With Joffre at Verdun Part 10

From one to another the officer pa.s.sed, questioning them in the same friendly manner, inviting their confidence, listening to their stories, extolling their actions with words which reached the ears of their comrades.

"And you," he said at last, arriving at the gallant Henri, and tapping him on the breast with a friendly finger, while he ran his eye over this young soldier, admiring his clean, well-bred, active appearance, the set of his figure, his healthy looks, and the perky little moustache which Henri still boasted. "Well, you," he asked, "mon enfant?"

"I, mon Capitaine? Well, I have seen but little more than the heart of Ruhleben camp," Henri told him; "for I was there, a prisoner for many weary months."

"And then, did our friend, the Hun, think so little of you that he set you free?" asked the officer, his eyes twinkling. "Hardly that, I am sure, my friend, for you look as though you could do some fighting."

Henri smiled back at him.

"No, Monsieur le Capitaine," he told him; "it was not because they wished to set me free that I am here, but because they couldn't help it. I escaped--I and two other comrades, one of whom was British."

"Ah! And you escaped--you and two comrades, one of whom was British; and because you wished--all of you, no doubt--to fight for your country?"

"That is so," Henri admitted at once. "We were eager to fight the Hun, and we have joined the French army at the first opportunity."

It was the same when the officer questioned Jules, and in a trice he realized that the two had made their escape from Ruhleben together.

"Tiens!" he cried; "one little moment. Two young Frenchmen who escaped from Germany and an Englishman with them--mais oui! but--vraiment! I have read this same story quite lately. Ah! I have it. You, then, are Henri and Jules for certain?"

The two young soldiers admitted the fact with rising colour, while the glances of every man in the squad were cast at them, and the Sergeant, that smart little fellow who had first dressed the line and adjusted every buckle and every accoutrement, turned a pair of admiring eyes on them. As for the officer, he gripped each one by the hand and shook it warmly.

"It's an example to us all, mes enfants," he told the squad. "There is great honour to our big friend here who has seen such fighting throughout the first days of the war, the Retreat, that Battle of the Marne where we smashed the crowing German, the conflict near Arras and round Ypres, which barred the progress of our enemy. To such a man there is undying honour. But here we have two who, though wretched, no doubt, while confined in a German prison, half-starved, by all accounts, bullied and browbeaten, could yet have remained in that camp safe from the danger of warfare. But they wished to help their country; and see them here, joining up with our forces at the very first moment. And so, Jules and Henri, you would wish to go to the front almost immediately?"

The two nodded their a.s.sent.

"And you have had training?"

"Pardon, monsieur," said the Sergeant, opening a book and placing his finger on the name first of Henri and then of Jules; "here is their record. Three years ago they did their training and attended manoeuvres, and were reported on as excellent conscripts. In the ordinary way they would attend a few drills here, perhaps go through a short instruction in musketry and bayonet exercises, and then be drafted to the front."

"Bien! There is little else after that for them to learn but bombing and the warfare peculiar to trench fighting--such as the conduct of trench-mortars, catapults, and other weapons of a similar description--that they can well learn at the schools of instruction just behind the front. Pa.s.s them for the front, Sergeant. Put them down to go with a new draft which leaves for Verdun to-morrow evening.

Good luck, my friends! I wish, indeed, that I could come with you."

"Re-form line!" bellowed the Sergeant, or, rather, he snapped the order, and at his words those who had stood forward a pace stepped back just as smartly, while every head turned as the men dressed the line.

"Dismiss!" bellowed the Sergeant, and in a moment the squad broke up, each man going off to his own quarters. As for Henri and Jules, they spent some busy hours in making ready for the coming journey; and, boarding the train with a draft of men the following evening, they found themselves behind the Verdun lines after a longish journey.

They were near the spot selected by the "All Highest", by the Kaiser, the would-be lord of the world, who had determined to make one more gigantic effort to crush the French and to defeat his enemies.

