During the height of the struggle, Fritz had been carried away by a
perfect delirium of excitement, as if in a dream; and what he had done
had been done almost unconsciously, in spite of himself, and on the spur
of the moment. He had been marched here; marched there; halted; ordered
to fire; charged with his comrades; retreated; charged again--all, as it
seemed, in one brief second of time!
What, with the continuous roar of artillery reverberating through the
surrounding hills; the constant ping; pinging and singing of rifle
bullets; the rattling discharge of platoon firing; the whirring of heavy
shot and shell through the air above the ranks and the bursting every
now and then of some huge bomb in their midst, knocking down the men
like ninepins and sending up a pyramid of dust and stones, mingled with
particles of their arms and clothing, as well as fragments of the torn
flesh of some victims, on the missile exploding in a sheet of crackling
flame, with a rasping, tearing noise--all combined with the thick
sulphureous cloud of gunpowder which hung over the battlefield, half
asphyxiating the combatants, whose hoarse cries of rage and hatred could
be heard above the noise of the cannon and discharges of musketry, mixed
up with the words of command of their different officers, the "_En
avant, mes amis_!" of the French, the stern "_Vorwarts_!" of the
Germans, and the occasional wild, weird, frenzied scream of some
stricken charger echoing shrilly in the distance, like the wail of a
lost soul in purgatory--the whole realised a mad riot of destruction and
carnival of blood, the essence of whose moving spirit appeared to take
possession of each one engaged, rendering him unaccountable for his
actions for the time being. Like the rest, Fritz felt the "war fever"
upon him. A red mist hovered before his eyes. He smelt blood and
longed to spill more. The fumes of brimstone acted on his senses like
hasheesh to narcotic smokers. An irresistible impulse urged him
forwards. A voice kept crying in his ears, "Kill and slay, and spare
not!"
This was while the fury of the combat lasted, when the Prussian
battalions were hurling their human waves in columns against the rocky
defences of Gravelotte, only for them to fall back impotently, like the
broken foam and spent wash of billows which have assailed in vain the
precipitous peaks of some cliff-defended coast that repels their every
attack; when the sharp clash of steel met opposing steel and galloping
thud of flying squadrons, urged on with savage oath and triumphant
cheer, filled the air; when the gurgling groan of the death-agony and
moan of painless pain, made the treble of the devil-music, to the
thundering sustained bass of the cannon roar, and the growling arpeggio
accompaniment of the mitrailleuse!
But, when, after one last fearful combined volley, in which every single
piece of ordnance on the field seemed to take part, the hideous turmoil
of sound ceased as if by mutual consent. A sort of solemn hush, in
company with the night, caused comparative stillness to brood over the
scene, in contrast to the pandemoniacal noise that had previously
reigned so fiendishly. Then, all of a sudden, Fritz appeared to awake
suddenly from a disturbed dream or phantom-haunted night-mare, in which
all the powers of evil were tearing at his heart and brain. The war
fever, for him, had exhausted its final paroxysm. The red mist had been
withdrawn from his eyes. The thirst for blood from his soul. He was
himself again; but a strangely altered self, for he felt weak and ill,
and as languid and worn-out as if he had just recovered from a fainting
fit.
It was at this moment that Hermann his comrade had been struck down by a
chassepot ball, winging its murderous mission from some unknown point;
and when Fritz had sat down by the side of the body, covering over the
face of the dead man, he did not seem to feel any desire to live or even
to rise up again, he was so utterly powerless and lacking in energy.
The majority of his fellow-soldiers appeared, too, to be in the same
mood, stretching their weary limbs on the ground in listless apathy, as
if caring for nothing; they did not either seem to be affected by hunger
or thirst, although it was more than twelve hours since they had broken
their fast; the fury of the fight had satiated them, taking away all
stamina and appetite.
Presently, however, an ambulance detachment, passing by on their
merciful errand to seek for the wounded, besought aid; and Fritz, with
others, at once sprang up and volunteered assistance to bear away those
to whom the surgeon's care could do any good to the field hospitals,
where their hurts could be attended to in a general way. The number of
wounded men was so great that it was simply impossible for the doctors
to hunt after individual cases and treat them properly.
The battlefield was now covered by a dense cloud, illuminated at either
end of the valley in which it lay by two enormous fires of burning
houses. But, above, the stars shone down peacefully from the blue vault
of heaven on the terrible picture of carnage below; and, as the smoke of
the gunpowder cleared away, the different points of the struggle could
be clearly picked out by reason of the heaps of corpses and dead horses,
piled beneath overturned cannon and broken limbers, shattered needle-
guns and chassepots, all of which were scattered around pell-mell in
endless profusion.
