THE DÉNOUEMENT
I
THE GERMAN ACCOUNT
On June 7, at ten to four in the morning, Fort Vaux was still breathing.
A German account of its last agonies and its death--doctored, no doubt,
to suit the German public, but nevertheless paying a tribute of respect
to the defenders--was published in the _Breisgauer Zeitung_ of June 16,
17, and 18. The first part is dated June 4, the second June 7. It is
signed by one of the war correspondents admitted to the Great General
Headquarters, Kurt von Reden, but it is dated from “the Great General
Headquarters of the attacking troops,” and it is easy to guess from
certain details that it was revised, if not actually written, by the
Staff. Here is the complete text of the enemy version:
PART I
“GENERAL HEADQUARTERS OF THE ATTACKING TROOPS
NORTH-EAST OF VAUX, _June 4_.
“On June 2, at four o’clock in the morning, the four attacking
companies were drawn up in a semicircle round Fort Vaux, at about
100 yards’ distance; at one swoop they pushed forward even to
the ditch, which, 10 yards broad and 5 deep, encloses the whole
earthwork, in the form of an irregular trapezoid, within its sheer
walls built of large square stones. Across the appalling curtain
fire of the French we had only been able to convey a part of
our war material up to the heights of the fort: flame-throwers,
hand-grenades, axes, and wire-cutters.
“In consequence of the long bombardment with heavy guns, the fort,
though very massively built, was no longer capable of defending
the surrounding space effectively; but the dug-outs, hollowed
out deep in the rocks and covered with reinforced concrete, had
held out. The flanking transverse passages of the fort, too, were
still factors to be reckoned with. Accordingly the first problem
was to make their artillery and machine-guns harmless; for these,
with their raking fire, churned up the bottom of the ditch, and
prevented us from crossing and reaching the interior of the fort.
Each of the two breastworks in front showed an open breach, caused
by very heavy projectiles, in the gigantic blocks of concrete of
which they were formed. The damage was repaired, up to a point,
by sandbags; and, to protect the breach, they had placed there a
machine-gun which might be able to operate towards the glacis. The
principal obstacle, however, was still the guns of the transverse
passages, which from their narrow concrete embrasures could sweep
the short line of the ditches with a pitiless fire. Access to
either of the breastworks was impeded by the fire of a 37 mm.
revolving gun, a 55 mm. gun, and by two machine-guns. Not a cat
could have passed through.
“First of all, the machine-gun, which at the very breach prevented
our approach, was silenced by hand-grenades. Then the pioneers
crept right up to the upper edge of the escarped wall, above
the western transverse passage, set up the flame-throwers, and,
from above, with the aid of a crank shaft, inserted the tubes of
the flame-throwers into the embrasures. A flame of two yards,
accompanied by dense smoke, drove the garrison far away from its
guns.
“At this point some thirty pioneers, taking advantage of the
breaches in the masonry, contrived to get down into the ditch and,
on the other side, to reach the top of the main parapet, where they
lay down and improvised a sort of shelter in the rubbish-heap. This
little band was at once cut off, the French having reopened fire
with the machine-guns; these made a retreat impossible for them,
while in the transverse gallery the smoke had dispersed. In the
tremendous din of the German curtain fire, about 200 yards behind
the fort, cries could not be heard at 20 yards. The officer in
command had to signal with his cap, which he waved in the Morse
code.
“At 7 A.M. we succeeded in capturing the second transverse gallery,
the eastern one, after which the garrison, through a breach made
by the shells, was nearly overwhelmed by a bomb attack; thirty
men were captured, and the machine-guns, with an abundance of
munitions, fell into our hands and were made use of.
“But in the case of the other transverse gallery, the smoke had
only counteracted the effects of its fire for a brief spell; it was
therefore essential to take it, no matter how. Bags were filled
with hand-grenades and passed along the wall until in front of the
embrasures, where they were made to explode. This, however, could
not be done without considerable risk to the brave pioneers, for
the French had placed another machine-gun in a doorway not far
from the embrasures, and could thus shoot from below at any head
overlapping the upper edge of the wall. For all that, about 5
P.M., the explosions were successful, and we were at last able to
penetrate into the transverse gallery which we had first attacked.
