THE TURN OF THE TIDE.
When the army of von Kluck was sweeping through Northern France like a
roaring flood, most people thought that he was aiming at Paris, the
heart and centre of the country. In Chapter X. of our first volume I
told you that after the great surrender at Sedan the Germans swooped
down upon the beautiful capital, and began to besiege it. I also told
you how, after four months of hunger and misery, it yielded, and the
hosts of Germany marched through its streets in triumph.
Was Paris again to be besieged?--that was the question. The Parisians
were quite sure that they would soon be ringed round by the Germans.
They knew that von Kluck was rapidly approaching, and on the afternoon
of 30th August they saw the first of his war hawks come swooping over
the city. It dropped five bombs; but only one person was killed, and the
damage done to property was slight. Attached to a sandbag which was
dropped from the aeroplane was the following message: "The German army
is at the gates of Paris; there is nothing left to you but to
surrender." This was not quite true, but a few days later German cavalry
actually were within cannon shot of the northern forts; they were as
near to the towers of Notre Dame[95] as the battlements of Windsor are
to the dome of St. Paul's. Scouts in motor cars were reported only nine
miles from Paris itself, and it is said that German officers who had
American lady friends in the city sent them notes arranging to come to
tea with them!
[Illustration: Trenches in the Streets of Paris.
_Photo, Sport and General._]
Four days before the first German aeroplane was seen a new government
came into power, and included in it were the leading members of all the
parties in the country. The same day a new governor, General
Gallieni,[96] was appointed to take over the defence of Paris. The
French capital, as you know, is one of the most strongly fortified
places in Europe. It is protected by an outer ring of forts, which are
built at distances varying from six to ten miles from the centre of the
city. This ring is eighty miles round, and within it are three
entrenched camps--one on the north, another on the east, and a third on
the south-east. A railway, more than sixty miles in length, connects all
the works and supplies them with ammunition and stores. All this sounds
very formidable; but we know that the strongest forts cannot stand
against modern siege guns and high explosives. Further, the guns of the
Paris forts were by no means up to date, and the trenches between them
were not properly protected. General Gallieni worked night and day to
remedy these defects; but the time at his disposal was all too short.
One of the leading citizens proposed that Paris should be given up to
the Germans, in order that its monuments and treasures of art might be
saved from destruction. General Gallieni would not listen for a moment
to any such craven proposal. He said that Paris would defend itself,
even though it should suffer the fate of Louvain. The Parisians were
with him almost to a man.
Gallieni diligently prepared for a siege. He had trenches dug in the
streets on the outskirts of the city, and he collected vast quantities
of provisions within the fortified area. Thousands of cattle and sheep
were coralled on almost every green space within the ring of
fortifications, and the Bois de Boulogne[97] became one vast stockyard.
Meanwhile long strings of people waited before the doors of the shops to
buy stocks of provisions. Over a million Parisians deserted the city for
the towns and villages of the south; and though large numbers of
refugees flocked in from the north, Paris lost its busy appearance, and
took on an "early morning" air.
In ordinary times Paris is the most brilliantly lighted city in Europe,
and at night the glare illuminates the sky for scores of square miles.
Had its myriads of electric lamps gleamed out while the Germans were so
near at hand, the safety of the city would have been endangered by bombs
from Zeppelins and aeroplanes. Consequently, Paris by night became a
city of gloom. All the cafés and shops were closed by eight in the
evening, and the lamps were veiled and only lighted on one side of the
street. On the roofs of most of the chief public buildings searchlights
were installed, and all through the night they flung their dazzling rays
across the darkness. On 3rd September 1914 the Government was removed to
Bordeaux. "It only leaves Paris," said a proclamation, "after having
taken all precautions in its power for the defence of the town and of
the entrenched camps. It knows that it need not recommend calm and
resolution to the admirable Parisian population, which shows every day
that it is equal to its greatest duties."
Hardly had the Government left the city when tidings arrived which
showed clearly that there was to be no siege of Paris just yet. Some of
the Parisians professed to be disappointed: they had filled their houses
with tinned sardines, preserved fruits, bags of coffee, and bundles of
vegetables, and had prepared themselves to stand the longest siege known
to history--and now the Germans would not play the game! But, really,
they were overjoyed when they knew that they and their city were free
from attack for some time to come.
* * * * *
What was the news which had thus relieved the minds of the Parisians? On
3rd September von Kluck was at Chantilly,[98] the great racing centre of
France, twenty-five miles from the gates of Paris. Two days later,
aviators reported that he was twenty miles to the east of Paris. Instead
of bearing down on the city he had marched south-east--that is, away
from it. Why?
[Illustration: Parisians watching German Aeroplanes.
