The actual declaration of war by France against Germany was not made
until the 15th of July, 1870, reaching Berlin some four days later; but,
for some weeks prior to that date, there is not the slightest doubt that
both sides were busily engaged in mobilising their respective armies and
making extensive preparations for a struggle that promised at the outset
to be "a war to the knife"--the cut-and-dried official announcement of
hostilities only precipitating the crisis and bringing matters to a
head, so to speak.
On the general order being given throughout the states of the Empire to
place the national army on a war footing, in a very few days the
marvellous system by which the German people can be marshalled for
battle, "each tribe and family according to its place, and not in an
aggregate of mere armed men," was in full operation throughout the land;
and, under the influence of fervid zeal, of well-tested discipline, and
of skilful arrangement, the Teuton hosts became truly formidable. From
the recruiting ground allotted to it, each separate battalion speedily
called in its reserves, expanding into full strength, the regiments so
formed being at once arrayed into divisions and corps under proved
commanders, furnished with every appliance which modern military science
deemed necessary. These battalions composed the first line of defence
for the Fatherland; while behind them, to augment the regular troops,
again following out local distinctions and keeping up "the family
arrangement," the Landwehr stood in the second line; the additional
reserve of the Landsturm--yet to be called out in the event of fresh
levies being required for garrisoning the fortresses with this militia
force, so as to enable the trained soldiery to move onward and fill up
the casualties of the campaign--forming a third line of defence.
These gigantic masses were organised with the celerity and precision of
clockwork, and then sent forward westward, perfectly equipped--in the
highest sense a national army, being over four hundred thousand strong!
Day after day, up to the end of July, the different railway lines of
Germany bore the mighty host onward to the banks of the Rhine in endless
succession of train-loads. Mass after mass of armed men, duly supplied
with all the material of war, advanced rapidly, yet in due pre-arranged
order, to the points selected for their gathering; while, in the
meantime, the fortresses along the line of the river, where the first
French attack was expected to be made, were put in a proper state of
defence, and now, with strong garrisons, repaired works, ditches filled,
and ramparts crowned with Krupp cannon, were prepared to defy the
invader. By the first week of August three great armies had taken
possession of the strip of territory, lying between the lower stream of
the Moselle and the Rhine, which had for centuries been a battlefield
between the German and French races, and which was now to witness
fighting on a scale which put every previous campaign into the shade.
The first army, under the veteran General Steinmetz, who had won his
spurs at Waterloo, had been moved from the north down the valley of the
Moselle and along the railway from Bingen, with its headquarters at the
strongly fortified town of Coblentz. The second, or "central army,"
under Prince Frederick Charles, "the Red Prince," as his enthusiastic
soldiers styled him, occupied Mannheim and Mayence, guarding the Vosges,
through which was the principal avenue to the heart of the coveted
Rhineland provinces; while the third army, under the Crown Prince of
Prussia, who, as is well-known, is married to our own "Princess Royal,"
had its headquarters at Landau, where also the Baden and Wurtemberg
contingents had to rendezvous.
"The ball was opened"--to use the light-hearted expression of a French
journalist in describing the commencement of the murderous struggle for
supremacy between the two nations--at Saarbruck on the 2nd of August,
1870, when the late ill-fated Prince Imperial of France received his
"baptism of fire"; but the first real engagement of the war did not
occur till two days later, at Weissembourg, this being succeeded by the
terrible battle of Woerth on the 6th of the month, when the German army
under the Crown Prince of Prussia crumpled up the forces of Mcmahon, and
thus effectually disposed of the previously much-vaunted superiority of
the French military system, with its chassepot rifle and mitrailleuse.
With these initial victories of Germany we have not much to do, however;
for Fritz belonged to the Hanoverian division, which formed one of the
units of the Tenth Army Corps, under the command of Steinmetz, which did
not come into action until later on.
On joining his regiment at headquarters, our young recruit from Lubeck,
hastily summoned to exchange the pen and desk of a Dutch merchant's
counting-house for the needle-gun and camp of the soldier, discovered to
his great joy, that, instead of having to go through the tedious routine
of garrison duty--which he had expected would have mainly composed his
experiences of the war--the French invasion of Rhineland had so suddenly
collapsed, that the Teuton forces, which had been assembled for the
original purpose of defending the native soil, were now able to take the
offensive and in their turn invade the territory of the foe; and, thus,
he would be able to see active service on the field. This was a
consummation dearly desired on his part, for he was young and ardent;
although, perhaps, the order to go forwards was not quite so much
relished by some of his comrades, who were married men and preferred the
quiet of their home fireside to the many risks and discomforts of a
campaign, which, at the beginning, they did not look upon so hopefully
as their leaders.
