Three days after the Battle of Festubert[61]came to an end, another European nation flung itself into the welter of strife. Italy declared war on Austria. The story of why she did so, and how she fared during the year 1915, will be told in our next volume. We may safely postpone an account of the Italian campaign, for, like our great adventure in Gallipoli, it was a side-show. Nevertheless it employed no less than twelve Austrian army corps, and thus largely reduced the forces which the enemy could employ in France and Flanders and the Eastern theatre of war.
Italy set herself the very difficult task of conquering the Trentino,[62]and in order to do so had to force the barrier of the Alps. For six months she fought with great firmness and much sacrifice amidst lofty snowclad mountains, and battered unceasingly at the great Austrian fortresses established amongst them. By the end of the year her soldiers had occupied a rich and well-populated portion of what the Italians call "Unredeemed Italy," had secured their northern flank, and had firmly established themselves along the line of the river Isonzo.[63]They had also captured 30,000 of the enemy, 5 guns, 65 Maxim guns, thousands of rifles, and a great deal of other war material, and were in a favourable position for an advance in the spring. Should this advance be successful, Austria would lose her two great seaports, and,except along the coast of Dalmatia,[64]would be cut off from the sea.
July was but nine days old when good news arrived from South Africa. The Union forces under General Botha[65]had conquered German South-West Africa,[66]and the colony had passed into British hands. The story can wait until our next volume, in which we shall survey the progress of our arms not only in "German South-West," as South Africans call it, but in the Cameroons and in German East Africa as well. From the first the Germans knew that their overseas possessions were doomed. Powerless on the ocean, they were utterly cut off from their colonies. Their overseas forces were fighting, as it were, in water-tight compartments, without hope of reinforcements or supplies from the Fatherland.
We will now return to the Western front, and learn something of what happened in North France between the close of the Battle of Festubert and the great British attack of September. At home people believed that a big push would be made in the West during the summer months; but to their astonishment the Allies did not attempt an offensive on a large scale. The Russians, as you know, were then passing through a fiery ordeal; and their newspapers constantly asked why the Allies did not attack the enemy, and draw off from Russia some of the fury of the German onset. The fact was that the Allies were not in a condition to assault the German lines with any great hope of success. Though they now outnumbered the Germans on the Western front, they were still deficient in machine guns, heavy artillery, and stores of shell. The battles of Festubert and of the Artois had taught them that to hurl infantry against trenches which had not been previously wrecked by artillery fire was simply to send men to their death. They had also learned that piercing the enemy's line on a narrow front served no useful purpose. Driving tiny wedges into the German position was not only costly, but a waste of time. A big rent must be made, in order that cavalry might be launched through the breach against the lines of communication. For such an operation they had not as yet sufficient artillery, so they decided—
"'Tis better that the enemy seek us:So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still,Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness."[67]
"'Tis better that the enemy seek us:So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still,Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness."[67]
The war on the Western front during the months of June, July, and August was little more than the old "nibbling." All along the line there were many small attacks followed by small counter-attacks, and in some places fierce little struggles for strongholds. Trenches were lost and won almost daily, but a week's advance could be measured by yards. In these affairs we gained little ground, but we lost many men. I cannot attempt to describe all the minor engagements of the summer months, but I must say something about the fighting around Givenchy in the middle of June.
In front of the 7th British Division there was an enemy stronghold known to our troops as "Stony Mountain," and from it to another fortified point, known as "Dorchester," ran two lines of German trenches. The 7th Division was ordered to make a frontal attack on "Stony Mountain," and the 1st Canadian (Ontario) Battalion at the same time was to carry the two lines of trenches.
At three o'clock on the afternoon of 15th June the Ontario regiment was brought up to the British trenches opposite to the position to be attacked, and the men began to beguile the hours of waiting by singing popular songs. The attack was timed to commence at six in the evening, and at a quarter to six two 18-pounder guns in the Canadian trenches opened fire on the German position. One of the guns swept away the German wire, and knocked out two enemy Maxims; but the other was wrecked by a shell. Bullets from the German trenches rained down upon the guns, tearing and twisting their shields as though they had been made of paper.
Just before six, Canadian sappers exploded a mine on their front, and several of their own bombers were killed or wounded by the force of the explosion. Immediately the leading company dashed forward through the smoke and flying dirt, and though met by a withering flank fire from "Stony Mountain," rushed the German front trench, and gained possession of "Dorchester." Those, however, who attacked on the "Stony Mountain" side were stopped by the fire of that fort, and all were killed or wounded. Bombing parties and sappers now went forward, but almost all of them were shot down. A sapper who reached the trench set out alone to bomb his way along it. He did not retire until he had flung his last bomb, and then he had no less than ten wounds in his body.
