THE STRANGLEHOLD
I
STONES AND MEN
What is the condition of that luckless fort of Vaux, which for a
hundred days, since February 21, has received its daily ration of
shells: ten thousand on an average for the district, and of all
calibre, but chiefly of the heaviest, the 210 mm., the 305 mm., and
even the 380 mm.? It must have been hammered, pounded, bruised,
crushed, scoured, pulverized: unusable and uninhabitable, can it be
anything but an indiscriminate heap of stone and earth, of rubbish of
all kinds transformed into dust or ashes? Where the Emperor William’s
artillery has done its work thoroughly, we are assured that nothing is
left. Attila boasted that no grass grew where his horses’ hoofs had
trod.
And indeed the outward aspect of the fort is deplorable. The
superstructures are entirely destroyed, and the top is now nothing but
chaos.
The southern entrance has given way, and for a long time has been unfit
for use. In order to make one’s way into the interior one passes either
by the double transverse gallery to the north-west, or by the single
transverse gallery to the north-east.
The double transverse gallery has been staved in, but an exit has been
fitted up, an exit for the use of the troops who succeed each other in
the western sector of the fort (curtain, Besançon trench). The passage
connecting it with the main pile has crevices in it near the descent
into the ditch and has been smashed in near the barracks.
In the same way, the single north-eastern transverse gallery has been
pierced near the exterior of the fort, and provides a passage for the
details that hold the eastern and northern trenches (Fort and Belfort
trenches).
These two entrances, which are on the side of the trapezoid nearest
the enemy, will be to the advantage of the assailant. It is here if
anywhere that he will penetrate. But can he expect a resistance in such
a ruin? The 75 turret has been seriously damaged; it can no longer
communicate with the barracks. The whole place is of little use for
defensive purposes. The two armoured observing stations have escaped
destruction, but machine-guns cannot be set up in them. The single
transverse gallery to the south-west is in fairly good condition;
its line of communication, which had been blocked up, has been
re-established; it has no external opening. Finally, the barracks have
cracks in them, but are still serviceable. A garrison can take shelter
there.
The double barbed-wire entanglement which surrounded the fort is now
in fragments, or buried in the shell-holes. The resisting power of the
counterscarp, the escarp, and the ditch that lies between them cannot
be reckoned upon; the walls have several breaches and have sunk down,
and the ditch, now half filled with earth, is no longer an obstacle.
Such is this remnant of a fort, such are these inadequate defences
which the enemy is approaching. On March 9, when he laid siege to it,
he was still confronted with barbed wire, ramparts, parapets, covers
for machine-guns. Now, if he succeeds in reaching it--and he is nearly
touching it, he is less than two hundred yards from it--he can find his
way into it without any marvellous acrobatic feats, and, in order to
make an entry, he will find the two exits from the northern transverse
galleries gaping wide before him. There is now no longer anything,
apart from the demolished trenches in front and on his flanks, to
oppose his inroad. Nothing but men who await the storm, like sailors
determined not to forsake their disabled ship.
The commander of the garrison is Major Raynal of the 96th Infantry
Regiment. Though wounded, he refused to wait until he was cured before
returning to duty. Born at Bordeaux, where his father was a bootmaker,
on March 7, 1867, of a family that originally came from Montauban, the
future defender of Vaux was educated at the Angoulême _lycée_, then
enlisted in the 123rd Regiment on March 15, 1885. Five years later he
entered the military school of St. Maixent, and left it as a second
lieutenant on April 1901, having gained the first place out of 328
candidates. A Captain at the outbreak of the war, he was appointed
Battalion Commander on August 24, 1914. How he led his battalion may be
shown by a quotation from an Army order: “Commanding the advanced guard
of his regiment on September 14, 1914, and getting into touch with the
strongly entrenched enemy at a brief distance from early in the morning
onwards, he at once took up his position on the tactical points, and
by strenuous efforts kept his battalion there under fire from German
rifles, machine-guns, and heavy artillery. Seriously wounded in the
afternoon, he retained command of his battalion, staying in the first
line in order personally to direct the fighting, in close and difficult
country, until his loss of blood became so great that he was compelled
to retire.” At Crouy, on September 14, a bullet from a machine-gun
ripped up his chest on the left side. He had been a Knight of the
Legion of Honour since July 11, 1900, and was promoted Officer[3] on
January 11, 1916, with the following description:
[3] There are five grades of the _Légion d’honneur_: (1)
_Chevalier_, (2) _Officer_, (3) _Commandeur_, (4)
_Grand-Officer_, (5) _Grand-Croix_.--_Translator’s Note._
“An admirable officer of high character and military abilities. Badly
wounded on September 14, 1914, he returned to the front, where he has
continued to render signal service: was very badly wounded once more on
October 3, 1915, when he was coolly and methodically proceeding to a
reconnaissance of the sector in which his battalion was posted.”
His second wound was received at Tahure, in Champagne; a splinter from
a shell in his abdomen broke the top of his hip-bone before passing out
through his back.
Not being sufficiently recovered to take up an active command with any
confidence, he asked for a post where there would be little moving
about and plenty of danger. “You will be given command of a Verdun
fort.” The Major pulls a wry face: he would prefer open country. “Then
let it be the most exposed fort.” “Which one?” “Vaux, obviously.” “Very
well, then, go to Vaux.”
