VICTORY
It is now apparent that a record of the battle covering the whole front
day by day would give no clear view of its development. The climax came
not everywhere at the same hour, or even on the same day, but in a
remarkable succession——beginning on the Ourcq about noon on September
9, and immediately afterward on Foch’s front (the two areas most
directly menaced by the advance of French and d’Espérey), reaching de
Langle de Cary the next morning, and Sarrail only on the night of the
10th. It remains to trace the completion of the victory.
Maunoury had failed of his objective: after four days of grinding
combat, he had advanced his centre some 10 miles eastward, but was,
at noon on September 9, still an average of 6 miles short of the
Ourcq, before Vareddes, Etrepilly, and Acy-en-Multien; while his
left was painfully bent back from the last-named point westward to
Silly-le-Long. Every effort to obtain an effective superiority of
strength, and to break through or around the enemy’s right, had been
thwarted by Kluck’s speed in supporting that flank. Looking at this
part of the field only, it might be supposed that a substantial
reinforcement of either side at this moment would have precipitated a
disaster on the other. A wider view shows a very different balance. If
Maunoury could have found one or two fresh divisions, the German I Army
might have been shattered; a further French withdrawal to and beyond
the Marne would not have entailed any such grave consequences. In fact,
both armies were exhausted; neither had any remaining reserve to call
in. The decision came from the next sector of the front.
Since Le Cateau, the little British Army had played only a secondary
part; it was now to have the honour of saving the left wing of the
Allies for the third time. From the moment it began to recross the
Marne, solidly extended by d’Espérey, its intervention became a
conclusive factor. It must have been during the morning of the 9th
that the German Grand Staff reconciled itself to the necessity of a
general retreat, at least from Senlis as far east as Fère Champènoise.
In after years, when the simple art of entrenchment had been elaborated
and the men had become incredibly hardened to shell-fire, these same
wooded hillsides would be contested foot by foot. At this time, freer
and larger movements were required, especially when no considerable aid
could be expected, when supplies were short, and the danger appeared on
two sides. Kluck’s very persistence, not having attained any positive
result, told against him. His men might be persuaded that this was “not
a retreat, but only a regrouping of forces for strategic reasons”;[71]
all officers but the youngest knew that the “smashing blow” had been
broken, the famous enveloping movement had failed, a new plan of
campaign must be thought out. For that, rest must be found upon a
naturally strong defensive position such as the line of the Aisne and
the Laon mountains.
By noon on September 9——a gloomy, showery day——the call was urgent. The
I Army could do no more. Its ammunition was nearly exhausted. Its best
units were physically and morally broken. It had no longer the strength
to bury its dead——they were unclothed and cast upon great pyres of
straw and wood; and the odour of burning flesh added a new horror to
the eastern part of the battlefield. Kluck’s advance from Nanteuil and
Betz, during the morning, was only a diversion, a last blow to secure
liberty of movement. At 11 a.m., the French found Betz evacuated;
Nanteuil and Etavigny were still held. Whipped on by Headquarters,
General Boëlle’s two divisions of the 4th Corps crept forward again.
During the afternoon, aviators observed long enemy convoys, followed
by troop columns of all arms, crowding all the roads from the Ourcq to
the Aisne. For several critical hours they were screened by a vigorous
defence of the centre lines east of Etrepilly and Puisieux. This and a
slight reaction near Nanteuil were the final spasms of the battle of
the Ourcq. We have seen that Marwitz, beaten by the 1st British Corps
at Montreuil-aux-Lions, 13 miles due east of Etrepilly, in the early
afternoon, had gone back to the Clignon, and that the whole angle of
the Marne and Ourcq had been evacuated. Kluck could flatter himself
to have held out to the last possible moment. Gradually the remainder
of his artillery was removed from the Trocy plateau; and, under cover
of night, all but rearguards made off to the north-east. The 6th Army
seems to have been too weary to discover the flight of its redoubtable
foe until daybreak on the following morning. The pursuit began at
once, following both sides of the Ourcq. It was checked on the left by
small detachments under cover of the Forest of Villers-Cotterets, an
obstacle the importance of which was to be more fully proved in the
last year of the war; while Kluck established new lines along the hills
beyond the Aisne, from the Forest of Laigle to Soissons.