_Photo, Central News._]
In 1870, you will remember, the Germans did not attempt to besiege Paris
until Bazaine's army had been shut up in Metz and MacMahon's army had
surrendered at Sedan. Before Paris was besieged the armies of France had
been hopelessly defeated. To encircle Paris needs half a million men,
and no sane general would dare to detach such a large number of troops
for this purpose while his enemy was capable of taking the field against
him. It is true that the Allies had been forced to retreat from the
Belgian border, and that von Kluck believed the British to be a broken,
panic-stricken mob; nevertheless he could not think of investing Paris
until he had destroyed them. As his enemy was then moving south-east of
Paris, he had to move south-east too, in order to keep in contact with
him. Paris could wait until the Allies were thoroughly beaten. So von
Kluck turned away from Paris and marched south-east.
* * * * *
[Illustration: The position of the Allied Armies immediately before
their advance.]
On 5th September 1914 the Allied armies were in the position in which
General Joffre wished them to be. Let us look at the line which they
then held. The 3rd Army (A) stretched from the Upper Meuse, south of
Verdun, westwards to Bar-le-Duc, and facing it was the army of the Crown
Prince. The 4th Army (B) was on its left, astride of the Upper Marne,
looking north across the plain towards Châlons. Westwards to Sézanne[99]
was the 9th Army (C), and facing it was von Buelow's army. Still farther
to the west were the 5th French Army (D) and the British (E); while
north of the Marne, moving towards the Ourcq, was the 6th French Army
(F), which, all unknown to the Germans, had been organized in Paris,
where it was safe from the prying eyes of their airmen. Later on we
shall study the position of the Allied armies on the left wing (D, E, F)
more closely.
Before we do so, however, I will try to give you some idea of the kind
of country in front of the French line. Let us imagine that you are
travelling westwards from Verdun in early September. Leaving behind you
the narrow vale of the Upper Meuse, you traverse an upland country of
many ravines and much undergrowth, with here and there small woods and
pastures. Then you cross a small stream, and, looking southwards, see
the deep woods that stretch towards Bar-le-Duc. The road now rises, and
to the northward is the plateau of the Argonne,[100] a long, low ridge
of clay, which forms the natural bulwark of north-east France; west of
it runs the Aisne and east of it the Aire, a tributary of the Aisne. A
small river cuts its way through it in a deep furrow. A French writer
says that if we leave out of account the lengthwise furrow through which
the river runs, the plateau may be compared with a wave just when it
curls and is about to break on the shore. The summits of the plateau
range in height from about 450 feet to 1,000 feet.
An extensive forest is always a bar to an invader. In the days when the
English were conquering Britain, a very dense and trackless forest, 130
miles long by 30 miles broad, covered that part of South England between
the North Downs and the South Downs which we call the Weald. For many
years this forest prevented the South Saxons, who had occupied the
coast, from pushing their conquests northwards to the Thames. In the
same way the Forest of the Argonne checked early invaders of France from
the east. No other part of France is so thickly wooded, and in its deep
recesses wolves are still found. Two roads and one railway cross it from
west to east; but otherwise there are only a few forest paths, which
lead nowhere. This difficult region was the scene of desperate fighting
during many months of the war.
For a hundred miles to the west of the Argonne stretches a region of
chalky moorlands, crossed by many ridges, and broken by heaths,
coppices, and fir plantations. This is the Salisbury Plain of France,
and men have long foretold that on its dreary levels the Armageddon of
Europe would be fought. Still travelling west, we come to the Heights of
Champagne, which I have already described. South of the deep-cut valley
of the Marne, which, you will remember, marks the southern limit of
this chalk plateau, is a region crossed by the Petit Morin and the Grand
Morin, both tributaries of the Marne. These tributaries, though not
rapid, are so deep that they cannot be forded, but they are well
provided with stone bridges. Much of the district through which they
flow is well wooded, and dotted with country houses. Round about Sézanne
we find rolling downs, and to the north of it the extensive marsh of St.
Gond.
The whole region between Paris and the Upper Meuse is very famous in
French history. From Domremy, on the Meuse, came Joan of Arc to revive
the broken spirits of her countrymen, and inspire them to drive the
English out of France. It was in Rheims Cathedral, you will remember,
that the Maid had her great hour of triumph, when she knelt at the feet
of the Dauphin and greeted him as King of France. At Valmy, twenty miles
north-east of Châlons, there is a pyramid which commemorates a great
French victory over the Prussians in the fateful year 1792; and on the
old Roman road north of Châlons is a huge oval mound, known as the Camp
of Attila. It is said to mark the spot where his merciless hordes were
overcome in the middle of the fifth century. On the wide flats in the
neighbourhood of Châlons the Romans and Goths were hurled back in
ancient times, and there, too, "furious Frank and fiery Hun" strove for
the mastery. Once more the fate of France was to be decided on these
historic fields.
* * * * *
Now we must return to von Kluck, and pay particular attention to his
movements, for on them depended the fortunes of the whole German army.
