Part 22 (1/2)
Heroic ”Poilus”
Who can describe the condition of affairs in the shattered fort of Douaumont on that night when the gallant Bretons of the 20th Corps hurled themselves against the captors of the position? The whole of the fighting round the salient of Verdun since that eventful 21st February--now seemingly so long ago, for so much had happened, yet in reality less than a week--had been marked by the incessant thunder of guns, the continuous detonations of exploding sh.e.l.ls, the intermittent rattle of machine-guns, and by the crescendoes of rifle-fire mingled with the shouts and shrieks of men, the cheers of triumphant attackers, and the grim, hoa.r.s.e commands of officers leading their sections.
There had been many a silent, yet grimly ferocious struggle with the bayonet; when men stood outside their trenches or struggled with the enemy in what remained of their battered positions. Such scenes we know had taken place inside the fort of Douaumont, for had not Jules and Henri partic.i.p.ated in such an adventure on the stairway? And now they were being repeated--those scenes--in many an odd part of that fortress.
Bursting in by a gateway to the west, the Bretons forced their way forward; while the Brandenburgers, beating a hasty retreat, threw up barricades and fought for them. Thus, as Henri and his chum crept along that gallery, comparatively silent for the moment, for the fight had drifted forward, and the Brandenburgers were holding a position farther to the east of the fortress, they came within sound of the combatants, and heard the shouts of men and the crack of rifles. Yet never a sight did they catch of Max, the German, though here and there torches threw a fitful gleam about the masonry.
”Then on!” said Henri, now rising to his feet and staggering forward.
”Where's the beggar gone to? And what's he up to?”
”Can't say. Perhaps he's merely trying to escape; or more likely he's trying to join his own people, for you can tell quite easily that they are still holding a portion of the fort.”
Yet to follow in the tracks of the German was an impossibility; for, let us explain, the interior of a fortress such as Douaumont is not so planned as to make progress easy and direct at the best of times. Such a place is designedly erected in sections, so that, should one portion suffer capture, the others may be held intact; while often enough such works are constructed so that one portion of the fortress commands by its fire the works immediately surrounding and attached to it. That gallery, then, did not run in a straight line for long: it curved abruptly to the left just as it had done before at the point where the German contrived to evade our heroes. It dropped down a flight of steps, and opened into a wide hallway much like that other in which Jules and Henri had already seen some adventure; and from this hall galleries led off, some reached by means of stairways, and others once barred by doors, now for the most part lying blackened and shattered on the flags which floored the galleries.
”Which way? Which one? How can a chap choose?” cried Henri peevishly, running the fingers of one hand through his matted hair, and looking from one to the other of the openings.
”A conundrum,” smiled Jules, though he looked grim enough as Henri stared at him. ”And those German sh.e.l.ls have not made the question any the easier, have they? Who knows? The beggar may have disappeared down this hole, and one almost hopes so.”
Gripping a torch suspended in a crevice between two fallen blocks of stone, he stepped towards a huge, jagged hole near the end of the hall, and held the flaming torch over it. Beneath there was a pit, with crumbling earth sides, and at the bottom a ma.s.s of shattered stonework and debris. Then, holding the torch overhead, he pointed upwards, and, glancing there, Henri saw a corresponding hole with jagged edges, through which the ponderous sh.e.l.ls had entered. There, indeed, displayed at their feet, and just above them, was as fine an example as could well be discovered of the work of modern sh.e.l.ls--of sh.e.l.ls of huge calibre--projected by guns of such weight that weeks are required to move them, and filled with such a ma.s.s of high explosives that little can resist them. Indeed, let one of the huge projectiles sent by those German or Austrian howitzers. .h.i.t fairly upon some building, and, be it a church--their favourite objective--a peasant's cottage, a convent, or even a ma.s.s of concrete and steel--such as, for instance, a modern fortress, such as, indeed, this fortress of Douaumont--and the result was likely to be little different. Destruction followed in the wake of those ponderous sh.e.l.ls, and wreckage resulted. Here, then, before Henri and Jules, was displayed direct evidence of the wisdom which had caused General Joffre to dismantle every fort round the city of Verdun, and to convert the salient into an ordinary defensive position. A fortress might, and indeed would, be smashed by German artillery; but trenches were more movable, more replaceable, objects, and the picks and spades of _poilus_ could easily repair damage.
