With Joffre at Verdun: A Story of the Western Front

by F. S. Brereton

Tossing his head backwards, he let the contents of the cup gurgle down his throat, then, smacking his lips, he held the vessel out for a further ration.

Steps on the wooden stairway leading into the dugout just then attracted the attention of the whole party, and soon there arrived another comrade—a junior officer—to swell their numbers, to tax the limit of accommodation down below to the utmost. As dirty as any of his men, dirtier perhaps, he bore about him traces almost of exhaustion, and, throwing himself on the ground, silently accepted the drink and food which were at once offered him. It was not, indeed, until he had finished his meal, and until he had almost smoked the contents of one pipe-load of tobacco, that he opened his lips to the poilus.

"And then, Monsieur le Lieutenant," began one of the poilus, a cheerful young fellow, who, indeed, was in civil times the chum of this young officer, "you've been far, mon Commandant, you have brought news to us? For did you not leave us a while back to pass along the communication-trenches? What, then, is the tale? And are there supports and reserves at hand to reinforce us?"

Again it was to be noted that there was not a sign of anxiety on the face of this young soldier, nor in the tones which he adopted. He merely smiled and shrugged his shoulders, in fact, as the officer shook his head decidedly.

"No! No supports, and no reserves at present," he said. "We must fight it out to a finish."

"Bien! To a finish, my friends!" chirped in the bearded warrior, sipping at a fresh cup of steaming coffee. "Then it is not for us to grumble, but rather for the Boches. For, see, desperate men who cannot be relieved, and who will not surrender, fight like rats in a trap, and such beasts were ever venomous. And so, Monsieur le Lieutenant, there are none to help us?"

"None!" came the cheery answer. "The position is as clear as daylight. It is only now that our High Command is able to perceive that the Germans have launched a stroke at Verdun, which is stronger, and likely to be fiercer, than any that have preceded it on any other portion of the line. They tried, these Boches, to burst their way through Ypres in April, you will remember, having failed to do so in the previous October. They have tried their hand in other parts, and always with failure. Now it is the turn of Verdun—a salient like that at Ypres, and one which must be held against all oncomers. You ask the fortunes of our other troops. Listen, then, my friends; for by dint of crawling and creeping, often across the open—for communication-trenches have been obliterated—I was able to reach a centre where information had been gathered. We, here, in the neighbourhood of Brabant, stand firm, thanks to the heroic fighting of our comrades."

"And thanks, monsieur, to the noble leading of our officers," declared the bearded veteran; whereat the poilus clapped their hands in approbation.

The officer's face was radiant at such a compliment, which, let us observe, was thoroughly well deserved; for if the poilu, the common soldier of the French armies facing the Germans, had fought well, his officer had indeed set him a magnificent example.

Much need, too, had the poilus holding the Verdun salient for the best of officers. For the German onslaught, though it had failed so far, had at least the prospect of future success because of the surprise effected. Not that the attack was entirely unexpected on the part of the French, but surprise was great at the vast preparations and massed guns and infantry the actual attack had disclosed to our ally. Those guns had first deluged every few yards of the twenty-five miles of trenches from Brabant to Troyon, and later, swinging round, had been concentrated on a narrow sector of four miles perhaps, a sector occupied by Henri and his friends and other Frenchmen.