So off he goes. Such is the man to whom the destinies of the fort are
entrusted. His force consists of a company of the 142nd Regiment, the
6th, under the command of Lieutenant Alirol (120 rifles), a company
of the machine-gun section of the 142nd (under Lieutenant Bazy),
some thirty artillerymen, ten engineers, twenty hospital orderlies,
stretcher-bearers and telephone operators, and twenty Territorials
for fatigues. In all, from 250 to 300 men. But this is the normal
regulation number of the garrison. All of a sudden it will be increased
by some fifty machine-gunners of the 53rd Regiment, then by wounded
who will be conveyed to the dressing-station, then by details of the
101st and 142nd Regiments. The last-named, screening the fort in
front and on the flanks, will be pushed back into the interior under
the pressure of the enemy’s advance, by way of the openings in the
transverse galleries. As early as June 2 the numbers begin to swell,
and from 250 they will soon rise to more than 600. This will add to
the already serious difficulties of the defence. In fact, whereas the
replenishments of munitions and the engineering and medical services
are on the whole adequate, the food supply has been calculated to last
out a fortnight, and that for a garrison of 250 men only. The cisterns
have indeed been filled, but the troops of the centre have always
looked upon the fort as a place to get water supplied by a merciful
Providence to save them from the thirst that is so terribly hard to
bear on those arid, fire-swept hillsides. The commandants of the fort
have constantly had to struggle against this tendency: nevertheless,
during May, they have succeeded in creating a reserve supply of water.
This reserve supply has been brought in by fatigue parties, carrying
water-bottles that hold three and a half pints each: heroic fatigue
parties these, liable at times to tragic interruptions. On May 29 the
reserve supply reached barely 3500 or 5000 pints. A garrison of the
normal size, put on rations from the beginning, would have found in
this amount resources for a period of ten to twelve days, and even
more. The new arrivals will make it run out on the very first day. It
will not be long before there is a shortage of water, and thirst will
be the most cruel hardship of the Vaux garrison.
Yet the defenders are ready, and Major Raynal is waiting.
II
THE STRANGLEHOLD TIGHTENS IN THE WEST
(JUNE 1)
From May 31 the bombardment of our first lines of La Caillette and of
the Le Bazil ravine, the Vaux-Chapître Wood, the fort and the whole
district of Vaux, Damloup, and La Laufée, outdoes the usual battering
to such an extent that one expects an offensive. At what point will
it be aimed? At the whole front or at a small section? Faithful to
his old tactics of advancing one shoulder and then another, the enemy
attacks only the west of the fort. He will confine his objective to the
Hardaumont salient, which we still hold, the border of La Caillette
Wood, the Le Bazil ravine where the railway passes, the pool and the
dyke, and finally the Fumin Wood, a part of the Vaux-Chapître Wood
lying to the east of Les Fontaines. If he reaches Fumin Wood, he will
easily carry the series of entrenchments R³, R², and R¹, which defend
the slopes above the pool of Vaux up to a point near the fort. If he
gains the entrenchments, the fort will be outflanked and will fall in
its turn. Perhaps a single day will suffice for him to achieve that
turning movement which will win him the famous “armoured fort” whose
pretended capture had sent a thrill of pride through Germany on March
9. In three months this ill-starred fort has been reduced to powder.
No matter: it bears a sonorous name, and there should be no difficulty
in taking it; what troops would ensconce themselves in such a shelter?
In order to settle the matter once for all, the enemy launches the 1st
Division (minus the 3rd Grenadiers) between La Caillette Wood and the
fort, the 50th Division between the fort and the Damloup, and between
the fort and Damloup a division comprising the 3rd Grenadiers of the
1st Division and the 126th and 105th Regiments of the 15th Corps. The
vast number of effectives employed--destined even to be reinforced on
June 5 by the 2nd Brigade of the Alpine Corps--shows the value that he
attaches to this already sore-stricken prey.
Our defence outside the fort is disposed as follows: at the Hardaumont
salient (La Caillette Wood) a battalion of the 24th Regiment; from the
dyke to the entrenchment R¹ the 1st Battalion (under Major Fralon)
of the 101st Regiment (one company at the dyke, one, the 3rd, under
Lieutenant Gontal, at R³ and R², a platoon at each redoubt); from R¹
to the west of the fort the 8th Company, under Captain Delvert, at R¹
the 7th in a defensive hook-shaped arrangement in front and to the left
of the fort.
The chain is carried on by the 142nd Regiment (under Colonel Tahon),
who provided the fort with its garrison, and who occupies, in front and
to the east, the trench of Belfort with his 2nd Battalion (under Major
Chevassu); the 7th and 8th Companies in the Belfort trench, the two
others acting as a support to the south-east. The 1st Battalion (under
Major Mouly) occupies the village of Damloup with three companies, the
4th holding in the rear the battery of Damloup and the trenches of
Saales which, from the battery, rejoins the village. Finally, farther
to the east the 3rd Battalion, under Major Bouin, is put in charge of
the Dicourt sector and the La Laufée earthwork. The defence will be
completed by relief drafts or reinforcements.
On June 1, at eight o’clock, the enemy, after a strenuous artillery
preparation, attacks that Hardaumont salient which we still hold to
the north of the Le Bazil ravine, where the railway and the road from
Fleury to Vaux pass by. At the redoubt R¹, where the ground slopes down
from the plateau on which Fort Vaux stands, Captain Delvert is in the
front row of the stalls to watch the performance going on before him
on the other side of the ravine. He sees the German infantrymen come
out like ants from an anthill that some foot has kicked. Here they are
making their way down towards our trench in the salient. They leap into
it. The white smoke that emerges shows that a hand-grenade duel is in
progress. Farther up, swarms of light-blue greatcoats try to scramble
up the slopes of La Caillette Wood, already bathed in sunshine;
they fall back in disorder towards La Fausse-Côte and descend once
more in the direction of the pool. The shells burst in their midst,
but scarcely a man is hit. Then the Germans, in single file, creep
alongside the railway! There can be no doubt on the point; the salient
is lost and they hold the ravine.
