soon. In order to make advances the most diverse methods were used, as
was said before. The mining section would cut a subterranean passage up
to the enemy's position. The passage would branch out to the right and
left a yard or so before the position of our opponent, and run parallel
with it. The work takes of course weeks to accomplish, for the whole of
the loosened soil must be taken to the rear on small mining wagons.
Naturally, the soil taken out must not be heaped in one place, for if
that were done the enemy would get wind of our intentions and would
spoil everything by countermining. As soon as work is advanced far
enough the whole passage running parallel with the enemy's trench is
provided with explosives and dammed up. When the mine is exploded the
whole of the enemy's trench is covered by the soil that is thrown up,
burying many soldiers alive. Usually such an explosion is followed by an
assault. The sapping section, on the other hand, have to dig open
trenches running towards the enemy's position. These are connected by
transversal trenches, the purpose being to get one's own position always
closer to the enemy's. As soon as one's position has approached near
enough to make it possible to throw hand grenades into the enemy's
position the hand grenade sections have to take up their places and
bombard the enemy's trenches continually with hand grenades, day and
night.
Some few hundred yards to the rear are the heavy modern mine throwers
firing a projectile weighing 140 pounds. Those projectiles, which look
like sugar loaves, fly cumbrously over to the enemy where they do great
damage. The trade of war must not stop at night; so the darkness is made
bright by means of illuminating rockets. The illuminating cartridge is
fired from a pistol, and for a second all is bright as day. As all that
kind of work was done by sappers the French hated the sappers
especially, and French prisoners often told us that German prisoners
with white buttons and black ribbons on their caps (sappers) would be
treated without any mercy. Warned by the statements of those prisoners
nearly all provided themselves with infantry uniforms. We knew that we
had gradually become some specialty in the trenches.
If the infantry were molested somewhere by the enemy's hand grenades
they used to come running up to us and begged us to go and meet the
attack. Each of us received a cigar to light the hand grenades, and then
we were off. Ten or twenty of us rained hand grenades on the enemy's
trench for hours until one's arm got too stiff with throwing.
Thus the slaughter continued, day after day, night after night. We had
48 hours in the trenches and 12 hours' sleep. It was found impossible to
divide the time differently, for we were too few. The whole of the
forest had been shot and torn to tatters. The artillery was everywhere
and kept the villages behind the enemy's position under fire. Once one
of the many batteries which we always passed on our way from camp to the
front was just firing when we came by. I interrogated one of the
sighting gunners what their target might be. "Some village or other,"
the gunner replied. The representative of the leader of the battery, a
lieutenant-colonel, was present. One of my mates inquired whether women
and children might not be in the villages. "That's neither here nor
there," said the lieutenant-colonel, "the women and children are French,
too, so what's the harm done? Even their litter must be annihilated so
as to knock out of that nation for a hundred years any idea of war."
If that "gentleman" thought to win applause he was mistaken. We went our
way, leaving him to his "enjoyment."
On that day an assault on the enemy's position had been ordered, and we
had to be in our places at seven o'clock in the morning. The 67th
regiment was to attack punctually at half past eight, the sappers taking
the lead. The latter had been provided with hand grenades for that
purpose. We were only some twenty yards away from the enemy. Those
attacks, which were repeated every week, were prepared by artillery fire
half an hour before the assault began. The artillery had to calculate
their fire very carefully, because the distance between the trench and
that of the enemy was very small. That distance varied from three to a
hundred yards, it was nowhere more than that. At our place it was twenty
yards. Punctually at eight o'clock the artillery began to thunder forth.
The first three shots struck our own trench, but those following
squarely hit the mark, i.e., the French trench. The artillery had got
the exact range and then the volleys of whole batteries began to scream
above our heads. Every time the enemy's trench or the roads leading to
it were hit with wonderful accuracy. One could hear the wounded cry, a
sign that many a one had already been crippled. An artillery officer
made observations in the first trench and directed the fire by
telephone.
The artillery became silent exactly at half past eight, and we passed
to the assault. But the 11th company of regiment No. 67, of which I
spoke before, found itself in a such a violent machine-gun fire that
eighteen men had been killed a few paces from our trench. The dead and
wounded had got entangled in the wild jumble of the trees and branches
encumbering the ground. Whoever could run tried to reach the enemy's
trench as quickly as possible. Some of the enemy defended themselves
desperately in their trench, which was filled with mud and water, and
violent hand to hand fighting ensued. We stood in the water up to our
knees, killing the rest of our opponents. Seriously wounded men were
lying flat in the mud with only their mouths and noses showing above the
water. But what did we care! They were stamped deeper in the mud, for we
could not see where we were stepping; and so we rolled up the whole
trench. Thereupon the conquered position was fortified as well as it
could be done in all haste. Again we had won a few yards of the Argonnes
at the price of many lives. That trench had changed its owners
innumerable times before, a matter of course in the Argonnes, and we
awaited the usual counter attack.
