WITH THE BRITISH ARMY. THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE
_Paris, Sunday, September 6th._ Since the French Government left Paris
we have been totally ignorant of all that is going on outside of the
city walls. For the past few days everything has been hazy rumor.
During all last week we expected the Germans to march into Paris any
day; for their headquarters were at Compiègne, their heavy advance at
Senlis and Coulomiers, and their cavalry at Pontoise and Chantilly.
With the Germans only fifteen miles from the gates of Paris, the
newspapers make no definite mention of the fact, but fill their space
with accounts of the great victories which the Russians think to win
in Silicia. Rumor has it that the Germans have even encircled Paris
and are at Fontainebleau to the south-southeast. This is highly
improbable, but we have already seen that the wildest improbability
of one day becomes an actuality the next. Everyone at the Embassy, and
indeed all Paris, is desperately anxious for news. Even unfavorable
news would be better than this prolonged suspense. Everyone inquires
and wonders and queries, but no one knows what the real situation
is--where the German army is stationed, what its next move may be, or
if any of the Allied army is between it and Paris.
After several days of great tension, desperately trying to the active
American temperament, I decided that the easiest way to find out what
was happening outside the city was to go and see. It was first
absolutely necessary to obtain permission from the authorities of
Paris to pass out of the gates--as without proper papers I would
certainly be arrested. I, by this time, knew personally many of the
police officials in the city, having interviewed them hundreds of
times in regard to German and Austrian internes. Finally I found one
who thought he knew me well enough to trust me with a pass. He
explained that the garrison of Paris occupied a zone which extended
out from the walls ten miles in all directions. Outside this were the
moving armies, and once beyond the defensive zone we could, at our
own risk, go where we chose. My permit stated that we were bound for
Lagny, which is about twelve miles from the gates and well outside the
circle of defense. I took one of the Embassy automobiles driven by a
skillful American amateur, Melvin Hall. He drove his own six-cylinder
high-power car, carrying a light touring body.
We left the city about four o'clock in the afternoon by the Porte de
Vincennes. Immediately we left the walls behind us, we found all the
roads guarded by French troops and barred by elaborate obstructions.
Every two or three minutes we were brought to a stop by little gated
forts built across the highway, which were loopholed for rifles and
commanded the road in both directions. These were designed to retard
German scouting parties or halt German mitrailleuse automobiles. The
barriers were built of an extraordinary variety of material: trees,
paving-stones, barrels, carts, hen-coops, sandbags, boxes, and
fence-rails. At each barrier were stationed a score or more of
soldiers, and as one approached, one saw the gleam of bayonets and
heard a sharp, imperative "Halte-là!" When we came to a full stop, two
or three of the sentinels would step out cautiously and suspiciously,
their rifles all ready for action, while in a gingerly way they
examined our papers.
The barriers were usually placed in positions of strategic importance,
on hills or ridges, and always one was found at each end of the main
thoroughfare of every village. All the side streets of the villages
were closed and fortified, and any opening between the outermost
houses was piled high with obstructions. Each little town within the
fortified zone thus became itself a small fort, a complete circle of
defense. We travelled along slowly for some ten miles, being halted
and examined about every half mile. Finally we came to a great trench
which ran across the fields on either side of the road. Facing away
from Paris, one looked over a valley, and in the distance could
distinctly hear the boom of guns in action.
We were now at the outer line of the defense zone, within which all
the roads, bridges, and valleys were held by infantry working in
conjunction with the large forts placed at intervals in the great
circle. Outside of this zone is open country in which battles are
being fought; where and when, it was our aim to discover.
At the trench where we halted, the men on guard were very much on the
qui vive and the officers were busy with their field-glasses, for they
had just received warning that German cavalry were in front of them in
the valley over which we looked. We stopped to talk for a few minutes
with the commanding officer, and then, releasing our brakes, slid
quietly out in front of the trench, down the hill.
