THE BATTLE OF THE AISNE
_Paris, Monday, October 12th._ In writing about the German, Austrian,
and Hungarian subjects of whom we have had charge, I have spoken of
them _en masse_. In reality there have been many cases in whom I have
been personally interested and to whose safety I have given much time.
Their history alone would fill a book. One of these is the case of the
Countess X., member of an old and powerful Hungarian family.
The Count, her husband, was desperately ill in Paris when the war
broke out and he was kept alive only through the devoted care of his
wife. We arranged with the French authorities that the Countess might
remain in Paris with her husband, although all other Hungarian people
were, without exception, being shipped off to detention camps. Later
the Countess twice received notice from the Prefecture that she was to
be immediately imprisoned, and each time by enlisting the personal
assistance of Ambassador Herrick I managed to have the decree delayed.
The children of the family, of whom there were seven under ten years
of age, were living at a château on the French coast, at Paris-Plage,
near Boulogne. When the German army began to sweep towards the coast
in a seemingly irresistible flood, the Countess came to me to say how
fearful she felt for the safety of her children, left in the care of
servants and governesses. Yesterday, when the fall of Antwerp was
confirmed and when even the official announcements went so far as to
talk of fighting in the neighborhood of Arras, she came again. I went
to Mr. Herrick and asked if I might be allowed to go to the coast and
bring the children back to Paris. The permission was the more readily
granted because there were several other errands to be done in the
same direction, notably to carry communications to our Consular Agent
in Amiens, who had remained in that city during the German occupation
and from whom little had since been heard.
The necessary permits have been obtained and these will incidentally
allow me to see something of the front on my way north. I expect to
leave this evening.
Two machines will be needed to bring back the children and their
attendants. There are several young Americans who have given their
services and the use of their private automobiles for Embassy service.
On all previous expeditions I have been conducted by Melvin Hall. He
is at present assigned to other business, but I have secured the
services of another volunteer chauffeur, Francis Colby. I shall travel
in his touring-car and bring back in it the older children and their
English governess. The second machine, a large limousine, will be
driven by the French chauffeur of Countess X., and into it I shall
pack the smaller children and their two nurses.
* * * * *
The condition of the front along which we must pass for eighty miles
is as follows: the battle of the Aisne has now turned into a race for
the coast; each army is trying to outflank the other, the Germans,
according to present indications, getting much the better of the
contest. Everyone's attention seems to be concentrated for the moment
on Calais, and the Allies evidently feel that the chief danger point
is there. I notice with special concern, however, that farther south
the German army is at Bethune thrusting out a wedge toward Abbeville,
on the coast, only thirty-eight miles away. If they can advance these
thirty-eight miles they will win not only all the triangle containing
Nieuport, Calais, and Boulogne, but will cut off such of the Allied
armies as are now concentrated in this area, and also radically
shorten their own lines. Their front, as it now extends from Compiègne
to Holland, measures nearly two hundred miles. If reorganized from
Compiègne to the coast at Abbeville, it would be less than sixty-five
miles. Of course the Allies fully appreciate this danger and are
guarding against it as best they can, but I agree with Countess X.
that the sooner we snatch her children out of the threatened area the
better.
* * * * *
_At the Front, Tuesday, October 13th._ We left Paris last
evening at half-past six and at first made only slow progress owing
to heavy traffic, worn-out roads, and destroyed bridges. We stopped
for supper in poor, wrecked Senlis. This town is no farther from
the gates of Paris than Van Cortlandt Park in New York is from the
Battery, and yet the German armies were in Senlis in September,
battles raged in its streets, shells burst in its houses and
destroyed whole blocks. Indeed, one of the fiercest fights of the war
took place at night in its streets when, during the attack made by the
garrison of Paris upon von Kluck's army, troops were hurriedly rushed
out of Paris in trams, wagons, and taxicabs to fall pell-mell upon the
Germans who occupied Senlis. French colonial infantry played a large
part in this conflict. A weird and awful sight it must have been:
taxicabs and automobiles from Paris charging up the streets vomiting
bullets in all directions, houses catching fire from the bursting
shells, and by the light of their flames the men of both armies
fighting hand to hand, chasing one another through the doors and
windows of burning and collapsing houses, or making desperate stands
behind dead horses, street-barricades, or wrecked taxicabs. It is
said that in every such mêlée Turcos were to be seen exulting in
their favorite sport, close-range fighting.
* * * * *
After supper we passed through Fleurines, Pont Ste. Maxence, and
Blincourt to Estrées-St. Denis, where we spent the night. Along this
road had recently passed a great German army, and their engineers had
constructed new roads to the right and left of the original one, so
that their regiments had been able to march steadily three abreast,
probably no small factor in their successful retreat.