The garrison, by a deep corridor passing underneath the bottom
of the ditch, had taken refuge in the interior of the fort. It
had been a lengthy operation, for the explosives, in view of the
French curtain fire, could only be placed on the slope in small
quantities, and even then the danger was terrible. During the
interval of waiting, the pioneers and the infantrymen, who were
not working directly at the explosives, dug trenches above, on the
glacis, and farther west, by the side of the fort; they occupied
these positions with the machine-guns taken from the enemy to meet
a possible attack from the south-west.
“About 7 P.M. we pushed forward towards the gorge of the fort,
after crossing, behind the first parapet, the second ditch, which
under the bombardment had become a wide excavation containing
enormous masses of shattered concrete. The armed turrets on the
first parapet--an observing-station at each of the two breastworks,
a big cupola in the middle, provided with two guns, and a raised
and armoured machine-gun shelter at the left-hand breastwork--were
unfit for further use and stripped of their thick revetment of
concrete; the iron rods of the framework stuck out all over them
like the prickles of a hedgehog. In the same way the infantry
position higher up on the cavalier had been completely ripped up by
the German shells.
“At this point the officer commanding the pioneers wanted to make
his way into the earthwork itself, and that by the same underground
passage which the defenders of the smoked-out transverse gallery
had followed. There was a deep stairway, then a short landing,
then a steep flight of stairs going up to a stout oaken door, which
prevented one from going farther. Pioneer-Lieutenant Ruberg decided
to blow up this door by putting against it all the hand-grenades
required and taking advantage of the ensuing confusion to storm
the position with his troops. In order that the force might not
itself be wiped out by the explosion, it was essential that it
should gain enough time to be able, once the match was lighted,
to go down the staircase and climb up the other side; this would
necessitate a cord burning at least twenty seconds. Lieutenant
Ruberg, for want of explosive petards, accordingly tied together a
dozen grenades. He was fastening them up against the heavy door,
when he heard behind it a whispering on the part of the French, and
the slight crackle that denotes a Bickford cord. There was no time
left to think matters over, for in half a minute at the most the
door would blow up from inside, and in that case the French would
have the moral superiority in the assault. The great thing was to
anticipate them. The Lieutenant motioned to his men to be on their
guard, pulled out the normal detonator of one of the hand-grenades,
which acts in five seconds, and rushed to the foot of the staircase
in order not to be blown to pieces. When he was half-way, a
formidable explosion took place: the charge laid by the French,
acted upon by the other, exploded simultaneously. The pressure of
the air threw the Lieutenant a few yards farther, and he received
several splinters in his back. His pioneers darted forward into the
corridor and reached a crossing, but were then confronted by two
machine-guns placed at about a right angle ten paces to the rear,
so that it became impossible to push on any farther. They had to
possess their souls in patience throughout the night. From now on
there were two commandants of Fort Vaux, a French commandant below
ground and a German commandant above him. The French could not
poke their heads out anywhere without being greeted at once with
bullets or bombs; and the Germans, for the time being, were unable
to advance. A horrible stench emanated from all the open cracks in
the ceiling of the casemates. The corpses of the French killed in
the previous fighting still lay there; there was no means of either
pulling them out or of burying them in the thick, hard stone. In
the course of the night a dozen French tried to find a way out.
Some of them were killed, others taken prisoners by outposts placed
at the south-west of the fort.
“On June 3, at five o’clock, a French airman flew above the
earthwork in order to reconnoitre the position with accuracy. He
came down very low, perhaps 100 yards above the ground, in order
to see better, but he flew with such zigzags and so rapidly that
the sensitive spot, the heart of the aeroplane, could not be hit
in those few seconds. He made his escape; and ten minutes later a
withering shell-fire of 22 cm.’s burst upon the trenches of the
gorge which we were occupying, so that we had to take refuge as
quickly as possible in the casemates that we had captured.
“To-day, June 4, is the fourth day that the fort has been shared
by the two sides; the French are within like mutinous prisoners
defending themselves against their warders. It is a situation which
has never been prolonged to such an extent in the whole history of
fortress warfare.