The second company closely followed on the heels of those who had won "Dorchester," and the two companies charged towards the German second-line trench, which was carried. Many of the Huns who put up a fight were bayoneted, and some prisoners were taken. Meanwhile the third company, after losing heavily in its advance, was busy putting the captured first-line trench into a state of defence. Two machine guns were hurried forward, but the entire crew of one of them was killed or wounded before the trench was reached. The crew of the other gun, now reduced to two men, Lieutenant Campbell and Private Vincent, a lumber-jack from Bracebridge, gained the position, and Lieutenant Campbell hoisted his gun on to the broad back of his companion, and poured a stream of bullets upon the enemy. Later in the day, when the Canadians were obliged to retire, Lieutenant Campbell fell wounded, but Private Vincent dragged the gun away into safety. Lieutenant Campbell crawled into the Canadian trench a dying man. "And no man died that night with more glory; yet many died, and there was much glory."
The supply of bombs ran short, and Private Smith of Southampton, Ontario, volunteered to go forward with a fresh supply. Festooned with bombs, he crawled forward on all fours, and twice handed over his load to his friends. So hot was the fire that he had to toss the bombs[68]into the trench. His clothes were shot to rags, but he escaped unwounded. But all Private Smith's efforts to supply the bombers were unavailing. Soon all the grenades were gone, and meanwhile the machine guns and rifles on "Stony Mountain" were rapidly thinning the Canadian ranks. "One unknown wounded man was seen standing on the parapet of the German front-line trench. He had thrown every bomb he carried, and, weeping with rage, continued to hurl bricks and stones at the advancing enemy till his end came."
The British division had been held up on the left, and the enemy was now gathering in strength. The unsupported Canadians were therefore forced to retire, and give up the ground which they had gained. During the retirement many men fell, and some fine deeds of bravery were done. Private Gledhill of Ben Miller, near Goderich, Ontario, though hurled out of the trench by a bomb explosion which broke his rifle but did not injure him, found another rifle, and continued to fire while his comrades retired and he was almost alone. As he crawled towards his own lines he fell over a wounded lieutenant, and offered to carry him back. "Thanks, no," said the lieutenant; "I can crawl." "Will you take me?" asked a man with a leg missing, who lay hard by. "Sure," replied the gallant fellow, and amidst a tempest of fire he dragged the wounded man into safety. Out of twenty-three officers who went into battle that day only three were alive and untouched at nightfall. The fort on "Stony Mountain" could not be captured, and all the valour and perseverance of the Canadians went for nothing.
The account which you have just read gives you a very fair idea of the midsummer fighting on the Western front. Before I turn to the great offensive of September, let me describe briefly the struggle which took place at Hooge towards the end of July and the beginning of August. It had no real importance; it was only an incident in the constant tug of war that went on along the opposing lines. Hooge is a hamlet on the Ypres-Menin road, about two miles east of the city. On the 16th of June we had attacked the enemy's line, and had captured 1,000 yards of German front trenches, apart of the line, and 150 prisoners. During the fighting the Liverpool Scottish did specially fine work.
This map shows you the scene of the struggle which I am about to describe. Notice the chateau and the lake to the north: both were in the hands of the Germans, who had pushed their front to the west and south-west of the lake, and had thus made an ugly sag in our line. Just north of the Hooge-Menin road there is a big hollow marked "Crater" on the map. About 3 a.m. on the morning of Friday, 30th July, the Germans violently attacked our trenches to the east of the Crater. They were held by men of the New Army. The Germans had already sapped up close to our line, and now they launched a torrent of liquid fire against us. At the same time big guns on the high ground to the north-east and south-west bombarded our lines, trench mortars joined in, and bombers stormed our trenches with grenades. This terrible onset of fire, flame, and bombs could not be resisted, and the Germans carried the first line and the Crater. Our men fell back to the second line, which ran north-west from the corner of Zouave Wood. Then the enemy began to shell the second line, and Zouave Wood became a death-trap. You will read on a later page how Second Lieutenant Sidney Woodroffe won the Victoria Cross by holding his trenches in Zouave Wood to the last.