CHAPTER IX

A Terrific Bombardment

There is no need to tell how Henri and Jules, now converted into _poilus_, joined the troops in their billets behind the lines at Verdun; how they went to a school of instruction, where they were coached in the minute and delicate, if not peculiar, art of bombing; how they learnt, in fact, to conduct trench warfare, and prepared for closer contact with the enemy. Nor need we tell how presently they were drafted into the city of Verdun, where it lies beside the River Meuse in a sleepy hollow facing the heights beyond, which lay between it and the Germans. After a residence there in billets, they crossed the river, and, mounting those heights, gained at length the communication-trenches which gave access to the French positions in the neighbourhood of Hautmont.

"And how do you like it?" the Sergeant in command of the platoon to which they were attached asked them as the dawn broke on the following morning, and every man in the trench stood to his arms in case of an attack by the enemy. "See you, Jules, and you too, Henri,"--for let us explain that our two young heroes were not entirely unknown to their comrades, that is unknown by name or by reputation; indeed, the regiment to which they were now attached had, like many another regiment, read of their exciting escape from Ruhleben, gloried in the event and in the spirit it showed, and were ready to welcome them heartily--"you two, Henri and Jules, here is a loophole for each of you. You see the parapet of the trench is strengthened with logs cut from the forest, and if you are careful not to poke your heads up above the parapet you have little to fear from enemy bullets. Look away down below you; the ground slopes gradually, and there is nothing to obstruct your fire but the stumps of trees which were cut down months ago. Now, look still farther, and I will tell you something of the position: there, to the left of you, is Brabant, just round the corner of the hill, though you can't quite see it, and to the left of that again, the river, with the village of Forges just across the water, and Bethincourt and the Mort Homme Hill close to it. Now look to your right. There's Gremilly lying near the railway, and farther along still, beyond Ormes, is Cincery, and south of it Etain, while immediately beyond are the heights of Douaumont, with Vaux closely adjacent."

Peering through their loopholes, Jules and Henri spent a useful and interesting half-hour in watching the scene before them. They were standing in a trench dug across the gentle slope of a hill which at one time, in those days of peace preceding the war, had been thickly clad with fir-trees--a slope now denuded altogether, and presenting only innumerable stumps, standing up like so many sentinels, while those nearer to the trenches had barbed wire stretched between them, making a metal mesh which would require most strenuous efforts to break. Not a soul was to be seen in front of them; not a figure flitted through the woods in the direction of the Germans' position, while as for the Boche, there was not one in evidence, though during that half-hour they detected the line which indicated the enemy trenches, and heard more than once the snap of a rifle.

"And it is ever thus, Henri and Jules," the Sergeant told them. "We stand to arms in the early morning, just as now, waiting for the attack which, it is whispered, will be made upon us, and which never comes.

Indeed, to me it seems that the Germans have for days past given up all idea of an advance in this direction; and sometimes not even a rifle is fired, while the cannon is never heard."

If no one was to be seen in front of the French fire-trenches; or in front of the cunning pits where machine-guns were hidden, there was yet ample movement, and plenty of people, close at hand to drive ennui from the minds of Henri and his comrade. There were soldiers everywhere along the trench--merry fellows, who sat about the fire--for in this month of February the early mornings were very chilly--who smoked their pipes and laughed and chatted, and who watched as breakfast was made ready. There were men carefully attending to trench-mortars, others polishing their rifles, and yet others again who had crept by deep tunnels to the cunning positions in front and were busily attending their machine-guns; and behind, along the communication-trenches, in the support and reserve trenches, in a hundred and more dug-outs, there were more _poilus_ with officers amongst them, hearty, confident individuals, living a curious existence, which had now lasted so many months that it seemed to have been their life from the very commencement. Farther beyond still, it was impossible to see, for Henri and Jules had their duties and might not leave the regiment; yet in hundreds of hollows there was hidden the deadly French soixante-quinze--the 75-millimetre quick-firing gun, which from the commencement of this gigantic conflict has controlled and beaten German guns of a similar calibre. Yet again, behind them, were other bigger guns, splendidly dug in and hidden cleverly with straw-thatched roofs, many of them no doubt once filling the embrasures of Douaumont and other forts which in times of yore had gained for Verdun the reputation of impregnability. Yet German leviathan guns had proved that they could now smash Douaumont or any other fortress to pieces within a few hours, whereas in the old times it had been a matter of days, when even the artillery was sufficiently powerful. Modern invention, high explosives, and scientific artillery had altered modes of defence, and the fort at Douaumont and the forts elsewhere encircling the sleepy town of Verdun were now but sh.e.l.ls of masonry, mere billets for soldiers, while the guns were ranged out in the open.