“The conduct of the French garrison is admirable; but still more
admirable is the heroism of the German companies, which day and
night, without a wink of sleep, without a drop of water, almost
without food, withstand the most terrific fire, and will not let go
their hold until this last corner of the underground passages of
Vaux is in our hands.
“KURT VON REDEN.”
PART II
(Delayed in Transmission and Mutilated by the Censor.)
“GENERAL HEADQUARTERS OF THE ATTACKING TROOPS
NORTH-EAST OF VAUX, _June 7_.
“For five days and five nights the terrific combat has been raging
without respite in the interior of Fort Vaux, up to the moment
when the remnant of the intrepid garrison, deprived of their last
means of resistance, surrendered to the victors.
“I have described at length the engagements of June 2 and 3; the
fighting was continued on the following days with unparalleled
stubbornness and ferocity. The situation was such that within the
fort there had been formed, so to speak, a second fort, which the
French, utterly reckless of their own lives, defended to the very
last gasp.
“After blowing up the heavy door opening on to the corridor which
led to the western observing-station at the barracks of the Gorge,
the Germans advanced step by step in the corridor. It was very
dark, only 90 centimetres wide and a metre and a half high; the
French had raised a barricade of sandbags two yards deep, and had
set up a machine-gun behind it. It was now essential to blow up the
barricade, in order to fall upon another a few yards farther on.
Thus the French were pushed back step by step over a distance of
twenty-five yards.
“Near the gorge, the courtyard of the barracks had previously
formed a concrete platform about five yards thick above the
underground corridors and magazines; but it was now only a huge
ploughed-up crater. The heavy shells, even in this crater, had
hollowed out a sort of funnel, at the bottom of which a narrow
opening, pierced through the last vault, seemed as if it might give
access to the interior of the structure. The French, till then
completely screened from above and entirely shut in, were suddenly
in great danger of being smoked out through this opening. The
bombardment that overwhelmed the fort, however, made observation
almost impossible for us. The French were the first to notice, from
the interior, that the bombardment had almost entirely staved in
a ceiling; they at once occupied the edge of the funnel, stopped
up the hole with sandbags, and installed a machine-gun. Thus they
commanded a portion of that broken country, which now constituted
the top of the fort; In consequence, the German communications with
this top part, which had before this been unhampered, were now
somewhat restricted; nor could they manage to come close enough to
overwhelm the new pivot point with bombs.
“Among the French the signs of hunger and thirst became more and
more marked. Some succeeded in escaping, by the ditch of the gorge
(this was still in their hands), towards the Montagne Wood, in
front of Fort Souville. In this direction lay the first line of
French infantry. By this route, too, the commandant of the fort,
when he had no more carrier-pigeons, sent liaison officers. The
underground telephone communications had been destroyed by heavy
shells.
“On June 5 and 6, the position of the French garrison grew steadily
worse; the number of dead and especially of wounded increased with
rapid strides; at last there were no more than a hundred pints of
water left, even for the wounded. Those who had not been wounded
had not a drop, and had eaten scarcely anything since the 4th.
Yet the French continued to fire from the direction of the gorge,
through the embrasures in the barracks and those in the ditch, at
every target that offered itself. In this way the German garrison
of Fort Vaux suffered losses. Other losses, by no means negligible,
were inflicted upon it by the continual flanking fire directed
against the fort from the infantry tactical point, situated quite
close at hand, to the west; it was provided with a field gun.
Similarly, the high-perched battery of Damloup, on the south,
opened a very troublesome bombardment.
“On the afternoon of June 6 the position of the Germans became
extremely hazardous. The casemates which they occupied were
assiduously peppered, at first with gas projectiles, somewhat later
by heavy shells. The two bombardments were clearly the forerunners
of an infantry counter-attack aiming at the recapture of the
earthwork from the south-west. This attack, however, was brought
to nought by the overpowering effects of the German curtain fire,
which opened as soon as the attack was started.
“To-day, at dawn, the French garrison surrendered through the
medium of its commandant. The prisoners who are beginning to come
in are the living image of misery.
