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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 shining 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 shell-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 massing. But now, as the enemy cannonade died down a little, and that torrent of shells 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 shell at the advancing enemy. The massed 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 shell 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 mass, 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 shells in amazing quantities. Here then was the opportunity: mass 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 entitled 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 massed 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 mass 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 hoarse commands to move forward. Then the masses broke. Isolated units started to charge up the slopes, and soon the mass 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 flashing 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 shell-crater or some pit into which they had crawled for shelter, and, turning the muzzles on the enemy, blazed into their masses. 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 cucumber, 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 shining 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 entitled 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 shells, those devastating explosions, those upheavals of earth, and that process of smashing 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, dashing to the assault, 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!"
Hoarse 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 shells, 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 mass 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, retarded in their charge, were not definitely halted. Shouts were coming from that mass, 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; pass 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 massing 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.
"Charge!" he shouted, though the sound was swept away and lost in the turmoil of cheers from the French soldiers who heard him, and in the shattering reports of those French 75's, which, blazing hard in the rear, registered still upon the enemy.
Then those gallant poilus who had poured over the parapets of their trenches – where such still existed – springing from shell-holes where they had taken shelter, and emerging from every sort of odd and unexpected corner, joined in one frantic mob, swept down under the rays of the search-light upon the enemy, and, plunging into their midst, commenced at once a desperate hand-to-hand encounter.
So it was where Henri and Jules were stationed, and the tale was repeated in a hundred different places. Indeed, on this 21st February, when the Germans had confidently anticipated a "walk-over", and when such an event as a massed attack, or even the loss of a considerable number of their infantry, was hardly contemplated, they found themselves held up entirely, with whole ranks of their divisions swept away, and with the ground in front of Brabant, Haumont, and along the northern face of the Verdun salient littered with their killed and wounded. That torrent of shells, which should have killed every one of the slender garrison of Frenchmen, had failed in its effect; while the hope of gaining Verdun, the capture of which was to influence the whole world, and particularly wavering neutrals, was as far away as ever. That desperate attack made during the darkness broke down as others had done, and the Germans – those who were left of them – fled to the cover of the evergreen pine-trees, leaving the poilus of General Joffre's armies to stagger back to their battered trenches, there to prepare – not to rest, not to sleep, for that was out of the question – but to resist still further.
CHAPTER XI
Falling Back
Down below, in a subterranean chamber, there burned a cheerful fire, a chimney taking the smoke and flames up through the ground above and into the open. Seated about it, more dishevelled than ever, their chins bristly now, and their faces and hands stained a dull, dirty colour, sat Jules and Henri and others of their comrades, resting for a time, while men of their regiment watched for them.
"And, believe me, it has been a fight of fights," said one bearded veteran, lolling back against the earth wall of the dug-out, a cup of steaming coffee gripped in one huge, dirty hand, and a hunch of cheese in the other. "A fight more bitter than any that has gone before it, and one which will become more desperate. Allons! Here is death to the Kaiser!"
He smiled round at his comrades, whose faces were lit up by the rays from the flickering flames, showing a gleaming row of teeth, and steady eyes, and features which displayed not the smallest trace of fear, or even of anxiety.
"Death to the Kaiser – to the butcher who sends his troops to such slaughter!"
Tossing his head backwards, he let the contents of the cup gurgle down his throat, then, smacking his lips, he held the vessel out for a further ration.
Steps on the wooden stairway leading into the dugout just then attracted the attention of the whole party, and soon there arrived another comrade – a junior officer – to swell their numbers, to tax the limit of accommodation down below to the utmost. As dirty as any of his men, dirtier perhaps, he bore about him traces almost of exhaustion, and, throwing himself on the ground, silently accepted the drink and food which were at once offered him. It was not, indeed, until he had finished his meal, and until he had almost smoked the contents of one pipe-load of tobacco, that he opened his lips to the poilus.
