Dixmude
From an Account given by Ernest Collin, a Private of the 12th Line
Regiment, and Completed by Ernest Job, a Corporal in the same regiment
As soon as the enemy began to attack the Forts with an Artillery so
powerful that no permanent fortifications could resist, the Staff
realised that Antwerp was lost, and that all efforts must be made to
save the fighting army.
The retreat began in the evening of the 6th of October. It was
admirably organised, but it meant excessive and inevitable fatigue for
the troops. The 3rd Division, which covered the most exposed flank of
the army, had the hardest task, as it was compelled to make continual
night marches, without any rest whatever.
From Antwerp to Ghent, our Battalion had to march all the time and our
difficulties were increased by the combats we had to wage at Lokeren
and at Oostacker. On their arrival at Tronchiennes, on the 9th of
October, our men were thoroughly exhausted. The following day, at
five in the morning, the 12th Line Regiment and the greater part of
the 3rd Division were sent by train to Nieuport, where they arrived
in the afternoon. The exhaustion of the soldiers was so great that
it was necessary to give them two or three days' rest. On the 13th we
set off once more, and on the 14th we took up our position along the
Yser. It was a very good line of defence, reaching from the North Sea
at Boesinghe, along the river as far as Knocke and, beyond that town,
following the Yperlée canal.[8] From Nieuport-Bains to Boesinghe, the
line measured about 22 miles, an extent not at all out of proportion
to the strength of the Belgian army, which was then reduced to 82,000
men with 48,000 guns. The whole country is interspersed with ditches,
canals, and rivers, and the supreme resource was that, at Nieuport, we
had a dyke system which allowed us to inundate the country where German
forces might be too strong.
At daybreak, on the 15th of October, we were at work. We made trenches
at Leke, Pervyse, and Oudecapelle and we were lodged, more or less
comfortably, in sheds and barns. The trenches and the movements of the
troops gave us plenty to think about. In the distance, the cannon was
roaring, and its sullen voice came nearer and nearer every minute.
What was going to happen? All kinds of conjectures came into the minds
of the soldiers. For the last two days, they had had no bread, but,
fortunately, there were biscuits to appease their hunger. Some French
bread was then distributed, but, although it was good, it did not
take the place of the national brown bread. In a deserted farm, a few
dainty-lovers massacred some poor pigs. When they had caught one, in a
few seconds it was slaughtered, dressed, and cut up, and then each man
went off with his share.
On the 19th, the 12th Line Regiment had orders to occupy Dixmude.
Up to that date, this town had been defended by a Brigade of Marine
Fusiliers, who had opened fire on the morning of the 16th, in order to
drive back a strong body of enemy reconnaissances.
According to the orders communicated to us, the Brigade B, which
comprised the 11th and 12th, as well as a group of Artillery, was
placed at the disposal of the French Admiral Ronarc'h, to whom the
defence of the Dixmude bridge-head had been entrusted.
The Admiral gave orders to the Brigade B to hold the bridge-head on the
right bank of the Yser, whilst his sailors, attached to the Belgian 5th
Division, would execute an offensive in a northerly direction.
Our immediate Chiefs were Colonel Jacques, commanding the 12th
Regiment, and Colonel Meiser, commanding the Brigade. I have mentioned
the names of these courageous officers, as it will be understood that,
led by such men, the troops had confidence and it was certain that the
soldiers would all do their duty. We were absolutely responsible for
the defence of the Yser. The King had appealed to us, asking us to hold
this line for the next forty-eight hours, although it was probable that
the Germans would do their utmost to pierce it. We had all given our
word to die rather than to yield this last shred of our territory.
On the 19th of October, which was a bright, sunshiny day, the Regiment
was assembled at Oudecapelle. We were fully aware that serious things
were taking place, but the Colonel, with a smile, announced a great
victory. We strapped up our kits gaily and set off, thinking of our
return to reconquered Liége.
