With Joffre at Verdun: A Story of the Western Front

Even as Henri and Jules and the hefty Stuart tripped their way from the siding in Louvain, to which they had dropped from the truck which had brought them from the heart of Germany, the Kaiser's generals were in council before Verdun. Trains were hurrying troops in that direction, while under shelter of the trees – for the neighbourhood is generously wooded – guns of huge dimensions were already in position, and others more movable were being massed, till hundreds and hundreds were ready to pour shot and shell upon the French defences. In every hollow, in every fold of the ground, under the trees, behind every sort of cover, German hosts were secretly collected, getting ready for that moment, now almost at hand, when the War Lord would launch his legions. In fact, Germany was to attempt on the Western Front, and against the French, precisely what she had attempted against the Russians with some degree of success, but yet without attaining her ambitions. She had aimed to crush Russia once for all, and, as we have said, had pushed the Tsar's legions back towards the heart of Russia. Yet the line of Muscovite soldiers was still unbroken, still undaunted, and still faced the soldiers of Germany and Austria. And on the west, Britain was getting stronger and stronger as the days went by, and becoming a greater menace. Yet, if the French could be smashed at any point, there might yet be time for the Kaiser's troops to defeat the British, when unsupported by their French ally, and afterwards to turn again towards Russia. The enormous prestige to be gained by the capture of Verdun would enhance Germany's chances, and a surprise attack might, and probably would, the Kaiser's General Staff considered, result in a triumph which would change Germany's fortunes.

But a few words with reference to Verdun itself, and we can return to Henri and his friends, now in Louvain. We have said already that the old city of Verdun, perched beside the River Meuse, in a gorgeously wooded country, and with the heights of the river-side lying between it and the enemy, was encircled by forts, which, prior to the war, gave to the city the reputation of impregnability. But the forts of Liége, in Belgium, had borne that selfsame reputation, and yet, when the Kaiser's forces treacherously invaded that country, and were held up at Liége, the huge guns prepared before-hand for this conflict shattered its forts – masses of steel and concrete – like so much paper, and later crushed the concrete defences of Maubeuge. Without a doubt, the same fate would be meted out to the forts at Verdun, were the French to rely upon them. But France is a nation of brilliant soldiers. Realizing at once that what was an impregnable fort in former days is now hardly better than an incubus – a mere house of cards, something utterly unreliable – she poured her forces out beyond those forts, dug her trenches on the eastern and northern slopes of the heights of the Meuse, and surrounded Verdun and its encircling forts with a network of trenches, covered by an artillery force, supplemented by guns which were at once removed from the forts. Indeed, she no longer relied upon Verdun as a fortress; it was merely one point in that long four hundred miles of trenches stretching across the country, no more vulnerable than any other point, and, one may add, no more impregnable. And down below those trenches, under cover of the woods, for weeks past, while Henri and his friends were languishing in Ruhleben, the Germans had been concentrating a mighty army, had been concentrating guns, equipment, and every other detail necessary for a gigantic attack, for the surprise offensive which they had planned to level at General Joffre and his forces.

"Louvain, and what next?" asked Henri aloud, as the three stepped gingerly along the pavements of the ruined city. "What next? How to get out of Belgium into France?"

"Or into England?" added Stuart.

"Or into Holland? That's where numbers of people manage to go when escaping the Germans," said Jules thoughtfully. "I've heard it said that there are Belgian patriots still in the cities of Belgium who make it their business to assist refugees. But that's where the difficulty comes in; how are we to meet such persons?"

There came a startled exclamation just at that moment, as the speaker cannoned into someone in the darkness – a small, broad figure of a man, who, rebounding from Jules, would have fallen but for the hand which that young fellow stretched out instantly. And perhaps it was just as natural that he should have apologized at once, and in the confusion of the moment in the French language.

"Pardon, monsieur," he said, whereat Henri's jaw dropped suddenly, while Stuart growled.

"And pardon me, monsieur," came the ready answer; "it was my fault. But – but – surely – surely, not German. You are – you – "

"One moment," said Henri, his wits hard at work; "who are you, monsieur?"

