With Joffre at Verdun: A Story of the Western Front

by F. S. Brereton

This terrible World War had come, at this stage, to a period when the spirits of Germans and Austrians were failing, when some stimulus was sadly needed, and when the courage of the people was hardly what it had been when the conflict opened. Who knows? Who can state with certainty what was the real object of the German War Staff in launching an attack upon such an impregnable position—impregnable not because of those dismantled forts and the guns which had once filled them, but because of the nature of the terrain, those hills with their steep escarpments, and those positions on the left or western bank of the Meuse which gave such splendid opportunity to the defenders to outflank with their guns those attacking the northern portion of the salient. Perhaps a sensational capture of Verdun was the objective of the Germans, merely with the idea that it would act as a stimulus to the peoples of the Central Empires. More likely, finding themselves getting weaker as the months drew on, and terrible losses reduced their fighting effectives, the Kaiser and his war lords were determined to risk all in one mighty effort—an effort which should break through the French line at Verdun, thus bringing kudos to the armies of Prussia, and at the same time demoralizing the French soldiers. Who knows? They may have hoped to dash through the gap thus formed, and once more advance on Paris. In any case, they were well aware of the phenomenal rise in power of the British forces. Five million men had volunteered to fight for king and country; and now, on the top of that, there was news that Great Britain had adopted conscription; every man up to the age of forty-one was to become a soldier, was to fight for that liberty dear to all Britons.

Then, seeing that Germany's forces were rapidly dwindling, a blow must be struck now—a sensational blow—which would, it was hoped, break the power of France before those British reinforcements could reach her. Later, Germany might still have strength to tackle Britain alone; and in that case this risky, if determined, attack on Verdun would be worth the price paid for it.

To France then, and the French armies at Verdun, all eyes were turned, for at this moment she held the fate of the Allies in her hands. Let her hold on to Verdun, let her defeat the Germans there by successful resistance, and hold off the enemy till that hour arrived, now fast approaching, when fresh British forces would have sailed for France, and have taken their place beside the poilus. Every little helped; and the fierce encounter taking place beneath the shattered roof of the fortress of Douaumont was assisting not a little.

"They will come again, later on, perhaps, when it is dark," Henri told his friends, "and we must make ready to resist them. Pile up the bags and place them three deep now, for during the last attack they were nearly pulled over. After that there's little for us to do but to wait and smoke. Of fighting we shall have our full before this little business is ended."

Darkness came on after a while, and presently the gloom within the fortress was so deep that even the walls lining the stairway were invisible, nor had any of the party any means of illuminating them, or of lighting up the interior of the hall held by the Brandenburgers. All they could do was to crouch behind their wall and listen for the attack which they knew must be coming. Then, of a sudden, there was a violent explosion just outside their wall, and one farther back in the chamber which they occupied. Hand-grenades had been thrown by the enemy, and hardly had the explosions taken place than there was the sound of another charge, and a horde of men dashed up the stairs and flung themselves upon the barricade which the poilus were defending.

CHAPTER XVI

A Fight to a Finish

A growl came from the man seated at the breech end of the machine-gun:

"Bah! It is smashed! That grenade has burst the casing and shaken the whole apparatus. Give me a rifle, one of you."