* * * * *
This morning we got under way at half-past six. The day was hazy,
threatening rain; mists rising from the ground made it impossible to
see clearly for any great distance. The heavy atmosphere muffled the
sound of guns so that it was difficult to judge their location even
when we were fairly close upon them. The day was, however, a most
advantageous one on which to move about near the front, provided one
were careful to ascertain where, off in the mist, the enemy's
batteries lay.
We first reached the front at Roye-sur-Matz, which we found was
occupied by a French colonial brigade. This place is about three miles
from Lassigny, which is far within the German lines, and from which
they have recently organized heavy attacks against the French forces.
In Roye-sur-Matz the German shells were bursting, punctuated by the
muffled slump of falling walls. The place had been deserted by its
inhabitants, but Turcos and black Senegalese wandered about the ruined
streets indifferent to the shell fire. For a week past there has been
heavy fighting in the vicinity of Roye and Lassigny, probably the
heaviest that has taken place in the Battle of the Aisne since the
latter part of September. We drove slowly down the main street of the
village looking for an officer who could tell us about the local
geography. We finally met the acting brigadier, a French colonel, who
informed us that it was not safe for us to continue more than a block
farther in the direction in which we were going, as the far end of the
village was "between the lines" and we would there come under the
observation of the German sharpshooters. This officer said that the
best way to follow the battle-line would be to turn back through the
village and take the first road to the right.
We stayed in the village for half an hour longer, and then, faithfully
following directions, went back and took the "first turn to the
right," which proved to be a narrow road whose existence the officer
had forgotten and which was not at all the one he meant to recommend.
We, ignorant of any mistake, went blindly on, down a little hill,
across a small brook, and up a knoll opposite. In doing so we had
actually passed out through the French lines and reached an elevation
squarely between the two armies. The French positions were, as usual,
concealed, and for the moment they were not firing, so that we
remained blissfully unconscious of our dangerous position. Fortunately
for us, the German lines were at this point half a mile away from the
French, and owing to the mist and distance we were apparently
unobserved, since we received no especial attention. As we reached the
top of the knoll it began to rain, making us still less conspicuous
and forcing us to stop and put up the top. We pulled up behind an
isolated barn in order to be somewhat sheltered from stray shrapnel.
As we stood behind the barn, the bombarded village which we had just
left lay below and behind us, and in front featureless fields sloped
away toward some low wooded hills half a mile distant. Suddenly the
constant rumbling of guns was interrupted by four quick, sharp
explosions, and we perceived little wisps of smoke bluer than the
mist trailing up through the tree tops of these hills. These
explosions were French shells bursting over the German trenches, but
we, naturally supposing ourselves to be within the French lines, at
the moment thought it was a French battery firing a salvo.
While we were putting up the top, two French soldiers on picket duty
came by and, lured by the unfailing bait of cigarettes, stopped to
talk to us. Taking it for granted that we knew where we were, they did
not mention our being between the lines, but told us of a great fight
which had last Sunday taken place about two miles to the right of
where we stood. They said that the German and French trenches there
faced one another across a low field and were so near together that at
night the French could hear the Germans singing. Some peculiarity in
the contour of the land had led the enemy to think that here was a
promising point to break through the French lines; consequently a
series of violent attacks had been launched from Lassigny against this
position. These attacks had repeatedly been repulsed with heavy losses
and thousands of dead Germans lay in the field between the two sets
of trenches.
I decided to ask permission to go over this recently contested area,
and therefore turned back to Brigade headquarters in the village of
Roye-sur-Matz, which we had just left. There, in a second talk with
the officer who had previously directed us, I learned for the first
time that we had taken the wrong road and been for a considerable time
between the French and German armies, and only a few hundred yards
from the German trenches. That we had there seen no signs of armies,
guns, or entrenchments, indicates the curious characteristics of
modern warfare, and the invisibility of all combatants even when
actively engaged. The permission which I had desired to obtain to
inspect the ground of the recent battle was refused as being too
dangerous.
* * * * *
We later passed through the village of Guerbigny. Here, as at all
times during our trip, the guns could be heard booming in the
distance. At the farther end of the place a family of peasants, led by
the grandfather, were packing their humble worldly goods into a big
cart to which was hitched an exceedingly old white horse. They were
very sad and explained simply, "C'est dur de partir." They pointed
across a field to a little church tower about a mile away, only dimly
visible through the haze, which still hung low over the landscape,
saying pathetically: "On bombarde ce hameau; c'est là les avant-postes
des Français." Our maps showed that the church tower was in the
village of Erches. A straight road ran down to it from where we stood.
