Joffre and His Army

by Charles Dawbarn

Another "poilu," a very curious sort of fellow, comes from the Champagne district, and yet another from Verdun, smoking hot with battle. One can imagine the editor inditing his poems and dishing up his article—one can almost see him doing it—with an aerial torpedo sailing overhead and all sorts of death-dealing engines threatening his plant down in the deep-sunk chamber where the joyous little herald blows his blast of good hope and perseverance to the soldiers of its circulation. These are real examples of the indomitable will of France in the most tremendous episode of her existence, hardly excepting the Revolution—for the War of '70 sinks into utter insignificance before this vast and world-wide upheaval. There is no mistaking the gay insouciant character, though sometimes the effort to cheer may go a little beyond the strict requirements. Nevertheless, these little papers are barometers of the fighting spirit of France. It is not strange to find this fighting spirit so keenly developed in the first-line trenches, for here it was tuned to the highest pitch by reason of the stress of circumstances, by reason of the close proximity of danger, by the very intoxication of that danger, and by the common spirit of heroism that comes from close comradeship; but it is significant that the same spirit existed at the rear where men were awaiting their turn for battle—the sort of waiting that is the severest test for nerves; and it is as symbols of this splendid and invincible spirit that these charming little documents have their greatest psychological importance.

In glancing through the collection of M. de la Roncière, Keeper of the Printed Books at the Bibliothèque Nationale of Paris, one is particularly impressed by the spirit of fraternity that pervades the trench newspaper, evidence of the thoroughly democratic army of France. No journal prides itself as being the organ of a "crack" regiment. There are, in fact, no corps d'élite—corps that are specially recruited. In the Republican model army each regiment is placed on a footing of equality, and the tendency in all records of achievements is to keep a strict balance and to give no more glory to one unit than another. None the less, certain regiments have perforce distinguished themselves in spite of this arrangement. They have distinguished themselves because they have been in the forefront of the fighting, because they have borne the brunt of dangerous enterprises, because they have persisted in keeping alive the old traditions of the corps, traditions which arose from the fact that the men forming it came from a certain district renowned for its hardy types, and capable of an endless energy of resistance. Such a regiment is the "Chasseurs à Pied," the most famous corps of the Home Army, and popularly known as the "Chasseurs Alpins." For although the Chasseurs were used all along the eastern frontier from Belfort to Lunéville, the popular mind constantly associates them with the mountains—the little thick-set men in dark blue tunics and blue Tam-o'-Shanters, skimming over the snow upon skis. These are men of the Alps and the Vosges, sturdy of limb and sound of wind, real mountaineers, courageous, resourceful and capable of endless fatigue. No unit of the French Army has suffered as much as they in proportion to their numbers. They have been everywhere where the fighting was most severe, and at Verdun they took a foremost part in resisting the colossal attack of the Germans. Although there was a Chasseur regiment under the Empire, dressed very much as were the Grenadiers, with a high fur bonnet, in their present form the corps is of comparatively recent date, and has existed only three-quarters of a century; the regimental records, however, hold some well-known names. President Poincaré performed his military service in this famous corps, Bar-le-Duc being his recruiting centre, and among its officers were both Canrobert and MacMahon, the one commanding the fifth and the other the eighth battalion.

The Great War effected changes in the traditional uniform of the Chasseurs. Though they kept their dark clothes out of pride of family whilst the rest of the army—except the Moroccans, who were in khaki—adopted the horizon blue, the famous blue béret (Tam-o'-Shanter) embroidered with a golden bugle was sacrificed for the steel helmet, at least for service in the trenches—that valuable head-gear which has saved probably fifty per cent. of head wounds.

One of the most picturesque elements of the French army are the Zouaves, with their blue embroidered tunic and vest and the baggy red trousers reaching to the knee, the whole surmounted by the fez. Of this gorgeous uniform the only survival of the war, alas, was the fez. The blue tunic was changed to a khaki coat, the voluminous trousers copied from the old Turkish garb became merely baggy khaki breeches. Sic transit gloria mundi! But if the Zouaves were deprived of their brilliant plumage, they made up for it in glory of achievement. Largely employed in storming-parties, the Germans learnt to fear the Zouaves more than any other troops, so reckless were they in their bravery and their utter disregard of desperate odds. The corps dates from the early days of Algeria, and was created in 1831, when two battalions were formed, receiving the name of "Zouaves" from the Arab Zouaoua, a fierce and intractable tribe of Kabyle, the best fighters of Northern Africa. The Zouaves were recruited originally from the Kabyles and Arabs of Algeria and also, a curious feature, from the hot bloods of the Paris population—an element that was introduced, because it was thought advisable to dilute the number of natives by Europeans. The blend was admirable, and the new troops performed marvels of dash and daring in those days, just after the July Revolution of 1830, when France was not sure whether she wanted her new colonies or not, and left to the Algerian administration the onus of consolidating the nominal conquest and pacifying and developing the country. One of the early commanders of the corps was de Lamorcière, a bold and dashing officer, with more than a touch of eccentricity in his composition. He spoke all the Arabian dialects perfectly, and indeed was an ideal leader for such a corps of dare-devils.