So the red tide of battle sank from the stubble-fields and coppices
above Meaux; but burning farmsteads and hayricks, broken bridges,
shattered churches and houses, many unburied dead, and piles of
abandoned ammunition and stores spoke of the frightful frenzy that
had passed over a scene marked a week before by quiet charm and happy
labour. In the orchards and folds of the open land, the bodies of
invader and defender lay over against each other, sometimes still
grappling. Every here and there horses rotted on the roads and fields,
presently to be burned on pyres of wood, for fear of pestilence
arising. Most of the human victims had been buried where they fell;
little wooden crosses sometimes marked their great common graves. On
September 10, General Maunoury addressed to his troops the following
message of congratulation and thanks:
“_The 6th Army has supported for five full days, without interruption
or slackening, the combat against a numerous enemy whose moral was
heightened by previous success. The struggle has been hard; the losses
under fire, from fatigue due to lack of sleep and sometimes of food,
have surpassed what was to be anticipated. You have borne it all with
a valour, firmness, and endurance that words are powerless to glorify
as they deserve. Comrades! the Commander-in-Chief asked you in the name
of the Fatherland to do more than your duty; you have responded to his
appeal even beyond what seemed possible. Thanks to you, victory crowns
our flags. Now that you know the glorious satisfaction of it, you will
not let it slip away. As for me, if I have done some good, I have
been repaid by the greatest honour that has been granted me in a long
career, that of commanding such men as you._”
* * * * *
Fifteen miles of high, open farmlands, cut by deep valleys, divide the
Upper Ourcq from the Aisle. The British Army covered rather more than
this distance on September 11 and 12, meeting serious opposition only
at Braisne and on the high ground between the Vesle and the Aisne.
The cavalry on the left, indeed, reached the latter river at Soissons
on the evening of the 11th. Here the German retreat came to an abrupt
end. Sir John French speaks loosely of the German losses as “enormous”;
in fact, his 1st and 2nd Corps and cavalry took in one day 13 guns, 7
machine-guns, about 2000 prisoners, and many broken-down wagons. The
spectacle of booty, always fallacious, was in this case peculiarly so.
The main body of the enemy was defeated, but not routed; driven back,
but not dispersed. From Courchamp to Soissons, the fullest measure
of the retreat, is, by road, about 60 miles. Many stragglers gave
themselves up along this route in a starving condition; many others hid
for days in the woods of the Brie tableland and the Tardenois, where I
witnessed several man-hunts conducted by French and British rearguards.
In the final pursuit, Kluck may have lost 5000 or 6000 men——a small
number compared with the costs to either side of the previous fighting.
The best of battle-plans is the most adaptable. Perhaps Joffre had
not looked to the British Expeditionary Force for such a contribution
to the general end. Maunoury, by his original orders, was to cross the
Ourcq toward Château-Thierry, driving Kluck up against Bülow; d’Espérey
was to sweep up northward and meet him at right angles. The shifting of
the greater part of the German I Army to the west of the Ourcq, and the
consequent thinning of its connection with the II Army, displaced the
action without changing its essential character. In the event, it was
the British Army that led the northward movement[72]; d’Espérey, who,
at the outset, had four active corps and three divisions of reserve
for a front of only 25 miles (from Jouy-le-Chatel to Sezanne), while
quickly compelling the withdrawal of Bülow’s right, was able to give
his neighbour, Foch, aid without which the whole victory would have
been compromised.
On the evening of September 9, General Franchet d’Espérey issued from
his headquarters at Montmirail the following stirring message to his
army:
“_Soldiers! On the memorable fields of Montmirail, Vauchamps,
and Champaubert, which a century ago witnessed our ancestors’
victories over the Prussians of Blücher, our vigorous offensive
has triumphed over the German resistance. Held on his flanks,
his centre broken, the enemy is now retreating toward the
east and north by forced marches. The most redoubtable Corps
of old Prussia, the Westphalian, Hanoverian, and Brandenburg
contingents, are falling back hurriedly before you._
“_This first success is only a prelude. The enemy is shaken, but
not definitely beaten. You will still have to undergo severe
hardships, to make long marches, to fight hard battles. May the
image of your country soiled by barbarians be ever before your
eyes! Never has a complete sacrifice for it been more necessary._
“_While saluting the heroes who have fallen in the last few days,
my thoughts turn toward you, the victors in the next battle.
Forward, soldiers, for France!_”
At the time when the commander of the 5th Army penned these words, the
situation was a singular one. The issue of the battle as a whole was,
in fact, decided: the retreat of the three western, if not also of the
next two, German armies had been ordered. Yet the only part of the
Allied line that had been materially advanced was that before French
and d’Espérey; and Foch, Langle, and Sarrail were still in a situation
apparently desperate. Instead of being on the Marne between Epernay and
Châlons, Foch’s centre was lying in fragments 30 miles to the south,
at Faux and Salon, after the debacle of Fère Champènoise. Why, then,
did Bülow beat a hasty retreat at about 5 p.m. on that critical day?