It was silent and lonely in the valley; the whole countryside was
desolate. We saw neither soldier nor civilian. The very air seemed
charged with disaster. In a few minutes we ran into Lagny, which was
absolutely deserted. A curious sensation it is to enter a town having
all the marks of being inhabited and yet to sense the utter absence of
human beings. On the village square, however, we found the Mayor, who,
like so many brave French officials throughout the country, had felt
it his first duty to stand by his community, come what might to him
personally. He told us that the Germans were spread all over the
country between Lagny and the Meaux, ten miles away, and added that
their cavalry had been through the town recently and might return any
minute. He then warned us that we could not cross the Marne, which
ran through the village, because the bridges were all down. We,
therefore, turned south toward Ferrières, at right angles to our
original course, and parallel to the walls of Paris.
Before reaching Ferrières, we again touched the outer lines of the
fortified camp. Here a big standing trench was occupied by French
infantry which had been in action with some German cavalry only a few
minutes before. The captain in command asked us to take a soldier who
had been wounded back to the brigade hospital some two or three miles
to the rear. This we did gladly and found the hospital located in the
schoolhouse of a small village. Here we also encountered a wounded
English private who was manifestly grateful to hear the sound of his
own language. The village was occupied by a large body of French
Hussars who were there encamped. Some of them were rubbing down their
horses, others were cooking supper. The gray smoke of the fires
ascending through the poplar trees, the bare-armed soldiers laboring
over their mounts, the deserted houses, the litter of saddles and
equipment, made a picture not soon to be forgotten.
We returned to the entrenchments again, crossed them, and proceeded to
Ferrières, where we at last found a road which turned off to the east.
We followed this for two miles, passing through the grounds of a large
château only to find the road barred by an impassable combination of
ditches, barriers, and barbed wire. We went back again to Ferrières,
which we learned had been the seat of the British General Staff only
that morning, and from there continued southward for several miles to
another village called Pontcarré. Here at last we found a straight and
open road to the east. We turned down it at top speed, not having the
faintest idea of what was ahead, and ran for ten miles through
deserted farming country in which the only signs of life were two
French cavalry patrols scouting through the woods.
Just as night was falling, we approached Villeneuve-le-Comte. Watchful
sentries in khaki surrounded the village, and the fields around it on
all sides were packed with British troops, who had just arrived and
were in the act of bivouacking for the night. From them we learned
that the German army was less than three miles away at Crécy and that
on the morrow at dawn a great battle was to be staged. All the Allies
had been force-marching to get there in time.
On every side camp fires gleamed out through the gray of the gloaming
and their smoke mounted upward to mingle with the gray of the evening
sky above. Everywhere one saw men and horses blissfully resting after
the long, hot, and dusty march. The men lay upon the ground with every
muscle relaxed, while the horses, with drooped heads, stood first on
one tired hind foot and then upon the other. Long lines of motor
trucks loaded with ammunition were parked along the gutters of all the
roads and byways. Along the crowded highway a lane was, however,
sacredly kept open, and men looked twice before they ventured to cross
it. From time to time an orderly on a motor-cycle, carrying
instructions to subordinate commanders, would zip at a dizzy speed
down this narrow path which was flanked by almost unbroken walls of
men, wagons, and lorries.
The streets of the little French village were crowded full with
khaki-clad soldiers. A battalion of Highlanders were going through
inspection in the dusk. They now numbered only three hundred odd, but
two weeks ago in Belgium they had been eleven hundred strong. An
officer of another regiment informed us that he knew of no British
battalion in all history which had sustained such heavy losses and yet
been able to maintain its formation and fight on. We watched with
interest the Scotchmen of that regiment file by after dismissal. They
were incredibly tattered and torn, their kilts dirty and frayed; many
of them wore big, battered straw hats. The only things about them
which were neat were their rifles, their bayonets, and their
clean-shaven faces. One could certainly have no doubts as to the
excellent state of their morale; we were, indeed, much impressed by
the morale of all these British troops who, notwithstanding the fact
that they had been beaten back during two long weeks across a hundred
and fifty miles of country and had been retreating until that very
morning, in no sense felt themselves defeated but eagerly awaited the
word to advance and attack.
We spent a profitable and long-to-be-remembered hour and a half
talking with the British officers and watching the troops. We had
brought with us a supply of the two things they most craved--matches
and newspapers, and whenever any of these were distributed it nearly
produced a riot. When a box of matches was handed out, two matches
would, as long as they lasted, be given to each man of a company.