A counter-attack was made in the afternoon, but it failed. Our men were mown down as soon as they advanced into the open. The Rifle Brigade had been entrusted with the task; it pushed forward to certain death with wonderful steadiness, but was almost wiped out. During this unsuccessful attack we lost 2,000 men. No further attempt was made for ten days, during which time our gunners shelled the enemy's lines, and stopped the fire of their artillery. So successful was the bombardment that it put new heart into our men, and they were quite ready for the next act of the drama, which was timed for Monday, 9th August. Just before dawn on that day the 16th and 18th Brigades advanced from the west and from the south against the Crater. They had to push uphill in black darkness for 500 yards. The 2nd York and Lancaster issued from Zouave Wood with the 2nd Durham Light Infantry on their right. The two battalions made a race of it, and the Durhams won. Over the horrible No Man's Land, strewn with barbed-wire entanglements and the bodies of the unburied dead, the infantry swept on, and in a few minutes were busy with the bayonet and bomb amongst the sorely shaken Germans. Many of them were sheltering in their dug-outs, which were very large and deep. The two hundred who held the Crater were killed to a man.
A correspondent tells us that, on scrambling over the enemy's parapet, a sergeant lost his balance and fell on his back to the bottom of the trench, close to a mortar in charge of a sentry. Immediately the sentry rushed at him with a bomb poised in his hand. With a great effort the sergeant slewed round and dealt his opponent a kick in the ribs which sent him spinning against the parapet, where he was dealt with by a private who had followed hard on the heels of his sergeant.
When the trenches were cleared the infantry swept on to the chateau, and captured the ruins of the stables, where they dug in. The attack had been very successful, and our losses were very few, because of the searching bombardment which had preceded the attack. Correspondents describe the high spirits of our men on that day. It is said that many of the less seriously wounded failed to report themselves, because they did not wish to miss the rest of the fighting.
At half-past nine that night German shells began to fall fast and thick on our new positions, and our men dropped fast. We lost some of our trenches north of Sanctuary Wood, and had to retire to a little way in front of the Crater. The enemy had made a curtain of fire behind our lines, and reliefs could only be brought up at great loss. The battalion which had dug in near the stables was ordered to withdraw; but four officers and 200 men did not receive the order, and hung on until relieved late the next morning. A small party of Durham Light Infantry, under Corporal Smith, held out even longer, and only retired when fresh troops took over their position.
Gradually the fighting died away. We had recovered our former position, and what is more, we had proved that, given proper artillery "preparation," the strongest German lines could be pierced. The New Army won its spurs at Hooge, but at a very heavy cost.
The following officers and men were awarded the Victoria Cross for deeds of remarkable courage during the period between the Battle of Festubert and the end of the first week in August:—
Private William Mariner, 2nd Battalion, King's Royal Rifle Corps.
During a violent thunderstorm on the night of May 22, 1915, Private Mariner left his trench at a place just south of Cuinchy, for the purpose of destroying an enemy machine gun that was annoying our men. He took with him a supply of bombs, and just before starting out on his perilous mission, asked his sergeant to open fire on the enemy's trenches as soon as he had thrown his bombs. This meant that he was prepared to sacrifice himself, for he was bound to be in the line of fire from his own trench, and could only escape death or wounding by a miracle. He crept out into "No Man's Land," wormed his way through the German wire entanglements, and reached the emplacement of the gun. Climbing on to the top of the parapet, he hurled a bomb on to the roof of the emplacement. When the roar of the explosion subsided, he heard the noise of men running away. About a quarter of an hour later he heard the enemy returning. At once he climbed up on the other side of the emplacement, and with his left hand threw another bomb. Then he lay flat, while the Germans fired round after round on the wire entanglement behind him. For more than an hour he lay unseen and unheard. If the sergeant had opened fire as Mariner had wished, nothing could have saved him. Fortunately his own people did not pull a trigger, and he was able to crawl back to his trench unharmed. He had been out all alone for an hour and a half.
Lance-Corporal Leonard James Keyworth, 24th Battalion, London Regiment (T.F.).
At Givenchy, on the night of May 25-26, 1915, the 24th Battalion made a successful assault on the German trenches, and strove to follow up their success by a bomb attack, during which fifty-five men out of the seventy-five who took part in it were either killed or wounded. During this very fierce encounter Lance-Corporal Keyworth, a Lincoln man, stood fully exposed for two hours on the top of an enemy's parapet, and threw about one hundred and fifty bombs amongst the Germans, who were only a few yards away. In a letter to his sister Lance-Corporal Keyworth thus describes the incident: "I was with the bombing party, and was the only one to come through without a scratch. I went along a ridge on my stomach, and threw bombs into the German trench, my distance being about fifteen yards. Men were shot down by my side. Still I continued, and came out safe. I was at once recommended for a decoration. It is supposed to be for bravery, but I cannot understand where it came in. I only did my duty; but how I came out God only knows." Unhappily this gallant lad, who was only twenty-two when he won the Victoria Cross, died of wounds six months later.
