Part 19 (2/2)

Charge of the Gallant Bretons

Let us for the moment leave Henri and Jules in the centre of the ruins of Fort Douaumont, and return for a few brief seconds to that gallant yet dangerously small force of Frenchmen, who, until this moment, had been fighting to check the advance of the Germans about the town of Verdun.

Five days of the most terrific fighting had pa.s.sed. Five days of incessant bombardment from ma.s.sed German guns, which had literally blown the defenders out of their trenches. And during those few days, when the French lines to the north of the salient and to the east of the River Meuse were driven in till they rested near Vacherauville, on the Meuse, and ran from thence to Thiaumont and Douaumont Fort and Vaux, and so back to the Meuse again, French efforts had not been confined alone to local fighting.

On the very first day, indeed, what had been strongly suspected before became abundantly apparent, and it was clear that a German attack of unprecedented force and violence on the salient of Verdun was to be expected. The weight of artillery alone which for all those hours had been pouring a torrent of sh.e.l.ls on the heights of the Meuse was sufficient to indicate the nature of the German preparations. A thousand guns, directing their missiles on one sector of the long line of trenches wriggling across the north-eastern provinces of France, was no unusual feature of this extraordinary and gigantic warfare, but here there were not one thousand guns alone but many more, many hundreds more, probably even in excess of two thousand; while, moreover, the troops of the Kaiser, debouching from the woods, marching up those ravines giving access to the plateau of Douaumont, and ma.s.sing behind evergreen firs farther away, as discerned by the air-pilots of our ally, disclosed the fact that those ma.s.sed guns were to be supported by an equally enormous concentration of troops--a concentration which could have been effected only for one purpose. In short, and in fact, it was clear that this was to be no ordinary attack on the salient of Verdun, but a gigantic offensive--one which would demand a numerous defending force and guns in proportion.

But the movement of troops from one area of the field to another is a comparatively slow process at the best of times, for it must be remembered that, behind the fighting-lines of such an army as opposed the Germans, rails are always more or less congested, while an enormous ma.s.s of vehicles ply the roads, bringing up ammunition and food, and hundreds of other articles necessary for the fighters. Time, then, was required in which to gather French forces, and time in which to rush them over the rails, and by motor-transport along the roads, to the neighbourhood of Verdun, and then to push them up to the fighting-line.

Those gallant fellows who had faced the first rush of the Germans, who had stood under a tornado of sh.e.l.ls, and who had held on to their positions so desperately, were fighting all the while, not so much to hold the particular positions in which they were, as to gain time, to resist as long as possible, to thwart the enemy in his intentions, to delay his advance, and to keep him away from the main line of defence till such time as reinforcements could reach them. Very gallantly had the thin line of heroes carried out their purpose, holding on, often enough, till they were killed to the last man. They had made the Kaiser's troops pay dearly for every inch of ground; and, whereas the German High Command had confidently expected to reach Verdun within a day or two, five days had pa.s.sed, and yet, in spite of overwhelming gun-fire and ma.s.ses of troops, the French had only just retired to their main defensive position.

Douaumont stood on that line. Douaumont, which the Kaiser had told his people was the corner-stone of the salient which he hoped to capture; and Douaumont, as we know, had fallen already to the Brandenburgers.

Yet behind Douaumont, behind the Cote du Poivre and the Cote de Talou, there existed yet miles of upland plateau before the city of Verdun could be reached--miles which the Germans must cross before they could hope to complete its capture.

We have seen how, attempting to follow up their drive to the north, the French guns on Mort Homme and Hill 304 had outflanked the Germans, and had driven them from the Cote de Talou and the Cote du Poivre. We have followed their movements later, when, abandoning the drive in a southerly direction over the slopes of the Cote du Poivre, the German war lords caused their armies to swerve to the east to face the fort of Douaumont and to march towards it. Let us antic.i.p.ate their movements by a little, and say that, having captured the fort--a mere empty and cracked vessel--they found themselves still faced by the French, who had retired only a short distance beyond it; and who, reinforced that very night by the 20th Corps--as das.h.i.+ng a corps as ever existed--counter-attacked with furious energy, and advanced their lines till they surrounded the captured fort on three sides, and held, indeed, a portion of the interior. There, in that position, they dug themselves in firmly, and though the Germans continued to attack that portion of the line with a fury never before exceeded, and with utter disregard of the losses they suffered, not for weeks did they so much as dent it. Like the Cote de Talou, and the approaches from the north, Douaumont and the neighbouring trenches defied them; and, tiring, as it were, of the venture in that direction, yet determined as ever to capture Verdun and the salient, they once more changed their line of attack. Crossing the Meuse, they flung their details against the Mort Homme and Hill 304, hoping to capture those positions and sweep away the guns which enfiladed the Cote du Poivre. The removal of these would allow them to continue that advance from the north which threatened to shorten the base of the salient and to capture its defenders.