They continue to defile up to the embankment slope of the railway. In
ever-increasing numbers they arrive at the dyke, and cross it. Now they
are approaching Fumin Wood and the entrenchments. These entrenchments
are little more than shell-holes joined together, except R¹, which
still retains a fortified aspect with its walls in reinforced cement
and its lofty embankment. At noon, the assault is aimed at R² and R³;
their resistance at last stops the enemy, whose on-coming masses are
mown down by machine-guns and rifles. Every “grey ghost that crawls
along the slopes of Fumin” is at once registered and fired at. For all
that, the enemy has come very close; we have been able to capture from
him, on the spot, a lieutenant, a cadet, and four soldiers of the 41st
Infantry Regiment.
He will not halt when so near the goal, in spite of this sanguinary
set-back. A battalion takes the place of the one that has been cut
down. At two o’clock in the afternoon comes a fresh onset, which
becomes a long-drawn-out contest, swaying backwards and forwards. The
struggle is a fierce one in the communication passages and half-filled
trenches, an affair of bombs, of bayonets, of hand-to-hand fighting.
At three o’clock, however, the two entrenchments are lost. Not a man
has come back to tell what has happened at the dyke. As to what took
place at R² and R³, occupied by the two platoons, a postcard from their
commander, Lieutenant Gontal, written from a prisoners’ camp to Colonel
Lanusse, commanding the 101st Regiment, brought the news a month later.
I met Colonel Lanusse when he had just arrived at a rest billet, in a
pleasant little village amid the wild dales of the Argonne. He had had
a spell in the trenches; he had left off his jersey on account of the
heat, and was tuning a piano which he had discovered at the house of
one of the villagers. Such a stroke of luck is rare for a music-lover.
A flute and a violin, placed on the table, and also the score of a
classical trio, were awaiting the performers.
“You see,” he said to me, “_musica me juvat_.”
“Or _delectat_,” I countered, in pious recollection of my Latin grammar.
With the same simplicity he drew me a picture of the terrible week
in which his regiment distinguished itself. Lieutenant Gontal’s card
cheered him like a march tune, but did not surprise him in the least.
He was sure that things must have turned out in this way. And whenever
he laid stress on the part played by any one of his officers, he
hastened to do justice to the others. With the exception of himself, he
gave some account of the whole cadre. Here, then, is the testimony of
Lieutenant Gontal, which, in a few laconic words, sums up the defence
of R² and R³:
“Wounded on June 1. Was picked up by the Germans and brought here. We
carried out to the letter the order given: not to draw back an inch on
any pretext. Thus it was that we were cut off, outflanked on all sides,
and overwhelmed by weight of numbers. I was one of the last to fall,
hit right in the stomach by a bullet fired at ten yards’ distance.
Lieutenant Huret had his right arm fractured. Second Lieutenant
Pasquier was wounded. Sergeant-Major Farjon had his right hand crushed
and his left thigh pierced by a bullet. Cadet Tocabens had five shell
splinters in his body. Sergeant Lecocq was killed by a bullet in his
forehead. The rest of the company suffered losses in proportion. This
summary will tell you more than any lengthy comment of the way in which
we understood our duty and satisfied the claims of honour.
“I would draw special attention to the bravery shown by Lieutenant
Huret, Cadet Tocabens, and above all, Sergeant-Major Farjon, who richly
deserves the Military Medal.”
After each onset there is the same moving refrain, the same list of
officers and N.C.O.’s dead or wounded.
The first postcard written by Lieutenant Gontal on June 5 from the
hospital is addressed to his Colonel. The second is for his wife at
Toulouse. “After fighting near Verdun for twenty days,” he tells her,
“I was wounded by a bullet in the stomach. I was picked up on the
battlefield by Germans and taken prisoner. The doctor thinks he will
pull me through. Cheer up! I fell as a soldier should; honour is not
lost. But I was broken-hearted, for henceforth the War Cross is out of
the question.”
A month later, on July 13, he gives fuller details, but the same idea
haunts him. “The brave fellows,” he says of his company, “nearly all
got killed or wounded on the spot, and not one officer came out of
the battle unscathed.” Then he adds: “How is it that my wound was not
mortal? Once more Providence has intervened. Well, it will be the
proudest boast of my life not to have yielded one inch of ground and to
have fallen at the post that my country had entrusted to me. All this,
you know, makes me forget my pain and throws a halo round the memory of
all the gallant lads of my company who were killed there.”
Finally, in August, he seems to have recovered from his wound and to
be quite hopeful again. He asks his people in a graceful bit of writing
for some ten-centime cigars--“those good cigars of our sweet France,
from which there rises, subtle and sly, the blue smoke that is like
a corner of heaven mirrored in our lovely clear waters, the smoke in
which you can see our hills, our great forests, our dear land with its
twenty centuries of glory, honour, and faith--in short, that France for
which I and so many others have so gladly given up the best part of our
lives.” To make his exile bearable, he will no doubt write verses. Is
it not fitting to quote these letters from a prisoner before reverting
to that day of June 1?
In the course of this great day, the scouts, who had almost all
volunteered, ensured the connections with unflagging devotion. One
of them arrived at the Commander’s headquarters in Fumin Wood,
crossing--by what a marvellous stroke of luck!--a very heavy curtain
fire.
“You might have waited a few moments,” says the Colonel to him in a
fatherly tone.
The man points to the envelope.
“Yes, sir, but he has written ‘urgent.’”