Lance-Corporal William Angus, 8th (Lanark) Battalion, Highland Light Infantry (T.F.).
On the night of 11th June Lieutenant Martin of the Highland Light Infantry went out with a bombing party to wreck a German sap. Suddenly a mine was exploded by the enemy, and the lieutenant fell stunned and bleeding at the foot of the enemy's parapet, only a few feet away from the foe. He was half buried, but after a night of horror managed to extricate himself from the heap of earth that covered him. As he struggled to get free, his own men saw him through their periscopes and made signs to him. He called aloud to them for water, and the Germans hearing him, flung a bomb at him. Happily it was unlighted. Our men now determined that their fallen officer should not be murdered. The best shots lined the parapet, and neither side dared lift a head. At last a German sniper shot the wounded officer in the side, and he feigned death so well that his men began to prepare a cross for his grave. About three o'clock, however, he was seen to move, and a Canadian officer proposed that, under a hot covering fire, a man should rush out with a lasso and haul him in.
Lieutenant Martin belonged to Carluke, a village in the Clyde valley; and there was another Carluke man watching him—Corporal Angus, who had just returned to the front fresh from an hospital bed in Rouen, where his leg, badly smashed at Festubert, had healed. He now went up to his officer and said, "Let me go, sir." He was assured that he would be going to certain death; but he replied, "Well, sir,sooner or later, what does it matter?" So saying, he crawled out, and wormed his way along the torn and heaped ground, amidst fragments of burst shells, broken wire, and the stark, still bodies of the slain, and in half an hour reached the officer, and put a flask of brandy to his lips. The two men lay side by side for a space, gathering strength for the return journey.
Suddenly the Germans lobbed a bomb over the parapet, and a cloud of smoke and dust arose, under cover of which Angus, half carrying, half dragging the wounded man, was seen staggering forward. When the smoke drifted away the German rifles cracked viciously, and more than a dozen bombs were hurled at him. Angus was literally riddled with wounds. "I could see the bombs coming," he said later. "I actually watched the one that cost me my left eye. I thought both were blown out in that awful, burning flash, so fearful was the pain in my face." The sight of the two wounded men being mercilessly pelted by the enemy aroused the fiercest indignation in the British trench, and only with the greatest difficulty were the men restrained from dashing out against the cowardly foe. A hurricane fire broke out onboth sides, and in the midst of it the two men rolled into the Scottish trench.
When the heroic collier lad was sufficiently recovered to present himself at Buckingham Palace, and the King pinned the coveted cross on his breast, his Majesty murmured, "Forty wounds!" "Yes, your Majesty," responded Angus; "butonly fifteen of them serious!" The gallant fellow's father was called into the presence of the King, who said, "Your son has won his decoration nobly. It is almost a miracle he is spared to you, and I sincerely hope he may fully recover and live long to enjoy it. May you, too, be long spared to feel pride in him and his achievement."
On a Saturday afternoon, a few days later, the village of Carluke, crowded with dwellers from all parts of the Clyde valley, made holiday, and prepared to welcome the hero who had dared death a hundred times to save the life of a friend. Flags waved, bands played, troops presented arms, and amidst loud cheering Angus limped through the streets with the man whom he had saved supporting him on the one side, and Lord Newlands on the other. Thus did he receive the deep gratitude and the handsome gifts of his neighbours and friends, and return home to his moorland cottage to nurse his "honourable" wounds. He was the first Scottish Territorial to win the Victoria Cross.
Lieutenant Frederick William Campbell, 1st Canadian Battalion.
I have already mentioned the heroism of Lieutenant Campbell and Private Vincent during the Canadian attack on the German trenches near Stony Mountain. When war broke out, Lieutenant Campbell was farming at Mount Forest, Ontario; but he was so eager to "do his bit" that he sold one of his farms, his horses, and his stock, and forthwith joined the army. He very soon made his mark as a gallant soldier, and became very popular with his men. At the Battle of Ypres he went fearlessly to and fro, smiling and urging on his comrades, with death nudging his elbow. "How is it, Mr. Campbell, this morning?" asked one of his men; and his cheery reply was, "Oh, fine—we are going to have a scrap to-day." You will remember that at Givenchy, on 15th June, he took two machine guns over the parapet, and arrived at the German first line with one gun, which he hoisted on the back of Private Vincent, and continued to fire in spite of the hail of bullets and bombs which fell around him. When the supply of bombs ran out, Lieutenant Campbell advanced still further with his gun, and in an exposed position fired about one thousand rounds and held back the enemy's counter-attack. Later on he was wounded, and died in hospital at Boulogne. The Victoria Cross, which was awarded after his death, became the proud and cherished possession of his bereaved wife and three young children.
