Chaudfontaine
(August, 1914)
By Count Gaston de Ribaucourt, Sub-Lieutenant of the Heavy Howitzer
Corps
As soon as the mobilisation was decreed, I went to the War Office to
ask what services I could render as electrical engineer. I was advised
to go, as quickly as possible, to the fortified position of Liége, as
technical help was needed there for preparing the defence.
I arrived there the evening of August 3rd and, the following morning,
was engaged for the Chaudfontaine Fort. The next thing was to fit
myself out. I went at once to the Citadel, which looked like a huge
hive. Every different service was in full swing and the most perfect
order and activity reigned. Ten minutes later, I was equipped as an
artilleryman and, with my bag in my hand and my field-glasses strapped
round my back, was on the way to the train which took me, after
changing, to the foot of the hill which dominates the Fort.
It was a warm, bright August day and I climbed the steep hill at a
rapid pace, without giving a thought to the beautiful landscape around
me. An hour later, I had reached that little nest of defence which
we call a fort, and was glad to be able to offer all the energy,
intelligence, and knowledge that I possessed for the service of my
country, which was symbolised for me by the flag which floated at the
summit of the hill.
Everything had already a warlike aspect. Here and there, trees had been
felled in all their verdure. Barbed wire trellises had been stretched
across the most accessible passes. Sentinels stationed here and there
stopped me and, after questioning me and hearing why I was there, gave
me a friendly salute. An orderly on guard took me to the officers
in charge. I was at once received, installed in my new quarters
and welcomed with enthusiasm and with that feverish energy which
characterised the combatants of our heroic resistance.
I set to work at once, for I had much to learn. In the first place,
there was the observation of the firing range, then the regulating of
the cannons and all the electrical mechanism of the accessory services,
the registering of the mine chambers, of the wire entanglements, etc.
All this took up the rest of my morning and it was only later on that I
could begin to think of the special functions which had been delegated
to me.
Concealed among the hills which dominate the east of Liége, protected
in a semi-circle by one of the windings of the River Vesdre, the
Chaudfontaine Fort, of triangular form, was intended, together with
the Fléron and Evegnée Forts, to cover the Herve plateau. From its
position, it seemed as though it would be the object of the enemy's
first efforts. Behind the Fort, emerging from the abrupt slope of
the valley, could be seen, standing out against the sky, a corner of
Liége, that corner which was so familiar to all Belgians, thanks to
the Exhibition of the 75th anniversary. In the foreground, a little to
the right, about a mile and a half away, was Chévremont Abbey, and on
the slopes were the villages of Romsée and Magnée, their red roofs, and
their active, suburban life giving a gay touch to the landscape.
A telephone message suddenly broke the calm, by announcing the approach
of the enemy. The village of Foret, situated on the east, became the
object of all our attention, and very soon we saw the sombre procession
of grey uniforms appearing on the scene.
The Commander of the Fort assembled his men on the parapets and, after
a few rousing words, gave his little garrison the order to open fire.
When the first cannon was fired, each man returned quickly to his post.
As my service was the observation of the firing range, I hurried to the
plain and, under cover of the surrounding woods, reached the spot which
had been indicated to me. Thanks to my portative telephone, I could
then direct the first shooting. At the second firing, the shells and
shrapnels burst over the village and it was at once evident that the
quick firing from the Fort and the batteries were producing excellent
results. With my field-glasses, I could distinctly see the enemy stop
short, hesitate, and finally retreat, as it was hopeless to fight with
an invisible adversary.
This prompt defence probably preserved our Fort from the terrible
assaults sustained, during the night, by the neighbouring ones. The
simultaneous attack of all the forts of the Vesdre-Meuse sector
was one of the most impressive sights I witnessed during the whole
campaign. It began in the evening by an intense bombarding by the
German light artillery, answered heroically by the whole Liége
defence. The incessant cannonading was dominated by the louder voice
of the big fortress guns. The wan flashes from the cannon burst forth
in thousands, while through the darkness the crude search-lights were
projected, in an attempt to find the enemy's batteries. From time to
time, during a moment's calm, could be heard the cries and moans of
the German wounded, caught in the barbed wire and fired on by the
machine-guns. All this gave a magnificent, and at the same time,
frightful, aspect to the scene.