Two others are sent from the regiment to brigade headquarters. On the
way, one of them is killed by a 105, and the despatch that he was
carrying is lost. His comrade goes back to the Colonel’s headquarters,
asks for a copy of the despatch, and starts off again to carry out his
mission.
The Germans, now in possession of the two entrenchments, make an
advance in Fumin Wood. The task that lies before them is to storm R¹,
the redoubt nearest the fort, and then they will approach the fort by
the west and even the south. Our surprise and their daring will perhaps
enable them to take it without striking a blow.
Nevertheless the Colonel of the 101st makes his arrangements for the
battle in the manner of an eminent orchestra conductor. He stations
his reserves as a barrier in the wood, seeks and finds his connections
in the Fontaines ravine, and has the ground dug into in order to gain
a better grip on it. All the ensuing night he will make his men work
without a break, profiting by the uncertainty as to the time that
paralyses the enemy’s artillery, in order to find cover and to organize
his front between R¹ and the ravine.
The redoubt R¹ is besieged from the evening of June 1. Two
machine-guns, sweeping the hillsides, damp the enemy’s ardour: in
front of their range of fire, one sees clumps of grey bodies stretched
out on the ground. In our trenches the scene is already a tragic one:
“Everywhere the stones have been splashed with red drops. In places,
great pools of violet-coloured, viscous blood have been formed, and
cease to spread. Half-way along the communication trench, in the bright
sunshine, corpses are lying, stiff and stark under their blood-stained
canvas. Everywhere there are piles of débris of all kinds: empty tins
of canned food, disembowelled knapsacks, helmets riddled with holes,
rifles shattered and splashed with blood. In the midst of these ghastly
heaps a white shirt flutters, hideous with red clots. An intolerable
stench poisons the air. To crown it all, the Boches send us some
tear-shells, which make the air impossible to breathe. And the heavy
hammer-blows of the shells never cease from echoing all around us.”
This is the picture of that June evening drawn by Captain Delvert, who
is in command of the defence of R¹. R¹ will hold out until the 8th,
and will not be taken until the night of June 8-9. Just as an artist
makes a rough cast before carving the statue in marble, so the defence
of the redoubt is a sketch, in miniature, of the defence of the fort.
As regards this episode of the fort, it is best not to interrupt the
story, but to follow it to the end, looking ahead for a while. In any
case, R¹ fights a lonely battle, unconscious of what is going on at
its right or its left, not knowing whether the fort is alive or dead,
imagining that it is still guarding one of the fort’s flanks, when the
enemy has already succeeded in passing between the entrenchment and the
counterscarp. He who led the resistance has a peculiar right to act as
its historian. Here, then, is a portion of Captain Delvert’s admirable
notes, from June 2 up to the evening of the 5th, when he was relieved:
_Captain Delvert’s Diary, June 2-5_
“_Friday, June 2._--A night of agony, broken by continual alarms.
Yesterday we were not replenished. Thirst is what troubles us
more than anything. Biscuits are being looked for.... A shell has
just made my pen slip. It fell not very far off. It landed in
headquarters by the door, and pulverized my quartermaster-sergeant,
poor little C----. Everything suffered from the concussion. I was
covered with earth, but was quite unhurt--not a scratch!
* * * * *
“_8 o’clock_ P.M.--The Boches opposite us are emerging from their
trench. Here, every one is at the loophole. I have had grenades
handed out to the whole company, for at the distance where we are
the rifle is useless.
“Here they come!
“‘Forward, boys! Stick to it!’
“S---- cuts the wire and we fling our bombs.
“The Boches reply to us with rifle-grenades, but their range
is too long. Those who came out of the trench, taken aback by
our reception of them, turn tail and make with all speed for
Sarajevo--except those who here and there, sometimes in groups, are
left stretched out upon the plain.
“From Sarajevo (the Sarajevo trench, occupied by the enemy, is
scarcely 50 or 60 yards from the redoubt) shadows can be seen
flitting out hastily and betaking themselves to the rear:
doubtless this is the second wave that is ebbing back.
“‘To your rifles, lads! We must follow them up!’
“Ch---- sends up a red rocket. If we could use 75’s now, the
conditions would be ideal.
“All of a sudden there is a spurt of flame behind us, with torrents
of black and white smoke. It is as though fiery fountains were
playing. There can be no doubt about it! They have forced a passage
on the right and are directing a liquid fire attack at us.
“But now, from the conflagration, red and green flames are rising.
What can it be? Ah, it’s my store of rockets that is ablaze. At
such a moment! Luckily the Boches have been well looked after. Some
poor devils rush down on the right, with loud shrieks. A few of the
men near me take alarm and leave the loophole.
“‘Back to your places! Good heavens, what do you think you are
doing? And you, you pack of fools, bolting away because a couple of
rockets catch fire!’
“In less than two minutes order is restored.
“The flames rise and bubble incessantly, in the blackness of the
night, amid the shower of shells. Every moment a fresh rocket
gushes out into flame.
“The blaze reaches headquarters, and two tongues of fire soon dart
out from there. First of all we must save the grenades, which are
quite close to us. A sack of cartridges has been caught in the
furnace, for we can hear the crackling. The worst of it is that the
walls are made of sandbags and also help to feed the flames. Then
there are the shells, and the bullets that never stop whistling.
“At last! All the cases of grenades have been cleared away.
Shovelfuls of earth are thrown on to the fire, which is now
beginning to grow less violent.
“Fortunately, our bombs have had a sobering effect upon the Boches.
“True, we must go and look for more grenades if we wish to hold
out against a fresh onset. Nearly twenty cases of them have been
emptied.