Presently the "mules" began to get active. "Mules" are the guns of the
French mountain artillery. As those guns are drawn by mules, the soldier
in the Argonnes calls them "mules" for short. They are very light guns
with a flat trajectory, and are fired from a distance of only 50-100
yards behind the French front. The shells of those guns whistled above
our heads. Cutting their way through the branches they fly along with
lightning rapidity to explode in or above some trench. In consequence of
the rapid flight and the short distance the noise of the firing and the
explosion almost unite in a single bang. Those "mules" are much feared
by the German soldiers, because those guns are active day and night.
Thus day by day we lived through the same misery.
XIX
CHRISTMAS IN THE TRENCHES
Winter had arrived and it was icy cold. The trenches, all of which had
underground water, had been turned into mere mud holes. The cold at
night was intense, and we had to do 48 hours' work with 12 hours' sleep.
Every week we had to make an attack the result of which was in no
proportion to the immense losses. During the entire four months that I
was in the Argonnes we had a gain of terrain some 400 yards deep. The
following fact will show the high price that was paid in human life for
that little piece of France. All the regiments (some of these were the
infantry regiments Nos. 145, 67, 173, and the Hirschberg sharpshooting
battalion No. 5) had their own cemetery. When we were relieved in the
Argonnes there were more dead in our cemetery than our regiment counted
men. The 67th regiment had buried more than 2000 men in its cemetery,
all of whom, with the exception of a few sappers, had belonged to
regiment No. 67. Not a day passed without the loss of human lives, and
on a "storming day" death had an extraordinarily rich harvest. Each day
had its victims, sometimes more, sometimes fewer. It must appear quite
natural that under such conditions the soldiers were not in the best of
moods. The men were all completely stupefied. Just as they formerly went
to work regularly to feed the wife and children they now went to the
trenches in just the same regular way. That business of slaughtering and
working had become an every day affair. When they conversed it was
always the army leaders, the Crown Prince and Lieutenant-General von
Mudra, the general in command of the 16th Army Corps, that were most
criticized.
The troops in the Argonnes belonged to the 16th Army Corps, to the 33rd
and 34th division of infantry. Neither of the two leaders, neither the
Crown Prince nor von Mudra, have I ever seen in the trenches. The staff
of the Crown Prince had among its members the old General-Fieldmarshal
Count von Haeseler, the former commander of the 16th Army Corps, a man
who in times of peace was already known as a relentless slave driver.
The "triplets," as we called the trio, the Crown Prince, von Mudra, and
Count von Haeseler, were more hated by most of the soldiers than the
Frenchman who was out with his gun to take our miserable life.
Many miles behind the front the scion of the Hohenzollerns found no
difficulty to spout his "knock them hard!" and, at the price of
thousands of human lives, to make himself popular with the patriots at
home who were sitting there behind the snug stove or at the beer table
complaining that we did not advance fast enough. Von Mudra got the order
"Pour le merite"; they did not think of his soldiers who had not seen a
bed, nor taken off their trousers or boots for months; these were
provided with food--and shells, and were almost being eaten up by
vermin.
That we were covered with body lice was not to be wondered at, for we
had scarcely enough water for drinking purposes, and could not think of
having a wash. We had worn our clothes for months without changing
them; the hair on our heads and our beards had grown to great length.
When we had some hours in which to rest, the lice would not let us
sleep.
The air in the shelters was downright pestiferous, and to that foul
stench of perspiration and putrefaction was added the plague of lice. At
times one was sitting up for hours and could not sleep, though one was
dead tired. One could catch lice, and the more one caught the worse they
got. We were urgently in want of sleep, but it was impossible to close
the eyes on account of the vermin. We led a loathsome, pitiful life, and
at times we said to one another that nobody at home even suspected the
condition we were in. We often told one another that if later on we
should relate to our families the facts as they really were they would
not believe them. Many soldiers tried to put our daily experience in
verse.
There were many of such jingles illustrating our barbarous handicraft.