"Water, water, for the love of God!" was the heartrending cry that
proceeded everywhere from yet living men hidden among hecatombs of the
slain, as they heard the footsteps of the ambulance corps and their
helpers. Really, the task was an endless one, to try to relieve the
misery around; for, hardly had one wounded wretch been saved from being
buried alive in the mountain of dead under which he writhed, than an
appeal for aid was heard in another direction--and yet again another,
until the bearers and relief corps themselves became exhausted. Each
required forty pairs of hands instead of one!
It was terrible work to go over the scene of slaughter in cold blood,
with no fever of excitement to blot out the hideous details, now
displaying themselves in all their naked reality! Conspicuously, in
front of La Villette, were to be seen the white trimmings of the
uniforms of the Prussian Imperial Guards; the red trousers of the French
line; the shining helmets of the cuirassiers, whose breastplates were
all torn and dented with shot, as if they had been ploughed over; while
the wind, now rising as the night progressed towards morning, rustled
the myriad leaves of white paper that had escaped from out of the French
staff carriages, blowing them across the valley, like a flock of sea-
gulls fluttering on the bosom of the breeze.
As the day broke, the bright beams of the rising sun lit up the field of
battle, only to disclose its horrors the more unmistakably. The rays of
light, flashing on the exposed sword blades and bayonet points,
reflected little radiant gleams of brightness; but, the hands of those
who wielded them so valiantly not many hours agone were now cold and
cramped in the agony of death, alas! Sad bruised eyes glared out from
disfigured faces under torn-open breasts, appearing to look up to where
the stars only so recently twinkled down, vainly asking Providence why
it had put the lightning into the hands of man for so fell a purpose!
Rows of infantry lay dead in perfect order, as if on parade, where the
mitrailleuse had mowed them down; whole squadrons of hussars and lancers
were heaped up in mass; and, in some of the French rifle-pits, there
were more than a thousand corpses piled, the one on top of another with
trim regularity, as if carefully arranged so. Blue, red, and yellow
uniforms, with the occasional green of the Tyrolean Jager, were mixed
together in picturesque confusion along the Verdun road; in fact, the
dead and dying were everywhere in such prodigious numbers that the
hearts of those seeking out the wounded were appalled.
Worse than in the fields were the scenes displayed in the villages and
little towns along the white high-road to Metz, the tall poplars that
lined it being torn down by the round shot, thus blocking the way. The
broken vehicles and baggage wagons that were mingled together in an
inextricable mass also added to the obstruction; Malmaison, Vionville,
and Rezonville were filled with war victims; and all the surgeons,
French as well as German, that could be summoned to help, were as busy
as they could possibly be. Carriages and stretchers covered the open
places in front of every house, the Red Cross of Geneva being rudely
depicted on the doors, with the neutral flag of the society floating
above; while pools of blood marked the dressing places of the wounded,
the pale white faces of whom looked down in mute misery from the carts
in which they were being borne away to the rear to make room for others
to be attended to. To complete the picture, those who had died under
operation were laid by the roadside until they could be collected bye-
and-bye for burial, the living having to be seen to first!
Released at length, after toiling through the night and early morning at
his voluntary labour, Fritz was able at last to return to the bivouac of
the Hanoverians; but, while on his way to camp, he passed one of the
most affecting pictures he had yet seen. Hearing the howl of a dog, he
turned aside towards a little clump of trees from which the sound seemed
to come, and here he came up to a splendid large black retriever, which,
with one paw on a dead officer's breast and with his noble head raised
to the sky, was baying in that melancholy fashion in which dogs tell
their woe on being overcome by grief. Near this little group was an
unfortunate horse sitting on its haunches, its hind-quarters having been
torn off by the discharge of a shell, or the passage of some conical
projectile. The animal was moaning heavily with pain, and looked so
appealingly at Fritz out of its large deep eyes, that he raised a
revolver which he had picked up on the field and put the poor brute out
of its agony. It was a different matter with the dog, however; although
he could not persuade the faithful retriever to leave his master's side;
and, as it was getting late, and Fritz thought he might be missed and
reported as a straggler from his corps, he hurried on to the camping
ground of his regiment, promising himself to return later on in the day,
if spared from duty, when he would bury the dead body of the officer and
take possession of the dog--that is, should no one else have
appropriated him in the meantime, as might possibly be the case.