Second Lieutenant Sydney Clayton Woodroffe, 8th Battalion, Rifle Brigade.
You will remember that during the fighting at Hooge, when our men were fiercely attacked by big guns, liquid fire, and bombs, Second Lieutenant Woodroffe held a trench in the Zouave Wood. He was one of three brothers, all of them Marlborough boys, and head prefects of the famous school in their day. Sydney was still in his teens when he was called upon to resist torrents of shell, sprays of blazing petrol, and showers of bursting bombs. Despite the awful storm of fire and flame, he gave the enemy bomb for bomb; and when his supply was exhausted, withdrew his men, rallied them anew, and at their head pushed forward once more. The gallant lad was killed in the act of cutting his way through the barbed-wire jungle of the enemy. One of his brothers had already made the supreme sacrifice at Neuve Chapelle.
Second Lieutenant Arthur Boyd Rochfort, Special Reserve, 1st Battalion, Scots Guards.
On August 3, 1915, Lieutenant Rochfort was standing with a small working party in a communication trench just south of Cuinchy, when an enemy mortar threw a bomb which landed on the inside of his parapet. He might easily have stepped back round a traverse and avoided the danger; but, shouting to his men to look out, he sprang upon the bomb, picked it up, and hurled it over the parapet, where it at once exploded. There is no doubt that his splendid presence of mind saved the lives of many of his men.
We are now to read the story of the great offensive which the Allies undertook in the West during the month of September 1915. I have already told you that the German lines were by this time so studded with skilfully placed forts, full of machine guns, that no living infantry could carry them until a road had been blasted through by artillery fire. You remember the maze of trenches and forts known to the French as the Labyrinth. The same sort of fortification extended along the whole German line. It was folly to break through the enemy's line on a narrow front, for the troops which entered the gap were at once enfiladed and exposed to a murderous fire on their flanks. This is precisely what happened in the unsuccessful attack at Stony Mountain. If the German front was to be really broken, a rent of at least fifteen miles must be made in it. In order to do this, long preparation was necessary. Thousands of guns and mountains of ammunition were required, and, above all, the part of the line to be broken must be carefully selected.
Look at the map on page336, and note the position of that portion of the German line which extends between the Argonne on the east and Auberive on the west. The cross railway line, by means of which the Germans supplied their front in Champagne, was in some places only four or five miles from the French trenches, and the main line was not more than ten or twelve miles away. If the French could break through in this region on a wide front, they could send their cavalry forward to cut the German lines of communication; in which case the enemy would be obliged to fall back, and his retreat might easily become a rout. The French, therefore, decided to make their big push in Champagne. An advance on this part of the line not only promised success, but Champagne itself was very suitable for a great combined attack of infantry and artillery. Unlike Artois and Flanders, the country consists of rolling chalk downs, with open, bare, and shallow valleys. Guns could thus be used to the best advantage, and infantry could push forward without being impeded by villages, mounds of refuse, railway embankments, and small enclosed fields. On the dull levels of Champagne the freedom of France had thrice[69]been won. Was history to repeat itself, and was a fourth deliverance to result from the great movement now about to be made?
A writer[70]thus describes the district:—
"There is scarcely a region in all France where a battle could have been fought with less injury to property. Imagine, if you please, an immense undulating plain, its surface broken by occasional low hills and ridges, none of them much over six hundred feet in height, and wandering in and out between these ridges the narrow stream which is the Marne. The country hereabouts is very sparsely settled; the few villages that dot the plain are wretchedly poor; the trees on the slopes of the ridges are stunted and scraggly; the soil is a chalky marl, which you have only to scratch to leave a staring scar, and the grass which tries to grow upon it seems to wither and die of a broken heart. This was the great manoeuvre ground of Châlons, and it was good for little else, yet only a few miles to the westward begin the vineyards which are France's chief source of wealth, and an hour's journey to the eastward is the beautiful Forest of the Argonne."