The mist seemed to favor the possibility of our reaching this village
without being too quickly observed by the Germans. We therefore
promptly put on all speed and in a few seconds drew up under the lee
of a battered house, which was on the advance line of the French army,
and were in the midst of the battle. A French officer, who appeared
out of the house, informed us that we were then actually within two
hundred yards of the German trenches, so near, he said, that his men
"knew the Germans in the opposing trenches by their first names."
Seeing a modern battle demolishes all one's preconceived ideas derived
from descriptions of previous wars. One at least expects some sort of
rapid and exciting action. In reality, as we stood in the very midst
of the Battle of the Aisne, there was, in our immediate neighborhood,
only a dead silence. At intervals an angry rumbling would break out
somewhere in the distance, but in the trenches close to our elbows
there was no sound or movement. No birds, no beasts, no men were
anywhere to be seen. This uncanny silence would continue for twenty or
thirty interminable seconds and then a shrapnel would burst close by,
with a sharp, ugly, threatening bang which had no echo; then all
lapsed into silence again. Each shrapnel only made the subsequent
silence more intense, just as a man's footsteps crunching through the
snow-crust of a winter wilderness seem like a brutal intrusion on the
absolute stillness.
We looked behind us and could see no signs of French troops; we peeped
around the house corner and could perceive no indications of the
enemy. It was a monotonous landscape which faded away through the mist
to nothingness, and its only noticeable features were a few shell
craters and two French soldiers sitting close by in the end of a
trench. These men remained motionless so long before one of them moved
that we began to think they were dead. Their comrades were all hidden
in a bomb-proof trench which from any angle was invisible at a
distance of a few yards. Several more officers came out of the house
and chatted with us, or unconcernedly read newspapers which we
distributed and made not the slightest break in their conversation
when a shrapnel burst directly over our heads with ear-splitting
nearness.
The shrapnel arrived without any forewarning scream. This is a sign
that the guns are less than two thousand yards away. For the first one
or two thousand yards of its flight a 3-inch shell travels faster than
sound, but after that distance it so rapidly loses velocity that the
sound of its screech travels faster than the shell and arrives ahead
of it.
* * * * *
We visited the field headquarters of a General, commanding a division
of twenty thousand men, whom we had the pleasure of meeting. Under a
great haystack which stood alone in the center of an open field had
been excavated several rooms used as the General's Headquarters. Some
yards away from the haystack a stove-pipe projected out of the sod in
a foolish unrelated manner; under it was the kitchen in which was
cooking the evening meal for the staff officers. A clump of trees
close by might be called the General's ante-room, for here hidden
among the branches were several officers receiving and sending
messengers and dispatches. Several telephone wires ran to the haystack
and one of them connected the trees with the General's underground
office. In a neighboring wood a troop of cavalry were encamped and
numerous automobiles and motor-cycles were parked, all hidden from
distant outlooks or from aëroplanes overhead.
* * * * *
The area immediately in the rear of the battle-lines is most
interesting, for it is here that one really learns how a battle is
fought. One sees the reserves of men and munitions all hidden
carefully from the view of aëroplanes. Occasionally one catches a
glimpse of the guns, which are usually a mile or so behind the
infantry and are hidden and protected in the woods and valleys. The
artillery seldom sees its enemy or even its own front battle-line, but
fires across woods, hills, and valleys and over the heads of its own
infantry at the enemy beyond. The guns are aimed from mathematical
calculations and the results are checked and corrected by
observations telephoned back from the front.
* * * * *
We arrived in Amiens in the middle of the afternoon and I went
immediately to see the American Consular Agent, M. Tassancourt, for
whom I had messages. I found him in splendid shape and very glad to
welcome me. I discovered later in the day that he had done exceedingly
effective work during the German occupation of the city, and was at
least partly responsible for the fact that there had been no friction
between the German invaders and the population. When our official
business was finished he took me for an inspection of the military
hospitals, which occupied several hours. The city is only fifteen
miles distant from the present battle-line and contains base hospitals
for some forty miles of battle front.
I took special pains to learn the details of the German occupation and
to search for any damage they might have done. There had been no
fighting within the city and it had not been shelled by either side.
The German armies had entered it unopposed and had retired from it
unpursued, both as the result of decisive actions fought at distant
points.
On entering the city the Germans had posted notices warning the
inhabitants to refrain from hostile actions and threatening them with
dire consequences if they did not obey orders. A considerable number
of the leading citizens were taken as hostages for the good behavior
of the populace and an exorbitant indemnity was demanded of the city.