What a busy scene it was behind the fire-trenches in which Henri and Jules were now standing. In a hundred cunning little nooks, in corners which one hardly expected to come upon, there were field-kitchens, where a fire might be kindled without attracting the enemy or his artillery-fire, and where soup--beloved of the _poilu_--might be prepared for those on duty.

"Mon ami, it's a good thing to have warmth both without and within,"

said, the Sergeant who had already befriended our two heroes, beating his hands together to promote the circulation, and blowing upon his fingertips, for it was a chilly day this late February, 1916. "A man who is cold faces the enemy and the dangers attendant upon this sort of business with a courage which is perhaps a trifle damped, while if he be hungry also, and cold within, then indeed he is at a disadvantage.

Come, a bowl of soup! Our cook is a specialist in its manufacture, and, myself, I think that the fellow is good enough to be chef even at the Astoria in Paris. You know the Astoria, my Jules?"

Jules treated the Sergeant to one of those amiable smiles of his. Did he know the Astoria Hotel? That aristocratic establishment in Paris.

Were there many aristocratic parts of that famous city of which he was ignorant? It made Henri sn.i.g.g.e.r indeed, remembering those days, now it seemed so long ago, when he and Jules had been among the elegants of the city. Yet, if these two young soldiers had known what luxury meant, and what it was to lead a life of gaiety, they were none the less good soldiers of France, destined to prove themselves, indeed, as n.o.ble as any of those comrades about them. Seated there on the fire-bench, where a man could stand and level his rifle in the direction of the enemy, they and the Sergeant sipped their bowls of soup with relish, dipping a crust of bread into it, and wanting nothing better. The outdoor life, their unusual surroundings--which had not yet become so familiar to them as to go without observation--the keen February air, the sense of danger impending, lent zest to appet.i.tes already healthy.

"I'd as soon dine like this as anywhere," said Henri, as he tipped his bowl up and his head back at the same time, and imbibed the steaming beverage. "Just fancy sitting down to a five- or six-course meal, as a fellow was accustomed to do in the days before this war commenced. A five-course meal, Jules! Fancy what we'd have said to such a thing in Ruhleben, where the meals were hardly recognizable."

Jules at that moment was engaged in finishing a huge crust of bread, and, holding the remains of it up between fingers and thumb, and balancing his bowl of soup neatly in the other hand, was in the act of drinking from it, when a distant thud, a screaming sound, and then a terrific concussion close at hand sent his bowl flying, and the young soldier himself rolling from the bank upon which he had been seated.

As for Henri, when Jules caught a view of what was left of that young fellow it was to discover his friend half buried in earth, a huge log lying right across his body, and the Sergeant, tumbled, inert and lifeless it seemed, over the log. Then willing hands came to their rescue, and within a moment or two all three were again seated on the bank, the Sergeant holding his head between his hands, still dizzy after that explosion, while Henri was carelessly brushing the dirt from his clothing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "A TERRIFIC CONCUSSION SENT HIS BOWL FLYING AND THE YOUNG SOLDIER HIMSELF ROLLING FROM THE BANK"]

"A near squeak, mon ami," laughed one of the _poilus_, as he a.s.sisted Henri in his task; "that is the first sh.e.l.l that has come near us for days past, and I shouldn't mind if it were the last of them.

