A Guard on the Yser:--The Death Trench
(June 2, 1915)
By Corporal J. Libois, of the 12th Line Regiment
This day's work was more terrible than the Dixmude battles. I
certify that Corporal Libois has given an exact account of the
critical situation in the Death Trench of Milestone 16 on the Yser.
Sub-Lieutenant Vueghs of the 12th Line Regiment.
_Extract from a letter, 12.9.15._
The French offensive of Arras led to unusual activity on our front. Our
Regiment, which had just come back from the thankless Oostkerke Sector,
had some very painful experiences during that week, and some of our
Battalions were severely tried.
On the night in question, our Company had to relieve guard. Certain
sections were ordered to the outposts.
"To-morrow," said Lieutenant Vueghs, "we shall occupy a position on
the Yser dyke. Our various posts will be ranged along a communication
trench that has been made by the Engineers, but in this trench, a
result of recent attacks, there are still about thirty dead men. As we
come across them, we are to pick them up and place them on the parapet.
The stretcher-bearers will then take them away. One more word, this
trench leads into the German lines on the other side of the Yser, and
comes, therefore, under the enemy's firing. You will have to stoop
down, and even creep along, when the passage is too low. There must be
great caution as you go along. That is all I have to say. As for the
rest, I trust to you."
The Lieutenant was to command the sap head, Trench No. 1. This was the
most advanced of all the posts, only thirty yards away from the Boches.
I was to be there too, and Sergeant Deltenre with about ten men. What
would be the outcome, we wondered? At any rate, it would be something
fresh, and we were delighted at this.
The summer twilight came very gradually. The soldiers lined up, with
their heavy knapsacks on their backs, and their wallets containing
provisions for two days.
"Right! Four in a line! March!" and quite tranquilly, the Company
filed by in a long column, crossing the meadows and the fields of
sweet-scented horse-beans. We went along humming and singing. Half-way,
we had the usual halt and rest. The soldiers lying in the fields, in
the dusk, gave a picturesque note to the scene. The purple-tinted
clouds of the beautiful sunset of Flanders gradually took a pinky
shade. In front of us, towards the east, was the horribly mutilated
steeple of the Oostkerke Church, standing out, with extraordinary
clearness, against the great red disc of the moon, which was just
rising. And in the background could already be seen mysterious stars
flashing forth from the earth. These were the brilliant and ephemeral
enemy fuses. Everything else was absolutely calm. From time to time, a
cricket replied to another cricket. A cool wind swept over us and, from
the various groups, here and there, melancholy refrains lulled us and
made us dreamy.
Our officers appeared to be enjoying the poetry of it all, for they
gave us a rather longer halt than the time fixed.
"Laugh and sing," they perhaps thought, "be gay and joyful, a little
later on, we shall, perhaps, bring back with us, the glorious remains
of one or other of your comrades, now singing there!"
On the Yser plains, there are probably places destined for many of us.
Heaven knows that we all value life, and yet these thoughts do not make
us sad and, thanks to a force of character which we never suspected,
there is more liveliness and sincere gaiety to be found among the
simple soldiers than anywhere else.
Presently the order came to shoulder arms, and we set off once more.
The calm that we had enjoyed was only a truce. It was now broken by the
deafening volleys of our guns. The enemy's lines were being bombarded
and it was a great joy to us to see the flashes over there, to the
right, produced by the explosions of our shells. We had now entered the
danger zone and the darkness was intense. We advanced in Indian file,
one platoon at a time. In the background, lighted up almost all the
time by the luminous fuses of the Germans, we could see outlines of
figures bending down, stooping low, and then standing up again. It was
like a scene out of some enchanted land.
Finally, we reached our trenches. The relieving of the guard took place
very quickly with no waiting about. The enemy was bombarding us, but
the aim was not good. We began to fit up and remake our shelters. I
made a reconnaissance in the direction of the communication trench. The
entrance was obstructed by the evacuation of the dead bodies. We had a
most awful task. The stretcher-bearers, moving along on their backs,
dragged the bodies with them by ropes. These bodies were already in a
state of decomposition and, when they came into the light, it could be
seen that their clothes were torn off and that their skin was grazed.
Shrapnels kept exploding near us, so that we had to keep close to the
parapet. The night passed without any other incident than the visit of
the General of the Division. In the morning our watch was over and,
when the lookouts were placed, we had permission to sleep. All day long
we remained walled up in our trenches of sacks. From the Dixmude posts,
which dominated us, the enemy kept an eye on us and, each time that
we showed any sign of life, proved to us that we were very carefully
watched. From time to time, by way of entertainment, our outposts
were bombarded. At night, our time came for relieving guard again. We
restored ourselves with coffee, for we were in a very thirsty place. We
took a good provision of cartridges, of sacks of earth, and, with heavy
shields, leaving our knapsacks in safety, we started, at 11 o'clock, on
our march through the Yser communication trench.