“KURT VON REDEN.”
The text, which has been suitably edited, calls for some brief comments.
The engagement before the fort on June 2 is pictured as quite separate
from the fighting of the previous day round the Hardaumont salient,
Fumin Wood, and the line of entrenchments, and, on the same day, at
Damloup and by the Damloup battery. As a matter of fact, it forms an
integral part of all this fighting. It was the retreat of the details,
placed west and east of the fort and overwhelmed by numbers, that
allowed the enemy to approach the transverse passages.
The number of cannon and machine-guns allotted to the defence of these
transverse passages is doubled in the German version.
The northern ditch, not having been swept by fire, became for the enemy
a sort of stronghold.
The anomalous situation of a commandant of the fort on top and another
inside, the one French, the other German, was not new. It had arisen,
though _vice versa_, on May 22, 23, and 24 at Fort Douaumont, where
General Mangin’s troops occupied the superstructure and a portion of
the casemates.
It was on June 4, towards noon, that the Germans, above the barricade
of sandbags, were able to hurl liquid fire and asphyxiating gases.
The German account informs us of a remarkable episode in the
resistance, or rather completes the reports of an artillery observer
who signalled on June 6 that the armoured turret of the fort would
be gutted. Not only were the besieged shut in and suffocated with
smoke, but the ceiling gave way and fell upon them. An opening was
made in the vault which protected them. They were the first to notice
it, and partly stopped up the fissure with sandbags, but succeeded
in installing a machine-gun, which battered down a part of the
superstructure and seriously interfered with the enemy’s progress.
This machine-gun was so skilfully worked that it did not allow the
assailants to approach and cripple its fire with bombs. This incident
may be assigned to June 5 or 6, for Cadet Buffet’s report, which
summarizes the life of the fort up to the night of the 4th-5th, makes
no mention of it. Thus, up to the last moment, the energy and ingenuity
of the defenders did not cease to be exerted to the full.
There was no plan for a counter-offensive on our part on the afternoon
of June 6. Our attack of the 6th, at two in the morning, had just, and
only just, failed. That of the composite brigade could not take place
until the morning of the 8th. On the evening of June 6 it was, on the
contrary, a furious enemy attack in the neighbourhood of Vaux that was
shattered under our fire.
Finally, is it possible reasonably to compare with the defence kept
up for six days under the frightful conditions already described, the
feat--admirable, no doubt, but far easier to explain--of the attacking
troops, who were relieved, revictualled, supplied with water (even if
only by rain-water--for there were several showers), and breathed an
air which was not tainted and foul?
The true victor in the contest should be mentioned, and the German
account as good as names him when it says: “Those who were not wounded
had not had a drop of water for two days.” Not a drop of water, in the
corridors poisonous with the smoke from bombs and the asphyxiating
gases!
The true victor in the contest was Thirst.
II
THE FINAL EFFORT
“The mountains are lofty, dark, and huge, the valleys deep, the
torrents swift. Behind and in front of the army, the trumpets ring,
and all seem to answer the horn. The Emperor rides in anger, and the
French, wrathful and gloomy, ride with him. There is not one who does
not weep and wail, not one who does not pray to God to guard Roland
until they arrive together at the battlefield and smite valiantly
in his company. But what good is it? All this is useless: they have
tarried too long to arrive in time.”
Charlemagne’s trumpets will not have power to wake Roland at Roncevaux.
On June 7, the fort no longer answers the appeals by visual signalling.
The German communiqué has announced its capture; but had they not
already announced it on March 9? The high command will not surrender
except to evidence. It needs certainty before it will give up the idea
of delivering the garrison. True, the mangled fort is merely a point in
the front, and has no longer any value in itself. But perhaps it still
shelters Frenchmen under its unyielding vaults.
On the 7th, General Nivelle, commanding the Second Army, addresses the
following order to the contingent entrusted with the operations in the
Vaux area:
“The composite brigade placed at the disposal of Colonel Savy,
consisting of the 2nd Regiment of Zouaves and the colonial
regiment of Morocco, has been entrusted with the noblest mission
that a French force can wish for, that of going to the aid of its
comrades-in-arms, who are valiantly doing their duty under tragic
circumstances.