"I? – I? A Belgian patriot, monsieur; and you, though the darkness hides you, you are a Frenchman of Paris."

It was useless to dissemble longer, and, after all, there seemed little doubt but that the short, squat individual before them was certainly no German. Taking his courage, therefore, in both hands, Henri at once admitted that he and Jules were Frenchmen, and Stuart English.

"Monsieur," he said, "we throw ourselves upon your kindness. You are a Belgian patriot, you say, while we are refugees from Ruhleben. Assist us, help us to get away, for we are in the midst of enemies."

There was a short pause after that, while each one of the four peered hard into the darkness, the little man staring at Stuart's huge figure, and at the smaller proportions of Jules and Henri; while those three young fellows regarded the Belgian intently, indeed almost fearfully.

"Come this way, messieurs; follow me. Walk some ten paces behind me, and have no fear, for have I not said that I am a Belgian patriot? You wish to get to your own countries, eh? To fight this brutal Kaiser and his people? Bien! Follow, and I will lend you assistance."

CHAPTER VIII

The Verdun Salient

It was three nights after that on which Henri and his friends had reached Louvain – that deserted city wrecked by German violence – and had so fortunately and so literally hit up against a Belgian patriot, that four figures crept from a tenement which had escaped the general wreckage.

"You will walk along beside me, my friends, as though we were just inmates of the city," said the Belgian, just before they left the house in which he had given the three fugitives a resting-place. "If we pass German soldiers, take your hats off to them, and if they challenge, leave me to answer. Now let us be going, and I think that we may hope for success."

Those four figures, Henri and his friends, now dressed in rough civilian clothing, crept off along the deserted streets, and, threading their way through the outskirts of the ruined city, and passing on occasion groups of German soldiers whom they obsequiously saluted, at length reached the open country. Tramping on through the night, they sheltered, just before the dawn broke, in a ruined house in another city, and repeated a similar process on the following morning. It was on the third night that the Belgian led them into what had once been a peaceful country village, and which was now merely a mass of tumbled masonry.

"We are close to the Dutch frontier, my friends," he told them, "but the way there is not so easy as it might seem, for the Germans have stretched a barbed-wire fence between Belgium and Holland, and on it is suspended an electric wire, charged with a high voltage, which kills instantly; many a poor fellow endeavouring to escape from this unhappy country has been electrocuted. But there are ways to avoid such dangers, and here is one. Give a help, you, my friend Stuart, who are the Hercules of the party."

A huge grating, which he endeavoured to lift, was a mere plaything in the hands of the burly Englishman. It was a big grating above an open sewer, and heavy enough to try the strength even of Stuart, yet it yielded to the first tug he gave, and lifted upwards.

"Now, descend," said the Belgian, "there is a pit down here some twenty feet in depth, and iron rungs in the wall. Descend, my friends; I follow."

In a trice they were at the bottom of what felt like a deep, cold well, and were standing in utter darkness listening to the sounds made by the Belgian as he too entered and dropped the grid behind him. Then all four stood listening for a while.

"Not a sound; no one has followed – that is good," giggled the Belgian, for he was an amiable little fellow. "One has to be careful in these day, messieurs; for there are spies throughout Belgium, and they know well that there are people, like myself, patriots, my friends, who carry on this traffic. But none have seen us, and therefore we are not likely to be disturbed. Now, on, messieurs, and have no fear, for there are no holes and gullies into which you can tumble, while, seeing that it has been dry weather, there is no water in the sewer."

Feeling their way by stretching out their hands, and stumbling along in the darkness, Henri following immediately after the Belgian, then Jules, and last of all Stuart, the party traversed a long stretch of the sewer, their fingers every second or so touching the brick walls on either side, while occasionally their feet splashed through puddles. Then the narrow path they trod swung to the left, and for a moment a breath of cold air blew in upon them, and, glancing overhead, Henri caught just a fleeting glimpse of stars far above, and of the iron bars of a grid stretching between him and the sky.