It was a march that appeared to us to last a century, and certainly
Dante's imagination, in his visions of hell, never surpassed the
horrors of it. The passage was narrow and skirted the parapet of the
Yser. Its access was so difficult and trying, that it was no use
thinking of removing the dead which obstructed it. We had to imitate
the serpent, the toad, and the mole. In order to pass the guard we were
relieving, the men had to lie down flat and we had to crawl over them.
No one spoke a word. Shrapnels kept exploding and bullets whizzed along
continually, flattening themselves against the parapet. I saw some of
them ploughing up the earth scarcely twenty centimetres above the heads
of my comrades, and I was afraid each time that, in rebounding, they
would wound one or another of them. We were all wedged in as though in
a vice. At times, we had to advance quickly, bent nearly double, our
backs almost broken, at times we had to crawl along, pushing ourselves
onward with our elbows and knees, letting go our shields which
encumbered us and which, knocking against the sides, made a sonorous
noise. When we came to embattlements, watched as we were by the
marksmen posted on the other side of the Yser, we had to rush for our
lives. Our faces were bathed in perspiration. Suddenly, we came across
a dark, motionless mass on the ground. We thought it might be one of
the engineers at work.
"Hi there, what are you doing? Answer!" ordered the Lieutenant. Shaking
his arm, we found that it dropped lifeless.
"Forward! over the dead man!" was our order. Shuddering, and gasping
for breath, we obeyed. Feeling for him with our feet and slipping over
his head, we went on our way. Presently we had reached the spot known
as "the house in ruins." The parapet had been torn away by a shell,
and this might expose us to view. We had to climb and jump at the same
time. Horrors! I fell with my hand on the icy face of a dead man. The
German Artillery now came into play. The devilish Schoorbakke battery
took the dyke by enfilade and bombarded us. The shells arrived whizzing
along and bursting with a frightful noise, making the dyke crumble, and
sprinkling us with all kinds of rubbish. There was a second's calm. By
the livid light of the fuses, a horrible sight was to be seen, living
men swarming along the passage among human fragments in a state of
decomposition, the most appalling and terrifying wrecks of humanity
imaginable. Horror, repulsion, and disgust were what we felt, but we
were compelled to master our feelings. We had to be superhuman. The
perspiration ran from our faces on to the dead men, as we climbed over
them. And over our heads the bullets never ceased pouring down, whilst
the shells whizzed along and the fuses kept lighting us up.
Panting and breathless, with our tongues hanging out and our backs
aching so painfully that some of our men were just going to stand
upright for a moment's relief when they were stopped by the whizzing of
bullets overhead. We pushed on again and it seemed as though we should
never be at the end of the passage. At one moment, we lost sight of
the file and feared that we had passed the post. My brother headed the
little group that had become separated from the others, and I closed
the march. Fortunately we were able to join our comrades again. Just
at this moment, we came to a number of corpses in a worse state than
the others. We had to pass over them, our faces almost touching theirs,
our knees on their legs. A terrible putrid odour emanated from them, an
odour that will always be an infernal memory. Again we found ourselves
knocking against some human bodies. But this time we were crawling over
living men. Finally, we arrived at our post. What a relief it was to
us! Our end had been accomplished. We had relieved the guard and not
one of us had been hit. Our instructions were simple. We had to keep a
lookout and defend ourselves in case of attack. We thought we should
have nothing to fear from the German Artillery, as their own post was
so near. The one thing was to escape bombs and grenades. When the
service was organised, we hollowed out some shallow burrows to serve as
shelters. The Lieutenant passed me a bottle and told me to disinfect a
dead man buried in the trench, whose shoulder was visible.
In order to prevent the Boches from approaching, we fired over the
parapet all night without showing ourselves. Towards 4.30, when the
dawn was breaking, I started off in search of the body I was to
disinfect. A few yards away, just at the entrance of the next trench,
I found a shapeless mass covered with linen. Was this the one? After
a moment's hesitation, I raised the garment which covered a figure
and saw a face. The features had not changed and the man looked as
though he were asleep. I sprinkled the body with the liquid which the
Lieutenant had given me and covered it again gently. The second corpse,
of which the Lieutenant had spoken, was a little farther on. The
shoulder was rather above the parapet. We covered it with earth and,
towards six o'clock, the stretcher-bearers arrived to take the two dead
men away. This was such a dangerous task, however, that the Lieutenant
would not allow them to carry it out. They took away the other dead
bodies and that made it less difficult to get out of the trench.
By means of the periscope, I now looked at the German trenches,
and thereupon that instrument became a target for their bullets.