He was so worn-out with fatigue, on arrival at the bivouac of the
regiment in the Bois du Vaux, that, on finding that his absence was not
taken any notice of, he laid himself down by the side of a fire which
the men had kindled for cooking their camp kettles; and, although it was
a warm summer day, he immediately fell asleep, not waking until late in
the afternoon. Then, partaking of some Erbwurst, or "peasoup sausage,"
which one of his comrades had kindly kept for him, albeit the rations
were rather scanty, he felt a new man, and fit for anything; for, the
worn-out feeling of exhaustion and nervous horror which had possessed
his mind throughout the many hours that elapsed since the close of the
fighting on the evening before, being only the effects of over-
excitement, had now completely disappeared on his getting rest and
refreshment. Indeed, he no longer felt sickened with war. On the
contrary, he was quite ready to start into a fresh battle, and that,
too, with as eager an impetus as he had plunged into his first
engagement.
This was not all, either.
On the regiment being paraded shortly afterwards in front of its
bivouac, the field officer of the day called out "Fritz Dort" a second
time, after the names of the men had been run over on the muster roll--
many failing to answer, and having the brief military comment "Dead," or
"Missing," placed after their numbers.
"Here!" answered Fritz, stepping forwards and saluting the officer in
the ordinary routine fashion, wondering what was to come next.
"Fritz Dort and men of the 16th Hanoverians," proceeded the major,
reading from an official document in his hand, "I am directed by the
general commanding the Tenth Army Corps, in the order of the day, to
signalise the distinguished gallantry which the said Fritz Dort
displayed yesterday in the face of the enemy at the engagement in front
of Gravelotte, when, on the falling of the officer leading the company
to which he was attached, the said Fritz Dort bravely stepped to the
front, and taking his commander's vacant post, led on his men to capture
the French battery, which they were detailed to take by storm. For such
conspicuously good service in action, the general commanding hereby
promotes the said Fritz Dort to be a sub-lieutenant in the same
regiment, trusting that, as an officer, he will perform his duty as he
has done as a private soldier and meet with the obedience and honour of
those with whom he has previously served as a brother comrade, none the
less on account of his promotion from the ranks which as one of
themselves he has adorned!"
A loud "Hurrah!" broke from all the men when the major had finished
reading this document; and that officer then shook hands kindly with
Fritz, welcoming him cordially to the higher station he had attained.
The other subalterns also advanced, doing the same; while, on retiring
from the parade, the men of the rank and file, without receiving any
order to that effect, gave the young hero a general salute, in token of
their respect and recognition of his new dignity as an officer over
them.
Fritz's heart was bursting with joy at his unexpected promotion. He
thought how proud his mother would be to hear of it; but, before writing
home by the afternoon field post, as he intended doing, he determined to
carry out the promise he had made to himself, and which he held as
equally binding as if it had been made in the presence of witnesses--the
promise to bury the body of the dead officer which he had come across in
the wood, guarded by his faithful dog.
"Heinrich!" he called out to the man who, as his whilom comrade, had
preserved his rations for him. He forgot for the moment the altered
condition of their respective ranks.
"Ja, Herr Lieutenant," said Heinrich, much to his surprise, stepping out
towards him and saluting, with forefinger to pickelhaube, as straight as
a ramrod.
"Bother!" exclaimed Fritz, a bit puzzled at first by the inconvenience
in some ways of his exaltation in rank. There was some difficulty at
first in accommodating himself to his new position.
"Never mind my being an officer for awhile, friend Heinrich," he
explained to his whilom comrade--"the dignity can keep without harming
it until we are again on duty together, when I promise to remember it to
all your advantage; for you've been good fellows to me, one and all! I
want you now to help me, friend Heinrich, in a sad commission; so, I
rely upon your assistance from our old brotherly feelings when
together--not because I ask you as your superior. Get a pickaxe and
spade from one of the pioneers and come with me. I'm going to bury a
poor fellow who has fallen over there, whose fate has attracted my
sympathy." Fritz pointed, as he spoke, to the wood where the dead man
lay.
"With right good pleasure, Herr Lieutenant," said the other in a
cheerful tone of voice, with great alacrity of manner, saluting again as
before. As a soldier, he knew his place too well to take a liberty with
an officer, even if a newly-made one, and with his own permission! The
German, or rather Prussian, system was and is very strict on such
points.
"Oh, bother!" ejaculated Fritz again, between his teeth. "The idea of
helping to bury a man `with right good pleasure'!"
He could not help smiling at the ludicrous association with so grave a
subject, as he unconsciously mimicked the soldier's simple speech.
