DIXMUDE, _Monday, October 26, 1914_.
Yesterday we were informed that a certain number of Germans,
slipping between the trenches, had managed to get into Dixmude.
Search was made in the houses and cellars, and we collected a few
prisoners.
This incident caused us some uneasiness, and as the bombardment,
which generally ceased at night, continued persistently, I
hesitated to go to bed. Shells were bursting quite close to our
inn, the front of which was peppered with bullets. Fortunately, the
shells were shrapnel, annoying rather than deadly, and as I was
very tired, I made up my mind to get a sleep about 10 o'clock. But
I lay down fully dressed and armed; I did not even lay aside my
revolver.
One after the other the inhabitants of the inn followed my example.
There were four of us: Commander Varney, Captain Monnot, Lieutenant
Bonneau, and myself. Dr. Duguet and Abbe Le Helloco, who generally
shared our straw, were detained at the ambulance by some severe
cases, and were not expected to come in before 1 o'clock in the
morning. By this time all was quiet, and the bombardment had
ceased.
At 3 a.m. a cyclist rushed in, crying: "Get up! The Boches are
coming!" I did not for a moment imagine that the enemy had crossed
the bridge over the Yser, which was some 80 or 100 metres in front
of us. I thought that the Germans had forced the sailors' trenches
in front of Dixmude, that they had entered the town in force, and
that the line of defence was to be brought back to the canal. If
such were the case, it was necessary to get my car ready to start
immediately. As soon as I was awake I accordingly went out by the
front door of the inn, and going to my car, I began to pump up the
petrol. Commander Varney had come out at the same time.
Our common living-room was feebly lighted by a lantern, but this
sufficed to throw the figures of those who passed into the
embrasure of the door into strong relief. This was the case a few
minutes later when Dr. Duguet and Abbe Le Helloco emerged. I was
bending down over my car, quite in the dark.
At this moment a body of brawlers passed along the road, coming
from the bridge and going towards the level crossing. They were
preceded by a bugler, very much out of tune. In spite of the lights
and the reports of firearms among the band, I only realised after
they had passed that they were the enemy.
But as soon as I grasped the fact I recognised that there was no
question of getting out the car just then, so I followed Commander
Varney, who was near me. "What shall I do, Commander?" "Above all
things, don't let them take you prisoner." Subsequent events made
me appreciate the wisdom of this order.
The Commander disappeared in the night, going towards the Yser to
see what was happening. I went back into the inn by the back door,
and there, stretched on the ground side by side, I found the doctor
and the Abbe, on whom the Germans had fired at very short range.
Both were wounded in the abdomen. Probably the same bullets went
through them both. The doctor murmured: "I am hit in the loins; I
can't move my legs." The Abbe seemed to have but one thought: "I
won't fall into the hands of the Germans alive." But he managed to
give absolution to our poor doctor.
I went out of the inn again, and back to the motors, to see what
was happening. I found the cook and the orderlies there; they had
taken their rifles and were awaiting events. I joined them, holding
my revolver in my hand.
What gave me most anxiety was that not a sound came from the line
of the trenches. The rifles were all silent; no night had been so
calm. I began to wonder if by some extraordinary surprise all the
sailors had been taken prisoners.
As we knew that the enemy troop had passed us and gone towards the
level crossing, we took our stand, in view of their possible
return, at the corner of a neighbouring house, where the Belgian
soldiers were quartered.
Captain Ferry, who had been wounded a few days before and had his
left arm in a sling, joined us.
A suspicious rumbling was heard on the road. Captain Ferry advanced
completely out of cover to reconnoitre. He found himself face to
face with a band of Germans who barred the road level with the
other corner of the Belgians' house.
"Halt!" cried the captain; "you are my prisoners."
"Not at all," replied a voice in guttural French. "It's you who are
our prisoners."
This somewhat comic dialogue was not continued, for the sailors
Mazet and Pinardeau fired. The Germans never even attempted to
retort; they allowed Captain Ferry to rejoin us quietly, and
disappeared into the ditch by the road.