”Nice little hole--eh?” smiled Jules. ”But I don't see any sign of that German.”
”Nor I. Let's get on. I've an uneasy feeling in my mind that he's up to some particularly vile sort of mischief. Let's push on,” said Henri.
”And which way?”
”Which way? Any way! Straight ahead! The noise of rifles is getting closer, so that any way is likely to lead to the spot we're seeking.”
”Then you think he has gone towards the fighting?” asked Jules.
”Yes!” came abruptly from Henri. ”He's sneaking up behind our fellows, I feel sure. From what I've seen of this Max, this German, I feel positive that he'll think of escape last of all. To do him bare credit, he'll consider his own safety only when he's done his worst to our people. Let's push on! We've got to get to the beggar.”
Glancing about them doubtfully for a second or two, they finally chose a central opening, only to be forced to turn back when they had progressed a dozen yards, for a fall of masonry blocked egress.
Returning, therefore, to the hall, they skirted the edge of that giant pit the sh.e.l.l had burrowed through the flooring, and entered another gallery, where, attracted by loud shouts ahead and by heavy firing, they pushed on as fast as they were able.
Meanwhile; outside, the combat had for the moment subsided, for the dash of the 20th Corps of those gallant Bretons had taken them right up to the trenches. .h.i.therto held by that thin band of n.o.ble _poilus_ who had sustained and held off the first German onslaught. The Bretons, indeed, were now repairing, in furious haste, and consolidating the trenches running along the edge of the plateau of Douaumont right up to the eastern corner of the fort, almost, in fact, surrounding the fortress and cutting it off from the Germans.
Yet a portion of the works projected beyond them to the east, and there an underground pa.s.sage gave shelter to the Brandenburgers, and, indeed, allowed the enemy to reinforce their troops still holding a portion of the interior. Elsewhere there was little fighting; for on the Cote du Poivre and the Cote de Talou no German attack was possible, French guns on Mort Homme and Hill 304 still commanding every avenue of approach, and already having given the Germans practical, if dreadful, evidence of their deadly work. But along the whole line sh.e.l.ls still plunged about the positions held by our allies, and, as the snowflakes whirled and the wind swept first from this quarter and then from another, the distant thud of cannon came in one low, continuous, muttering roar, which never stopped, and which for seven days now had gone on practically without intermission.
Pus.h.i.+ng along that gallery, stumbling over blocks of fallen stone, and every once and again coming upon the bodies of fallen Brandenburgers, Henri and Jules at length reached a part where the gallery broadened out, and where the sound of combat was louder. In the distance they could see moving figures and the flash of rifles, while every few seconds there was a dull thud or a curious scuttling noise on the walls of the gallery as bullets flew by them. Then, as they drew nearer, the faint light shed by another torch showed them a number of Bretons sheltering behind an opening which led on eastward, while others lay full length on the floor, their packs in front of them to protect them.
A glance into the room on the left--a store-room, no doubt, in which sh.e.l.ls had been piled in other days--disclosed a number of wounded Frenchmen in the care of members of their ambulance corps, while, almost opposite, was another room packed with Bretons waiting to reinforce their friends when called for. Yet there was no sign of the German.
”Strange!” thought Henri. ”Then where can he have gone? Surely he has not slipped from the fort elsewhere?”
”Hist! I thought I saw some fellow moving along there at the top of that flight of stairs,” Jules said suddenly, pointing to the right just behind the room occupied by the Bretons in reserve, where stone steps led upward to another corridor, which itself gave entrance to another row of gun-chambers.
Darting to the foot of the stairway, Henri and Jules began to climb it cautiously and as noiselessly as possible; not that they had much to fear from noise, for, what with the shouts of the combatants and the sharp crack of rifles, rendered all the louder by the containing walls and masonry, there was little chance of their footsteps being heard.