“_10 o’clock_ P.M.--A man comes from the Colonel’s headquarters
with five water-bottles--one of them empty--for the whole company.
The bottles hold four pints each. This makes not quite eighteen
pints for 60 corporals and privates, 8 sergeants and 3 officers.
“The sergeant-major, in my presence, distributes this water with
scrupulous fairness. It has a taint of corpses.
“_Saturday, June 3._--I have not slept for nearly sixty-two hours.
“2.30 P.M.--The Boches are making a fresh onslaught.
“‘Keep cool, my lads! Let them get well out! We have to husband our
ammunition. At twenty-five paces! Let them have it hot and strong
when I give the word of command!
“‘Fire!’
“‘Jump to it!’
“Crack! go the rifles, all together. A smart piece of work. Well
done! Black smoke rises. We see batches of Boches spin round and
fall. One or two get up on their knees and manage to crawl away.
Another lets himself roll down into the trench, so great is his
haste. Some, however, advance towards us, while their comrades who
remain in the trench riddle us with bullets.
“One of them even comes right up to the wire entanglement, three
yards from the parapet. D---- lays him out with a bomb flung fair
and square at his head.
“At three-thirty they have had enough, and withdraw into their
lair. The sun is shining brightly. A song rises to my lips.
“‘You are in good spirits, sir!’
“‘Obviously. After all, when the die is cast----’
“At six o’clock the German stretcher-bearers come out to pick up
their wounded. I forbid my men to fire upon them.
* * * * *
“The Germans pass the dyke without a stop. They occupy R¹. We are
hard pressed on all sides. The situation is highly critical. The
horror of it grips our very heart-strings.
* * * * *
“This evening, the Boches clear the way with heavy artillery fire.
We shall certainly have to face a fresh attack.
“I order my men to reconstruct the machine-gun emplacement, which
has been destroyed during the day, and to take up a position with
the one of the two guns which they have succeeded in repairing.
“For drinking-water, as it is raining, the men have put their mugs
outside, and have laid down canvas.
“At 8.30 P.M. the gentlemen over the way emerge from Sarajevo.
“The _poilus_ rejoice at this. At 15 yards they send them such
a violent barrage of bombs, supported by machine-guns, that the
Germans are not inclined to press the point. The attack is brought
to a dead stop.
“At 10 P.M. an officer appears in my quarters.
“This is to announce reinforcements, some details of the 124th
and 298th Regiments which have come to help in the defence. The
sorely-tried little garrison of R¹ is already greatly thinned in
numbers.
“The shells begin to fall again.
“It is impossible to light a candle in the C.O.’s headquarters. If
the least bit of light is seen from outside, the Jack Johnsons land
on the spot.
“In order to make out my report for the past twenty-four hours, I
have to crouch down in a corner, under a blanket, and write on the
ground.
“As for taking a moment’s rest, that is not to be thought of. The
bombardment does not break off for a single minute, and, what is
more, we are so much pestered with fleas that we scratch ourselves
as if we had the itch.
“_Sunday, June 4._--‘They’re not up to taking R¹, those Boches,’
cries one of my _poilus_ to me as he passes.
“I was at the redoubt, organizing the connections with my left.
“‘Well, about twenty-four hours ago you had a pretty gruelling time
of it here,’ remarks X---- to me.
“‘Yes, you saw those grenades being handed out.’
“At the same moment comes a significant crackle. A duel of grenades
is in progress.
“I hastily scramble up the narrow path which leads me into the
trench and reach my post in the fray.
“The weather is superb. The bombs are roaring on all sides. A
grenade duel is a fine sight: the bomb-thrower, firmly ensconced
behind the parapet, hurls his bomb with the graceful swing of an
athlete.
“S----, crouching down near the grenade cases, calmly cuts the
wires and passes them to us without a word. A dense black smoke
rises heavenwards, in front of the trench.
“At four o’clock all is over, but for a few rifle-volleys. These
are like the final sobs of a long spell of weeping.
“The sunshine is glorious, and makes one realize all the more
keenly the utter desolation of this ravine.
“Some wounded come down, streaming with blood.
“The dead are brought in, among others poor D----, who rose up in
the trench in order to smite down a Boche officer, and had his
skull pierced.
“At the end of the trench occupied by bomb-throwers of the 5th, and
ten men of the 124th, two Boches entered and were blown to atoms.
“A prisoner comes down. His face is beardless, his eyes are sunken.
He lifts his bleeding hands and shouts ‘Kamerad!’ Our fellows take
hold of him and hurry him off to the dressing-station. I go to
visit that dressing-station. It is a gloomy place. In a dark room,
with only one candle for a light, the patients are laid out, and
one hears a constant groaning. They recognize me and call out to
me. One of them has been asking for me long before I came in; he
wants me to give him news of his brother. Another requests me to
write to his parents.
“Poor Corporal O----, whose face already has death written all over
it, bids me a farewell that draws tears from my eyes. All are in
dreadful agony, for they are parched with fever and haven’t a drop
of water to drink.
“In the curtain of the fort, another German prisoner, one of the
1916 class: a savage-looking brute. Next to him is an N.C.O.,
short, spare, light-haired, aged about twenty-four, clearly a man
of good breeding; he is an architect from the outskirts of Cologne.
* * * * *
“_6 o’clock_ P.M.--The bombardment opens again.
“A stretcher-bearer, gasping for breath, comes to lean for a few
moments against the wall of my headquarters. His plucky, honest,
good-natured face is now worn and hollow; his eyes, with blue
circles round them, seem to start out of his head.