We gradually approached our poor, unfortunate Dixmude. When we
entered the town, we were surrounded by an anxious, but sympathetic
population. Very many refugees were already on the way towards more
favoured countries. These poor people, flying from the invaded towns
and villages, had been wandering aimlessly day and night, in search of
a safe and hospitable district. On seeing them, I was seized with fury
against our relentless enemy, and I thought of my own family and of all
those I loved, whom I should, perhaps, never see again.
We passed through the town and took up our position in the trenches,
which had been quickly prepared in front of the bridge-head. There
was no doubt but that we were going to fight again. And what a fight
it would be! The fate of the Allies depended on our resisting to the
uttermost. If the enemy crossed, we were conquered. With the most
determined resolution, we began to improve our position. The Marine
Fusiliers had only done the rough part of digging out the trenches.
There was no accessory defence whatever, no wire, and nothing
demolished, so that our defence would be infinitely more difficult.
Beside this, certain trenches had been established against the coverts.
The first thing to do was to complete the trenches and to clear the
firing range within the near zone. We set to work energetically. It was
three o'clock in the afternoon. My friend Job was at work fortifying
the parapet of our shelter, and I was a little ahead of him clearing
away whatever obstructed the outlook. Suddenly, I heard a whizzing
sound and a shell destroyed the trench. Several more followed and I was
knocked down. I got up again and ran to shelter. The shells showered
down, and all kinds of _débris_ were blown up in the air. I looked
round for Job and, just at this moment, a projectile fell straight
on to his parapet, which crumbled away, burying him under it. This
was a terrible moment of anxiety, but he managed to extricate himself
and, with a very red face, escaped to another trench. The bombardment
continued and, at the end of an hour, the firing took a longer range
and projectiles burst on the town itself. It took us a little time to
recover. We then went back to our holes, or rather we had to make fresh
ones, as nothing remained but a heap of rubbish, and I could neither
find my arms nor my kit. I was obliged to take those of a wounded man
near.
At six o'clock in the evening, we were informed that the 5th Army
Division, together with the Marine Fusiliers, was to cross the Yser
and pass to the left bank. The troops in position were to protect this
retreat. The night was fairly tranquil and it was raining even in the
trenches. The soldiers were dozing, with their arms ready in case of
an attack. Each man was his own sentinel in these inconvenient holes.
Finally, after long hours of anguish and of anxiety, the darkness was
over and the dawn comforted us. We were very weary and we hoped to have
a little rest. Alas, the enemy was advancing and threatening us again.
At eight o'clock, on the 20th of October, the bombardment commenced. It
was an incessant shower of big shrapnels and of mine shells, a sort of
torpedo shell, which burst with a deafening noise and an opaque smoke.
The moral effect was immense, although the material damage was not
very great. Job and I were lying face downwards against the parapet,
helpless and dazed, expecting to be killed every second.
For long hours, that seemed like centuries, we heard these fatal
whizzings, these formidable explosions, and saw our men lying still
like so many wax-work figures. No one moved, no one spoke and no one
could eat anything. Only the sound of heavy breathing broke the silence
of the trenches. And this torture endured until two in the afternoon.
Suddenly, our advance sentinels signalled the arrival of Germans in
masses. The bombardment was the prelude to an Infantry attack, which
began at half-past two in the afternoon. The Artillery firing took
longer aim, in order to reach points behind our line. Dixmude was
bombarded to the uttermost, in order to prevent the arrival of reserves
to our trenches. In the German lines, a ceaseless Infantry firing then
took place and the lines gradually advanced. The enemy made use of the
ground and the numerous coverts in the district, as the firing zone had
not been cleared to any great extent. The enemy troops did not reach
the assault position, as the firing of our men caused them considerable
losses.
At this moment, my platoon Chief sent me to ask the Captain for some
information. I crawled away, but on my return I found my Chief wounded.