Understand, my comrade, that sh.e.l.l-fire is not all very pleasant, and there are times when a man must sit in the fire-trench, crouching at the bottom, whilst they rain all round him, some bursting in the trench and shattering the traverses, some thumping pits behind or in front big enough for a platoon to camp in, and others blowing in the parapets, and smothering the fellows behind them. Rifle-fire is nothing to it--a mere pastime--for then, if a man keeps his head well down, there is but little danger."

Thud! In the distance another gun sounded. Thud! Thud! Thud! Sharp reports followed almost instantly, and found their direction, it seemed, from a thousand different points hidden by the forest country in front of the trenches directly north of the city.

Had Henri and Jules been elsewhere than in those trenches now a.s.sailed by the German artillery, had they, for instance, been in the neighbourhood of the fortress of Douaumont, or even on some more elevated position--if one were discoverable--they would have watched a sight on this 19th day of February which would have appalled them, and yet would have held them enthralled--so full of interest was it. Let us but sketch the view to be obtained from such a point.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MAP OF VERDUN SALIENT DURING OPERATIONS ON 21ST FEBRUARY, 1916]

From the heights of the Meuse, beyond and on which lay the French positions, crossing the River Meuse in the neighbourhood of Brabant, one looked down to a huge plain some hundreds of feet lower, the land falling abruptly in many parts, and the rolling hills traversed here and there by ravines, which gave easier access to the heights above than was to be found elsewhere. Everywhere woods were to be seen, woods of evergreen firs clothing the country thickly about the foot of the heights, and sweeping, to some extent, out into the plain beyond; woods, indeed, which masked the position of the enemy, which made it practically impossible to say how many troops were there, and whether the Germans had, as reports stated, made preparations for an attack on the Verdun salient.

A glance at the map will perhaps make the position even clearer, for there it will be seen that the French line, running from the west from the River Aisne, pa.s.sed close to Varennes--which was in the hands of the enemy--struck north at Avocourt, skirting the foot of hilly ground, and so continuing to Malancourt. From there the trench-line ran due east to Forges, just north of the brook of that name, and, crossing the River Meuse a little north of the point where the brook Forges falls into the river, ran north and east via Brabant, and along the line already indicated, sweeping from Etain and St. Jean--its most easterly point--due south till it reached the neighbourhood of Fresnes, and then curving towards the west and south, where it again approached the river. St. Jean, the most easterly point of the line, may be said to have formed almost the apex of the salient made by the French trenches encircling Verdun, and the city of that name may be said for the purpose of our description to have filled a point along a line drawn across the base of the salient. Perhaps thirty miles in length, this line, represented by the River Meuse, presented numerous roads and crossings by means of which French troops could be marched to any point of the salient, and presented also at Brabant, to the north of it, and at its southernmost point, positions of much importance. Let us suppose for a moment that an overwhelming enemy force was disposed in the neighbourhood of Brabant, and another at the southernmost point of the base of the Verdun salient--where the French trenches again ran adjacent to the river--a blow driving in the French defences both north and south at the self-same moment would shorten that base to which we have referred, and would, as it were, narrow the neck of the salient dangerously; it would have the effect, indeed, of tying up the force of men holding the apex of the salient, and of limiting their means of retreat if that were necessary, and the power of reinforcing them rapidly from Verdun. It may be, indeed, that this plan was in the minds of the Germans when, on the 19th of the month in question, they commenced that bombardment the first shot of which had proved so nearly disastrous to Henri and his comrades, and which, commencing at that moment, played on the whole Verdun salient for two days and nights.