"Hurrah!" he exclaimed one morning at Coblentz, when the division in
which he served was paraded on the Platz in heavy marching order, the
men hurriedly falling into the ranks. "No more sentry rounds now and
guard-mounting; we're off to Paris!"
"Don't you crow too loudly, my young bantam," said a veteran near him;
"we'll have a long march first, and then perhaps one of those confounded
chassepot bullets we've heard so much of will put you feet foremost, in
a way you won't like!"
"Bah!" replied Fritz; "I'll run the chance of that. Anything is better
than stopping here kicking our heels in this old town, while our
brothers are gaining laurels in the battlefield!"
"Ach, mein lieber," said the other; "wait till you've seen a little of
the reality of war, the same as I did four years ago at Sadowa; you'll
then think differently. It all looks very well now, with your smart new
uniform and bright helmet; but, when the one is ragged with bayonet cuts
and bloody and dirty, and the other doesn't preserve you from a leaden
headache, you will prefer, like me, barrack life--aye, even in
Coblentz!"
"Hush there! order in the ranks!" sang out an officer at this moment,
stopping Fritz's answer; and, the word of command being presently given
to march, the conversation was not renewed.
After the fearful loss they had suffered at Woerth, which battle was
followed up by the sanguinary defeat of Frossard at Forbach, to the left
of their line, on the same day, the French fell back on Metz as their
rallying point, hoping by means of the vast entrenched camp there and
its facilities of communication with Chalons and Verdun, to be able to
make a stand against the enemy, now pressing them so sore. Military
critics say that this was the greatest mistake made by the Emperor
Napoleon's advisers; and that, had the forces under Bazaine retreated
farther to the west--after throwing a sufficient garrison into Metz--
they might have been able to effect a junction with the defeated army of
Mcmahon, which that general was withdrawing into the interior and from
which they were now completely cut off.
Be that as it may, however, during this interval of inactivity, when the
shattered fragments of the magnificent French army--which had so proudly
assumed the offensive but a bare fortnight before along the frontiers of
the Rhine--were idling away precious moments that were fraught with
peril and disaster to the Gallic race, the huge German masses, animated
by a sense of victory and the consciousness of a superiority in arms as
well as in numbers, were sweeping forward like a whirlwind of
destruction. The Crown Prince, who had routed Mcmahon at Woerth and
driven the wedge in that separated him from Bazaine, continued his
onward march on the left of the German line through the passes of the
Vosges into the fertile plains of Champagne. At the same time, Prince
Frederick Charles, with the main portion of the second army, had crossed
the Moselle at Pont-a-Mousson; and, moving northwards, was already in a
position to threaten the line of the French retreat on Verdun, while the
remainder of the Red Prince's forces were advancing to the eastward of
Metz. The columns, too, of Steinmetz, moving with mathematical
regularity at an equal rate of progression, were also being echelonned
along the northern face of the fortress, just within striking distance.
To put it concisely, some two hundred and fifty thousand unbeaten German
soldiers, with an artillery numbering over eight hundred guns, almost
surrounded the stronghold of Lorraine and the far weaker and partly
demoralised force which the French had gathered together beneath its
walls, only, as it turned out subsequently, to court defeat and
annihilation.
It was not until the 14th of August that the series of battles that were
to rage round Metz, began.
Early in the morning of that day--apparently for the first time struck
with an apprehension of having his retreat on Chalons by way of Verdun
interfered with and his communications with his base of supply cut off,
thus appreciating his critical position only when it was too late to
remedy it--the French Marshal commenced crossing the Moselle with his
vanguard. The entire body of troops, however, did not reach the river;
for, three corps, which had been encamped to the eastward of the
fortress, delayed their departure until the afternoon--a tardiness that
enabled Steinmetz to attack their rear and detain them on the spot,
until the flanking movement of Prince Frederick Charles' army beyond the
Moselle towards Pont-a-Mousson had been completed. A bloody and
indecisive action was the result, in which, if the Germans did not gain
a victory, they succeeded in accomplishing their object--that of
detaining the French troops before Metz, until their retreat on Verdun
should be impossible of achievement.