I wanted to take him away, but the Captain insisted on my returning to
the trench. Our cannons were being directed on to a wood from which the
enemy was coming. The battle was engaged and we were all possessed with
the fever of war and were shooting from everywhere. Dixmude was buried
under showers of shells and shrapnels. The Germans appeared rapidly on
all sides. We were threatened on our left and, under the intense and
murderous fire, the Company which had joined us had all its officers
either killed or wounded. The position was impossible to hold. The
men still left evacuated the trenches and went about two hundred
yards farther back. In spite of his energy, the Major was thinking of
falling back, when a Company of the 11th arrived, accompanied by Marine
Fusiliers. These brave men marched forward and reoccupied the lost
trenches. Many of my comrades had been struck down. I took one of them
away who had been dazed by the explosion of a shell in his trench. I
then came back, crouching in the ditches to avoid the balls. The shells
were falling on every side. We did not trouble any more about them, as
it was just luck whether we were hit or not. I wondered whether Job
were still living. I did not know and I could not see him anywhere.
It was getting dark. We were now in the park, scattered about as
sharp-shooters behind a hedge. In front of us were the trenches
occupied by our men, reinforced by the Fusiliers. Balls were whizzing
about everywhere. Lying down sideways, I hollowed out the earth with
my shovel and made a slight parapet. The firing became more and more
intense. The Boches were beginning a fresh assault and we could hear
them distinctly shouting "Hoch! Lebe der Kaiser!" It was a sight never
to be forgotten. In the trenches, and in the park, a strange-looking
swarm of men. By the light of the flashes from the firing, we could
see dark figures gliding about, running to the right, to the left,
or forward. The Belgians and the French were all mingling and
making frantic efforts. The Artillery ceased, and then the guns and
machine-guns continued alone. What a diabolical concert it was! It
seemed as though hell itself had been let loose. With their fruitless
assaults, the Boches made an infernal uproar. They yelled like savages,
their clarions rang out, and they were beating their drums. The
cannon began again, and the machine-guns told their beads, whilst the
rifles discharged murderous volleys. In the midst of the darkness we
could hear shouts, calls, orders, exclamations of all kinds. Certain
French soldiers, in spite of the danger, when the Boches ran away,
seized all kinds of utensils and banged the metal together, making an
indescribable din. It was tragically comic, for in the very fiercest of
the fight they were joking.
The enemy tried in vain to take our trenches. Those who came near
enough to us were mown down. It was a regular massacre. Listening
intently, I could hear the imperious commands of the German officers
and the obstinate refusal of the soldiers, who were in revolt against
the task imposed upon them.
Towards eleven o'clock, during a lull, we were quietly relieved, and,
feeling a little more reassured, we went back to Dixmude. We were
supplied with provisions and, incredible though it may seem, we spent
the night in the attic of a house. No one could sleep. We all had
the impression that we should neither leave the town, nor even that
house, alive. The shooting continued and we could hear the echo of
it. It seemed very near and one would have thought the fighting was
taking place in the street. Finally, the cannon began again. The German
tactics are to prepare Infantry attacks by a violent bombardment. In
the first days of the war, this bombardment lasted three hours and then
the attack took place. If this failed, the bombardment began again and
gradually increased in intensity.
At the first glimmer of daylight, on the 21st, the Captain called us
together under the porch of the house where we had slept. Platoon
by platoon, we were to cross the Square, at full speed, where the
projectiles were dropping. There was a second of hesitation, then the
gate was opened and the first group rushed out. At the same instant, a
shell burst at our side. The officer and twelve men were wounded.
I left the house, cautiously, with a few comrades, by the garden gate
at the back. We slipped along under cover of the shattered houses
and reached the bridge, which was in a shaky condition. On this side
of the town, trudging along in the mud and rain, there was a pitiful
procession of women, children, old men, and indeed the whole population
which had remained in the town until now and which was now escaping in
terror.