"Poor dear old fellow, though," thought he a moment afterwards, "he
doesn't know what a funny phrase he used."
In a minute or two the man returned with the required articles; when he
and Fritz set off towards the wood, the latter leading the way, and
Heinrich following close behind in single file.
On reaching the spot which he had marked, Fritz found that no one had
apparently been there in his absence, for the dog was still on guard
over his master's corpse, although he was now lying across the body, and
had ceased his melancholy howl. When he approached the animal wagged
his bushy tail, as if in recognition of having seen Fritz before.
"Poor fellow!" said Fritz; "come here, old man! We're here to put your
master in his last home, and you must not prevent us. We will treat him
very tenderly."
The dog looked up in his face, as if he understood what his new friend
said; and, crawling off from the officer's body, he came to Fritz and
licked his hand, holding up the while one paw, which was bleeding as if
from a cut.
"He is wounded," said Heinrich, stooping down.
"Yes," answered Fritz, examining the poor paw, much apparently to the
dog's satisfaction. "It's from a piece of shell, probably the same that
settled the horse there; but it's not a bad wound, and will soon get
well, doggie!" So saying, lifting up the injured member gently, he
began to bind it round with a piece of lint which he had in his pocket,
the retriever keeping perfectly quiet, as if knowing that no injury was
intended him.
Fritz then proceeded to open the dead officer's jacket, in order to
search for any papers or articles of value, which he might keep and
forward to his relatives. Previously, the dog would not allow him to
touch the body at all, but now he did not offer any objection, so Fritz
turned out all the pockets. He could discover no paper, however, nor
any trace of identity. The only token he could find was a little silver
ring wrapped in a small piece of paper, inscribed, "From my beloved,
18th July, 1870." This was carefully enclosed in a little bag of silk,
and suspended by a ribbon round the poor young fellow's neck, resting on
the cold and lifeless spot where his heart once used to beat.
"A love gage," said Heinrich sympathisingly.
"Ah, yes," replied Fritz; "and the poor girl will, I suppose, continue
to look out for him, hoping to see him again, while he lies here in a
nameless tomb! Never mind, I will keep the token and the dog; perhaps I
may discover her and his friends some day through them. Now, let us
make the grave quickly, comrade, and commit him to his rest!"
In silence the two then dug a low trench in the soil beneath the tree
where the officer had found his death, and then reverently laid him in
it. He had died calmly from the effects of a bullet which must have
penetrated his brain, as only a small blue orifice was to be seen in the
centre of his forehead; and a smile was on his handsome young face, as
if no painful thought had vexed his last moment.
During the sad obsequies, the dog kept close to the side of Fritz,
watching attentively everything that was done, without stirring or
uttering a sound, save when they shovelled the earth on his poor
master's breast. He then gave vent to a short, angry bark; but, on
Fritz speaking to him soothingly, he again became quiet, remaining so to
the end, when he laid down on the newly-made grave, with a deep, low
whine that was almost a sigh, that seemed to come from the bottom of his
faithful canine heart!
From a piece of broken wood close by, Fritz then carved a rude cross,
which he fixed in the ground at the head of the poor young fellow's last
resting-place, inscribing on it the words: "To a French officer. Peace
to his remains. The grave knows no enmities! 18th August, 1870."
The date on this unknown victim's grave was exactly one month later than
that on which he must have parted from his sweetheart. What a strange
fatality, pondered Fritz and his companion, that one who had probably
been so much loved and cared for, should be indebted for the last
friendly offices which man or woman could render him--to strangers!
"May he rest in peace!" said Fritz, uncovering his head as he turned
away, and then putting on his helmet again.
"So, too, I wish," echoed Heinrich. "We can do no more for him, poor
youth!"
"No," said Fritz; "we'd better go now. Come on, old fellow!" he added,
with a whistle to the retriever, who, wise dog that he was, seeing he
could do no further good to the one to whom he had been faithful in life
and watched in death as long as he was able, now answered the call of
the new friend whom Providence had sent him. Without any demur he
returned with Fritz and Heinrich to the Hanoverian camp, following close
behind the heels of the former, as if recognising him as his master in
the place of him whom he had lost.
Fritz christened this treasure trove of the battlefield "Gelert"; and
like that trusty hound of old, the animal became known to all the men in
a very short while. He was formally adopted, indeed, as the pet of the
regiment, besides coming in for Fritz's own special care, being known
even to the general in command of the division as "the dog of the sub-
lieutenant of Gravelotte."