On the 16th occurred the battle of Vionville; and, two days later, that
of Gravelotte, the bloodiest contest that took place between the
opposing forces throughout the entire war--the first general engagement,
too, in which our friend Fritz really "smelt powder" and became an
active participant.
The rough skirmishing work which some of the divisions of the army corps
under Steinmetz had already had, during the intervening days since the
14th, somewhat prepared the soldiers of the Waterloo veteran for
butchery. They could plainly perceive from his tactics that their
general was one who would spare no sacrifice of human life in order to
gain his end and defeat the enemy. The corpses piled high on the field
of Vionville of the Cuirassiers and Ziethen Hussars, who had been
ordered to charge batteries of artillery in Balaclava fashion, afforded
proof enough of that; and the men said, with a laugh and a shrug of the
shoulders, "Ah, yes; we're going to have a warm time of it now with `Old
Blood and Iron,' we are!"
And they had!
Fritz had barely dropped to sleep on the evening of the 17th, when,
towards midnight, he was aroused by the wild music of military trumpets,
blown apparently from every bivouac in his neighbourhood for miles
round.
"Who goes there?" he exclaimed, raising himself up on his elbow, but
half awake and dreaming he was on sentry duty.
"Rouse up! rouse up!" shouted a comrade in his ear, and then he
recollected all at once where he was. As he sprang to his feet, the
noise throughout the camp told without further explanation that an
important crisis was at hand, for the measured tramp of marching
battalions pulsated the ground like the beat of a muffled drum, while
above this sound could be heard the roll of wheels and dragging of gun
limbers, and the ringing of horses' hoofs, all swelling into a perfect
roar of sound.
Bazaine, having been driven back from the forward positions his army had
attained on the Verdun and Etain roads, in its progress of retreat
towards Chalons, by the intervention of the German forces, now sought a
fresh vantage-ground during the brief respite allowed by his enemy--one,
that is, where he would be able not only to offer a determined
resistance, but also retain his lines of retreat; and whence, if
victorious, he might be able to break forth and make good his intended
movement on Chalons. Such a position he found in the range of uplands,
which, intersected at points by ravines, with brooks and difficult
ground in front and with belts of wood in the near distance, extends
from the village of Gravelotte on the north-east to Privat-la-Montaigne,
beyond the road that runs from Metz to the whilom German frontier; and,
throughout the whole of the previous day the Marshal had been busily
engaged in stationing his troops along this line collecting every means
of defence which could add to its natural strength.
The arrangements of Bazaine certainly gave proof on this occasion of
that tactical skill for which he had previously been renowned.
The French left, occupying Gravelotte at the junction of the roads from
Verdun and Etain and thence extended along the high-road to Metz, held a
range of heights, with a wood beneath, which commanded all the
neighbouring approaches. This position, besides, was protected in front
by lines of entrenchments, with rifle-pits and a formidable display of
artillery; and, shielded in its rear by the heavily armed fort of Saint
Quentin, might well-nigh be considered impregnable. Bazaine's centre,
although not so strongly placed, had also the advantage of rising
ground; and, the right of the line was equally protected by natural and
artificial means. Along this admirably selected fighting ground the
French Marshal posted some hundred thousand men altogether, clinging to
Gravelotte with his best troops, and leaving about twenty thousand as a
reserve near Metz--thus acting entirely on the defensive.
While Bazaine had been making these preparations, the German leaders had
not by any means been idle. On the same day that the French Marshal was
entrenching himself on his chosen field of battle, the entire force of
the second army, under the Red Prince, approaching from Pont-a-Mousson,
had come into line; and, in communication with the first army, under old
"Blood and Iron" Steinmetz, had completely crossed the French, line of
retreat, occupying the Verdun and Etain roads northward from Rezonville
to Doncourt, with the remaining corps that had remained to the east of
Metz supporting the rear and right flank. Altogether, the German
commanders had at least nine army corps in hand; and when the
reinforcements were brought up, they could calculate on possessing a
force of no less than two hundred and forty thousand men to hurl against
their antagonists, thus overmatched at the very outset by at least two
to one.