What a sigh of relief we gave when we had once crossed the bridge and
were safely on the other side! We went through the ruined village of
Caeskerke, the church of which was still burning, and we were then
in the country. About two miles away from the town, in the fields,
the Battalion was re-formed. The various Companies then separated and
lay down amongst the verdure, in order to escape being seen by the
enemy. About forty of our men were missing. There were about double
that number still in our Company. A little warm soup restored us after
all the emotions of the last few hours. Job and I were unhurt, we had
certainly escaped very narrowly. We were quite joyful, and we told each
other various details and exchanged opinions. We almost forgot the
furnace we had left, as we joked together. Then the remembrance of
those we had left behind saddened us once more.
Suddenly, some shells passed over us. Their whizzing, and the
formidable explosions that followed, warned us that these were not
exactly children's playthings. The enemy had no doubt discovered us,
for the projectiles dropped very near. We were obliged to move about
frequently and to cross the brooks and canals, with which the whole
district is interspersed, with the greatest speed. It was by no means
easy always and several of us had an unexpected bath. On the road,
behind us, the "big blackies" kept bursting, and one of them exploded
on an artillery waggon. That was a tragical moment, and we never saw
anything more of the waggon, the driver, or the horses.
Finally, after a hundred events of one kind or another, it began to
get dark once more. We were quartered for the night in the village of
Oostkerke. Nothing happened during the night, but in the distance we
could hear the ceaseless firing of guns and cannon.
The following day, October 22nd, we made trenches all day long,
covering them with material which we fetched from the half-deserted
village. We went there along the railroad, thus avoiding the canals.
Towards mid-day, an armoured-train arrived by rail, bringing some
English cannons. At last, we said to ourselves, we were to have some
heavy Artillery, with which to reply to the Boches. Job and I were just
on our way back from the village, carrying a beam on our shoulders, and
this prevented our seeing the signal. The cannon was suddenly fired,
and we two found ourselves on the ground with the beam in front of us.
We got up, almost stunned, and took ourselves quickly out of the way.
The enemy replied promptly and, in front of us, just before the railway
line, the "No. 15 Cigars" kept dropping. Each time that a projectile
arrived, with its ominous whizz, we raised our heads, instinctively,
just to see where it burst. Fortunately for us, not one of them reached
us. We spent the night in our shelters, narrow holes in which we were
obliged to remain close together like sardines, half stifled and
cramped.
On the 23rd, we continued our work until towards six in the evening.
We had almost finished when orders were brought to us. Our Battalion
was to return once more in the direction of Dixmude. This was not
very re-assuring, but we made our way back, passing again through the
ruins of Caeskerke. The white tower of the church was blazing and its
gleams lit up the darkness of the night. We had been walking for a
long time and were now moving about, backwards and forwards, waiting
for definite instructions. They came at last; we were to reinforce
the Dixmude troops. We set out in the darkness. A volley of shrapnels
exploded over our heads. The men jumped into the ditch which runs
along the road and buried themselves as well as they could. A few
minutes later, as all was calm, we continued our way. When we were near
Dixmude, we took shelter in the houses. We kept a lookout, with our
arms ready, as we formed the assaulting column. If the Germans crossed
our lines, we should have to use our bayonets. Fortunately they were
too well-behaved, or rather too weak.
Towards four in the morning, we went to the relief of our comrades. To
reach the trenches, we had to cross the shaky bridge again. We did this
in Indian file and then kept close to the shattered walls. We went down
the narrow streets filled with rubbish and, here and there, with the
dead. We were constantly obliged to fling ourselves suddenly down, no
matter where, and behind no matter what, as the big calibre shrapnels
kept coming all the time. At a certain moment they followed us, and
several of us were seriously wounded. After a hundred incidents, we
managed, by crawling along, to cross the park and reach the trenches.
Our companions in misfortune went silently away and we organised the
position. Behind us, in the mysterious darkness, we kept seeing long
blood-red trails, and these were followed by terrible explosions. Our
cannons were carrying death, in their turn, to the enemy lines. I shall
never forget those doleful whizzings, that clanging sound of steel,
that noise of air filling the vacuum, roaring like a wild sea and then,
in the distance, those formidable explosions which intoxicate one and
make one thrill with excitement.