It was in the month of December and the weather was extremely cold. At
times we often stood in the trenches with the mud running into our
trousers' pockets. In those icy cold nights we used to sit in the
trenches almost frozen to a lump of ice, and when utter exhaustion
sometimes vanquished us and put us to sleep we found our boots frozen to
the ground on waking up. Quite a number of soldiers suffered from
frost-bitten limbs; it was mostly their toes that were frost-bitten.
They had to be taken to the hospital. The soldiers on duty fired
incessantly so as to keep their fingers warm.
Not all the soldiers are as a rule kept ready to give battle. If no
attack is expected or intended, only sentries occupy the trench. About
three yards apart a man is posted behind his protective shield of
steel. Nevertheless all the men are in the trench. The sentries keep
their section under a continual fire, especially when it is cold and
dark. The fingers get warm when one pulls the trigger. Of course, one
cannot aim in the darkness, and the shots are fired at random. The
sentry sweeps his section so that no hostile patrol can approach, for he
is never safe in that thicket. Thus it happens that the firing is
generally more violent at night than at day; but there is never an
interval. The rifles are fired continually; the bullets keep whistling
above our trench and patter against the branches. The mines, too, come
flying over at night, dropping at a high angle. Everybody knows the
scarcely audible thud, and knows at once that it is a mine without
seeing anything. He warns the others by calling out, "Mine coming!" and
everybody looks in the darkness for the "glow-worm," i.e., the burning
fuse of the mine. The glowing fuse betrays the direction of the mine,
and there are always a few short seconds left to get round some corner.
The same is the case with the hand grenades. They, too, betray the line
of their flight at night by their burning fuse. If they do not happen to
arrive in too great numbers one mostly succeeds in getting out of their
way. In daylight that is not so hard because one can overlook
everything. It often happens that one cannot save oneself in time from
the approaching hand grenade. In that case there is only one
alternative--either to remain alive or be torn to atoms. Should a hand
grenade suddenly fall before one's feet one picks it up without
hesitation as swiftly as possible and throws it away, if possible back
into the enemy's trench. Often, however, the fuse is of such a length
that the grenade does not even explode after reaching the enemy's
trench again, and the Frenchman throws it back again with fabulous
celerity. In order to avoid the danger of having a grenade returned the
fuse is made as short as possible, and yet a grenade will come back now
and again in spite of all. To return a grenade is of course dangerous
work, but a man has no great choice; if he leaves the grenade where it
drops he is lost, as he cannot run away; and he knows he will be crushed
to atoms, and thus his only chance is to pick up the grenade and throw
it away even at the risk of having the bomb explode in his hand. I know
of hand grenades thrown by the French that flew hither and thither
several times. One was thrown by the French and immediately returned; it
came back again in an instant, and again we threw it over to them; it
did not reach the enemy's trench that time, but exploded in the air.
Though in general the infantry bullets cannot do much damage while one
is in the trench it happens daily that men are killed by ricochet
bullets. The thousands of bullets that cut through the air every minute
all pass above our heads. But some strike a tree or branch and glance
off. If in that case they hit a man in the trench they cause terrible
injuries, because they do not strike with their heads but lengthwise.
Whenever we heard of dum-dum bullets we thought of those ricochet
bullets, though we did not doubt that there were dum-dum bullets in
existence. I doubt, however, if dum-dum bullets are manufactured in
factories, for the following reasons:--first, because a dum-dum bullet
can easily damage the barrel of a rifle and make it useless; secondly,
because the average soldier would refuse to carry such ammunition, for
if a man is captured and such bullets are found on him, the enemy in
whose power he is would punish him by the laws of war as pitilessly as
such an inhuman practice deserves to be punished. Generally, of course,
a soldier only executes his orders.
However, there exist dum-dum bullets, as I mentioned before. They are
manufactured by the soldiers themselves. If the point is filed or cut
off a German infantry bullet, so that the nickel case is cut through and
the lead core is laid bare, the bullet explodes when striking or
penetrating an object. Should a man be hit in the upper arm by such a
projectile the latter, by its explosive force, can mangle the arm to
such an extent that it only hangs by a piece of skin.
Christmas came along, and we still found ourselves at the same place
without any hope of a change. We received all kinds of gifts from our
relations at home and other people. We were at last able to change our
underwear which we had worn for months.
Christmas in the trenches! It was bitterly cold. We had procured a pine
tree, for there were no fir trees to be had. We had decorated the tree
with candles and cookies, and had imitated the snow with wadding.