The following day, the morning was more calm, when suddenly we were
informed that an infantry regiment, after creeping through the woods,
had taken possession of the Forêt Château. Posted on the parapet, I
directed open firing on the enemy there. The distance had been very
exactly gauged, so that our prey was an easy one and our first shell
fell right on the building.
Just as from an ant heap, suddenly destroyed by a kick, myriads of
Boches rushed out, seeking refuge among the trees of the park and in
a hollow road near by. Carefully directed, the projectiles followed
them everywhere and reached them in their hiding-places, so that very
soon the lawns were strewn with wounded or dead men. The enemy was once
more obliged to disappear and nothing was now to be seen but convoys of
ambulance cars, taking away those over whom Death had only hovered.
The resistance now became more and more difficult, as the enemy had
managed to place batteries at points near enough to the Fort to reach
it without being exposed. It was, therefore, necessary to discover
fresh observation posts. I was designated for this service and,
accompanied by a corporal, I set out. For nearly an hour we advanced,
burrowing and hiding, in order to discover the enemy's positions. It
was my first experience with shrapnels rifling the ground in every
direction, in order to prevent observation. The Germans fired in
volleys of four and, every time we heard the projectiles arriving,
we had to lie down and then get up directly after the explosion, in
order to locate the batteries. I discovered them, at last, behind a
hedge in one of the Romsée gardens. As soon as I had informed the
Fort, a few shots were fired in order to find the exact spot and then
the German batteries had such a deluge of fire that, in less than a
quarter of an hour, the position was considered impossible by them and
at once evacuated. But the iron circle was gradually closing round us.
After two days of heroic effort, the 3rd Division had been obliged to
retreat, leaving the forts to their fate. Threatened on all sides, it
was indispensable for us to establish a high observatory which should
supply us with necessary information, as this was absolutely lacking
since the departure of our covering infantry.
A few miles to the left of the Fort, the spire of the Chèvremont church
stood out proudly against the sky. The old abbey, a vestige of a former
epoch, was to help in our powerful modern defence work. By order of
the Commander of the Fort, I set out in the night, to establish, as
invisibly as possible, a telephonic line which should connect the
observatory with the Fort. Fastening the wire through the brambles
which abound in this district, and placing it along the road, I was
fortunate enough to see my efforts crowned with success. Getting the
wire into the abbey was more difficult. Fortunately I was able to make
use of the poles which served for the electric light. I had to replace
the wire of the lightning conductor, along a stake, by a telephonic
wire and, following the other canalisations, bring it as far as the
church. This took me a good part of the morning, but, by ten o'clock,
after inventing a whole system of cords and ladders, I was finally
established in the top of the spire. Thanks to a slate I had removed,
I could see the country round to the east and north-east and, by means
of the subterranean telephonic wires, I could communicate information
concerning the slightest incident at Fléron and at Evegnée, and thus
render valuable service to the defence.
For the next four or five days, I lived inside this spire, with a
sub-officer. Twice only, a Belgian patrol paid us a visit. The rest
of the time, only Germans prowled round. Many were the alerts which
surprised us. A dozen men, belonging to the German infantry, spent
half a day inspecting the abbey to see if there were really no Belgian
soldier hidden there. Another day, just as we were looking through our
window, we caught sight of a German patrol looking up. That was an
alarming moment. We wondered what to do. If we moved away, it would
make a change in the appearance of the window. By staying, we risked
betraying ourselves and should probably be killed. This torture lasted
half an hour. At a certain moment, I saw six men of the patrol take aim
at the window. Fortunately, the sub-officer evidently thought better of
it and did not give the command to fire. Remaining motionless had saved
our lives. Two men who had inspected the tower had reported to their
chief that there was nothing suspicious, and the seven Boches went
away slowly, singing as they went.
August 11th was fatal to us. In the morning, towards six o'clock,
although I had taken the precaution to hide in a closed chapel, I was
noticed by a man in the neighbourhood. Two hours later, when I was at
my post of observation, I saw that the abbey, and particularly the
church, was the aim of the enemy. After three or four trial shots, a
shell reached the roof of the church and then the volleys were repeated
quickly. I was just endeavouring to locate an enemy battery which was
bombarding Fléron from Beau-Tilly. Whilst I was giving indications
about this, I was obliged to climb up into the steeple, which was
the only place of escape from the firing. Batteries concealed behind
the Chenée station were destroying the abbey. What terrible moments
I spent up there! I was alone in the steeple, as my companion had
gone to take his meal and could not get back to me. I stayed there as
long as I could give any useful information. For two long hours the
projectiles rained on the abbey. Presently, the steeple itself was hit.
