America's War for Humanity Part 47

TRYING TO ENFILADE THE TRENCHES

"Again, after a short interval, the enemy's gunners reopened with a burst, still further prolonging the smoke, which was by now merged into one solid screen above a considerable length of the trenches and again did our guns reply. And so the duel went on for some time.

"Ignoring our guns, the German artillerymen, probably relying on concealment for immunity, were concentrating all their efforts in a particularly forceful effort to enfilade our trenches. For them it must have appeared to be the chance of a lifetime, and with their customary prodigality of ammunition they continued to pour bouquet after bouquet of high explosives or combined shrapnel and common sh.e.l.ls into our works.

"Occasionally, with a roar, a high angle projectile would sail over the hill and blast a gap in the village. One could only pray that our men holding the trenches had dug themselves in deep and well, and that those in the village were in cellars.

"In the hazy valleys, bathed in sunlight, not a man, not a horse, not a gun, nor even a trench was to be seen. There were only flashes, and smoke, and noise. Above, against the blue sky, several round, white clouds were hanging. The only two visible human souls were represented by a glistening speck in the air. On high also were to be heard more or less gentle reports of the anti-aircraft projectiles.

"But the deepest impression created was one of sympathy for the men subjected to the bursts along that trench. Upon inquiry as to the losses sustained, however, it was found that our men had been able to take care of themselves and had dug themselves well in. In that collection of trenches on that Sunday afternoon were portions of four battalions of British soldiers--the Dorsets, the West Kents, the King's Own Yorkshire light infantry, and the King's Own Scottish Borderers."

ARMIES IN A DEADLOCK

Later reports from the Aisne valley, up to October 17, when the big battle had been five weeks in progress, indicated little change in the general situation. Bombardments and artillery duels, varied by general attacks, occurred daily all along the line. The main positions of both armies were firmly held, though the French had gained some ground north of Rheims and continually threatened the German center. The left of the Allies' line had crept north to and beyond Arras, where there was severe fighting for several days; and at the end of the thirty-fifth day of this battle of the Rivers the lines of the opposing armies extended almost continuously from beyond Arras on the northwest, south in a great curve to the Aisne valley, thence east to Verdun, where the Crown Prince's army kept hammering away at that fortress without success, and thence southwest to Nancy and the Alsatian border.

By this time the armies of the center were in a species of deadlock. The strain on both sides had long promised to get beyond human endurance and the antagonists of the Aisne were likened by a French officer to two exhausted pugilists, who would soon be unable to inflict further punishment upon each other. But there was no sign of "throwing up the sponge" on either side, though beyond the actual sphere of conflict it was felt that "something must give way soon."

A BLAZING VALE OF DEATH

Writing on September 16, the fourth day of the battle, a special correspondent behind the British lines by Senlis and Chantilly, said:

"I have pa.s.sed through a smiling land to a land wearing the mask of death; through harvest fields rich with great stacks snugly builded against the winter to the fields of a braver harvest; by jocund villages where there is no break in the ebb and flow of everyday life to villages and towns that despoiling hands have shattered in ruins.

"And I have pa.s.sed up this Via Dolorosa toward the very harvesting itself--toward those great plains stretching away on the banks of the River Aisne, where the second act of this drama of battles is at this moment being played.

"Details of this fight, which, as I write, reaches its fourth day of duration, are very scanty, but partly from personal observation and partly from information which has reached me I know that the struggle so far has been a terrible one, equal to, if not greater than, the struggle on the banks of the Marne.

"The events of Monday (September 14) revealed a foe battling desperately for his life; and this defense of General von Kluck's army demanded of the Allies their utmost strength and determination.

"Picture this battlefield, which will a.s.suredly take its place with that of the Marne as one of the greatest combats of the greatest war. Through the middle of it flows the great river, pa.s.sing from the east to the west. The banks of the river here are very steep. Above the plain, which sweeps away from the northern bank, rises the "ma.s.sif" of Laon. It is an ideal area for great movements and for artillery work directed upon the valley of the river. Pa.s.sing eastward a little, there are the heights behind the city of Rheims and above the Vesle, a tributary of the Aisne.

Here again nature has builded a stronghold easy to defend, difficult exceedingly to attack.

"I know of heroic work against these great lines, work that will live with the most momentous of this struggle. I know of smashing attacks the thought of which takes one's breath away. I have heard narratives of the trenches and of the bridges--these engineers, French and English, have indeed 'played the game'--which no man can hear unmoved; how the columns went down again and again to the blazing death of the valley, and how men worked, building and girding in a very inferno--worked with the furious speed of those whose time of work is short.

HEROISM IN THE TRENCHES

"And in the trenches, too, the tale of heroism unfolds itself hour by hour. Here is an example, one among ten thousand, the story of a wounded private: 'We lay together, my friend and I...The order to fire came. We shot and shot till our rifles burned us. Still they swarmed on towards us. We took careful aim all the while. "Ah, good, did you see that?" I turned to my friend and as I did so heard a terrible dull sound like a spade striking upon newly turned earth. His head was fallen forward. I spoke, I called him by name. He was moaning a little. Then I turned to my work again. They are advancing quickly now. Ah! how cool I was. I shot so slowly,...so very slowly.

"'And then--do you know what it feels like to be wounded? I rose just a little too high on my elbow. A sting that pierces my arm like a hot wire--too sharp almost to be sore. I felt my arm go away from me--it seemed like that--and then my rifle fell. I believe I was a little dazed. I looked at my friend presently. He was dead.'