We have done justice to the manœuvre of Grossetti’s Division; even if
this had been executed six hours earlier, it could not have sufficed
to produce a transformation so sudden and complete. To understand the
German collapse, a wider stretch of the front at the hour named must be
scrutinised. Its chief feature will be found in the length of Bülow’s
right flank, extended no less than 40 miles from Château-Thierry to
Corroy. Over against this flank were gathered three corps of the 5th
and five divisions of the 9th Armies; while the German thrust was being
made by only four Prussian corps with a few Saxon detachments. The
disparity was greater in quality than in numbers. D’Espérey’s Corps
were relatively fresh, and in high spirits; Bülow’s were fagged and to
some extent disorganised. In these circumstances, the detachment of the
10th Corps to Foch, and the attack of the 1st Corps at Corfelix and Le
Thoult, would probably have an effect upon the German Command which the
transfer of the 42nd Division to Linthes would emphasise. Grossetti’s
movement might be risked; the possibility of a larger blow from the
west against a flank of 40 miles could not be faced. On a smaller
scale, the Saxons were in like danger from the east, where the 21st
Corps, just detrained from the Vosges, had made a disturbing appearance
during the day. The German centre had had too much and too little
success——too little to give an immediate decision, too much, and at too
heavy a price, for the security of its own formation.
That evening it blew a half-gale, and poured cats-and-dogs, along the
Marne valley and the Sezanne hills. The clay pocket of St. Gond became
a quagmire; the few roads crossing the west part of the marshes were
covered by the French “75’s,” and the slaughter they wrought gave rise
to legends recalling what happened a century before. The 10th Corps,
extended by the 51st Reserve Division, struck out eastward during the
night from Champaubert, Baye, and Soizy, and on September 10 cleared
the plain between the marshes and the Châlons highroad. At 5 a.m. on
the 10th, the Moroccan Division and the 9th Corps reached the east end
of the marshes, but were stopped before Pierre-Morains and Ecury, where
a sharp engagement took place. The 42nd Division was also checked on
the Somme before Normée and Lenharrée, as was the 11th Corps, which
had come up on its right, before Vassimont and Haussimont. On Friday,
September 11, the French entered Epernay, the champagne capital; and on
the following day the enemy evacuated the city of Rheims, continuing to
hold the neighbouring hill forts. Thousands of men and large quantities
of ammunition and material were abandoned; but it soon became evident
that the retreat was not an aimless flight. On September 11, 12, and
13, the German gunners on Mt. Berru and Nogent l’Abbesse bombarded
the ancient and beautiful city. The façade of the cathedral, with
its precious sculptures and windows, received irreparable damage;
the choir-stalls and other fine woodwork within were destroyed, the
Archiepiscopal Palace, the City Hall, and neighbouring buildings burned
down.
The establishment of a solid German rampart extending from the Oise
across the Laon hills, dipping to the outlying forts of the old Rheims
defences, and then reaching across Champagne, through the Argonne, and
around Verdun, to Metz, was to prove one of the great achievements
of the war, a defiance through nearly four years of sacrifice. For a
moment, at the end of the battle of the Marne, it seemed that such a
possibility might be averted. Conneau’s 2nd Cavalry Corps, the 18th
Corps, and the 53rd and 69th Reserve Divisions had all passed the
Aisne, between Bourg and Berry-au-Bac, on September 14. Conneau now
found himself supporting a frontal attack of d’Espérey’s 18th Corps
and reserves upon the abrupt cliffs by which the Aisne hills fall to
the flats of Champagne, the Craonne plateau. A force from Lorraine
under General von Heeringen was to be brought into this vital sector,
between Kluck and Bülow; meanwhile, the connection was uncertain.
While, a little farther west, Sir Douglas Haig was boldly reaching
up to the Chemin des Dames, d’Espérey sent Conneau north-eastward as
far as Sissonne; and thence one of his divisions was ordered to take
in reverse the German troops posted above Craonne. Success seemed
assured, when the 18th Corps and the reserve divisions were beaten
back; and Conneau, fearing to be isolated on the north of the river,
recrossed it. All the energy of General Maud’huy was needed to preserve
a foothold on the right bank. Within a fortnight, the long deadlock of
trench warfare had begun, and a new phase of the war had opened in the
north-west.