“Chosen out from the heroic army of Verdun among those most worthy
of so glorious an enterprise, the 2nd Regiment of Zouaves and the
colonial regiment of Morocco, supported by a powerful artillery,
inspired by the unconquerable will to pursue their task to the end,
will approach the enemy with their usual magnificent dash, and will
add fresh laurels to those that already cover their flag.
“The nation will know how to show them its gratitude.
“Good luck, comrades, and long live France!
“R. NIVELLE.”
The day of June 7 is devoted to the final preparations. The battalions
possess bombs, rockets, Bengal fire signals, as well as a second
water-bottle of four pints per man. The distribution of cartridges is
completed. Each man must carry provisions for four days, for one cannot
reckon on the possibility of revictualling. Finally, the orders are
read out to each company, so that no man may fail to be alive to the
importance of the task in hand: their comrades are waiting for them to
come to their rescue.
The approach march is made under the worst possible conditions; it is
raining, the ground is soaked, and the night is pitch dark, so that
the guides go astray and the entry of the three companies into line
is delayed. The attack is to be launched at ten past 4 A.M. One hour
previously, the enemy himself starts a bomb attack, and returns to the
charge a second time against Doualin’s battalion at the Belfort trench.
He is driven back, but not until he has caused some confusion in our
ranks.
Nevertheless, at daybreak, the Zouaves and the colonial infantry close
with the enemy “with their usual magnificent dash.” Doubtless, the hope
of bringing succour to the defenders of Vaux is a very slender one.
All the signs, in fact, go to prove that it is too late. If the German
wireless message which announced the capitulation must be received with
caution, the observing-stations have noticed changes in the aspect
of the vaults: in front of rooms 7 and 8, the bomb-proof shelter of
sandbags or stones is almost entirely destroyed.
Under the tornado of fire--for the enemy knows how to keep what he has
won--our infantrymen advance. They want to go on until they get into
touch with their comrades. They will go on.
A shell penetrates into the C.O.’s headquarters. The telephone
apparatus remains intact, but the operator has both hands cut off by a
splinter. He holds out the stumps to his chief and apologises:
“I can no longer telephone.”
Like the attack of June 6, that of the composite brigade succeeds in
encircling the fort. The enemy, however, occupies the superstructure,
and his machine-guns work great havoc in our ranks. His reinforcements
are constantly coming up. The battalion on the right can only just hang
on to the terrain, after very slow progress. In the centre, the advance
continues up to the ditches of the fort. It is at this moment that the
German machine-guns do us the most serious damage. The leaders of the
expedition fall one after the other, among them Major Gilbert and Major
Jérôme de Mouy. The latter was a cavalry officer who had passed the
staff college; he had returned from Morocco and been awarded a staff
appointment, but asked for the command of a battalion of Zouaves.
The two battalions, deprived of their officers, are compelled to give
up the scheme of recapturing the fort and to entrench themselves in the
parallel lines from which they started.
Suddenly an explosion occurs in the fort, and a dense black smoke
issues from casemate 5.
There is no human being left alive in this last stronghold.
At eight o’clock in the morning the battalion of the colonial regiment
which acts as a support still has no precise information about the
operation that has been embarked upon, save that the two attacking
battalions have not returned. Hence they have had to advance, and they
need munitions to ward off the imminent counter-attacks. A fatigue
party of eighty men is told off, under the command of a lieutenant and
of Cadet Jacques Bégouen. They carry grenades, rockets, and Bengal
fire to stake out our lines. Their progress can be followed in detail,
thanks to Cadet Bégouen’s notes, from which I will quote a passage. He
too, later on, will be among the chroniclers of the war. A son of Count
Bégouen, whose historical learning is well known, he has two brothers
serving with the colours--one of them, like himself, belongs to that
heroic colonial regiment of Morocco which distinguished itself at
Dixmude in December 1914, and which, in the battle of Verdun, added new
lustre to its crown of glory.
