THE STORY OF GERBEVILLER
FTER luncheon at Rambevillers, we drove to the famous village of Gerbeviller—or rather to what is left of it. This little town is talked of more than any other place in France, and is called the "Martyr City". Its story is one of the most interesting told us, and to me it seemed one of the most tragic, although the residents of the town all wanted to talk about it with pride. While on the way to Gerbeviller we had to show our passes, and it was lucky they were signed by General Joffre, since nothing else goes so close to the front. We were made to tell where we were going, how long we meant to stay, and what route we would take coming back.
Prefect Mirman, of the Department of Meurthe and Moselle, one of the most noted and most useful men in France, escorted the commission on this trip.
Gerbeviller is located near the junction of the valleys of Meurthe and Moselle, and occupied a strategic situation at the beginning of the war. This and the heroic defense made of the bridge by a little company of French soldiers, was, the French believe, responsible for its barbarous treatment by the Germans. In the other ruined towns the destruction was wrought by shell fire. Here the Germans went from house to house with torches and burned the buildings after resistance had ceased and they were in full possession of the town. The French say it was done in wanton revenge and it looks as if that were true. Here is the story as it was told to us in eager French and interpreted for us by one of the party.
A bridge leading from the town crosses the river to a road which goes straight up a long hill to a main highway leading to Luneville, five miles away. We passed over this bridge and were asked to note its width—only enough to permit the passage of one car at a time. Two roads converge at it and lead to the little town.
During one of the important conflicts an army of 150,000 Germans was sent around by way of Luneville to cross the river at Gerbeviller and fall upon the right flank of the French army. The French had been able to spare but few troops for this point, but they had barricaded the streets of the town and posted a company of chasseurs, seventy-five in number, at the bridge with a mitralleuse. This was an excellent position, as there was a small building there which screened the chasseurs from view.
[Illustration: Ruins of Gerbeviller.]
At 8 o'clock in the morning the German advance body, twelve thousand strong, appeared at the intersection of the road near the top of the hill across the river. They advanced in solid formation, marching in the goose step and singing, to the music of a band, their war hymn, "Deutchland Uber Alles." It was a beautiful morning and the sun glistened on the German helmets as they came down the slope, an apparently innumerable army. In this form they reached the end of the bridge opposite to where the chasseurs were located. The captain of that little band of French ordered them to halt, and they did so, the rear ranks closing up on those in front before the order could be passed along by their commander.
In a moment, however, the column began to move again and then the captain of the chasseurs waved his hand and the mitralleuses opened on the advancing host. The range was point blank and there was absolutely no protection. The hail of bullets mowed down the Germans and they broke ranks, fleeing back up the hill and out of range.
All was quiet for half an hour and then a detachment of cavalry, evidently ordered to rush the bridge, came down at a gallop, having been formed in the shelter of a road branching off the main highway a short distance from the bridge. They were met by a hail of bullets and nearly all went down before they reached the bridge, while the few who did so fell on it or tumbled, with their horses, into the river.
The whole German force was delayed until a battery could be brought up from the rear and trained on the small building sheltering the chasseurs and their machine guns. For some reason, the gunners could not get the range on this small building, and after firing a few shots in its direction, turned their guns on the magnificent chateau, a short distance down the river. At this point there was a small foot bridge, and the German commander evidently meant to try to rush it. Before doing so, however, he was going to make certain that the Chateau, which commanded it, did not conceal another band of defenders. This seems to be the only explanation for the bombardment of the Chateau, which was one of the finest country homes in France and entirely unoccupied. At any rate, they fired shell after shell at the building. I secured a picture of this which shows the work of the guns.
But, as the French tell the story, no effort was then made to cross the foot bridge below the town. A battery was swung down the hill to the end of the bridge, apparently to shell the defenders from that point. The machine guns barked again and every man with the battery fell. Scores more were killed before it could be withdrawn and the way cleared. Owing to the steep banks it seemed hard for the Germans to locate a battery in an unexposed position, and they considered again. Finally they shelled the Chateau some more and then sent a detachment to take that bridge, expecting to get around in the rear of the chasseurs. A machine gun had been sent to the footbridge in the meantime, and the Germans did not get across it until the ammunition ran out and two hundred of them were killed. When they did cross, the little band at the main bridge, of whom one had been killed and six wounded, retreated to the main army, and then the Germans crossed in force and started to burn the town.
The heroes of the bridge had held the German advance guard, numbering 12,000 men, from 8 in the morning until 4 in the afternoon, and in the meantime the great battle they had expected to win had been fought and lost.
Naturally the Germans were angry, and apparently they vented their spleen upon the village. The great Chateau, its pride and chief attraction, had been destroyed, but the conquerors at once begun to burn the little town, evidently determining to reserve only enough to make a place for headquarters for their general. They did burn it, but not so completely as they had intended.
[Illustration: Sister Julie.]
Here is where Sister Julie comes in. Sister Julie is the most popular woman in France as well as the most famous. We heard of her long before we got to Gerbeviller and long after we left, but we were not fortunate enough to meet her, as she was away at the time the Commission reached the town. Although a member of a religious order, she has been decorated with the grand cross of the Legion of Honor—the highest decoration France confers upon her heroes. To pin this on her habit President Poincaire journeyed all the way from Paris with his suite, and now Sister Julie will not wear it. She says that religeuse do not wear decorations—they are doing the work of the Lord.