At 7 a.m. on September 12, a patrol of chasseurs of the 9th Army
entered Châlons, the Saxons hurrying off before them to the Suippes
valley; a few hours later, General Foch established his headquarters
in the old garrison town. The Saxon Army was now in a condition worse
than that of the British after Le Cateau; and it disappeared as an
independent command with the fixing of the lines in Champagne. Foch’s
rapid march to the north-east made the German positions south of the
Argonne impossible. From September 11, Langle was able to devote
himself wholly to the IV Army. By noon that day, they had evacuated
their defences in and around Vitry-le-François; and in the evening,
the left of the 4th Army (21st, 17th, and 12th Corps) reached the
Marne between Sogny and Couvrot, while the Colonial Corps passed the
Saulx near Heiltz-l’Evêque, and the 2nd held the Ornain from Etrepy
to Sermaize, in touch with the 15th Corps of Sarrail’s Army, which
was approaching Revigny. When, on September 12, General Espinasse’s
troops entered that town, it had been systematically destroyed. The
central streets presented an extraordinary scene of devastation.
Nothing remained except parts of the lower walls and, within, masses of
stone, brick, and mortar broken small, with scraps of iron and charred
wood. The town hall, a graceful building in French classic style, had
about a half of its outer fabric standing. The church, which was of
historic interest, was roofless and much damaged within. Houses and
shops had been first pillaged, and then fired. Most of the neighbouring
villages had been similarly treated. One scene stands out in my
memory. Sermaize-les-Bains was a pleasant town of 4000 inhabitants,
on the Saulx, with a mineral spring, a large sugar refinery, and a
handsome old church. It had been demolished from end to end by skilled
incendiarism. Of 500 houses, only half a dozen remained standing.
Except a few chimneys and pieces of wall, the rest was a rubbish heap,
recalling Pompeii before the antiquaries cleared it up. There had
been an ironmonger’s shop——you could trace it by the masses of molten
iron and clotted nails. There had been a glass and china shop——you
could trace it by the lumps of milky coagulate that stuck out among
the litter of brick. When I arrived, a few of the inhabitants were
returning, women, children, and old men, carrying with them large,
rough loaves of bread, or wheeling barrows of firewood. The church was
roofless and gutted, the nave piled with fragments of stone. The curé’s
house was also burned out. In the middle of a grass-plot behind it
stood a white statue of the Virgin, turning clasped hands toward the
ruins.
How much these and other indulgences impeded the military effort of
the Crown Prince’s men, how much they strengthened the spirit of the
French soldiers, may be supposed, but not measured. They mark with an
odious emphasis for history the hour not only of a signal defeat, but
of a profound disillusionment, which was to deepen slowly to the utter
discredit of a system and an idea hitherto not seriously challenged.
The game was played; with rage, the Prince Imperial submitted. Having
held his left impassive for a day, while the right pivoted slowly
backward toward the Argonne, on the night of September 12 the order
was given for a general and rapid withdrawal; and on the following
days, the French 4th and 3rd Armies found themselves in face of new
enemy lines drawn iron the Moronvilliers hills near Rheims, by Souain,
Ville-sur-Tourbe, and Varennes, to the Meuse at Forges, 8 miles north
of Verdun. The Châlons–Verdun road and railway were disengaged, a
result of great importance, and the old fortress, with its outposts on
the Meuse Heights, was definitively relieved. The Crown Prince pitched
his tent on the feudal eyrie of Montfaucon. General Sarrail picked
up his direct communications with Paris, faced round to Metz and the
north, and prepared for the future.
And the master of the victorious host? On September 11, he had issued
the following “Ordre general No. 15”:
“_The battle that has been proceeding for five days is ending
in incontestable victory. The retreat of the German I, II,
and III Armies is accentuated before our left and our centre.
In its turn, the IV enemy Army has begun to fall back to the
north of Vitry-le-François and Sermaize. Everywhere the enemy is
leaving on the ground many wounded and quantities of munitions.
Everywhere prisoners are being taken. While they advance our
troops note the marks of the intensity of the struggle, and the
importance of the means employed by the Germans to resist our
onset. The vigorous renewal of the offensive determined our
success. Officers and soldiers, you have all answered my appeal.
You have deserved well of the Fatherland._”
In a telegram to the Minister of War, he added: “The Government of the
Republic may be proud of the armies it has organised.” Neither then nor
later did any phrase more worthy of the occasion than these fall from
the pen or the lips of the Generalissimo. In success as in failure, he
was the same silent, weighty, cheerful figure——Joffre the Taciturn, to
the end.