“‘Sorry, sir, but I am simply done up. There are only three of us
stretcher-bearers left; the others have been killed or wounded. For
three days I haven’t had a bite of food or drunk a drop of water.’
“One feels that his frail body only lasts out through a miracle of
energy and will-power. They are always talking of heroes nowadays;
here is a hero, a more genuine one than many who are so acclaimed.
“The appalling cannonade goes on all the time.
“There are no green rockets.
“D----, R----, and I, under a low shed built of planks covered
over with a few sandbags, wait for the shell which will blow us to
pieces. We all look glum. The horror of the situation is clutching
at our very vitals.
“8 P.M.--We are relieved!
* * * * *
“11 P.M.--A note from the colonel: In view of circumstances which
have arisen, the 101st cannot be relieved.
“Thanks!
“What a disappointment for my poor lads!
“Lieutenant X---- is astounded at them, and with good reason. But I
have only thirty-nine left!
“_Monday, June 5._--I should like to take a rest, but the fleas
seem to have an objection.
“Since the relief has been countermanded, the company won’t have
any water to-day. As soon as I received the order I sent out a
fatigue party for water. It did not come back. It must have been
overtaken by daylight. Probably it is held up at Tavannes or in the
tunnel.
“Luckily it is raining. The men go to spread out canvas so as to
catch the water.
“One’s throat is parched with a terrible thirst. I am hungry. To
eat bully beef with biscuit will make my thirst still worse.
“‘Coffee, sir!’
“H---- is in front of me, with a smoking mess-tin in his hands.
Yes, it really is coffee! I can hardly believe my eyes.
“‘I found some coffee tablets, sir, so I said to myself, “This is
where I come in! I’ll make coffee.” Would you care to accept the
first mug, sir?’
“What good fellows they are! I am so deeply moved that I don’t know
what to say.
“‘But what about you, old chap? And your mates?’
“‘We have some for ourselves.’
“‘Well, I can’t accept a whole mug! Just a mouthful, that’s all.’
“‘No, no, sir; it’s for you. Come on, V----, pass along some mugs;
I shall need the mess-tin.’
“I give in without further resistance. I carefully put the mug
aside. It will enable me to eat a biscuit.
“What good fellows! What good fellows!
“5 P.M.--The order for the relief has come. If only it isn’t
countermanded!
“We shall leave our dead in the trenches as a souvenir. Their
comrades have piously laid them out of the way. I recognize them.
Here is C----, with his velvet breeches; A----, poor youngster,
of the 1916 class; and D----, stretching out his waxen hand, the
hand that once flung bombs so valiantly; and P----, and G----, and
L----, and so many others!
“Alas! how many ghastly sentinels we leave behind! There they
are, lying in a row on the breastwork, stiff and stark in their
blood-stained, blood-dripping canvas,--grim and solemn guards of
this nook of French soil where it seems that, even in death, they
would fain bar the way to the enemy.
“_9 o’clock_ P.M.--The relief.”
* * * * *
The uninterrupted bombardment, the fire in the neighbourhood of the
grenade store, the daily onslaughts, the lack of provisions, the
lack of water, the lack of sleep, the smell of the corpses and the
asphyxiating shells, the mind preyed upon by the sense of death as the
body is preyed upon by vermin,--these men have endured all. And because
the sun is shining, the captain finds a song rising to his lips.
“You are in good spirits, sir.”
“Obviously. After all, when the die is cast----”
The whole attitude of our soldiers is summed up in that phrase. A
private as he passes exclaims with a laugh:
“They’re not up to taking R¹, those Boches.”
* * * * *
Yes, the whole attitude is summed up in this: to stick to one’s post
and to think nothing of self.
The 6th Company of the 101st is relieved on June 5, in the evening,
by a company of the 298th, which will hold out for three days longer,
under more and more critical conditions, but will be outflanked in the
night of June 8-9. The enemy has managed to make progress on the right.
The fall of the fort, in the early morning of June 7, has given him a
tactical point.
R¹, however, throughout the whole siege of the fort, from June 2 to 7,
has floated, like a fishing-boat that has mastered the waves, in the
wake of the great vessel.
III
THE STRANGLEHOLD TIGHTENS IN THE EAST
(JUNE 2)
On June 2, at six o’clock in the morning, Colonel Tahon, commanding the
142nd Regiment, takes over the command of the sector stretching from
Fort Vaux to Dicourt bottom, to the south-east of the fort.
The plateau on which the fort is situated makes a bend immediately
to the east towards La Horgne bottom. Damloup village lies along the
border of the Woevre, at a point where the ground falls away from a
promontory that separates the La Horgne ravine and La Gayette bottom.
This La Gayette bottom skirts the wooded height of La Laufée, on the
other side of which lies Dicourt bottom. It is worth while describing
once more the lie of the land in this region.
I saw Colonel Tahon on a Sunday in July, at the new headquarters then
occupied by him in the Argonne. This post hid itself coyly in a leafy
retreat. The air was heavy with heat; it was warm even in the shade.
In the branches of the trees, wherever the light penetrated, insects
were humming. Here and there you came across a sentry or a fatigue
party, disturbing with their footsteps all this luxuriant growth of
the virgin forest. Not a rifle-shot could be heard; only now and then
came a stray shell, that seemed like some rude interloper. Without this
reminder of actualities, one might have fancied that life had come to
a standstill here--the same feeling that steals over one on a Sunday
excursion to the country. At one time this scrap of soil was fiercely
wrestled over and watered with blood. “At one time”: was it, then, so
long ago?