"There is scarcely a region in all France where a battle could have been fought with less injury to property. Imagine, if you please, an immense undulating plain, its surface broken by occasional low hills and ridges, none of them much over six hundred feet in height, and wandering in and out between these ridges the narrow stream which is the Marne. The country hereabouts is very sparsely settled; the few villages that dot the plain are wretchedly poor; the trees on the slopes of the ridges are stunted and scraggly; the soil is a chalky marl, which you have only to scratch to leave a staring scar, and the grass which tries to grow upon it seems to wither and die of a broken heart. This was the great manoeuvre ground of Châlons, and it was good for little else, yet only a few miles to the westward begin the vineyards which are France's chief source of wealth, and an hour's journey to the eastward is the beautiful Forest of the Argonne."
The French devoted most of the summer to preparations for the great attack. The British took over thirty additional miles of the line, and thus released a large number of troops for the venture. New units were formed, and the factories worked night and day to produce the immense quantity of ammunition which would be needed. Artillery of every size and pattern, from light mountain guns to monster howitzers, were gradually brought together, until nearly 3,000 guns faced the Germans. Had these guns been placed side by side they would have extended for more than fifteen miles. Every battery knew exactly the portion of front which it was to attack. About twenty captive balloons, fitted with telephones and wires, were provided for directing the fire of the guns. A network of light railways was built in order to bring up the vast supplies of ammunition, and from the railhead a highroad nine miles long and forty feet wide was constructed across the plain.
Dug-outs for men, stores for ammunition, and underground first-aid stations were constructed; and, so that the infantry could reach their positions without being destroyed by German shell fire, no less than forty miles of reserve and communication trenches were made. In some places saps and tunnels had been run out towards the German lines, so that the men making the first assault could spring suddenly from the earth. The hospitals were emptied ready for the stream of wounded that would soon flow into them. Officers and men were diligently instructed; everything was foreseen and provided for; nothing was left to chance.
Now let us look closely at the portion of the German line which was to be assaulted. From the village of Auberive (page336) the trenches ran eastward. Beyond Souain a series of hills lay in front of the French line, and on each of them a redoubt had been erected. The Germans had held this position since the Battle of the Marne, and for more than a year they had striven to make it impregnable. In many cases the trenches had walls of concrete, and the wire entanglements were as much as sixty yards deep. In front of the entanglements the ground had been honeycombed with mines, and strewn with sharpened stakes and obstacles of all kinds. Every German fired from behind a shield of armour plate, and at every fifteen yards along the trenches there was a machine gun. Here and there were revolving steel turrets, each containing a quick-firing gun. In some places there were five lines of trenches, one behind the other, all linked together so as to form a labyrinth very similar to that which the French had captured in Artois. Remember that these trenches only formed the first line of German defence. Behind them was a second line, and between the two were the artillery. Light railways came right down to the front, so that troops and ammunition and supplies could be moved very readily and speedily. The Germans boasted that they had created an inland Gibraltar, and they smiled superior when their aviators told them what preparations were going on behind the French lines. They were quite certain that nothing could shift them.
Of course it would never do for the French to attack in Champagne while the rest of the Allied troops lay quiet in their trenches. The enemy must be engaged at various points all along the line, so that he could not mass reinforcements against the great attack. Further, he must not be allowed to know exactly where the main thrust was to take place. The Allies intended, as we shall learn later, to make a big offensive between La Bassée and Lens, and to fight holding battles elsewhere.
Early in the month of September, during perfect autumn weather, a general bombardment began along the whole front. The airmen were very busy, and in the third week of the month there were no fewer than twenty-seven fights over the British front alone. On 23rd September the bombardment began to grow very violent. The guns had begun the overture to the great drama on which the curtain was now about to rise.
All was now ready. The French trenches were packed with men, waiting for the guns to cease fire and the order to advance. Meanwhile the greatest bombardment that the world had ever known was in progress. General Joffre had instructed his artillery commanders to smash up the enemy's trenches, and to destroy their dug-outs in such a fashion "that may make it possible for my men to march to the assault with their rifles at the shoulder." It is impossible to describe in words the awful din of the guns. The sky overhead was a canopy of flying shells, and a rain of death fell upon the German trenches. Wire entanglements were blown into a myriad fragments; concreted trenches were swept into shapeless ruin, and the troops holding them were buried alive in their dug-outs. Hundreds of men went mad through sheer terror. The big shells raised huge geysers of earth and smoke wherever they fell, and the French gunners, stripped to the waist, never ceased or slackened their fire for three days and two nights. Upon and behind the German trenches a cascade of fire continued to fall; the enemy could neither advance nor retreat.