As a result of bargaining and protest this was finally cut down until
the conquerors contented themselves with something like one hundred
and fifty thousand francs in gold, and supplies to the value of about
eight hundred thousand. All this levy was turned over within four
days, after which the hostages were released, the populace having
behaved in a manner satisfactory to the invaders.
* * * * *
The headquarters of the British Red Cross Field Ambulance train of the
Section Beauvais-Lille were temporarily in Amiens. The Consul
presented me to Mr. Fabian Ware, the Commissioner in command, who very
kindly invited me to dine with him and his staff.
* * * * *
_At the Front, Wednesday, October 14th._ We spent last night in Amiens
and after a day near the front returned again to Amiens in the
afternoon. On the way from Pas to Amiens the machine was running
rapidly down the slope of a hill toward a little village in the
valley, when an old white-haired woman detached herself from a knot of
peasants beside the road and suddenly threw herself in front of the
wheels. By putting on the brakes the driver managed to stop just in
time to prevent her being crushed. She then tried to crawl under the
car and was dragged screaming away by the villagers. It seems that
some twenty years ago this woman had been left a widow with one child,
a boy. With endless labor she had brought him to manhood and given him
more than an average education. When the war broke out her son was
immediately called to the colors, while she remained caring for her
tiny house, her chickens, and her cow. When the Germans came a battle
took place in her village, her house was knocked down, her cow blown
up by a shell, and finally her chickens disappeared down German
throats. The poor old woman, refusing to leave the locality in which
her life had been passed, had wandered about for days in the rain and
mud, until cold, hunger, and sorrow had made her light-witted. Then
while roaming aimlessly over the fields she had come upon the body of
her dead son.
* * * * *
On this trip I have travelled along the front from Lassigny to a point
near Arras, or about fifty-five miles of battle-line.
* * * * *
We left Amiens at six o'clock in the evening and passed through
Abbeville on the coast, this being the point before mentioned from
which the Germans were at the time only thirty-eight miles distant and
which they might have reached in two days had they advanced as rapidly
as they did at times during August, or as rapidly as they now seem to
be doing farther north in Belgium. I continued up the coast some forty
miles through Etaples to Paris-Plage, which I reached at ten o'clock.
I went immediately to the residence of the Countess X. and found to my
great satisfaction that the French chauffeur whom I had sent on ahead
to prepare the family for the trip to Paris had arrived safely with
the limousine the day previous and that the children and nurses were
all ready to leave at daybreak tomorrow.
Before going to bed I called on the Mayor and after a long conference
arranged for proper passes to get my charges out of the town the next
morning.
* * * * *
_Thursday, October 15th._ We all got started this morning at half-past
six. I had told the chauffeur to warn the nurses to provide milk,
food, and everything the children would need for the long day's run,
as I planned to make Paris in one day and did not wish to stop except
for emergencies. I put the five youngest "kids" and the two nurses
inside the limousine and took the English governess and the two older
children in the back seat of my own car.
Despite my papers from the Mayor of Paris-Plage, my personal passes,
and a large sign across the front of the automobile reading, "In the
Service of the Ambassador of the United States," I had an exciting
time getting past the gendarmes of the town and the Prefecture of
Montreuil. The difficulty lay in the nationality of the children and
of one of the nurses, all of whom were Hungarians and therefore
officially enemies of France. As such they were not supposed to travel
about, especially not behind the French battle-line. The details of my
struggles are too numerous to relate, but finally we got through
successfully and at good speed ran towards Paris. The day throughout
proved a strenuous one with many detentions caused by suspicious
sentries and over cautious prefects, together with four blow-outs and
one breakdown. Each self-important petty official could see no reason
why I should not spend several hours explaining things for his special
benefit. It was manifestly impossible to keep the babies out
over-night, and therefore I overrode objections, answered innumerable
questions, and freely used the magic name of the American Ambassador.
The frequent tire trouble, which gave the rest of us much anxiety,
filled the heart of little Count Paul, aged seven, with unalloyed
delight, for when the machine stopped to shift tires, he could get out
in the road and listen to the thrilling sound of guns booming off to
the left.
In the end, what had to be done was done. We made Paris and "Mother"
at eight o'clock after a fourteen-hour run--all dead tired, but no
one the worse for the trip.
I obtained a very telling idea of the immensity of the Battle of the
Aisne on this rapid run, for today the atmosphere had cleared and was
in a sound-transmitting mood, so that all day long we could hear the
cannon on our left booming, booming, without cessation--eighty miles
of cannon, or fourteen hours of booming, a big measure. Our route lay
through Etaples, Montreuil, Abbeville, Pont Remy, Aviames, Poix, where
we stopped for luncheon, Grandvilliers, Pontoise, and through the
Porte Maillot into Paris.