With Joffre at Verdun: A Story of the Western Front

by F. S. Brereton

"See them, those Germans still lying out there in the open," cried the Sergeant, standing now, his head and shoulders exposed, forgetful of his wounds, pointing down the snow-clad and trodden slopes to the part where the Kaiser's infantry had debouched from the forests. "See, the place is grey with their bodies; they are piled high one upon another, and there must be hundreds of them. Good! This is a devilish war, mes amis, a devilish war; for see how we gloat over their losses. But listen still more: this is France, and none shall invade her save at their peril."

For a while silence settled down over the scene of that sanguinary conflict, the guns of either side going out of action, while once more no sign was to be perceived of the Germans. Yet it was evident enough already that gigantic preparations had been made to beat in and flatten the Verdun salient; and, surprised to some extent as the French undoubtedly were, not by the attack itself, but by the immensity of the German arrangements for it, that lull after the first attack was at once put to service. Where possible, reinforcements were sent up to the front, while everywhere spades and picks were plied with energy.

"It's life or death to us," said an officer cheerfully as he came amongst the men of Henri's platoon. "See how the line has been broken up and our trenches smashed out of all recognition. But the Germans, too, have been smashed for a while, and therefore, while they rest, let us work and prepare other shelters. But wait! Yes, I have a message from the Commander. The Sergeant who was wounded has made a report. Tell me, then, where are those two men, Henri and Jules, who came from Ruhleben to bear their part in this fighting?"

Smeared with earth, coated with the soil of France from their steel helmets down to their army boots, their hands and faces grimy, their hair dishevelled, and yet their faces shining with enthusiasm and courage, Henri and Jules stood to attention before the officer and waited.

"So it is you, you two," he said, regarding them for some few seconds—"you two, Henri and Jules—names which every poilu seems to know most thoroughly—then, attention! These are the Colonel's words, uttered on the report of that Sergeant, who states that Henri and Jules showed conspicuous courage and determination, and have set a fine example to their comrades: you are no longer just plain soldiers of France, you are now entitled to wear the stripes of a corporal. And now, Corporal Henri, and you, Corporal Jules, back to your digging."

If our two gallant young heroes had laboured before with energy, they now put the utmost exertion into their work; for see what had happened! They were corporals, and had won promotion so early after joining the French army, not because of any social position they may have had in those days, now so long past, when these two young elegants thought of little that was serious; no, they had won promotion for bravery in the face of the enemy, because of the example they had set, because, indeed, they were good soldiers. It made them flush all over; it made them more determined than ever to prove themselves of value to their comrades; and, as we have said, it set them digging with such furious energy that those about them marvelled, and then, taking an example from them, well knowing that the time available for improving their shelter was limited, they too redoubled their efforts, till the perspiration was pouring from them.

It was perhaps two hours later, when dusk was falling and the wintry air was filled with snow-flakes, that the silence—that unnatural silence which had hung for so short a while about the northern area of the Verdun salient—was broken by a salvo of enemy guns, and then by a roar, as each one of the two thousand and more pieces joined its voice in the chorus.

"Into your dug-outs! Take shelter! Get below as fast as you can!"

The order sailed along those broken trenches, now repaired in some measure, and sent men, who were not to remain on duty, down into the cleverly-constructed holes prepared for such an eventuality. And then commenced once more that terrible rain of shells, those devastating explosions, those upheavals of earth, and that process of smashing the French trenches. The dusk grew, until the darkness of night had fallen, and still the guns pounded, searching every inch of the line and not sparing a single corner. Yet, in spite of the gunners' efforts to do their best for the Kaiser, there were still nooks and crannies where French poilus sheltered, where men controlling search-lights played their beams over the slopes before them, and presently those self-same beams, flung along the broken face of the wooded country below, discovered movement.

"Another attack; men creeping from the forest and forming up out in the open. Let us hope that our gunners and observation-officers see them," said an officer who stood behind Henri at his post in the fire trench. "Now, my friend, shout into the dug-outs to warn the men, for it seems to me that very soon we shall need them."