It was now half-past three. The alarm was over, and had lasted
barely half an hour. Our little party took refuge in the cowshed,
for the German guns had begun to send us shrapnel shells, which
exploded high in the air, but nevertheless covered us with
fragments. All we could do was to wait for the day, which at this
date broke about half-past four. Lieutenant Bonneau had brought a
half-section of sailors to our inn, and these began to explore the
neighbourhood.
Some Belgian soldiers joined the sailors, and a _battue_ of Boches
began in the marshy meadows. We heard cries of "There they are!
There they are!" and shots were fired; then "Don't fire, they are
sailors." Presently it was all over, and prisoners passed on their
way to the Admiral, who was installed at the level crossing.
We then heard that nothing at all had happened in the trenches. The
troop that had attacked us was composed of Boches who had managed
to creep into the town secretly. Led by one or two officers, they
had crossed the bridge over the canal, killing the sentries,
seriously wounding Lieutenant de Lambertye, and then pushing
forward. As they passed they went into the houses that showed
lights, notably that occupied by the staff of the 1st Regiment,
where they killed two cooks and wounded a chauffeur. As we have
seen, they then shot our doctor and our chaplain, and their
military operations ended herewith, for their subsequent deeds were
murder pure and simple.
I was told the story at dawn, when I found myself face to face with
Quartermaster Bonnet, chauffeur to the adjutant-major, who, to my
great surprise, had his right arm in a sling. "Well, M. Couture,"
he said, "I shan't be able to drive Captain Monnot any more." I
questioned him, and he then told me that he, assisted by some
Belgian orderlies and doctors, had gone out to take Dr. Duguet to
the ambulance. Suddenly the party found themselves face to face
with the German troop, which was returning. The Boches seized the
stretcher-bearers, and the doctor was left by the side of the
ditch. Perhaps he was finished off there.
The Germans had several other prisoners, notably Commander
Jeanniot. This remarkable man, who was no less beloved than
esteemed, was with the first battalion, which he commanded, in
reserve some distance to the rear. The noise and the shots awoke
him, and he came out alone upon the road to see what was happening.
The Germans crouching in the ditches had no difficulty in seizing
him, and his five stripes made them realise the importance of their
capture.
In all there were some dozen prisoners, whom the Germans carried
along with them across the fields, and whom they did not scruple to
put in front of them during the firing. This explains the
hesitation shown during the chase. Seeing that they were caught,
the German officers were not long in making up their minds. "Shoot
the prisoners!" It must be noted that there was a certain
reluctance in the German ranks, perhaps even a certain opposition
to this barbarous order. We learned later that the recalcitrants
were Berlin students who had volunteered for service. Was this a
movement of humanity or merely a measure of precaution taken with a
view to their own fate?
However, there are always some ready to carry out brutal orders.
The Mausers were fired at the heads of the prisoners. Commander
Jeanniot was struck by several bullets, the whole of the front of
his skull being blown off. Several of the Belgians fell. My comrade
Bonnet, if I understood him aright, made the movement of a child
who dodges a box on the ear. That saved him; the bullet aimed at
his head went into his right shoulder. At this moment he saw our
sailors and the Belgians coming up, and running as fast as he could
lay legs to the ground, he called to them: "Go at them; there are
only about forty of them left." The rest had made off across the
fields.
At 7 a.m. they were all prisoners.
The Admiral at once decided that the murderers should be shot there
and then. But as Frenchmen are not given to wholesale executions,
the prisoners who had been rescued were called upon to point out
the ringleaders.
A few seconds later four volleys told me that military justice had
taken its rapid course.
Almost at the same moment the body of Commander Jeanniot was
carried in. His cyclists and his chauffeur would not allow anyone
but themselves to render him this last service. They carried their
chief on a stretcher borne on their shoulders, and all had tears in
their eyes.
The rest of the morning was quiet. A German effort was being made
further to the north, where we heard furious fighting.
As we were drinking our coffee the Senegalese riflemen arrived to
support the sailors. They were received with joy, for the brigade
was much exhausted.