At 5.30 on the morning of 25th September theréveillérang out along the French lines. It was a gray, dismal morning, but the men were in good heart. They drank their morning coffee, looked to their equipment, and waited for the word that would launch them against the foe. Every man wore a patch of white calico on his back, so that the French gunners might know their own men, and not fire upon them. At 9.5 the regimental flags were unrolled; for the firsttime in this war the troops were to go into action with colours flying.
At 9.15 the guns suddenly ceased to fire, whistles shrilled all along the line, and bugles pealed the charge. "En avant! Vaincre ou mourir!"[71]shouted the officers, and a human wave of blue-gray, fifteen miles in length and topped with steel, surged from the trenches. Onward, with hoarse cheering and snatches of song, they went, under a hail of fire from the German batteries and from machine guns hurriedly withdrawn from deep dug-outs which the French guns had not wrecked. Despite the terrible gunfire, stretches of unbroken wire still remained, and amidst these death-traps many men fell. Numerous others were shot down in front of steel obstacles which had to be blown up before the advance could proceed. Nevertheless the French infantry swept on, and plunged into the ruin of the German first line. Leaving detachments to ferret out prisoners from the deeper dug-outs, the French made for the second line. So fierce did the German fire become, that they frequently had to lie flat on the ground and crawl forward. But in a lull they rose again to their feet and advanced once more. Soon they were on the edge of the woods, where the German field guns, unable to get away, were firing at point-blank range. They flung themselves upon the guns, and in a few seconds had captured whole batteries. Prisoners were taken by the hundred—broken, stricken men, dazed and stupefied by the terrible bombardment.
In some places the assault was pushed into the second German line; in other places men still battled furiously in the first line. Battalions became mixed up, but in a short time order was restored, and the troops surged on again. Wounded men cried out to their comrades to leave them and proceed. "Go on," they cried, "don't mind us. It's only you who are whole who matter now." Then the guns came up with a thunderous rumble, and unlimbering like magic, prepared the way for a further advance of the infantry. African troops were ordered up to finish the business with cold steel, and behind them came the cavalry—dragoons, chasseurs, and Spahis—making a charge and fighting from the saddle for the first time since the trench war began. They sabred the fleeing Germans and swept up hundreds of prisoners, while the "trench cleaners," as the Algerians and Senegalese are called, scoured the ruined earthworks for the lurking foe.
The most desperate fighting was on the left, where the cavalry charged the line of wooded hills between Auberive and Souain. The French infantry on the extreme left were held up before they had advanced little more than half a mile, but, later on, they took trench after trench, and by midday were two miles in front of their starting-point. It was in this part of the line that the Colonial troops, led by General Marchand,[72]made a splendid advance, in the course of which their brave leader fell. He was standing on the parapet of a German trench, smoking his pipe and urging his men forward, when he was struck down.
All through the wet afternoon the battle continued, and only when twilight fell was it possible to reckon up the gains of the day. On a front of fifteen miles, the French had pushed forward, on the average, two and a half miles. Our allies had drawn near to the village of Tahure, but they had not captured it, neither had they seized the Butte[73]of Tahure which overlooks the railway, nor the Butte of Mesnil which you see to the south-east of Tahure. Eastward of the latter hill there is high ground from which spurs stretch out southwards like the open fingers of a hand. On each of the fingers of this Hand of Massiges,[74]as the French called it, the Germans had constructed a great stronghold of criss-crossed trenches with forts at intervals. It was as though five labyrinths lay side by side. So strong was the position that the Germans said it could be held against a whole army by two washerwomen with machine guns. The French, however, had already carried part of it, and also the farmhouse which you see on the westward edge of the high ground. The whole German first line had gone, and large parts of the second line west of Navarin Farm and east of Tahure had been captured.
For every yard of front which the French had won they had taken an unwounded prisoner, and for every mile, nine guns. During the fighting some 21,000 prisoners were captured. The Germans surrendered by hundreds at a time. Most of them had been without food for several days and were suffering from thirst, and all of them had been completely cowed by the terrible bombardment.
Though the French had made such good progress, the battle was far from over. German counter-attacks were already preparing and might be expected any moment. At all costs the enemy must be prevented from bringing up his reserves and strengthening his remaining line of defence. So while the French infantry worked like inspired giants all through the night, digging themselves in, building parapets, and installing their machine guns, heavy batteries lumbered and swayed forward over the scarred and pitted ground, and began a new bombardment from advanced positions. On the next day, Sunday, all the summits of the downs were cleared from Auberive to the Butte of Souain. A hill facing the Butte of Tahure was captured by the evening, and the northern slopes of the Hand of Massiges were won.