In the colonel’s thoroughly sheltered quarters there was a very
pleasant coolness, as in a cellar. A certain degree of comfort
prevailed here: armchairs, a table, and on the table a photograph,
plans, maps. The longing for domesticity takes hold of the wanderer
so very soon: the commonplace dug-out which he will have to leave
to-morrow becomes in a few moments, and for a few moments, a real
home. All that the 142nd had done during those memorable June days was
revealed to me there by its chief. He was careful to speak of it with
fairness and moderation, and to restrain the enthusiasm which prompted
him to set his men on a pedestal; that I learnt from the lips of those
men, who had returned from so great a distance. If you have not seen
things yourself, the next best course is to question those who have
seen them.
When he came to occupy his post on June 2, at 6 o’clock A.M., a portion
of his troops, placed at the disposal of the previous commander, were
already in line. Of the 2nd battalion (under Major Chevassu) one
company (the 6th) formed the garrison of the fort, and the 7th, 8th,
and 5th Companies held the approaches to the north and east. The 1st
battalion occupied Damloup and the Damloup battery; the 3rd (under
Major Bouin) Dicourt and La Laufée. The night had been one of great
activity. The fort had been subjected to assaults. Alarming rumours
were going abroad; the fort, it was said, had been taken, shadows had
been descried on the platform. At daybreak, the air was still foul with
the gas of countless asphyxiating shells: in the ravines, especially in
La Horgne bottom, the clouds left by these gases were trailing, like
those mists that rise in the morning from the rain-soaked earth.
At eight o’clock a sergeant runs up all bathed in sweat, scared and
breathless.
“Damloup is lost. The Boches are on the way.”
Immediate measures have to be taken. The artillery must open a
curtain fire in front of and to the east of Damloup and in La Horgne
ravine, in such a way as to prevent any advance on the part of the
enemy. The alarm has been given to Bouin’s battalion, and one of its
companies--the 11th, under Captain Hutinet--has been ordered to make a
prompt counter-attack. The 4th Company (under Captain Cadet), which has
been detached from the Damloup battalion in order to hold the battery,
mans the Saales trench which connects them, in order to oppose any
sortie of the Germans, should the latter attempt to debouch from the
village. Finally, reinforcements are expected of the brigade, which
places at the disposal of this sector Pelissier’s battalion of the 52nd
Regiment.
Scouts who have managed to escape from Damloup come to confirm the news
brought by the sergeant. With the aid of the dense, deadly vapours
emitted by the asphyxiating shells--these vapours still hang about La
Horgne and La Gayette bottoms--the enemy has been enabled to penetrate
into the village. The look-out men, gassed or taken unawares, have
given an inadequate alarm. There has been fighting in houses and
cellars, under a fire of flame-throwers and bombs; a difficult and
tardy defence which has not saved Damloup. And the enemy will certainly
try to advance towards the promontory.
He is forestalled by Hutinet’s company. It has taken that company only
a little time to reach shelter and, by the La Bruche communication
trench, running parallel with the pier at the end of which the village
lies, to march upon Damloup. Only a little time, and how valiantly this
force rushes to the rescue, officers and N.C.O.’s at its head! Only a
little time, and the enemy has already consolidated his gain.
An officer of the company charged with the defence of the Damloup
battery, Second Lieutenant Brieu, was an eye-witness of the struggle,
and gives the following details: “We see our comrades starting off,
their heads lowered, and jumping from shell-hole to shell-hole. The
Germans, however, have brought up machine-guns, which mow down our poor
_poilus_, and these complete the task of shattering the counter-attack.
In a few minutes the unlucky 11th is wiped out, and Captain Hutinet
and two second lieutenants are brought in to us badly wounded. What is
left of the company goes on fighting, but its effectives are terribly
reduced, and this tiny band comes to take refuge near us. At this
moment Colonel Tahon, being apprised of the state of affairs, orders
us to hold the battery at all costs and to prevent the Boches from
advancing. Captain Cadet strengthens the position with the 4th and the
remnant of the 11th, and also with a machine-gun section. We set to
work energetically, for we realize that the Germans will try to take
the important position that we are occupying. Throughout the day we are
on the alert....”
Thus the counter-attack on the 11th Company of the 142nd Regiment has
been broken by machine-guns set up at the exit from Damloup, scattered
on the bits of roof that have been spared by the bombardments, or
hidden behind the fragments of wall. Must it be started all over again
with more numerous effectives? Pelissier’s battalion of the 52nd is
ready to march; grenades have been handed out to it. But the few hours
that have elapsed have given the enemy an opportunity of entrenching
himself more strongly. Damloup, on the western side, is easier to
defend than to attack. The ravines that skirt it, as far as the
southern slopes, are in the hands of the Germans, and the promontory
that leads to them is narrow. What is more, the reinforcements have
been seen coming from Dieppe, and working parties have been signalled
to the artillery on the western and southern sides of the hill. It
would be preferable to fortify the Damloup battery, the southern slopes
of La Gayette and La Horgne bottoms, and to profit by the darkness of
night in order firmly to consolidate this new line, which may hold its
ground. And our men set to work, while our artillery goes on constantly
dispersing the massed formations of the enemy and peppering the lost
village of Damloup. “The men dig and take cover. The deluge of iron
has opened afresh and lasts the whole night long; there is a deafening
uproar of continual explosions.” Next day, at dawn, the situation has
changed for the better, and our men resolutely await the attacks.
The bombardment which precedes them demolishes the hastily improvised
trenches facing Damloup and overpowers the battery. It is the tocsin
that sets the conflagration going. It is not until three o’clock in
the afternoon that the Germans come up for the assault. At this point I
have recourse to Second Lieutenant Brieu’s narrative:
“On the 3rd, the rising sun finds each man in his place and the
situation improved. As in a dream, I wonder what this day has in store
for us, and I inspect my men. They are certainly very tired, that can
be read in their faces, but one can see that they are determined and
can be relied upon.