A shell burst in the woodwork over my head, took off my forage cap,
and smashed the telephone in front of me. I was almost buried under
the heaps of slate and wood and was half stunned by the violence of
the blow. I thought my last hour had come. It was only at that moment
that I thought of my tragic position and, on turning round, I saw that
the roof of the choir was on fire. It was quite time to get away. As I
descended the ladder, I discovered that I was slightly wounded in the
knee. It was only a big surface wound though. I pulled myself together,
rushed quickly down and, amidst all the _débris_ that was falling on
every side, made my way to the cellars, which the Fathers, the last few
days, had been transforming into a shelter. An impressive scene awaited
me there. In the middle of the subterranean vault, two Fathers and my
companion were kneeling in prayer round the Holy Sacrament, which they
had taken from the church at the beginning of the bombardment. Their
joy was great on seeing me appear, for they thought I must have been
dead some time.
For the next hour, we remained there, praying God to protect us. In the
meantime, a great part of the abbey fell in. Nothing remained of the
church but ruins. The valuable library was now only a heap of cinders,
and was still burning.
Believing that they had attained their end, the German batteries now
ceased firing. We were obliged to spend the rest of the day, though,
amidst these ruins, which presented a sinister appearance, and wait
until the darkness to go back to the Fort. In the night, feeling that
at any rate we had done our duty, the sub-officer and I started on our
way, stealing along for two miles, through country occupied by the
enemy. It seemed a long, long way, beset as it was with danger. Several
times we had to crouch down and hide until German patrols had passed
by, only a few yards away from us. Finally, we caught sight of the
outline of a Belgian sentinel and, a few minutes later, were back in
the Fort, where the story of our adventures was enjoyed by all and we
were congratulated by the officers.
August 12th was a wretched day for us, as there was no more observation
possible. The big cannons had begun firing and our last moment was
approaching. The hours seem interminable when the firing is only
haphazard from the remaining cannons, and when one fires with the
idea of using up the ammunition, quite as much as for the sake of
endeavouring to injure the enemy.
Chaudfontaine was in a deplorable state. We could have no light at
night, as a shell had fallen, without bursting, into the chimney of the
steam engine. The Commander was determined to defend his Fort up to the
very last and had posted men on the slopes to fight with the bayonet
and endeavour to repulse the attack which was expected in the night.
With our hearts full of fury, we were all determined to give our lives
for our King and our Country, and our fellow-feeling caused the soul
of each man to rise to the same level. Whilst the others were keeping
watch, with the help of a few men I endeavoured to get the accursed
shell out of our machinery. It was nearly three in the morning when
we succeeded in our task. Everything was quickly put in order, and it
was with a hearty outburst of our national anthem that our brave men
greeted the light which poured from the electric projectors twenty
minutes later. This seemed like life renewed, and with it came renewed
hope. Another day had commenced and the Fort was not taken. That
morning, alas, all hope was crushed, for, as soon as it was daylight,
huge projectiles came at regular intervals and we could not reply to
them, as they came from too great a distance. Towards nine o'clock,
when I was in the officers' shooting gallery, a shock, accompanied by
a terrific report, shook the whole interior of the Fort. An immense
"38" had just burst in the powder-room and the Fort was blown up.
I was thrown against the opposite wall, and dragged myself to the
door through the _débris_. With another officer, I crossed the hall,
which had been transformed into a barracks, and there a fearful sight
met my eyes. At the moment of the explosion, a hundred and forty men
of the garrison had been lying there on straw or on mattresses, and
now, in tragic horror, I saw the whole of this place on fire. Straw,
mattresses, and soldiers, all were burning together! In the midst of
this brasier, wretched men were struggling, with their clothes all in
flames, like veritable living torches. We could scarcely drag one of
them from the furnace. It was a horrible death, worthy of the martyrs
of old. From the midst of the fire, dominating the groans, moans, and
shrieks of suffering, some voices could be heard uttering the supreme
cry of "Hurrah for the King!" "Hurrah for our Country!"