By means of artillery and bomb attacks the line slowly advanced and was knitted up all along its length. The fighting during Sunday was far more trying than that of Saturday. "If you only knew what these days and nights are like," wrote an officer; "condemned to remain crouching in the mud under an avalanche of shells, under an almost unceasing rain, with but few supplies brought up, in the midst of bodies more or less mangled by shot and shell, and in our ears always the groans of the dying and the moans of the wounded."
The Germans rushed up all the men that they could spare from other parts of the line, and on Monday the Crown Prince tried to break through the French trenches in the Argonne. His troops advanced after a gas attack, but they were too weak to do more than carry a few yards. It was not necessary to draw off a single man from the Champagne armies to repulse him.
The second great French effort began on Wednesday, 29th September, when an attack was launched against the German position to the west of Navarin Farm. Already the French had pierced the second line on a front of aboutfive-eighths of a mile. They strove hard to widen the gap so that the cavalry might push through, but again and again they were repulsed, and all that they could do was to dig shelter trenches and cling to the breach in the face of a murderous fire that assailed them in front and in flank. With this check the great battle of Champagne may be said to have ended.
The French had probably about 110,000 casualties in the five days' fighting. It was estimated that the Germans lost 140,000 men, including 21,000 prisoners, and 121 guns. Despite their great sacrifice of life, the distance gained by the French was too small to be shown on an ordinary map. But we shall make a great mistake if we measure the effect of the French effort by the amount of ground gained. The aim and object of generalship is not to occupy territory, but to foil the enemy's plans and destroy his forces. The victory at the Marne stopped any further invasion of France and ruined the German plan, while the resistance in Flanders and Artois prevented the enemy from reaching the Channel ports. The Champagne battles threw the enemy upon the defensive; it wore down his numbers and disheartened him, and proved that his most strongly fortified lines could be pierced, if the Allies were willing to pay the cost.
Though there was no great offensive on the Western front during the rest of the year, fighting continued in Champagne during October. The Germans sent reserves to this region, and on 6th October the French made an effort to carry the village and Butte of Tahure, in order that they might command the cross-railway which supplied the German front. After a long and strong bombardment by massed guns the French carried the crest of the Butte, and their guns now cut off the Germans in the village from support and reinforcements. Then they swept from the west and south into a wood in which the enemy had constructed seven lines of parallel trenches, and, after carrying them, entered the village, where over a thousand prisoners were taken. The summit of the Butte was now in the hands of the French, and this was the farthest point they reached during the year 1915.
This success and the capture ofvery strong trenches to the north of the Navarin Farm drove the Germans to desperate efforts. They knew that another vigorous thrust would push them back from their railway and force them to retreat. On the night of 8th October they made a great counter-attack on the Butte, but achieved nothing. Meanwhile their hold on the Butte of Mesnil, which formed an awkward sag in the French lines, had been greatly shaken. On 24th October the French carried a very powerful fortress in this position, and afterwards beat off numerous attacks. They had thus removed a danger from their flank and were enabled to straighten out their line.
On the 30th of the same month the Germans attacked the Butte of Tahure and retook the summit, capturing 21 officers and 1,215 men. They forced the French back to the southern side of the hill, but they could do no more. Nevertheless, they had eased their position. They could still use the cross-railway for supplying their lines during the winter's lull which was soon to set in.
A correspondent who visited the battlefields of Champagne during the month of September tells us that the ground over which the struggle had raged looked and smelled like a garbage heap. "Over an area as long as from Charing Cross to Hampstead Heath, and as wide as from the Bank to the Marble Arch, the earth is pitted with the craters caused by bursting shells, as is pitted the face of a man who has had the small-pox. Any of these shell-holes was large enough to hold a barrel; many of them would have held a horse; I saw one, caused by the explosion of a mine, which we estimated to be seventy feet deep and twice that in diameter. In the terrific blast that caused it five hundred German soldiers perished."
The battlefield was thickly covered with unexploded shells, hand-grenades, and bombs. In a captured trench the correspondent saw one of the steel revolving turrets, some six feet high and eight or nine in diameter, in which the Germans had installed a quick-firing gun. The door of the turret was fastened by a chain and padlock, and when burst open the bodies of three Germans were discovered. They had been locked in by their officers, and left to fight and die with no chance of escape.