“Yesterday I had a fairly long list of killed and wounded; the number
has grown during the night, and this morning the bombardment claims
fresh victims, among them my poor friend Lieutenant Métayer, killed at
his post, with a bullet in his abdomen.
“All of a sudden, about three in the afternoon, the German artillery,
which has been raging for a few moments, lengthens the range, and
we see the Boches advancing. They are mown down by our rifle and
machine-gun bullets. They falter and stop; we redouble our fire, while
that of our machine-guns ceases. I look and see, in the midst of the
dust, rapidly moving shadows. These are Sergeant Favier and his men; he
has come out of the fray without a scratch. He unearths his gun, cleans
it under the enemy’s fire, and with the help of his men is setting it
up as calmly as if he were at manœuvres.
“About 5 P.M., to our astonishment, we see some sixty French soldiers
sally forth from the German trenches. They come towards us. They have
grenades in their hands and are on the point of throwing them. ‘Fire!
These are Boches!’ I had scarcely uttered this cry before the volleys
followed each other in quick succession, and, of the handful of Boches
in French uniforms, those who were not hit fled like mad and regained
their dug-outs.
“Towards 7 P.M. the Boches advance on the battery from two quarters at
once, the north and the east; their object is to encircle us and seize
the position entrusted to our care. But we hold out, the artillery
delivers a curtain fire with considerable effect, the battalion of the
52nd sends us reinforcements, and we repel all attacks. Some Boches
fall at a distance of less than ten yards from the battery. It is true
that we are in an agony of suspense, but we must stick to our ground at
all costs; this is the order, and we carry it out. At 8 P.M. comes a
fresh onset, and a renewed defence on our part. At last we can breathe
freely, bury our dead, send away our wounded, reorganize our positions,
and make ready to drive back further assaults. It is the third night,
however, that we have had no sleep, and this ordeal of sleeplessness
comes on top of all the hardships we have already suffered. What does
it matter? No one thinks of taking a rest, for we must guard the
territory placed in our keeping.”
The Germans have attacked the position of the battery from three
sides: to the east, debouching from Damloup village in French uniforms;
to the north, opposite the Saales trench; to the west by going up the
La Horgne ravine. All their onslaughts have failed, but they have come
up to within ten yards of the battery. It has been a sharp struggle.
Pelissier’s battalion of the 52nd has provided reinforcements. The
fire of Chevassu’s and Bouin’s battalions, of the 142nd, the one to
the left, the other to the right, the one above the La Horgne ravine,
the other above the La Gayette ravine, has worked havoc in the enemy’s
ranks. His losses have been heavy. At the bottom of the ravines the
blotches of grey-green uniforms have grown more and more numerous. The
order given charged us “to resist on the spot with might and main and
to hold our positions.” It has been faithfully carried out. Shall we be
able to carry out the second part of it on the morrow?
In consequence of the losses and the men’s exhausted condition the
situation is critical. The enemy continues to mass in the La Horgne
ravine. Our artillery fires on these groups; they scatter, only to be
re-formed. And on the ridge of Vaux there appear German detachments,
which our machine-guns riddle with bullets. Is the fort still in our
hands? That is the crucial problem.
At daybreak a patrol carried out in front of the battery brings in two
prisoners; according to the information they supply, five companies
occupy Damloup, while three others have left the village and are under
orders to attack the battery.
“Throughout the whole day of June 4,” Second Lieutenant Brieu notes,
“the Germans bombard us furiously, and even in the evening they launch
a vigorous attack. Our rifle-fire brings them to a halt. It is at this
moment that our brave captain and beloved comrade Cadet falls, struck
by a bullet in his forehead. While two privates convey his body a
little way to the rear, we go on fighting. At last, in the evening, we
are relieved.”
The effective firing of our artillery upon Damloup, upon the La Horgne
ravine, and in front of the battery crumples up the enemy’s forces,
and the night passes without an attack. The relief, by a battalion of
the 305th, is carried out without losses. On June 5 there is a renewed
bombardment and a renewed assault from the direction of La Horgne. This
assault is shattered before it can get into full swing.
What took place at Vaux on the western side from June 1 onward also
took place to the east on June 2 and the ensuing days. On June 1 the
enemy flung himself at the Hardaumont salient and gained possession of
it. From that point he penetrated into entrenchments R³ and R², but
his way was blocked at Fumin Wood and in front of R¹. Up to the night
of June 8-9, R¹ resisted all attacks. In the same way, on June 2, the
Germans, taking full advantage of the poison gas attack that paved the
way, occupied Damloup, but the Damloup battery deprived them of the
outlet from the village. In vain did they rush against this battery
on June 3 and 4 with ever-increasing forces; they could not contrive
to make an entrance. Its defence, more fortunate even than that of
R¹, will be prolonged until July 2. Even on July 2 the enemy will be
immediately driven out, and will not come back, this time to hold it
for good, till the 10th.
Thus the movement whereby it was intended to envelop the fort was
hampered on the right and on the left by the auxiliary defences, which
were unable to save the fort, but, even after its loss, forced the
enemy to slacken his onward pace.
The fine defence of the Damloup battery was kept up by units reduced
in numbers, limited to their emergency rations, suffering from lack
of water, and unable to obtain any rest or sleep. It seemed as if the
unexpected loss of Damloup made the position almost untenable. But is
any position untenable when troops are resolute? Fort Vaux is about to
reveal to us unsuspected powers of endurance.