In describing Sister Julie and her work the people of Gerbeviller are even more enthusiastic than in recounting the manner in which seventy-five Frenchmen stopped twelve thousand Germans. It seems that when the German forces crossed the bridge and began to burn the houses they met with little resistance until they came to the convent where Sister Julie and her companions had a house filled with wounded, including the wounded chasseurs. The sister met them at the door and defied them to burn her convent. She ordered them off and made a such a show of determination that they went. No, they will tell you, these French people, Sister Julie is not an Amazon. She is a little woman. Her voice is usually mild and sweet and she smiles all the time. But when they tried to burn her temporary hospital, it was different. She scared them off and they did not come back.
Not only that, but she made the Germans carry water and put out the fires they had started in the neighborhood, and made them fill wash tubs with water and leave them in her hall, so they would be handy if more fires threatened.
Besides that, she organized the men and went to the barns where cattle had been burned and had these dressed and the meat prepared for use. Then she made great kettles of soup and fed the people who had no homes and nothing to eat. In all of this she defied the Germans and told their commander to mind his own business—she was going to attend to hers. When some of the German soldiers came and wanted to take the food prepared for the homeless people, Sister Julie ordered them away and made them go.
There were five other nuns in this convent. Under the leadership of this heroine they did a tremendous amount of good in the stricken community. They used the building next door to the convent for a hospital and there cared for hundreds of wounded soldiers. They assumed charge of the demoralized town and kept the people from starving. No one gives them greater credit than Prefect Mirman, who has also done great work in his department.
We were shown through the convent and hospital under the care of these sisters, and saw many places where bullets had penetrated the walls, these were fired by the Germans after they crossed the bridge. In this hospital the sisters cared for the German wounded as tenderly as for the French, and they won the respect of the invaders in this way, otherwise it would have probably been impossible for them to do the work they did. We saw the camp chair on which Sister Julie sat all night in front of the hospital and kept the Germans out.
The Commission spent the greater part of the day in Gerbeviller, visiting the bridge where the seventy-five chasseurs held up the German advance, as well as that where one lone chasseur—a regular "Horatio at the Bridge", kept back the attacking party at the Chateau.
We went through this chateau, which is owned by a resident of Paris and was one of the sights of the village. It is seven or eight hundred years old and is a very large building, handsomely finished in the interior. Before the bombardment, which was a ruthless and unnecessary piece of vandalism, it contained many fine tapestries and countless precious heirlooms of the Bourbon times. The great strength of the walls resisted the effects of artillery, but the interior was entirely ruined by fire. The grand marble staircase was splintered, but the Bourbon coat of arms above it was not touched. Strewn about in corners and on the floors were fragments of vases and art work that must have been priceless. Even these fragments were valuable. We secured a number of small pieces, some of which I brought home as relics.
While viewing the ruins of the chateau we could hear the guns booming. It was while we were still here that we received news that bombs had been dropped on Belfort that morning, twenty-four hours after we left that place, and that a number of persons had been killed, among them some women and children.
Gerbeviller is an almost complete ruin. Beyond the convent and hospital, and a few buildings saved for headquarters for the commanding general by the Germans, all the rest of the town was destroyed. The people who remain there are living in temporary buildings or mere sheds built on the ruins of their homes, which they do not want to leave under any circumstances. This little town, which has won its place in history, was one of the most interesting and melancholy sights we saw in all France.
On the following day, Saturday, October 7th, we visited the villages of Luneville and Vitrimont. We were now in the "devastated region" for sure. On every hand was evidence of the ruin wrought by shells, with long lines of trenches that had once been filled with soldiers. Some of these were green again, but the trees presented a woeful appearance.
The next stop after leaving Rambevillers was the little town of Vitrimont. This is a small village in France, almost wholly ruined by the Germans in 1914, preceding the battle of the Marne. We found there Miss Daisy Polk, of San Francisco, a wealthy, young and attractive woman, whose work is being financed largely by the Crockers, of San Francisco.
She is living in one of the small houses untouched by the Germans. She has undertaken the rebuilding of the village of Vitrimont as a modern sanitary proposition and to serve as a model for what may be done in rebuilding all the destroyed parts of France. She is the great-granddaughter of President Polk. It is a splendid work and should receive support.
I have since received the following letter from Miss Polk:
Vitrimont, par Luneville, Meurthe et Moselle, France.
October 18th, 1916
Dear Mr. Butler:—
Your note, with the Commission booklet, received and I want to thank you for remembering me. The visit of the Industrial Commission was a most delightful surprise to me here in the midst of my ruins and it is very nice to have a souvenir—especially such a nice souvenir, with all the names and photographs.
Vitrimont looks very much as it did when you were here except that the work is a little more advanced in spite of the rain. We are not hoping any longer that the war will end this winter—so we are sad. Especially when we have to see our men go back to the front after their all too short leaves. This has happened three times since you were here, all three going back to the Somme, too, which they all say is much worse than Verdun ever was. However, they have the satisfaction, as one of our men said today, (a fine industrious farmer) of hoping that if they don't come back, at least their wives and children will have their homes rebuilt. This is my hope too. Thanking you again for your letter.
Very sincerely yours,
(Signed) DAISY POLK.
Miss Polk is a most charming young woman, filled with enthusiasm. She lives in a small house with but two rooms.