THE GRIM STORY OF SENLIS

"So, on these green river banks and across these fair wooded plains the Germans make their great stand--the stand that if they are defeated will be their last in France. And meanwhile behind them lie the wasted fields and the broken villages. It is impossible adequately to describe the scenes which I have witnessed on the line of the great retreat, but here and there events have had place, which, in truth, cry to high heaven for report. Of such is the grim story of Senlis.

"I spent many hours in Senlis and I will recount that story as I saw it and as I heard it from those who lived through the dreadful procession of days. On Sat.u.r.day, September 5, the Germans reached this beautiful old cathedral town and entered into occupation. They issued a proclamation to the inhabitants calling upon them to submit and to offer no sort of resistance on pain of severe reprisals.

"But the inhabitants of Senlis had already tasted the bitter draft of war making. The people had become bitter to the point of losing care of their own safety. They were reckless, driven to distraction.

"Bitter was the price exacted for the recklessness! The trouble began when, exasperated beyond measure by their insolence, a brave tobacconist declared to a couple of the Prussians: 'I serve men, not bullies.' He followed his words with a blow delivered fiercely from the shoulder.

"The infuriated soldiers dragged him from his shop and hurled him on his knees in front of the door. His wife rushed out shrieking for mercy.

Mercy! As well ask it of a stone! A shot rang out...Another...Man and wife lay dead.

"Immediately the news of this murderous act flew through the town.

Outraged and furious, the conquerors marched instantly to the house of the mayor--their hostage--and arrested him. They conveyed him without a moment's delay to the military headquarters, where he was imprisoned for the night. On Wednesday morning a court-martial sat to decide his fate.

A few minutes later this brave man paid for the indiscretion of his people with his life, dying splendidly.

"And then guns were turned on this town of living men and women and children. Sh.e.l.ls crashed into the houses, into the shops, into the station. At Chantilly, seven kilometers away, the amazed inhabitants saw a great column of black smoke curl up into the air; they guessed the horrible truth. Senlis was burning.

"The work, however, was interrupted. At midday the glad tidings were heard, 'The Turcos are here.' Within the hour broken and blazing Senlis was re-relieved and rescued. The Turcos pursued and severely punished the enemy.

"Today these streets are terrible to look upon. House after house has been shattered to pieces--broken to a pile of stones. One of the small turrets of the cathedral has been demolished, and a rent has been torn in the stone work of the tower. The station is like a wilderness."

RHEIMS CATHEDRAL DAMAGED

A correspondent gives a vivid account of the German bombardment of Rheims, during the battle on the Aisne, as viewed by him from the belfry of the famous cathedral.

"What a spectacle it was!" he said. "Under the cold, drifting gray rainclouds the whole semicircle of the horizon was edged by heights on which the German batteries were mounted, three miles away.

"There was nothing but the inferno of bursting sh.e.l.ls, those of the Germans landing anywhere within the s.p.a.ce of a square mile. Sometimes it was just outside the town that they fell, trying to find the French troops lying there in their trenches, waiting to go forward to the attack of the hills, when their artillery should have prepared the way.

"The cathedral tower made a wonderful grand stand from which to watch this appalling game of destruction. It was under the protection of the Red Cross flag, for directly the sh.e.l.ls began to hit the cathedral in the morning some German wounded were brought in from a hospital nearby and laid on straw in the nave, while Abbe Andreaux and a Red Cross soldier pluckily climbed to the top of the tower and hung out two Geneva flags.

"The crescendo scream the sh.e.l.ls make has something fiendish in it that would be thrilling apart from the danger of which it is the sign. You hear it a full second before the sh.e.l.l strikes, and in that time you can tell instinctively the direction of its flight.

"Then comes the crash of the explosion, which is like all the breakages you ever heard gathered into one simultaneous smash."

SAVING THE GERMAN WOUNDED

A few of the German sh.e.l.ls struck the cathedral and set it on fire. The scene was thus described by Abbe Camu, a priest of Rheims:

"It was all over in an hour. There were two separate fires. We put the first out with four buckets of water, all we had in the place, but soon another sh.e.l.l struck the roof and the wind drove the flames along the rafters inside of the nave. We rushed up, but it was flaming all along and as we could do nothing, we hurried down.

"There were holes in the ceiling of the nave and sparks began to fall through them into a great heap of straw, ten feet high and twenty yards long, which the Germans had piled along the north aisle. We tried to catch the sparks in our hands as they fell, and such of the German wounded as were able to walk helped us. But the first spark that fell on the pile set it blazing. There was time to think of nothing but getting out the wounded.

"They screamed horribly. We carried many of those that could not walk, while others dragged themselves painfully along to the side door in the north aisle. Those who had only hand and arm wounds helped their comrades. We got out all except thirteen, whose bodies were left behind.

"When at last I came out of the flaming building I found the whole body of wounded huddled together around the doors. Opposite to them was a furiously hostile crowd of civilians of the town and a number of soldiers with their rifles already leveled.

"I sprang forward. 'What are you doing?' I cried.

"'They shall all burn,' shouted the soldiers in answer. 'They shall go back and burn with the cathedral or we will shoot them here.'

"'You are mad!' I exclaimed in reply. 'Think of what this means. All the world will hear of the crime the Germans have committed here, and if you shoot these men the world will know that France has been as criminal in her turn. Anyhow,' I said, 'you shall shoot me first, for I will not move.'

"Unwillingly the soldiers lowered their rifles and I turned to six German, officers who were among the wounded and asked if they would do what I told them to. They said they would and I asked them to tell their men to do the same. Then I formed them up in a solid body, those who could walk unaided carrying or helping those who could not. I put myself at the head and we set off to the Hotel de Ville, which is only a few hundred yards away.

"Well, then the crowd, mad with grief and rage, set on us. I can't describe it. You have never seen anything so dreadful as that scene.

They beat some of the Germans and some of them they got down.