It was almost dawn on the 24th, and we were concealing ourselves as
best we could, for it was impossible to come out for anything whatever.
Everything had to be done secretly, as the German captive balloons were
overhead watching everything. The bombardment began once more and the
whole earth shook. Over our heads, the shells kept flying. We heard
them burst, with a terrible noise, either in the park behind us, or on
the town. One of them entered the cellar of a large house and exploded
in the midst of our musicians, who were hiding there. Some of them were
killed and many of them were wounded. As for us, we were all crouching
down in the trenches. Some of us were watching and the others talking.
No one could smile that day, and our only occupation was to keep watch
on the horizon, in the direction of the enemy, and to notice where the
shells exploded.
Sometimes we were aimed at, and then we could do nothing but collect
ourselves together, as it were, with our knapsacks on our backs and
wait anxiously until the whizz should pass over us. The number of
projectiles which fell beyond our positions is incredible. In front of
us, we were faced by death and behind us by devastation. The ground
between us and the wood in which the enemy was sheltering was covered
with dead animals, cows, horses, pigs, and sheep. At times, I saw one
of these animals move. There were even two sheep which were browsing
tranquilly, but all the life that remained was doomed to destruction.
There was not the slightest lull in the storm all day long. At four
in the afternoon, a violent Infantry attack began. This attack was
repulsed and the bombardment began again as fresh as ever. All night
long, there was a succession of bombardments of the trenches and of all
the neighbouring ground, followed by Infantry attacks. The latter were
no longer like the attacks we had been having. I had the impression
that there was a certain confusion in the direction of them, and that
it was more difficult to commence them. After a few minutes, though,
there was more zeal and it was a terrible struggle all along the
line, finishing with the assault. The attack did not last very long
and, almost before the end of it, the bombardment began again. In the
execution of these operations, there was admirable co-ordination, on
the enemy's side, between the Infantry and the Artillery action, and
this co-ordination was such that when our troops no longer heard the
fall of shells in the immediate neighbourhood of the trenches, they
were certain of the Infantry attack. As soon as the bombardment ceased,
there was firing all along the line and then, as the line approached,
the shouts of the assault could always be heard. As the night advanced,
the firing was no longer regular but by fits and starts. Hesitation
could be felt. As to the defence, full latitude was given to the
Commanders of every Company. "As soon as the assault has failed," the
Major had said, "get your men in hand again as much as possible, and
fire in volleys." Each time I heard these volleys I was glad, for,
as I said to myself, the enemy is beating a retreat at some point.
The second the volleys ceased, the bombardment recommenced and our
Infantry, crouching in the trenches, did not reply. The damage was not
very serious, as it is extremely difficult to hit very slight trenches,
so that it was only from time to time that an enemy shell really
reached them, burying a few men and breaking up the line. When this
did happen, we were quickly at work re-establishing our communication,
getting the victims from under the ground and sometimes burying them a
few yards behind the line. It is impossible to find words of sufficient
praise for the heroism of our soldiers in such frightful circumstances.
It must be remembered that our poor troops were facing masses of
Infantry in overwhelming superiority of number, that they were exposed
to a huge quantity of heavy field Artillery, and that they could not
reckon on the support of our field batteries, as these were held at
bay by huge German cannons of very much longer range.
Beyond our lines, Dixmude was burning. The continual bombardment had
reduced its houses to ashes. The streets were no longer practicable, as
the high pile of ruins made it impossible for a foot-passenger to walk
through them. This fact greatly complicated the question of ammunition
supply. From the rear, we had been informed that the waggons could no
longer cross the Yser bridge, nearly a mile away from our positions.
