"At Trilport there is a yawning gap, where one arch of the railway bridge used to be, with a solitary bent rail still lying across it. And, among the wreckage of the bridge below, lying on its side and more than half beneath the water, is the smashed and splintered ruin of a closed motor car.
"Beyond the town was a ridge on which the French batteries were posted. We could see the ammunition wagons parked on the reverse slope of the hill. More were moving up to join them.
"The village beyond, Penchard, was thronged with troops and blocked with ambulance wagons and ammunition carts.
"Through the rank grass at the side came tramping a long file of dusty, sweating, wearied men. They carried long spades and picks as well as their rifles. They had come out of the firing line and were going back to Penchard for food.
"Topping the next ridge … the hill slopes steeply down to the hamlet of Chamvery, just below us. The battery which I mentioned just now is in the wood on this side of it to our right. The Zouaves' firing line is lying flat on the hillside a little way beyond the village, and behind them, farther down the hill, are thick lines of supports in the cover of intrenchments. It is a spectacle entirely typical of a modern battle, for there is scarcely anything to see at all. If it were not for those shells being tossed to and fro on the right there, and an occasional splutter of rifle fire, one might easily suppose that the lines of blue-coated men lying about on the stubble were all dozing in the hot afternoon sun.
"Even when some of them move they seem to do it lazily, to saunter rather than to walk. … It is only in the cinematograph or on the comparatively rare occasions of close fighting at short range that men rush about dramatically. For one thing, they are too tired to hurry; and anyhow, what is the use of running when a shell may burst any minute anywhere in the square mile you happen to be on?
"I walked with the company officers who were planning a fresh advance, map in hand. They had gained the village in which we were that morning, but at tremendous loss.
"'Out of my company of 220,' said one captain, 'there are only 100 left. It's the same story everywhere—the German machine guns. Their fire simply clears the ground like a razor. You just can't understand how anyone gets away alive. I've had men fall at my right hand and my left. You can't look anywhere, as you advance, without seeing men dropping. Of our four officers, two are wounded and one dead. I am left alone in command.'"
This hand-to-hand fighting for the possession of villages on the west bank of the Marne, this heavy loss to the French troops by the German artillery, and this sudden check at the Ourcq itself, until British heavy batteries were sent, marks the character of what may be called the battle of the Ourcq, the westernmost of the battles of the Marne. As General von Kluck had divided his forces, in order to carry out the attempt to pierce the left of General d'Espérey's army, the German forces in the battle of the Ourcq were outnumbered almost three to one. In spite of these odds against them, the extreme German right held for four days the position it had been given to hold.
CHAPTER XVI
CONTINUATION OF THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE
Remembering again the general outline of General von Kluck's plan, that of executing a diagonal movement with 150,000 of his men to attack the easternmost point of the Fifth Army, and possibly to envelop it by a flank movement, the continuation of the Battle of the Marne may be treated with more detail. This part is called by some the Battle of Coulommiers.
In this battle there was as great a change in morale as in the battle of the Ourcq. There, the French had been stirred to high endeavor by the realization that the word to advance had at last been given. This also operated in part on the British in the battle of Coulommiers, but, in addition, there was another very important factor.
The dawn of that Sunday summer morning, September 6, 1914, was one of great exhilaration for the British forces. The offensive was begun, the time for striking back had come, and every column resounded with marching choruses. The countryside was lovely, as had been all the countryside through which the retreating armies had passed, gay with the little French homesteads, flower decked and smiling, heavily laden orchards, and rich grain fields, some as yet uncut, some newly stacked. Women and children, with here and there an old man, ran along the line of march ministering to the wants of their defenders. There was no need for language, as courtesy and gratitude are universal, and the English were fighting for "La Belle France." So the morning wore on.
Through the forested region of Crécy the British passed, and it has been told hereinbefore how they surprised the two cavalry commands thrust out as scouts by General von Kluck. But, as they reached the land that had been occupied by the German hosts, the bearing of the men changed, even as the country changed. The simple homes of the peasants were in ashes, every house that had showed traces of comfort had been sacked or gutted with fire. Between noon and three o'clock in the afternoon of that day three burned churches were passed. The songs stopped. A black silence fell upon the ranks. Bloody business was afoot.
It was in the middle of the afternoon, a slumbrous harvest afternoon, that a big gun boomed in the distance, and the shell shrieked dolefully through the air, its vicious whine ceasing with a tremendous sudden roar as it burst behind the advancing British lines. On the instant, Sir John French's batteries almost wiped out the German cavalry, and ten minutes had not elapsed before the full artillery on both sides had begun a terrific fire that was stunning to the senses. Under cover of their own fire, the British infantry advanced and hurled themselves against the outer line of General von Kluck's Second Army. The attack failed. The British were driven back, but though the loss of life was sharp, it was not great, as the British commander had but advanced his men to test out the invader's strength. The British artillery was well placed, and under its cover the British made a second advance, this time successful. The Germans replied with a counterattack which was repulsed, but in that forty minutes 10,000 men had fallen.
A dispatch has been quoted from a French soldier, showing the terrible havoc caused by the German machine guns, and a letter from a German officer, published in the "Intelligenzblatt" of Berne pays a like tribute to the artillery of the Allies. Speaking of this very section of the battle front, he wrote:
"We were obliged to retreat as the English were attempting a turning movement, which was discovered by our airmen. [This refers to the advance of the British First Army Corps under Sir Douglas Haig in the direction of La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, which, if it could have been successfully carried out, would have meant the entire loss of General von Kluck's southern army.] During the last two hours we were continually exposed to the fire of the enemy's artillery, for our artillery had all either been put out of action or had retreated and had ceased to fire. [This dispatch was evidently, therefore, written toward the end of the second day, on Monday, September 7, 1914, when General von Kluck realized that his forward drive had failed and that he must fall back.]
"The enemy's airmen flew above us, describing two circles, which means, 'there is infantry here.' The enemy's artillery mowed the ground with its fire. In one minute's time I counted forty shells. The shrapnel exploded nearer and nearer; at last it reached our ranks. I quickly hugged a knapsack to my stomach in order to protect myself as best I could. The shrieks of the wounded rang out on all sides. Tears came to my eyes when I heard the poor devils moaning with pain. The dust, the smoke, and the stench of the powder were suffocating.
"An order rang out, and bending as low as possible, we started up. We had to pass right in the line of fire. The men began to fall like ninepins. God be thanked that I was able to run as I did. I thought my heart would burst, and was about to throw myself on the ground, unable to continue, when your image and that of Bolli rose before my eyes, and I ran on.
"At last we reached our batteries. Three guns were smashed to pieces, and the gun carriages were burned. We halted for a few seconds to take breath. And all the time that whistling and