Word was passed around that we were to return to Paris that evening,
and first and last we were given some fifty notes written hurriedly by
the men who wished to send a last word to their homes before the
battle which was to begin on the morrow. We, of course, accepted these
notes only with the permission of the officers.
It was long after dark before we started back toward Paris. Mist and
fog hung close to the ground, and it was a weird ride as we felt our
way through lonely woods and deserted villages, being continually
stopped by ditches or barbed wire or a barrier across the road. Often
ahead of us we would suddenly see bayonets flickering through the mist
as our head-lights shone out upon them, and immediately the terse cry
of "Halte-là!" followed; a sergeant would come forward, lantern in
hand, to examine our papers and suspiciously look us over. All the
time we felt that a dozen unseen rifles were leveled at us from
somewhere out in the dark.
We re-entered Paris through the Porte de Vincennes at half-past eight.
After dinner I made a report of our trip to Mr. Herrick, saying that a
great battle was about to begin; that the German armies formed a right
angle, the apex of which was near Meaux, while one side extended north
through Senlis and the other ran almost due east; that between this
German army and Paris were stationed the British and French troops who
would retreat no farther but expected themselves to open the attack in
the morning. After the suspense of the past few days it is a
tremendous relief to have definite news.
* * * * *
_Monday, September 7th._ For me all the world was this morning
electric with excitement. That Paris should go calmly about her daily
routine, unconscious and unconcerned, seemed monstrous. I wanted to
grasp everyone I met and cry: "The Germans are only twenty miles away!
A great battle is even now being fought just outside the gates!--a
battle on the issue of which hangs the fate of France--and much more
than France. If the thin line which stands between Paris and her
enemies does not hold, this day sees France reduced to a second-rate
Power and Paris will again hear the tramp of German armies marching
down the Champs-Elysées!" My feet walked the familiar streets, but
every pulse-beat, every conscious thought was with the Allied armies
of defense with which I had so recently been in touch. The sense of
their near presence and of their great conflict was much more vivid to
me than the objects passing before my physical eyes.
* * * * *
_Tuesday, September 8th._ I spent yesterday and today at the Embassy
superintending the card-indexing of the German internes. Think of card
catalogues! and the battle, perhaps the world's greatest battle,
raging no farther away than one might reach in an hour by automobile!
* * * * *
_Wednesday, September 9th._ Mr. Breckenridge, the American Assistant
Secretary of War, has arrived in Paris, and with him came also Colonel
Allen of the General Staff of the United States Army. Just as I
reached the limit of endurance in card-indexing, release came.
Through the energy and activity of Mr. Breckenridge, a permit has
been obtained allowing Colonel Allen, Captain Parker, and myself to
leave the city and view the battle which is raging outside. We are to
observe and study as much of the operations as possible, in order to
gather information useful to our army in America.
We are allowed to take our own chauffeur, and Melvin Hall, at my
suggestion, has been chosen for this position. We hope to stay a week
and shall leave tomorrow, if the machine can be made ready for so long
a trip in so short a time.
* * * * *
_Thursday, September 10th._ I had this morning a long talk with
Richard Harding Davis. He has just arrived from Belgium and is at
present striving to get permits to see the war in France. He said that
never in his previous war experiences had he seen such unspeakable
atrocities as the Germans have committed in Belgium. He speaks nearly
as vehemently about it as does Dr. Louis Seaman. He is the first
person with whom I have had opportunity to talk who has actually been
in Belgium and saw the details of the violation of that country by
Germany.
Hall was today unable to complete the preparations on his automobile.
On this trip, running through a region devastated by war, we dare not
count on finding gasoline, tires, or food, but must start well stocked
with all these essentials. We wish to keep going at least five or six
days and probably shall find during that time no opportunity to refit.
Hall is, therefore, loading up every spare corner of his automobile
with food, tires, and gasoline cans.
The great cry of the troops at the front is for matches, cigarettes,
and newspapers. I have purchased one hundred boxes of matches, one
hundred and sixty newspapers, and six hundred cigarettes to distribute
among them as chance offers.
It has been raining almost constantly this week. One cannot help
wondering what effect it has had upon the great battle out yonder, the
battle about which we still know so little, and of which we think so
anxiously.