"And then, Monsieur le Lieutenant," began one of the poilus, a cheerful young fellow, who, indeed, was in civil times the chum of this young officer, "you've been far, mon Commandant, you have brought news to us? For did you not leave us a while back to pass along the communication-trenches? What, then, is the tale? And are there supports and reserves at hand to reinforce us?"
Again it was to be noted that there was not a sign of anxiety on the face of this young soldier, nor in the tones which he adopted. He merely smiled and shrugged his shoulders, in fact, as the officer shook his head decidedly.
"No! No supports, and no reserves at present," he said. "We must fight it out to a finish."
"Bien! To a finish, my friends!" chirped in the bearded warrior, sipping at a fresh cup of steaming coffee. "Then it is not for us to grumble, but rather for the Boches. For, see, desperate men who cannot be relieved, and who will not surrender, fight like rats in a trap, and such beasts were ever venomous. And so, Monsieur le Lieutenant, there are none to help us?"
"None!" came the cheery answer. "The position is as clear as daylight. It is only now that our High Command is able to perceive that the Germans have launched a stroke at Verdun, which is stronger, and likely to be fiercer, than any that have preceded it on any other portion of the line. They tried, these Boches, to burst their way through Ypres in April, you will remember, having failed to do so in the previous October. They have tried their hand in other parts, and always with failure. Now it is the turn of Verdun – a salient like that at Ypres, and one which must be held against all oncomers. You ask the fortunes of our other troops. Listen, then, my friends; for by dint of crawling and creeping, often across the open – for communication-trenches have been obliterated – I was able to reach a centre where information had been gathered. We, here, in the neighbourhood of Brabant, stand firm, thanks to the heroic fighting of our comrades."
"And thanks, monsieur, to the noble leading of our officers," declared the bearded veteran; whereat the poilus clapped their hands in approbation.
The officer's face was radiant at such a compliment, which, let us observe, was thoroughly well deserved; for if the poilu, the common soldier of the French armies facing the Germans, had fought well, his officer had indeed set him a magnificent example.
Much need, too, had the poilus holding the Verdun salient for the best of officers. For the German onslaught, though it had failed so far, had at least the prospect of future success because of the surprise effected. Not that the attack was entirely unexpected on the part of the French, but surprise was great at the vast preparations and massed guns and infantry the actual attack had disclosed to our ally. Those guns had first deluged every few yards of the twenty-five miles of trenches from Brabant to Troyon, and later, swinging round, had been concentrated on a narrow sector of four miles perhaps, a sector occupied by Henri and his friends and other Frenchmen.
As to the German infantry, they were in great numbers. Indeed, there were some seven German army corps massed against the Verdun salient; while the French, with incomplete information of the intending coup to be attempted by the enemy, had but two army corps to defend the positions. Moreover, time would be required in which to bring up reinforcements; for, be it remembered, the Verdun salient is pushed out to the east of the River Meuse, and though there are bridges crossing the river, they are not so numerous as to allow of huge forces being rapidly transferred across them. A still more important factor in the position was, perhaps, the distance those reserves must be brought before they could stand shoulder to shoulder with their comrades. It is not mis-stating the fact on the night of the 21st February when we assert that those two French army corps, holding a trench-line extending over some twenty-five miles, stood, for the time being and for many hours to come, alone between the enemy and their objective. They must fight not only to retain their positions, but must fight for time – time in which General Joffre and his commanders could rush reinforcements to assist them. Yet, though the battle had only lasted one single day, it had proved every man in those two corps a stanch fighter, every one determined to resist to the utmost.