If we were to venture to describe every attack made by the Germans, every gallant defence of the French _poilus_, and the course in detail of the terrific conflict which raged--and, indeed, still rages as we write--round the salient of Verdun, we should require a multiplicity of chapters. For, indeed, foiled at the outset by the failure of their giant attack to do more than drive the French on to their main positions, in spite of the huge advantage of a surprise effected on the 21st February, and forced, as it were, by public opinion--the opinion of Germans at home, of their Austrian allies, and of every neutral country in the world--the Kaiser's war lords kept desperately at the task of subduing the salient. Not one, but dozens of a.s.saults were made either upon the Mort Homme and Hill 304 positions, or upon the plateau of Douaumont, extending at times to the farm of Thiaumont, and later, after weeks and weeks of conflict, to the fort of Vaux and the trenches south of it. The most gigantic attack on any one position that has ever been recorded in the history of the world was accompanied by other facts. .h.i.therto never seen in warfare.

The hosts of German troops concentrated on the face of the salient approached at times three-quarters of a million, and needed constant replenishment; for French 75's, machine-gun and rifle-fire bit deep into the ranks, and soldiers--hundreds of them, nay, thousands--fell, till the slopes leading to Mort Homme and to the gentle wooded heights of the Meuse became a mere shambles. Four months of fighting, indeed, found General Joffre and his brave troops still holding the line, still selling inches of the hills when the pressure became too great or the enemy gun-fire too fierce to be withstood--selling those inches at a price which can only be termed grisly and exorbitant--and now and again counter-attacking, when pressure from the enemy had forced them to yield ground of vital value.

Yes, after four months of terrific fighting, Verdun, that sleepy old town down by the River Meuse, and the lines of trenches surrounding it which formed that historic salient of which we have written, were still in the hands of the French, still denied the Germans; while the losses inflicted upon the latter, the increasing pressure of the British, now in crowded ranks along the Western Front--so crowded, indeed, that already a fourth army had taken over lines from the French, thus yielding reserves for further fighting at Verdun--that increasing pressure and a sudden brilliantly successful offensive on the part of the Russians in Galicia were putting the Kaiser and his war lords in a sad predicament. They, too, needed reserves: reserves to feed those horrible gaps at Verdun; reserves to march against the British Front; reserves to rail to Russia, there, if it were possible, to stem the tide of Muscovite troops pouring through the broken Austrian lines on their way to Vienna and Berlin.

Let us leave the combatants there to return to Jules and Henri.

Pandemonium reigned in that huge battered hall of the fort of Douaumont when the bomb which Henry had thrown had done its work in the midst of the Germans. The fire hitherto burning so cheerfully in the centre of the darkened hall was scattered in every quarter, leaving glowing embers in odd corners and crannies. Had there been more light upon the surroundings, many of the men, seated but a moment or so before, would have been seen stretched on the ground, killed by the explosion. That big officer, who, still chuckling, had looked on at the preparations for Jules's execution, might have been seen leaning against the outer wall of the fort, his tunic torn and burned, a red pool collecting on the flags beside him, his jaw dropped, his eyes wide open, insensible and dying. And of Max, that little snappy officer, not a sign would have been found. For, like every surviving man who had stood in the hall, he had bolted. A hand gripped Jules suddenly, as he lay gasping against the wall.

”Who's that?” he demanded breathlessly. ”Hands off, or I'll choke you,” and, shaken though he was by the explosion, he prepared to throw himself upon the individual who had accosted him.

”Jules, is that you, Jules?” came a feeble voice, and almost at the same moment a heavy form flopped down beside him and straightway rolled across him.

It was Henri, as unconscious at that instant as was the big German, chuckling but a minute earlier.

”Henri!” Jules shouted; ”Henri, what's happened? Are you killed like the rest of them?”

Evidently the gallant Henri was nothing of the sort, for, opening his eyes and staring out into the darkness, he growled a denial.

”Dead? Not much! but soon shall be if we stay here long enough for those fellows to bring lights,” he grumbled. ”If they bring lights they'll get us, and then----”

”You needn't mention the rest of the details. Pull yourself together!”

Jules told him. ”Here, wait a moment!”

Freeing himself from the dead weight of his chum, he dashed across the hall, feeling giddy and shaken by the explosion, and, scrambling on hands and knees amongst the bodies lying around the spot where the fire had been burning, he soon secured a water-bottle, and, hastening back, first dashed some of the contents into Henri's face, and then lifted the metal cup to his lips and let him drain it.

”Wanted that--eh?” he asked, having himself gulped down a draught.

”Let's have another. Now, here we are! My word, what a bust-up! How did it happen? I saw you over there, just outside the hall, and wondered whether you'd do anything. You did--eh? Was that your bomb?

Tell me about it.”

Henri scoffed at him--scoffed angrily.

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