_From Cadet Bégouen’s Notebook_
“_June 8._
“So we have started in miscellaneous contingents to fulfil one
of the most perilous missions, one where there is need of mutual
knowledge among the men concerned and of good officers and N.C.O.’s
who have confidence in you.
“The guide marches slowly at our head. The men know their
orders--all must follow. We go through a copse of dense
undergrowth, where a deep communication trench is hidden, a place
that cannot be taken under the enemy’s fire. We sink in the watery
mud up to our calves. All is going well.
“We have marched up the counter-slope, and are once more facing the
German sausages.
“At this point begins the zone of curtain fire and of mathematical
pounding which stops only at the French first lines.
“Having come to the end of the road, we climb the steep slope
leading to the ridge. Already the trees and shrubs have been
blasted by the firing.... The battering process begins. But the
German sausages have not yet seen us, and we endure the usual
punishment; barely fifty or sixty shells fall to the right and to
the left of the little communication trench.
“Before crossing the ridge, we take a brief rest. The first
contingent, in front, continues its journey little by little.
“Suddenly the guide says to me, ‘Where am I to lead you?’ ‘To the
first line, I am told.’ ‘But I’ve got to stop at the Colonel’s
headquarters.’ He does not know the way to the first line. We
advance all the same. Here we are on the plateau where so much
blood has been spilt: the communication trenches have become mere
tracks, the forest a few sparse trunks stripped of their branches,
the soil is made up of scraps of all kinds, and the corpses, lying
in batches just as they fell, are in every conceivable attitude....
“I bid my men follow me, jumping across the shell-holes, and we
begin marching for two hundred yards.
“At this moment the guide stops us: ‘Here on the right is the
communication trench leading to the Colonel’s place.’ I still
insist, ‘But I have to go to the first line.’ ‘I don’t know the
way: I am going to the Colonel’s quarters,’ and in less time than
it takes to tell he hurries away in that direction. What can we
do? The men are restless, and won’t march without a guide.... We
all rush in the direction of the Colonel’s quarters. In places,
the communication trench cannot be traced, for it is chock-full of
corpses. All classes of troops are there: engineers, foot-sloggers,
colonials.... In this blend of mud and dead bodies we mark time,
and all that amid an acrid smell of blood and putrefying flesh....
Our nerves are on edge; we begin to become the supermen that we
shall be when the gunpowder has scorched us....
“We come to a relief post for scouts. Our guide is here. I am on
the point of scolding him severely and asking for an explanation,
when a substitute comes to lead us, this time to the first line.
This fellow actually does know the way. We about turn to go back
again upon the road towards Fort Vaux. The men are tired out. We
break off for a rest.
“Urged by the guide, who maintains that the faster we go the better
it will be for us, we resume our march. Once again we are on a
good road. The first fatigue party, led on the direct route by
its guide, is far on ahead. It has passed the plateau and is now
descending the slope of the Ravine of Death. At this moment the
Boches begin to aim at them and start curtain fires; a rain of
steel, projectiles of all calibres, proceeds to fall ... everywhere
one sees things flying in the air....
“Forward! It is a terrible dance of death. The men begin to spread
out; if I stop, they will not start off again....
“The whole countryside is ablaze with sunlight.... An unrivalled
opportunity for taking a splendid photograph: in the background,
on the left, Fort Vaux; on the right, the Woevre plains; on the
left, the few tree-stumps that mark what was once La Caillette
Wood, blackened with 210 rounds of gunfire. In the foreground, the
stricken field where the shell-holes adjoin each other, full to
the brim with dead. And everywhere great geysers, as it were, of
earth and war-material leap into the air under the impact of the
shells.... It was a unique scene, and so easy to photograph, since
it was a part of my duties to do so.... But my camera was at Fort
Tavannes....”
When the onslaughts upon the entrenchments that he was guarding were
at their height, Captain Delvert admired the pose of a bomb-thrower in
action. A soldier of the 142nd who managed to get away from Fort Vaux,
in describing the attack by flames, gas, and explosive petards, and the
giving way of the door, and the men flying in the air, and the Boches
rushing in, and Lieutenant Bazy barring the corridor to them, cannot
help giving vent to the exclamation, “It was superb!” Cadet Bégouen,
leading his fatigue party under the geysers caused by the shells,
feels sorry that he has not his camera with him. Such are the undying
characteristics of our race, ever in love with beauty, ever desirous,
under the most adverse conditions, of seeing life and realizing it to
the full.