The Teuton plan of battle, as subsequently detailed, premised, that, as
the French left at Gravelotte was prodigiously strong, making it
extremely difficult to carry that position without enormous sacrifices,
it would be preferable to move a large part of the army across Bazaine's
front, in order to assail and crush his right wing, which was protected
in the rear by Metz, and so could not be turned in that direction. It
was also decided that, at the same time, a forward attack should be made
as a feint on Gravelotte, the German commanders hoping that under the
double pressure of a simultaneous onslaught on both its wings, the
French army would lose its hold of the Verdun and Etain roads--which of
course it was Bazaine's object to secure--when, being driven in under
the guns of Metz, his forces would there be isolated and completely cut
off from any further action in the campaign.
This result, it may be here stated, was ultimately attained, although
the turning movement against the right of the French line was found to
be impracticable shortly after it was undertaken and had to be given up,
the operations of the German host being subsequently confined to an
attack in front on the formidable position of Gravelotte--which, with
its ridge of hills lined with fortifications and strengthened with rows
of rifle-pits that covered the slopes in every direction, overtopping
each other like seats in a circus, seemed proof against attack.
Marching in the darkness, he knew not whither, by the side of comrades
in solid phalanx, Fritz found himself, when morning broke, at the rear
of some other battalions that were concealed from the enemy behind a
mass of brushwood and scattered forest trees. These grew on an elevated
plateau from which a very good view could be obtained of the field of
battle, the rising sun lighting up the whole landscape and displaying
the beautiful details of the country around, so soon, alas! to be marred
by the terrible havoc of battle, bringing fire and ruin and bloodshed in
its train.
On the left, stretched out like a silver thread amidst the green sheen
of the foliage the road leading to Verdun and Paris beyond, lined along
its extent with rows of tall poplars planted with mathematical
regularity; while a series of pretty villages, each with its own church
steeple and surrounded by charming villa residences, only a few hundred
yards apart apparently, broke the monotonous regularity of the highway--
Mars la Tour, Florigny, Vionville, Rezonville, Malmaison, and last,
though by no means least, Gravelotte, which was in the immediate
foreground. On the right were thickly wooded hills; and, far away in
the distance, glittered the peaks and pinnacles of Metz, the whole
forming a lovely panorama, spread out below in the smiling valley of
Lorraine.
As Fritz was looking on this scene with mingled feelings, a splendid
regiment of uhlans dashed up behind the infantry; and, when they reached
the brow of the hill, they broke into a wild hurrah, which almost seemed
to thrill their horses, which neighed in chorus. This provoked a
responsive echo from the marching battalions on foot; and then, the
cavalry galloped forwards. At the same time, distant cannonading could
be heard in the neighbourhood of Vionville, and shells were seen
bursting in the air around the French positions at Point du Jour, with
the smaller puffs of smoke from rifles in action between the trees
below.
The battle had begun.
Bang, bang, went the guns; and soon the cannonade, drawing in closer and
closer upon the doomed villages, became a deafening roar, with streams
of hurtling missiles shrieking overhead and bursting with a crash at
intervals. Masses of men could be perceived winding in and out along
the main road and the side lanes like ants, a gap every now and then
showing in their ranks when some shot had accomplished its purpose. By
twelve o'clock the engagement had become general; although, as yet, it
had been only a battle of the guns, which bellowed and hurled
destruction on assailant and defender alike--the curious harsh grating
sound of the French mitrailleuse being plainly perceptible above the
thunder of the cannon and rattle of musketry, "just like the angry growl
of a cross dog under a wagon when some one pretends to take away his
bone!" as one of the men said.
The Ninth Army Corps, composed of Schleswig-Holsteiners, Fritz's
compatriots and close neighbours, were the first to come into collision
with the enemy's van but soon the Hanoverian artillery had to follow
suit; and bye-and-bye, in the main attack on Gravelotte, the infantry
became engaged at last, much to the relief of the men, who were bursting
with impatience at being allowed to rest idly on their arms when such
stirring scenes were being enacted before their eyes.
This was not, however, until the French positions in front of Vionville
had been carried, a success only achieved late in the afternoon, after
the most desperate fighting and when the slaughter-dealing Steinmetz
ordered an advance in front of the enemy's defences.