"Now to the left, messieurs, and we descend. Listen, we are nearly under the Dutch frontier, and overhead stretch those highly-charged electric wires which have been erected by the Germans, and on which many a poor fellow has been electrocuted. But even fear of electrocution cannot keep the brave sons of Belgium from endeavouring to leave this invaded country, and from joining those Belgian troops now fighting with the French and the British. No, I who lead you now have led hundreds of young fellows by this path or a similar one, and have taken them to safety. Now on, messieurs; in a little while we shall ascend to the surface."

It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later that Henri felt that the path under his feet was ascending, and presently, having in the meanwhile been half stifled, he began to appreciate the fact that fresh air was reaching him, and that he could breathe more easily. A warning cry from the man who led them now brought him to a halt, and five minutes later the whole party had clambered up the rungs of a ladder and had gained the Open.

"Messieurs," said the Belgian, "beyond there, straight ahead, you will find a town with friendly Dutchmen in it, who will feed you and clothe you and send you to your people. Adieu! You will fight all the better for these adventures, and all the more fiercely for having seen what poor Belgium is like under the Germans. Adieu! And good luck go with you."

Shaking hands with their deliverer, and thanking him most cordially, Henri and Jules and Stuart saw him depart down the ladder, and then turned their faces from unhappy Belgium into Holland. For, indeed, they were now beyond the frontier, and, looking back, could see the barbed-wire fence which separated Holland and Belgium, erected to keep patriotic sons of the invaded country from escaping German control and joining the Belgian forces under King Albert. Yes, they could see the light shot from a small moon, which had now risen, shining on the wires, shining on that lower one which was charged with an electric current.

"Nasty thing to get up against, that," said Stuart, the big, hefty Stuart, shuddering in spite of himself. "I expect many a poor devil has been killed by that method. And what a method! Just the sort of thing a German would do. Now isn't it a mean, underhand way of killing people? But never mind, here are three of us who mean to get even with them; and in the meanwhile what about getting forward? What about something to eat? What about something to smoke? What about joining people who ain't afraid of smiling, who've pot a friendly feeling for British and French, and don't give a rap for the Germans?"

The warmest of welcomes indeed waited the three in that Dutch town which they were approaching, and despite the late hour of their arrival they were immediately accommodated in one of the houses, were given an opportunity of bathing, and were provided with suitable clothing and with a meal the like of which they had not seen for many a long day.

"And now," said Henri on the following morning, when they assembled in the salon of the house to which they had been invited, "and now, Stuart, what happens? Naturally enough, Jules and I make for France by the quickest route, and then join the army."

"Which looks to me as though you're suggesting that I'm going to do something quite different," growled Stuart, looking impressively big in the Dutch clothes which had been provided for him. "Just as naturally enough as you two are going to join the French army, I am off to join the British – Kitchener's, you know – to take a hand in the job of smashing the Kaiser."

"Then we shall part," said Jules, not without a sigh of regret. "We have had fine times together – eh, Stuart? And, looking back upon it, even Ruhleben doesn't seem so bad. In any case, it was worth it to have gone through such a long adventure as we have had together. But I wish we could continue in one another's company. I wish somehow you, too, could join the French army, or that our regiments in the French and British armies might be set to fight side by side in Flanders."

"The next thing is how are we going to return?" said Henri. "I have said that we shall take the quickest route, and I am not quite sure that that won't be via London – eh, Stuart? What do you think? Coastal services from Holland towards France, I expect, are disorganized, and no longer possible."

That this was so, their host immediately informed them.

"You may take it from me," he said, "that it is no longer easy, and in fact almost impossible, to obtain a steamer running between the Hook and Havre as formerly, and indeed of late it has been a matter of considerable difficulty to get a passage from Holland even to England; for the German submarines infest these waters, and, careless whether the boat belong to a neutral or to one of the combatants, utterly indifferent to the fact that many of them are filled with women and children and people who have nothing to do with the fighting, indeed forgetful of all instincts of humanity, of all mercy, and of all the usual customs and feelings which have in the past controlled the actions of belligerents, are torpedoing vessels at sight without warning, killing the crews and passengers, murdering both French and British and Belgians, as well as Dutchmen and people of other nationalities. Mon Dieu! they are beasts these Germans. They are cowardly bullies. That Kaiser will surely rue the day that he ever commenced this war, and will most certainly regret the frightfulness which he has taught his subjects to show to the people of all nations."