Then on the 21st they opened their campaign against the city of Verdun and the Verdun salient with a mighty blow against the northern trenches, close to Brabant, where the French lines crossed the river, and in the course of a few hours opened the eyes of the French command--which, though well aware of an impending attack, was perhaps not fully informed as to the scale and significance of the German preparations. Indeed, in those first few hours of the bombardment of the northern sector of the salient, there was repeated on this Western Front the phalanx concentration which Von Mackensen had used against the Russians during the previous summer, when thousands of guns, arrayed against a comparatively narrow area, burst and blazed a way through it, or, more accurately perhaps, smashed the Russian trenches, and, unopposed by their artillery--for, as we have stated already, the Russians were wofully short of guns and ammunition--slew the unfortunate troops of the Tsar holding those trenches, forced their supports and reserves to fall back, and, having gained a certain depth of territory, moved forward and repeated the process again and again, thus compelling continual retirement.

Here then, on the 19th February, 1916--a date which is destined to become historical--the Germans commenced on the Western Front, against the northern-most curve of the Verdun salient, a similar attack, an attack heralded by a storm of sh.e.l.ls thrown from ma.s.ses of artillery which had been collected for weeks past and hidden in the woods in that neighbourhood. There were guns dug in in every direction, guns which had been there, perhaps, since the commencement of the war; there were others artfully concealed in natural hollows; and there were yet again others, literally hundreds of them, parked close together in the woods and forests without other attempt at concealment--a huge ma.s.s of metal which, at a given signal, commenced to pound the French defences.

Never before, without doubt, had such a storm of sh.e.l.l been cast on any one line of trenches; and continuing, as it did, for hours, ploughing the ground over a comparatively narrow stretch, it reduced everything within that selected area to a shapeless and tangled ma.s.s of wreckage.

It was to be wondered at, indeed, that anything living could survive the ordeal. French trenches, stretching across the slope behind those meshes of laced barbed wire, were blotted out--were stamped out indeed--and soon became indistinguishable from the hundreds of cavities and craters and holes which marked the slopes across which they had run that morning. Fourteen-inch sh.e.l.ls, seventeen-inch sh.e.l.ls, and thousands of smaller missiles, ploughed through and rained over the line, and many a ponderous fellow found its way to the deep dug-outs and shelters which had long ago been prepared for such an eventuality.

Smoke hid the sky on this 19th of February and the two days following, the smoke of bursting sh.e.l.ls plunging upon the French positions, while the cannon which threw those sh.e.l.ls were still hidden by the tangled woods clothing the ground occupied by the enemy. Yet, if the gallant _poilus_ manning the French trenches were not in evidence, if, indeed, life was being stamped out of a number of them by this terrific avalanche of bursting metal, they were yet for all that not entirely unsupported, for already those guns behind the advance lines of our ally were thundering, while, overhead, fleets of aeroplanes were picking up the positions of German batteries, and were signalling back to those who had sent them.

Crouching in the depths of a dug-out, some thirty feet below the surface, a dug-out which shook and quivered as sh.e.l.ls rained above it, Henri's comrades of the platoon smoked grimly, while that young fellow himself, once a Paris elegant, crouched in what was left of a fire-trench, now a mere shattered pit--and peered somewhat anxiously towards the open.

"And you are there still, mon ami?" called the Sergeant, when there was a five minutes' lull in the firing, "you find it warm perhaps, mon Henri? But you will hold to your post firmly--yes, you will do that, as will all our comrades."

His big, healthy, bearded face looked out from the narrow entrance of the stairs which gave access to the dug-out, and for a while he grinned, a friendly, encouraging grin, at our hero. Then those heavy thuds in the distance, and a loud burst close at hand, sent him diving back to shelter, leaving Henri alone, a pipe now gripped between his teeth, his rifle slung over one shoulder, standing his ground, gazing before him, waiting for the first sign of an enemy attack.

"It will come soon, yes, very soon," the Sergeant said, when another lull in the firing arrived. "They will go on blazing away, throwing tons of metal at us, till they think they have blotted us out of existence, and then--then you will see they will swarm to the attack, these Germans."