Christmas trees were burning everywhere in the trenches, and at midnight
all the trees were lifted on to the parapet with their burning candles,
and along the whole line German soldiers began to sing Christmas songs
in chorus. "O, thou blissful, O, thou joyous, mercy bringing Christmas
time!" Hundreds of men were singing the song in that fearful wood. Not a
shot was fired; the French had ceased firing along the whole line. That
night I was with a company that was only five paces away from the enemy.
The Christmas candles were burning brightly, and were renewed again and
again. For the first time we heard no shots. From everywhere,
throughout the forest, one could hear powerful carols come floating
over--"Peace on earth--"
The French left their trenches and stood on the parapet without any
fear. There they stood, quite overpowered by emotion, and all of them
with cap in hand. We, too, had issued from our trenches. We exchanged
gifts with the French--chocolate, cigarettes, etc. They were all
laughing, and so were we; why, we did not know. Then everybody went back
to his trench, and incessantly the carol resounded, ever more solemnly,
ever more longingly--"O, thou blissful--"
All around silence reigned; even the murdered trees seemed to listen;
the charm continued, and one scarcely dared to speak. Why could it not
always be as peaceful? We thought and thought, we were as dreamers, and
had forgotten everything about us.--Suddenly a shot rang out; then
another one was fired somewhere. The spell was broken. All rushed to
their rifles. A rolling fire. Our Christmas was over.
We took up again our old existence. A young infantryman stood next to
me. He tried to get out of the trench. I told him: "Stay here; the
French will shoot you to pieces." "I left a box of cigars up there, and
must have it back." Another one told him to wait till things quieted
down somewhat. "They won't hit me; I have been here three months, and
they never caught me yet." "As you wish; go ahead!"
Scarcely had he put his head above the parapet when he tumbled back.
Part of his brains was sticking to my belt. His cap flew high up into
the air. His skull was shattered. He was dead on the spot. His trials
were over. The cigars were later on fetched by another man.
On the following Christmas day an army order was read out. We were
forbidden to wear or have in our possession things of French origin;
for, every soldier who was found in possession of such things would be
put before a court-martial as a marauder by the French if they captured
him. We were forbidden to use objects captured from the French, and we
were especially forbidden to make use of woolen blankets, because the
French were infected with scabies. Scabies is an itching skin disease,
which it takes at least a week to cure. But the order had a contrary
effect. If one was the owner of such an "itch-blanket" one had a chance
of getting into the hospital for some days. The illness was not of a
serious nature, and one was at least safe from bullets for a few days.
Every day soldiers were sent to the hospital, and we, too, were watching
for a chance to grab such a French blanket. What did a man care, if he
could only get out of that hell!
XX
THE "ITCH"--A SAVIOR
On January 5th the Germans attacked along the whole forest front, and
took more than 1800 prisoners. We alone had captured 700 men of the
French infantry regiment No. 120. The hand to hand fighting lasted till
six o'clock at night. On that day I, together with another sapper, got
into a trench section that was still being defended by eight Frenchmen.
We could not back out, so we had to take up the unequal struggle.
Fortunately we were well provided with hand grenades. We cut the fuses
so short that they exploded at the earliest moment. I threw one in the
midst of the eight Frenchmen. They had scarcely escaped the first one,
when the second arrived into which they ran. We utilized their momentary
confusion by throwing five more in quick succession. We had reduced our
opponents to four. Then we opened a rifle fire, creeping closer and
closer up to them. Their bullets kept whistling above our heads. One of
the Frenchmen was shot in the mouth; three more were left. These turned
to flee. In such moments one is seized with an indescribable rage and
forgets all about the danger that surrounds one. We had come quite near
to them, when the last one stumbled and fell forward on his face. In a
trice I was on him; he fought desperately with his fists; my mate was
following the other two. I kept on wrestling with my opponent. He was
bleeding from his mouth; I had knocked out some of his teeth. Then he
surrendered and raised his hands. I let go and then had a good look at
him. He was some 35 years old, about ten years older than myself. I now
felt sorry for him. He pointed to his wedding ring, talking to me all
the while. I understood what he wanted--he wanted to be kept alive. He
handed me his bottle, inviting me to drink wine. He cried; maybe he
thought of his wife and children. I pressed his hand, and he showed me
his bleeding teeth. "You are a silly fellow," I told him; "you have been
lucky. The few missing teeth don't matter. For you the slaughtering is
finished; come along!" I was glad I had not killed him, and took him
along myself so as to protect him from being ill-treated. When I handed
him over he pressed my hand thankfully and laughed; he was happy to be
safe. However bad the time he might have as prisoner he would be better
off at any rate than in the trenches. At least he had a chance of
getting home again.