"And so there is a difficulty about getting a boat to England – eh?" said Henri, a little concerned. "But surely it should be possible. Perhaps some English boat would take us; for I can hardly believe that they have been scared from the water."

"Scared! Ha ha!" laughed the Dutchman. "No, no! The picture I have painted is perhaps a little over-coloured. Though the menace of the German submarines has been extreme, and though they have murdered numerous individuals, and have sunk a number of vessels, yet they have not gone scot-free themselves; understand that, messieurs. German submarines have been trapped, have been sunk, have suffered themselves to such an extent that it is said that there are scarcely crews left to man them; only, just now, there is a recrudescence of the peril. There are more of these boats about, and consequently there is more difficulty in crossing to England."

Yet the impatience of Henri, Jules, and Stuart to rejoin their own people was so great that no amount of danger could thwart them. A visit to their respective consuls provided them with funds for the journey, and the following morning they were on the sea and steaming for England.

"'Pon my word, I can hardly believe it's true," chortled Stuart, now clothed in different raiment, and looking indeed a very fine and sturdy, if not respectably-dressed, member of the British nation. "It's too good to be true; and I am sure I shall wake up to-night imagining that I am still on board that train, or in the lodgings that Belgian patriot provided us with, and in any case being chased by Germans. Germans! Just you wait till I get a turn at 'em."

No wonder that Henri grinned at his huge companion; it delighted him to hear the sturdy remarks of this gallant fellow, just as it delighted Stuart to look down from his greater height at the dapper, spruce, active, and now well-clad figures of his two most dashing French comrades. Spruce, indeed, Henri looked, his little moustache lending a certain amount of distinction to his face, his head held well on his shoulders, his cigarette between his lips, and the most jaunty air about him. There was a far-away look, however, in Henri's eyes, for he was thinking of France – thinking of her as she was now, and as she had been when he last saw his native country.

"Mon Dieu! What a change! What desperate changes!" he was saying to himself. "Every man able to bear arms, and of a suitable age, a soldier; every one of them living the life followed by our ancestors – those cave-men – dwelling in trenches throughout the months, fighting like tigers to beat down the Germans. Well, it will be good to join them, good to wear a uniform and line up shoulder to shoulder with our fellows."

"Yes, good," Jules admitted – for Henri's last remark had been uttered aloud – his face flushing at the thought. "What'll they do with us, Henri? Send us to some instruction-camp, do you think, and keep us there fooling about, training, drilling, doing things that I hate – that we all hate?"

"Poof! Not they. You seem to forget, Jules, that you and I have done our training; and, although we may not be very skilful soldiers, we can both of us shoot, know our drill sufficiently well, and if put to it can dig with the best of them. No, I'm hopeful that we shall jump out of these clothes into uniform, and shall almost as promptly jump into the trenches and find ourselves engaged in fighting the enemy."

It was with real regret that the two Frenchmen parted with their English companion on arrival in London.

"Of course, we'll all of us make the same sort of promises," laughed Stuart, as he gripped their hands at parting. "We'll swear to look one another up, to meet again shortly, and possibly, if we are rash, to write to one another; and just as certainly we shall find it awfully hard to meet, and, in fact, are more likely to knock across each other by pure accident than by design. It's always like that in warfare, and more than ever now in this conflict. Well, an revoir! That's the word, isn't it, Henri? Au revoir! Here's wishing that we may meet again soon; and, better than all, hoping that we shall rapidly whop the Germans. Au revoir! We have had splendid times together."

They had had a wonderful adventure indeed, and that escape from Germany was one which, almost at once, gave interest of quite considerable degree to the public, both British and French. For journalists ferreted out the fact that Jules and Henri were fresh from Germany, and though the two young fellows were modest enough they did not hesitate to tell their story. Thus, as they sat in the express train which took them to the sea-coast on the following day, they read a full account of their own doings. A few hours later they were in Paris, and at once reported at the Ministry of War.