Study the diagram on the next page closely, and you will see how he
thrust his head into the lion's jaws. When we left him at Chantilly,
twenty-five miles from Paris, he was to all intents and purposes
marching directly on the city. Suddenly, as you know, he swerved to the
south-east. Why he did so nobody exactly knows, though many reasons have
been suggested. I have already mentioned the most probable one--namely,
that a siege of Paris before the enemy was thoroughly routed would have
been the height of folly. Some say that as certain army corps had been
sent to East Prussia, it was necessary for the Germans to close in on
the left. Whatever the reason was, von Kluck suddenly began marching
south-east. He crossed the river Marne, and continued in this direction,
with the object, it is supposed, of cutting off the French centre from
Paris.
[Illustration]
A glance at this diagram shows you that when he was marching in this
oblique direction his right was exposed to attack from the armies on the
Allied left--the French 5th Army, the British Army, and the new 6th Army
issuing from Paris. If the British attacked him during this march, his
columns could offer no effective resistance until they deployed and
faced the British line, and while doing so they would be sure to suffer
greatly. If they did not deploy, the 5th French Army could attack them
in front; and if they did deploy, they would then have that army on
their left flank. Meanwhile the new 6th French Army, by crossing the
Ourcq, could cut off the German line of retreat. It was a most dangerous
move, as you can easily see, and even now we wonder why von Kluck made
it. There is little doubt that he believed the British and the 5th
French Army to be so weary and dispirited that they were of no account.
Von Kluck seems to have had some inkling that there was a new French
force on his flank, for on 4th September he placed a flank guard along
the Ourcq; but he does not seem to have known how strong this French
force was. Next day (5th September), when he was across the Marne, he
learnt the truth: the surprise army lay west of Meaux, and was marching
on the Ourcq. On the 8th he realized his danger, and sent back two of
his army corps to meet it. This, of course, weakened his advancing
columns. Soon he found himself in an almost hopeless position: he was in
hourly peril of being enveloped. This is what I meant when I said that
he had thrust his head into the lion's jaws.
[Illustration: Von Kluck's Artillery passing through a French village on
its march towards Paris.
_Photo, Topical Press._]
* * * * *
The fighting began at dawn on Sunday, 6th September, when the whole
Allied line from Paris to Verdun was set in motion. We will first give
our attention to the surprise army, which on that tropically hot day was
slowly moving towards the western bank of the Ourcq, across the low
plateau which rises to the north of the little town of Meaux. It was a
smiling country through which the soldiers passed--the roads lined with
tall poplars, the fields golden with ripe wheat, and the orchards heavy
with fruit. The many villages on the tableland were in the hands of
German outposts, and the main body lay on the eastern bank of the river,
which here flows in a deep channel. The surprise army consisted of at
least eight divisions. To meet it the Germans had five divisions. All
day the French were engaged in hand-to-hand struggles with the German
outposts in the villages, and were assailed by "Black Marias"[101] from
the heavy German batteries beyond the river.
Meanwhile the British, to their great joy, were ordered to march
north-eastwards towards the Grand Morin, along a gently-rolling country
of orchards and cornfields and scattered woodlands, crossed here and
there by small rivers and streams. For the first time our men were
advancing, and they were in the highest spirits, thoroughly rested, and
eager to get back "a bit of their own." By noon they were within touch
of the enemy's advance guard, which was well supported by batteries. An
engagement took place, and late in the afternoon the German trenches
were carried at the point of the bayonet. By evening the British army
occupied a line extending across and south of the Grand Morin. Thus you
see that on the west the enveloping movement was making excellent
headway.
Now let us see what the 5th French Army was doing. It was moving
northwards towards the upper reaches of the Grand Morin, and was heavily
engaged with the bulk of von Kluck's army. Again and again it made
frontal attacks, but little ground was gained. Farther to the east the
9th French Army was struggling with that of von Buelow near Sézanne, its
right being opposed to the right wing of the Saxon army. The 4th French
Army, still farther to the east, was being violently attacked by the
Duke of Würtemberg, who was trying hard but in vain to pierce the Allied
centre. On the Allied right the Crown Prince was more successful: he was
able to push back the 3rd French Army for a little distance.
On the whole the fortune of the day seemed to rest with the Germans. But
von Kluck now knew that he was in deadly peril. The surprise army had
turned his right wing; the British were attacking him on the right
flank, and the 5th French Army was holding him in front. He knew that he
was in the tightest possible place, and that he would need all his skill
and resolution if he was to escape from the trap laid for him. The Crown
Prince might be rejoicing, but von Kluck was in "doleful dumps."
[Illustration: General van Kluck.
(_Photo, Central News._)]
[Footnote 95: "Our Lady;" the great historical cathedral of Paris.]
[Footnote 96: _Gal-le-ay´ne._ Born 1849; commander-in-chief in
Madagascar (1896-1905).]
[Footnote 97: _Bwā d'Boo-lon´_ (_n_ nasal), the great public park (2,158
acres) of Paris.]
[Footnote 98: _Shŏn-te-ye´._]
[Footnote 99: _Say-zân´._]
[Footnote 100: _Ar-gon´._]
[Footnote 101: Huge explosive shells which send up a dense mass of black
smoke. Our soldiers also call them "coal boxes" or "Jack Johnsons."]