Men were sent constantly through the town to fetch sacks of cartridges
and, on account of the great quantity of ammunition needed, this going
backwards and forwards was continual. This ammunition was brought to a
kind of stable near, and then carried to our fighting posts by supply
agents.
On the 25th, as soon as it was daylight, the bombardment began again
more violently than ever. With my field-glasses, I looked at the plain.
Here and there I could see enemy patrols and trenches. At the fringe of
the wood, just beyond, I saw troops gliding along and I thought I could
see a German on the lookout behind the chimney of a house. At a certain
moment, a battery of the enemy Light Artillery took position about 1500
yards away from us. It began firing and its projectiles almost grazed
us. We informed our Artillery, which answered feebly. We were furious
at this, for we did not know that our gunners were short of ammunition.
We had lost our Antwerp stores and the French supply was not yet
organised.[9] In spite of all this, and with our poor resources, we
resisted these mass attacks prepared by a diabolical Artillery. On
that day, I still had courage enough to write a few words in my note
book, whilst Dixmude was crumbling away under the 210 and 280 shells.
Everything trembled, the heavens, the earth and--the men. The Taubes
were hovering over us constantly. They were trying to discover our
positions, which they indicated by dropping white fuses. A shower of
shrapnels and shells informed us of the result of this information.
Our soldiers presently began to complain. They had nothing to smoke,
and some of them began to cut the handles of their knapsacks into
shreds. Several of them were ill from this privation and among these
was our Lieutenant, the only one left among us. Life now was a
martyrdom. After all our overwork and fatigue, we had nothing with
which to sustain ourselves, and we felt our strength giving way. We
could not get any more provisions and we had no more warm food, as our
kitchen had been destroyed at Dixmude by the shells.
The enemy was approaching and we wondered whether we were going to
be relieved or reinforced. Alas, no! There was nothing for it but to
go on watching, with our bayonets ready, whilst the "big blackies"
fell round us all the time. Quite near to us, on the Keyem road and
in the park, huge trees were mown clean down and enormous craters,
with charred edges, hollowed by these murderous engines of warfare.
Sometimes fragments of the shells fell at our feet, or passed over our
shelter with a whizz, burying themselves deeply in the ground. Certain
projectiles entered the ground without bursting, causing us great
anxiety. Our flasks had long been empty and we were literally dying
of thirst. Our Commander asked if a few men would volunteer to fetch
some wine from the town. I went with three or four comrades. Dixmude
was a lamentable sight. The streets were all torn up and filled with
ruins and rubbish of all kinds. The houses were all destroyed and as
empty as eggshells. What was underneath all that? Probably, both living
and dead, riches and art-treasures. I saw the body of a poor mother,
with haggard eyes and clenched teeth. She seemed to me like a reproach
to the Germans for their odious war. Near her was a young child,
which looked as though it were sleeping. What a number of wrecked
houses! Furniture, carpets, and curtains strewed the ground, all this
saccaged by man returned to a savage state. If the enemy should take
the unfortunate city, I thought, he will only have conquered ruins. At
the relief station, I found my Lieutenant stretched out on the ground
between two Boches. One of these was groaning all the time, the other
one was a very young man, scarcely seventeen, I should think. To see my
Lieutenant near these two gave me a pang.
We managed to get some wine and then returned to the trench. The
distribution of this precious liquid caused our men a little joy and
made them more hopeful. Each of them was ready to go to work again with
fresh energy. A little later, my friend Job went with a few other men
to get some more wine and some cartridges. They were less lucky than
we were, for one of them had both legs broken. Another one had the
good luck to escape uninjured, although the bottle he was holding was
smashed by a bullet.
When the darkness came on again, things looked very threatening. After
sprinkling our trenches with projectiles of every calibre, the German
Artillery bombarded the town, in order to prevent any reserves from
coming to our relief. The enemy then came out from a wood and moved
a little to our right, in the direction of the cemetery, where our
2nd Battalion was lying in wait. The shells fell there in quantities,
damaging the tombs and causing a fearful scene. The vaults and tombs
opened under the fire and coffins were exposed to view. When our
courageous soldiers fell, in the midst of this furnace, we saw what
will probably never be seen again, the living buried alive and the dead
brought out of their graves....
