.l.ls in and out of them as a test. Invariably we found that the sh.e.l.ls went in and out smoothly and without effort, and yet always fitted snugly. There was never either the slightest friction or the least loose-play. This nicety meant that the variation in an interior diameter of three inches was certainly less than one thirty-second of an inch.

Wicker-work constructed with such unvarying accuracy is truly marvelous.

_Paris, Tuesday, September 15th._ Back in Paris, we are trying to piece bits of evidence together into a clear picture and to draw sound conclusions from what we have seen. We do not yet know what the battle which we have studied will be named, but we ourselves call it the Battle of Fere Champenoise. This is, however, an unsatisfactory t.i.tle, as it is too c.u.mbersome and not comprehensive enough, for Fere Champenoise was only the most intense and critical point in a series of actions extending from Chantilly to Verdun, over a varied and winding front of about one hundred and ninety miles. We have no means of knowing how far the Germans have been driven back, but they are across the Aisne and other Attaches tell us that frightful fighting is going on at Soissons where the pursuing Allies are attempting to throw large forces across the river. On our way home yesterday, moreover, we ourselves heard much shooting in the direction of Rheims.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE WOODS WERE ... DOTTED WITH THE BODIES OF THE DEAD"]

My personal conclusions about the battle are based upon a thousand bits of information carefully pieced together into a mosaic. First of all we ourselves examined the territory included between the Marne, the Seine, and a line from Mery-sur-Seine through Arcis to Vitry-le-Francois, and made certain digressions across the Marne to the northeast of Paris. We examined the battlefields while they were comparatively fresh, and supplemented our observations by innumerable conversations with the French troops and civilians, and with German prisoners. At the Emba.s.sy we obtained from other Attaches many bits of reliable information about the fighting directly north of Paris and about the rearguard actions between the Marne and the Aisne.

Up to the time of this battle the German plan of campaign had worked out almost perfectly. The Franco-German border is due east of Paris, and the French mobilization took place there behind the fortresses of Verdun, Toul, Epinal, and Belfort.

The Belgian frontier is north of Paris and the unexpected and treacherous advance of the German armies through that neutral country brought them immediately behind the French line of mobilization. The violation of Belgium permitted the Germans to advance into France before the Allies could reorganize into an effective resistance against this unexpected attack. It is to be remembered that a mobilization which it has taken years to plan out and which involves millions of men and their equipment cannot be changed at a moment's notice. Had the Germans attacked across the Franco-German border, they would have found the French army awaiting them behind the fortresses of Verdun, Toul, and Epinal, and it is almost certain that they would never have arrived within two hundred marching miles of Paris. No one knew this better than the German General Staff.

Had it not been for the unexpected and heroic resistance of Belgium, and the masterly retreat of the small British army, Germany's foul blow might have resulted in the capture of Paris toward the end of August. These two things, combined with a desperate r.e.t.a.r.ding action executed along the Aisne by several French corps, delayed the Germans long enough to enable General Joffre to organize and fight a single battle upon which everything was staked. To lose it would have meant utter ruin, for France has faced no such crisis since Charles Martel repelled the Saracens at Tours in 732. To win would mean that the Teutons' blow-below-the-belt had been survived and that a recommencement of the war upon something like even terms would be possible.

In preparing for the battle the French placed powerful forces in the great fortress of Verdun, and also in and around the entrenched camp of Paris. Their field army extended between the two from Paris through La Ferte, Esternay, Sezanne, and Sommesous to Vitry-le-Francois, and from thence bent northeastward to Verdun. Thus their two flanks were strong and menacing and their center, about one hundred and eighty miles in length, bent southward and was slightly concave.

It is evident that in this battle the Germans could gain nothing by making their main attack against Paris or Verdun, but that if they could rout the field army between the two, they might as an aftermath sweep round behind each city and attack it from all sides, using for the purpose the heavy artillery which had under similar circ.u.mstances and with such celerity battered down Liege, Namur, Longwy, and Maubeuge. Therefore, the logical thing was for the Germans to attempt to break the French center. This operation was somewhat hazardous as there was danger that the French might launch a powerful flank attack from either Verdun or Paris. To attack the center was, in effect, something like thrusting a dagger into a lion's mouth in the effort to cut his throat. It was necessary to hold back the jaws Verdun and Paris, whilst attacking the vulnerable throat at Fere Champenoise.