"Bravo! So you are back from Ruhleben, mes enfants. Welcome, welcome!" cried the officer who interviewed them. "And now, of course, like good sons of France, you have returned at once, at the very earliest moment indeed, to fight France's enemies – the Boche, the Hun, the despicable ruffian whom the Kaiser and his war lords have sent in our direction to wreck the country. Now, tell me; you have had some training?"

"Yes, mon Colonel, we have both done our course, and were on holiday in Germany when war broke out and prevented us from returning. We are very anxious, mon Colonel, to join in the fighting."

The old Colonel's eyes sparkled as he listened to Henri's rejoinder, and, with Gallic enthusiasm, he smacked both young fellows heartily on the back.

"Bon! It is fine to hear you, mes enfants. It is grand to know that two of France's sons have gone through such adventures in order to return to the country. And you wish to join in the fighting as soon as possible? Bien! If I can contrive to arrange it, it shall be so. But, first of all, you must go to an instruction-camp, from which you will be drafted to regiments, and where, of course, your uniform will be issued, as well as your kit. Au revoir! Good luck go with you!"

It was a case of incessant movement for Henri and Jules, and, indeed, for weeks now they seemed to have been travelling; first those few miles on foot in the neighbourhood of the camp at Ruhleben, and then in the empty passenger train which had conveyed them from that dangerous area. Later came their trip on the supply train, and here, once more, they were packed in a French supply train running out of Paris en route for one of the big army camps instituted by the French. By the following morning, in fact, they had discarded plain clothes, and were looking critically at one another in uniform.

Jules gave vent to a light whistle, indicative of surprise, astonishment, and amusement – if, indeed, a whistle can indicate the latter. Certainly it was not one which displayed any sort of tendency to admiration; while the grin which followed it made Henri quite sure that his appearance was a source almost of ridicule to his comrade.

"What's wrong?" he demanded rather shortly. For when you criticized Henri's get-up – the cut of his coat and of his trousers, and in particular the hang of the latter, the colour of his socks, and his particular fancy in boots and hats – he was apt to become quite angry. And it made no difference now that the smart clothes which he was wont to wear had been changed for the peculiar blue uniform of France's fighting forces, supported by a pair of army boots of sturdy pattern, and capped by a steel helmet of distinctive style and of the same peculiar blue colour. Yet, withal, putting cut aside, allowing the fact that Henri, dressed as he was now, looked tall and strong and active and upright, and quite martial too, armed with a rifle, one had to admit that there was a huge difference between the Henri of that moment and the dapper, elegant, well-groomed Henri of twenty months before – a Henri who in London or Paris might quite fairly have been termed a "knut".

"Well, you do look a 'one-er'!"

"And what about you?" demanded Henri a little warmly. "Now that compliments are flying, what about you, mon ami? With that pack on your back you look like a donkey laden for the market."

At that Jules grimaced, and jerked his pack higher; and, indeed, Henri had not described him altogether unfairly. For your French poilu– the gallant, sturdy French infantry soldier – is, when on the line of march, if not actually overloaded, certainly apt to have the appearance of being so. What with his pack, his mess tins, the camp-kettle which one man among a certain number carries, his entrenching-tools, and the little bundle of faggots for the camp-fire, a French infantryman does indeed seem to have a vast quantity of personal impedimenta.

A sounding bugle called the two, and in a little while they were parading with a number of other men, some of whom had already seen service, while others were new to warfare altogether – men who possibly had been delayed from joining the colours by illness, who had contrived to reach France from abroad, or who belonged to a younger classification. A smart sergeant threw a knowing eye along the line, and, striding down it, seemed to take in the appearance of every man within a few seconds. Halting here for a moment to adjust a belt, and there to tuck in the tag of a buckle, he soon reached the end of the line, and, passing down behind it, adjusting packs, putting kettles in the correct position, arranging helmets at the regulation angle, he presently appeared in front again, and treated the squad to a smile of commendation.