At daybreak, on the 25th of October, the Germans, in a compact mass,
came out of a small wood and moved rapidly, with heads lowered,
marching in column, four abreast, towards a canal which separated them
from us and which was crossed by only one bridge. By means of a little
ditch along the bank, they were able to deploy as sharp-shooters and,
in this way, they attempted to cross the bridge. Our men were watching
though, and sprinkled the passage with shot, which meant death to the
enemy. The bridge was soon obstructed and the dead men were piled up
one on the top of the other. The heaps of dead were as high as a man.
In spite of this, these loathsome beasts, for they are no longer human
beings, crawled up behind their brothers-in-arms, climbed up on to the
top of the dead men and ... fell down from there, under the fire of our
machine-guns. The more lucky ones, those who were not hit, fell into
the ditch and, getting up again, rushed on to the assault with hoarse
cries, only to be killed as they came nearer to us. They were in such
quantities though, and they came on so quickly, that we could not
bring them all down and some of them crossed to the right of us. Mad
with excitement and eager for carnage, three or four hundred Boches
crossed our line and rushed on into Dixmude, uttering wild beast cries
and hoping to cause a panic amongst us. The wild band was stopped at
the Yser bridge by the fire of our machine-guns. Several fell under the
murderous storm and rolled into the canal; the others wheeled round
and divided into several detachments. In the town itself, there was
now a terrible chase, and a sanguinary hand-to-hand struggle between
the Boches and us. We were able to take some of them prisoners though.
Hidden in the cellars, as soon as they caught sight of our patrols,
they held up their hands in fear and trembling, and begged for mercy.
Those who offered the least resistance were shot down. Soon after,
our advance sentinels captured some of the enemy who had escaped the
massacre. They were crawling along the canal side, hoping to get back
to their lines. These were the last of the band. In spite of all
their efforts, the Germans had not crossed the Yser, nor broken our
resistance. The Belgians and the French Fusiliers were the conquerors.
The entrances to our trenches were strewn with enemy equipment and
arms, and a few yards in front of us lay dead bodies _pêle-mêle_. Our
soldiers searched these bodies and handed over a lot of things to the
chiefs. Certain sums of money and jewellery and watches found on the
enemy were given back to us, as we frequently had the proof that these
objects had been taken from the Belgians.
Once more night came on, putting an end to the terrible work of the
day. Our sentinels, in absolute silence, went back to their outposts,
and we waited for the comrades who were to replace us in the trenches.
Our food was all gone and nothing more to eat or drink was brought to
us. We began to get very anxious. At eleven o'clock, the Senegalese
came to take possession of our trenches. These brave soldiers came so
quietly that they took us almost by surprise. They are tall, strong
fellows, and in the dusk only their eyes and teeth can be seen shining
in contrast to their black skin. We were glad to have them with us.
They had scarcely been there half an hour, when the enemy attacked
them, but without any success. The Senegalese rushed forward to meet
the enemy, whom they repulsed with their bayonets and knives. As to
us, glad to be free for a time, we marched along with big strides in
spite of our fatigue. There was a death-like silence in Dixmude. The
stretcher-bearers, taking away the wounded, were all that gave to these
smoking ruins a little life. We crossed the shaky bridge over the Yser
once more and moved on, after giving a last sad look at the huge pile
of _débris_, with its dead, which was all that was left of the town.
On the road, our Major told us that we were going to have a rest, that
our banner had just been decorated with the "Order of Leopold," and
that the name of "Dixmude" was to be embroidered on it in gold letters.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 8: _The Campaign of the Belgian Army._]
[Footnote 9: The Artillery ammunition began to be scarce a few days
later. Towards the 25th it was chiefly the congested traffic of the
railroads which interfered with the supply.]