A tremendous fire of artillery was first concentrated on the French
works, one hundred and twenty guns taking part in the bombardment; and
then, after about half an hour's shelling, the leading Prussian regiment
dashed up the slopes above Gravelotte. The men were rushing into the
very jaws of death; for, when they had got about half-way up, the
mitrailleuses opened on them, doing terrible execution at close
quarters. The brave fellows, however, pressed on, though they fell
literally by hundreds. Indeed, they actually got into the works, and a
half battery of four-pounder guns which had followed them up was close
in their rear on their way to the crest of the hill, when the French,
who had run their mitrailleuses farther back some four hundred yards to
avoid capture, opened so deadly a fire that the "forlorn hope" had to
retire again down the slope--leaving the guns behind them, for every
horse in the battery had been killed or disabled. After this, a mad
attempt was made to charge the hill with cavalry, the cuirassiers and
uhlans dashing up the road at the French works; but men and horses were
mowed down so rapidly that the scattered remnants of these fine
squadrons had to retire like the infantry. A third effort was made by
another line regiment, the men advancing in skirmishing order, instead
of in column like the first pioneers of the attack; but although this
attempt was covered by a tremendous artillery fire, it was equally
unsuccessful. Some of the men certainly managed to reach the French
batteries, but they were then shot down in such numbers by the terrible
mitrailleuses that they could not hold their ground.
These different episodes of the battle consumed the greater portion of
the afternoon, although of course fighting was going on elsewhere along
the line. Fritz's battalion was engaged in another part of the field,
and in the Bois du Vaux, as well as on the opposite bank of the Moselle,
it did good service in crushing in the wing of the French. Here Fritz
had an opportunity of distinguishing himself. In charging an entrenched
outwork held by the enemy, the captain of his company got struck down by
a bullet; when, as no officer remained to take his place, Fritz
gallantly seized the sword of the fallen man, leading on his comrades to
the capture of the battery, which had been annoying the German reserves
greatly by its fire. Fortunately, too, for Fritz, his commanding
officer, General Von Voigts-Rhetz, not only noticed his bravery on the
occasion, but let him know that it should not be forgotten at
headquarters.
Meanwhile, the continual bombardment of the French position was
maintained, and about half-past six o'clock in the evening a last
desperate attack was made on Gravelotte--the outlying farmhouse of La
Villette, which was the key to the defence, being especially assailed.
The reserve artillery being brought up commenced playing upon the still
staunchly guarded slopes with storms of shot and shell; and, presently,
the farmhouse was in flames, although the garden was still held by the
French, who had crenellated the walls, making it into a perfect redan.
A gallant foot regiment then took the lead of the German forces,
charging up the deadly slope, followed by a regiment of hussars; when,
after more than an hour spent in the most desperate fighting of the day,
the French at last began to retire from the entrenchments which they had
defended so gallantly up to now, the infantry being protected in their
retreat by the murderous mitrailleuses that had so disunited the ranks
of their stubborn foes, the hoarse growl of their discharge being yet
heard in the distance long after the louder and sharper reports of the
guns and howitzers had generally ceased.
The evening was now closing in, and soon darkness reigned around, the
prevailing gloom being only broken by the fiery path of some bombshell
winging its parabolic flight through the air, or the long tongue of fire
darting forth from the mouth of a stray cannon; while, in the sky above,
the lurid smoke-clouds of burning houses joined with the shades of night
in casting a pall over the scene of hideous carnage which the bright day
had witnessed, hiding it for ever save from the memories of those who
were there and had shared its horrors.
The battle of Gravelotte was lost and won; but, to the Germans, the
victory was almost akin to a defeat, no less than five-and-twenty
thousand of the best troops of the "Fatherland" being either killed or
wounded!
Fritz escaped scathless through all the perils of the day, in spite,
too, of his risking his life most unnecessarily on many occasions in
order to see the progress of the fight when his battalion was not in
action; but his favourite comrade, the veteran soldier who had fought at
Sadowa, received a bullet in his chest, and his life-blood was gradually
ebbing away when Fritz, kneeling at his side, asked him if he could do
anything for him.
"Ah, no," answered the poor fellow; "nobody can do anything for me now!
I told you, comrade, to wait till you saw what real war was like.
Himmel! Sadowa and '66 were child's play to this here, with the fire of
the chassepot and that infernal mitrailleuse! Hurrah, though we've
won!" shouted out the veteran in a paroxysm of patriotism; and then,
joining in with the chorus of "Die Wacht am Rhein," which a Prussian
corps was singing as they marched by, he thus sobbed out his last breath
and so died!
"His was a patriot soldier's end," said Fritz, as he closed his eyes and
covered over his face reverently with his pocket-handkerchief.
"Yes, so it was," chimed in the others sententiously. "It is good so to
die!"