The subterranean galleries of the citadel of Verdun were
constructed by Vauban, and are now a hive of activity--barbers'
shops, sweet shops, boot shops, hospitals, anything and.
everything which goes to make up a small city.
One of the young officers placed his "cell" at our disposal. The
long galleries are all equipped with central heating and electric light
and some of them have been divided off by wooden partitions or
curtains like the dormitories in a large school. In the "cell" allocated
to us we could see the loving touch of a woman's hand. Around
the pillow on the small camp bed was a beautiful edging of Irish
lace, and on the dressing-table a large bottle of Eau-de-Cologne.
There is no reason to be too uncomfortable in Verdun when one
has a good little wife to think of one and to send presents from
time to time.
Emerging from the galleries we met General Dubois, a great
soldier and a kindly man, one who shares the daily perils of his
men. The General invited us to remain and dine with him. He had
that day received from General Nivelle his "cravate" as
Commander of the Legion of Honour, and his officers were giving
him a dinner-party to celebrate the event. "See how kind fate is to
me," he added; "only one thing was missing from the feast--the
presence of the ladies--and here you are."
It would need the brush of Rembrandt to paint the dining-hall in the
citadel of Verdun. At one long table in the dimly lighted vault sat
between eighty and ninety officers, who all rose, saluted, and
cheered as we entered. The General sat at the head of the table
surrounded by his staff, and behind him the faces of the cooks
were lit up by the fires of the stoves.
Some short distance behind us was an air-shaft. It appears that
about a week or a fortnight before our arrival a German shell,
striking the top part of the citadel, dislodged some dust and gravel
which fell down the air-shaft onto the General's head. He simply
called the attendants to him and asked for his table to be moved
forward a yard, as he did not feel inclined to sit at table with his
helmet on.
An excellent dinner--soup, roast mutton, fresh beans, salade
Russe, Frangipane, dessert--and even champagne to celebrate
the General's cravate--quite reassured us that people may die in
Verdun of shells but not of hunger. We drank toasts to France, the
Allies, and, silently, to the men of France who had died that we
might live. I was asked to propose the health of the General and
did it in English, knowing that he spoke English well. I told him that
the defenders of Verdun would live in our hearts and memories;
that on behalf of the whole British race I felt I might convey to him
congratulations on the honour paid to him by France. I assured
him that we had but one idea and one hope, the speedy victory of
the Allied arms, and that personally my present desire was that
every one of those present at table might live to see the flag of
France waving over the whole of Alsace-Lorraine. They asked me
to repeat a description of the flag of France which I gave first in
Ottawa, so there, in the citadel of Verdun with a small French flag
before me, I went back in spirit to Ottawa and remembered how I
had spoken of the triumph of the flag of France: "The red, white
and blue--the red of the flag of France a little deeper hue than in
time of peace since it was dyed with the blood of her sons, the
blood in which a new history of France is being written, volume on
volume, page on page, of deeds of heroism, some pages completed
and signed, others where the pen has dropped from the faltering
hands and which posterity must needs finish. The white of the flag
of France, not quite so white as in time of peace since thousands
of her sons had taken it in their hands and pressed it to their lips
before they went forward to die for it, yet without stain, since in all
the record of the war there is no blot on the escutcheon of France.
And the blue of the flag of France, true blue, torn and tattered with
the marks of the bullets and the shrapnel, yet unfurling proudly in
the breeze whilst the very holes were patched by the blue of the
sky, since surely Heaven stands behind the flag of France."
The men of Verdun were full of admiration for the glorious
Commander of the Fort de Vaux. They told me that the fort was
held, or rather the ruins of the fort, until the Germans were actually
on the top and firing on the French beneath.
I discussed with my neighbour the fact that the Germans had more
hatred for us than for the French. He said the whole world would
ridicule the Germans for the manner in which they had exploited
the phrase "Gott strafe England," writing it even on the walls
anywhere and everywhere. He added laughingly that it should not
worry the English comrades. "When they read 'Gott strafe
England' all they needed to reply was 'Ypres, Ypres, Hurrah!'"