Projectiles now began to arrive from behind us. We wondered what this
meant, and the Lieutenant sent word to Sergeant Denis, who was at the
last post but one. We were informed that Sergeant Denis had just been
killed by a bullet in the head. On passing by an embattlement, someone
had called out to him to stoop down, but it was too late, a bullet had
killed him instantaneously. Poor Sergeant Denis. Yesterday evening,
when I crawled over him, he said to me: "Good-bye, I shall see you
again soon." I wondered, in spite of myself, whether the fate in store
for me might make his words prove true. He had fallen against Corporal
G----, without uttering a word, but his eyes had been fixed earnestly
on him. We can only hope that the Company will not have to deplore
other losses.
I took notes, thanks to the periscope, and I fired from an embattlement
through a German embattlement. The enemy was not long in replying with
dumdums, destroying our embattlement over which were the upper sacks
of the parapet. On the other side of the Yser in the German trench,
I could distinguish a Boche periscope, and I was quite amazed to
see a soldier's bust above the parapet. He did not stay there long.
There was a long, soft, whizzing sound. This was something fresh:
_floo-oo-floo-oo_--. They were grenades, some of which burst over our
shelters, and some beyond them. Only a few were thrown and, dismal
though their noise was, it did not alarm us.
It was a beautiful, sunshiny day. Our aircraft could be seen against
the blue of the sky. Our machines were pursued by the shrapnels of
the Boches but these did them no harm. Our Artillery was firing quite
near to us and we had to take shelter from the shell fragments. Some
of our men had lost their blankets, and some their provisions, during
yesterday's march. They were separated from us by an obstacle. We
passed them some food and exchanged some amusing notes. The Lieutenant,
by way of a souvenir, took the signature of each occupant of the post,
in his note-book. Others followed his example. And the day passed by
very, very slowly. Whilst keeping watch, we talked with the Lieutenant
about the war, about peace and our respective occupations. We talked
about our preferences and our tastes, whilst, only a few yards away,
myriads of big flies danced a ghastly saraband around the body of
our poor comrade. The heat began to be overpowering: whiffs of warm,
nauseous air kept rising and took our appetites away. By way of
rewarding us, the Lieutenant promised us each a good glass, if everyone
of Post I. returned safe and sound. It certainly would not be our fault
if we failed to accept this invitation.
At half-past twelve, the observer on the river bank signalled to us
that an officer was on his round. We all smiled, thinking it was a
joke. Colonel Rademakers[14] of the 3rd Chasseurs suddenly appeared
in the corner of our trench. We were amazed and wondered how he had
got there. Had he come up from underground or had he fallen from the
skies? Considering his size, it is certain that he could not have come
through the passage without having been massacred fifty times over. He
was there, nevertheless, and very much alive, his fine face expressive
of his natural gaiety and of his great courage. He looked through the
periscope, wondering whether the Boches would honour him with a bullet.
He certainly was an officer of the "right sort."
Night came on and the embattlement that had been discovered had its
place changed, and was strengthened by a shield. We kept a still
stricter watch. Towards 9.30, the firing became violent. A quantity of
explosive shells burst on our parapet and gave us the impression that
the Boches were on our trench and were firing point blank at us, so
violent was the dry sound of the explosions. In our post, two of our
guns would not fire any more. An attack seemed imminent. We prepared
our bayonets and then fired without ceasing. One of our comrades who
was completely worn out, and could not stand, was seated near us
loading the guns for us to fire. It was midnight when the relief guard
arrived. The orders were given while we continued firing. "Keep a watch
on the bank. Attention at that battlement! On guard! Good luck!"
Our return was safely effected, but not without difficulty. It was
easier than our coming had been, as most of the dead men had been
evacuated. Finally, we were out of that hell once more. The whole post
was safe and sound. Shrapnels were bursting quite near to us and here,
in the first line trenches, where we had had to hide and press against
the parapet yesterday, we felt that we were almost in security. We
wanted to halt in the very midst of the danger zone, to get our breath,
but the officers begged us to be prudent and we left the trenches. In
the distance, we saw the stretcher-bearers carrying away the body of
poor Sergeant Denis to the Lesenburg Cemetery.
We rested a little on the way, when we were in the rear, and each one
gave his experiences, describing various incidents with picturesque
details. Once more we set off, and at four in the morning we were back
at our quarters. It was now light and the larks had been singing a
long time. It seemed to me as though everything around us was quite
new to us, and as though a century had passed since we had seen this
familiar landscape. We felt intense satisfaction and deep joy at having
accomplished a difficult task. Everyone was happy and longed to be able
to write to his relatives and friends, to all those for whom he cared
and whom he was now defending.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 14: Killed a few days later by a shell fragment.]