The Battle of Gravelotte.
At this moment, it should be noted, the French camps on the right centre and right did not know that an enemy was within a long mile of their bivouacs. The usual patrols had been sent out and had returned—even scouts selected by the local officials for their knowledge of the country—to report that they had not seen anybody. Marshal Canrobert, in his evidence on the Bazaine court-martial, expressly testifies to the fact, and adds that the first intimation he received came from the boom of hostile guns on his left front. The troops of Ladmirault’s Corps, encamped on both sides of Amanvillers, were peacefully engaged in cooking their noontide meal, when General von Manstein, who seems to have been endowed with some of the impetuosity of his namesake, who figured in the wars of Frederick II., riding ahead of his corps, caught sight of the quiescent camp. The temptation could not be withstood. From the hills near Vernéville he could not see the troops at St. Privat, but he had been informed by the Hessian Cavalry that the French were there. He had been formally enjoined to attack if the enemy’s right was near La Folie; it was much to the north of that farm; yet Manstein, unable to neglect the opportunity of startling a negligent camp by an outburst of fire, sent the solitary battery which had accompanied him into instant action from a rising ground east of Vernéville. The first shot was fired at a quarter to twelve, and its successors roused the French line from St. Privat to the centre, for Frossard and Lebœuf seemed to have been on the alert. General von Blumenthal, with the leading infantry battalions, was at that time moving on the farm of Chantrenne, and he was stopped by the lively musketry salute which greeted his men. Manstein, seeing that his guns were too distant from their living targets, now ordered the battery forward, and it was soon joined, first by the divisional then by the corps artillery; the whole finally forming a long line of fifty-four pieces, each battery having, as it dashed up, wheeled to the right and opened fire. The movement was a grave error, for the long rounded hill on which the batteries stood faced south-east, offered no shelter except on its low right shoulder, and the guns were exposed to a fire from the front, the flank, and even from the left rear. Two batteries were slewed round to the left, but that did not remedy the original mistake. There were no infantry at hand to keep down the fire of the French foot, which, lurking in the hollows, sent a hail of bullets among the guns. Committed to this false position, the superb German artillerymen did their utmost to make it good; but no heroism could avail against its cruel disadvantages. General Blumenthal, indeed, had carried the Chantrenne farm, but the enemy, at the first shot, had thrown a garrison into another homestead named Champenois, whence the chassepots smote the front of the batteries. The Hessians, also, had developed a powerful attack through the Bois de la Cusse towards the railway embankment and Amanvillers, thus taking off some of the severe pressure from the devoted gunners. But the French infantry crept nigher and nigher; under the rush of shells, shrapnel, and bullets, officers, men, and horses fell fast and faster. By concentrating their aim the Germans crushed one or silenced another battery; by using shell they sometimes scattered oncoming infantry; still the penalty of haste and a wrong direction had to be paid. The left battery, disabled, was caught in the tempest and borne down by a rush of French foot. Two pieces were dragged away by hardy men and wounded horses; two were left on the field; and two were captured. Yet this astonishing artillery, though horribly shattered, continued to hold its ground. It was saved, at a later moment, from a persevering attack on its vulnerable flank by the steady onset of an infantry battalion, which lost nearly half its strength in succouring the guns. Then, for the position was really untenable, all the batteries, except three on the right, where there was a little shelter, at length drew reluctantly, in succession, out of the shambles and went rearward to refit. It was half-past two; they had been more than two hours in the jaws of death, and had lost no fewer than 210 officers and men and 370 horses. So audaciously, if sometimes unwisely, was this grand arm employed in battle that no one need be astonished to learn how Canrobert, who loved a picturesque phrase, called his dreaded and admired opponents, “tirailleurs d’artillerie.”