III
THE HARVEST OF THE FUTURE
Vaux is lost, for the time being, but Vaux will be regained, and the
battle of Verdun is being won day by day. Day by day the meaning of the
Verdun battle grows clearer. The infantryman who only knows his trench
mates is an atom of a vast army distributed over all the fronts: his
blood and sweat will mingle in history with the blood and sweat of his
unknown and remote brothers. A scrap of disputed territory, which seems
to the men involved an end in itself, is really nothing but a point in
the vast shifting front where the two great forces of the world are at
grips.
On June 12, five days after the capture of the fort, the
Commander-in-Chief informs the Verdun troops of the Russian victories
in Bukovina and Galicia, through the following Army order:
“The plan matured by the councils of the coalition is now in full
course of being carried out.
“Soldiers of Verdun, it is to your heroic resistance that this
consummation is due. It is this resistance that was the essential
condition, and it is on this resistance that our coming victories
depend; for it was this resistance that has created over the whole
theatre of the European war a situation that will soon bring about the
final triumph of our cause.”
The enemy is now held, and will have to submit to our laws and accept
our manœuvres.
On March 10 the enemy climbs the northern slopes of Fort Vaux. He
is now only two or three hundred yards off the counterscarp. To
cross those two or three hundred yards will take him three months.
Three months of superhuman exertions, of ceaseless attacks, of an
inconceivable outlay of munitions and incredible losses among her young
men, the flower of the nation. Three months, as if the war had no other
object than this.
And during those three months the coalition finishes concerting,
preparing, and carrying out its plans.
Fighting takes place in front of the fort, above and within it, from
June 2 to 7. On the 4th, the first Russian offensive is launched south
of the Pripet. It at once forces Austria to abandon its own offensive
against the Trentino.
There is fighting in front of Verdun from February 21, and fighting
goes on there during June and July. The Italian offensive on the
Trentino opens on June 25, while that on the Isonzo begins during the
early days of August. The Franco-British offensive on the Somme starts
on July 1, and the central Russian offensive on July 3.
“Soldiers of Verdun, it is to your heroic resistance that this
consummation is due....”
* * * * *
In _War and Peace_, Prince Bagration, in the course of a battle, hears
bad news, but his coolness astonishes and reassures the aides-de-camp
who bring it. He has an unswerving confidence in Russia’s future.
A temporary set-back cannot make him any less certain of the final
triumph.
“Merely at the sight of him, those who approached him with anxious
looks began to recover their calm....”
This gives us a clue to the comforting words heard at Verdun in March,
when the fort was swept by the storm for the first time:
“You need feel no uneasiness.”
For the future is taking shape.
The fort played its part before the inviolate citadel of Verdun.
And while it was keeping the enemy in check, the storm-clouds were
gathering elsewhere, some day to burst and humble the German might in
the dust.
* * * * *
Hapless fort of Vaux, a stronghold reduced to ashes, a marvel of
endurance, you who pulsated like a human heart, the whole world had
its eyes riveted on you for the space of a few days. The whole world
was not in error when it ascribed to you that significance which your
courage enhanced. You were minister to plans whose full tenor you did
not know, and to-day you play your part in the operations that are
unfolding themselves and will continue to unfold themselves.
Land that has been overrun by the lava of volcanoes shows an
unparalleled fertility when the lava has passed. Upon your tortured
soil a harvest of victories will spring up, and from your defence will
gush forth a fresh and inexhaustible fount of French heroism....
THE END
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation and hyphenation were made consistent when a predominant
preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.
Inconsistent spellings were not changed, as the book contains letters
and diary entries from different writers.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; ambiguous hyphens at the
ends of lines were retained.
Page 185: Text explains that the letter beginning at the bottom of that
page contains spelling errors.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Last Days of Fort Vaux, by Henry Bordeaux