"We here, in the neighbourhood of Brabant, my friends, hold fast as you know," said the officer, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "Though the enemy have poured shot and shell on us, though they have blown our positions up and obliterated our trenches, we are here; and, indeed, do I not see before me a most cheery and merry company? Yes, another cup of coffee as I smoke and talk. It is cold outside, and somehow coffee soothes a man's nerves after such an ordeal. Well, then, here we are, firm, and not thinking of retiring yet awhile. On the line to Haumont, they, our comrades, hold their battered trenches, and, like ourselves, have taught the enemy a severe lesson. Then, passing to our right, you get to the Bois de Caures, which this morning was held by a French garrison. If we in this position were plagued with the fire of enemy guns, in that strip of forest our friends have been deluged, and their positions torn asunder and blown to pieces, even their dug-outs often being penetrated. The place became untenable, and yet it has been of assistance in the fighting. It was mined, and when the Germans, held off till that time by our sharpshooters, launched a division at it, our fellows slipped away before the enemy, and, waiting till the Germans were in the wood and pouring into the battered trenches, fired the mines, killing hundreds of them."
There came grunts from that bearded veteran, a gleam of his even white teeth, and muttered remarks from the others seated about the fire in the dug-out.
"Terrific!" exclaimed Henri. "Absolute murder; yet, what would you?"
"Yes, what would you?" repeated the officer. "It is France, it is liberty, it is the right to live as we wish for which we fight, against the oppression of a people who look upon might as right, and who, if they could, would deprive France and Britain and all the Allies of their liberty. So, murder! Yes, my comrade, but, as you observe, necessary. If the Kaiser, seeking for some great event, casts his hosts of men at us, our duty is plain; not an inch of ground of the sacred soil of France must be rendered up unless absolutely necessary; while the enemy, if they advance, must advance over the corpses of their comrades. But let me proceed. The Bois de Caures was evacuated, and then the southern end of it seized once more by some of our gallant fellows. Then there was fighting on the line to Ornes and at Herbebois, and there, too, the garrisons held their positions, having fought throughout the day and inflicted enormous losses on the Boches. Elsewhere I cannot tell you what the position is, though there is rumour that all is favourable."
Taking it in turns to go on duty, to watch the ground in front of them or to repair their battered trenches, that slender garrison which the policy of the French High Command had placed in the first line of trenches about the salient of Verdun waited with calm confidence for the morrow – for the 22nd February. Nor had they long to wait ere the conflict once more reopened. Guns had boomed throughout the night, and shells had continued to rain about them, but now, as light broke, and they hastily gulped down their breakfast, the bombardment increased in intensity along that northern sector, while presently enemy troops could be seen forcing their way up a ravine which cuts its way between Brabant and Haumont. Poilus in positions there were driven back for a moment by flame-projectors, which were used freely by the enemy – spurts of flaming liquid were scattered over them, and sometimes whole lengths of trenches set burning. Then the torrent of shells which was pouring upon the northern sector was increased, though that had seemed almost impossible, in the neighbourhood of those two places. Brabant and Haumont were shattered, the village of the latter name being flattened out and destroyed utterly. Shells ploughed the ground behind the French front position, so that communication-trenches, which had suffered severely on the previous day, and support- and reserve-trenches were blown to pieces and out of all recognition. Indeed, as the day passed, the slender garrison in that part were forced to abandon whatever protection the ground had previously given, and, retiring before the enemy, to fight a rear-guard action in the open. Some three or four miles of country behind that front line was indeed searched by the enemy guns; some indication of the enormous expenditure of shells indulged in by the Kaiser. The French left, resting on the River Meuse and the centre, was thus forced backward, though the gallant garrison of Herbebois still held on, together with a force of men on a hill just south-west of them. Some success had in fact fallen to the German phalanx attack on the Verdun salient. General von Haeseler, who was nominally in command, though acting under the orders of the ambitious Crown Prince of Germany, had by his smashing artillery-fire, though not by his infantry attacks, forced the French to abandon a portion of their trenches, and had indeed shortened that line to which we have referred previously – that line which formed an imaginary base to the Verdun salient. In fact, he had contrived to narrow the neck of the salient, though not yet very greatly, and thereby had limited the space across which the French troops could retire in the event of the abandonment of the salient being necessary.