The Zouaves hold many distinguished records in French history. Under Marshal MacMahon they fought at Malakoff and Sebastopol, and the Third Zouaves went into action under the eyes of Victor Emmanuel, taking a prominent part in the capture of the bridge at Palestro, marking the victory of the French and Piedmontese over the Austrians.

The formation of the Zouaves led to the establishment of other native or semi-native corps, notably the Tirailleurs Algériens. Since that day the conquest of Morocco has added other elements to the native army; and, particularly in the early days of the war, the French populations in the region of the Front were interested to see the picturesque figures of the Spahis, or native Moroccan cavalry, in their robes and turbans, sitting superbly their swift and strong little horses.

Later, however, the native element (which could not overcome its fear and repugnance to cannon) was largely eliminated, and the Zouaves, greatly increased from their original numbers, were mainly composed of colonials of French parentage.

But perhaps the most interesting regiment from the psychological point of view—the regiment that teems with romance and holds thousands of secrets in its ranks—is the famous Foreign Legion. Under Napoleon I the Foreign Legion existed side by side with distinctly national regiments, such as the Portuguese, the Dutch, and even the German regiments. But under Louis Philippe the two regiments that were the original force became definitely formed into a Foreign Legion. The sphere of the Foreign Legion was mainly Africa, for owing to its mixed nationality, resulting in a large diversity of sympathy, it was deemed unsuitable for European warfare. True, it was actively employed in the Crimea, and also earlier against the Carlists in Spain; but during the Crimean War there was a certain amount of desertion by elements of the corps that had Slav sympathies. Hence the Foreign Legion was mainly employed in tribal warfare, and Africa was its recognised home. Strangely diverse were its ranks—the Paris hooligan, the swindling banker, unfrocked bishops, aristocrats who had dragged their names into the dust, the discredited politician. Of the Legionaries no questions are asked, and the pseudonyms they adopt often cover the once famous names of men who have "disappeared." Rumour credits the corps with many strange tales, but it is undoubtedly true that an authentic German princeling fought with the Legion until the opening of the war, when he crossed over to Germany and used his local knowledge to great effect against his quondam friends.

At the beginning of the war the ranks of the Foreign Legion were swelled to a vast extent by the stream of volunteers of all nationalities who loved France and rushed to her succour. There were Italians, Belgians, Greeks, English, Americans, who were anxious to take up arms for the invaded country. Poles, Russians, Croates, Slovanes, Serbs, Finns, Montenegrins, and Tcheques joined. Some came to France from the uttermost ends of the earth to offer their services: Peruvians, Swiss, Argentines, Norwegians. There were German Poles and Danes from Sleswig-Holstein, Spaniards, Galicians, and Italians from the Trentino, and ten thousand Alsatians, German subjects, who had escaped. There were thus available 35,000 men, a veritable army corps. This was the figure, in spite of the rejection of a great number by the recruiting board at the Invalides. They all left for their dépôts four days later. These volunteers were of all ages and of all nationalities—boys of eighteen, and mature men of fifty and even more; Polish miners from the north of France; Kabyle workmen from factories in the Seine et Oise; Russian artists, international boxers (including a negro champion), famous trick cyclists, and jockeys, who had often worn winning colours at Longchamp and Auteuil. Alec Carter the well-known jockey was killed. There were also young artists from various nations at the École des Beaux Arts. Prominent writers and artists, a son of Maxime Gorki, and several quite well-known poets from Central America; the son of the Russian ambassador, M. Iswolsky, and a famous pelota player, Pablo Irraguerro.

The regiment has fought splendidly at the Front, partaking all the sufferings of the soldiers, all their danger and their glory too. The force has been employed in all the grand coups de chien. There was the spirited address of a Captain who read out the order of the General, and then said, "Mes Enfants, we have the honour of attacking the first. Pay no heed to those who fall. If I go down, leave me; push on without thinking of anything else." Some sang the Marseillaise and others their national hymns. Their conduct on that great day was sublime. They rushed fearlessly forward under the storm of shell, bayonets glittering in the sunshine of an early May morning. Nothing stops the formidable advance. They swarm over the parapet; the course commences. Their orders were to carry Hill 140, and they fulfilled their instructions. The Polish Legion was extraordinarily brave, and it saw fall at its head, brandishing the colours, Ladislas de Szuynski, son of the celebrated Polish historian. Concerning the Polish Legion there is the pretty story of a Pole who, wishing to discover whether there were Poles among the enemy, crawled on his stomach in the night to the German trenches. Once arrived there, he sang, very quietly, an old Polish song. Surprised, the German Poles lifted their heads, observed the bold singer, and allowed themselves to forget the horrors of war. When he had finished the listeners began to talk about Poland, that the Prussian kept underfoot. A Pole surely should not fight against France, who fights for Poland, insinuated the emissary. There was another song, and then, under the enchantment of the old memories, the Poles allowed themselves to be persuaded and carried over to the French trenches.