II. THE COUNTER-ATTACK AND THE

FRENCH RECOVERY

And yet all the elements which were to come to our rescue were already at hand. Our High Command had had time to bring up important reserves, which, coming into action at the right time and place, would at once change the situation. These reserves could not have been used effectively until the real object of the enemy was clear; it might be that he was only making a feint before Verdun and would strike his chief blow at another point of our lines. It was necessary that he should come on, and thus show his hand. The heroic resistance of our men for three days to numbers much greater than their own, their fierce dispute of every foot of ground, their wearing down of the German resistance had given our reinforcements this necessary time.

On that day of desperate fighting, the 24th, Major-General de Castelnau left Headquarters in order to decide upon the spot what measures he should take. He came; he made up his mind without hesitation. His orders were that the reserves should come into action at once, and at whatever cost stop the German advance on our principal lines.

That same day General Pétain arrived, with all his staff, to take active command of the troops defending Verdun.

In one of my former articles, "The French Offensive in Champagne" (May, 1916), I described this general, one of the glories of our army and of France. "He is tall, slim, young-looking, with an air of extreme distinction, quick, incisive speech, and resolute blue eyes. Whenever those eyes of his light on a new face he feels the immediate need to label and classify it, and store away the image in some pigeon-hole of his marvellously lucid memory, where thereafter it will always have its distinctive place. Looking at him and listening to him, one has the impression that the art of warfare is above all things a matter of precision, forethought, and tenacity. The masters of military science, the men predestined to shine in war, are those in whom the balance between brain and character, between understanding and willing, is most

One of our finest army corps was impatiently waiting to be sent into action. Since the war began it had been in battle wherever fighting was to be found; in Flanders, in Artois, and in Champagne, winning laurels everywhere.

It was now thrown into the furnace without hesitation. The German advance was checked; their offensive broken; they could go no farther.

It was bitter cold, and drifting snow hindered the march of our columns. The German artillery tried to stop the coming of our reinforcements by a formidable curtain fire and by shelling our rear lines incessantly. But our men, knowing the value of those fateful hours, marched with eager hearts, regardless of all obstacles. As an official communiqué said: "It was like the battle of the Marne-the cry of 'Forward!' gave them superhuman courage.

The principal field of the great fight was the table-land of Douaumont, which is to the battle of Verdun what the marshes of St. Gond, the château of Mondement, and the plain of Fère-Champenoise were to the battle of the Marne.

On the morning of the 25th the Germans made a fierce attack on the "côte" of Poivre, carrying the villages of Louvemont and Bezonvaux. Before Douaumont the fighting was fiendish; by five o'clock in the afternoon the village seemed to be surrounded. While this violent struggle was going on, a party of Brandenburgers, belonging to the 3d corps, managed to creep up to the fort of Douaumont, and held on there.

The Teutonic General Staff forthwith trumpeted to the world that "the armored fort of Douaumont, the corner-stone of the French defense of Verdun, has been carried by a Brandenburg regiment"; and wireless messages everywhere proclaimed this victory as positive. But it was only temporary. By the time the news was spread abroad our troops had thrust back the enemy by a vigorous counter-attack, and were closing around the Brandenburgers. A bloody struggle followed; the Germans, knowing how much depended on it, did their utmost to widen the breach they had made toward the fort of Douaumont; the village of

all the German effort and bloodshed were in vain-henceforth their advance was definitely controlled.

also made on the fort and village of Vaux, on the right side of the river, east of Douaumont, and on the 8th of March a vigorous offensive gave the German in

THE GERMAN CHECK

When the Germans found that their frontal attack was not the conclusive success for which they had striven, they decided, after a pause, to attack both our wings, on the left bank of the Meuse. This movement was to be carried out by the army of the Crown Prince, with the help of the picked corps which had joined it. In an order of the day dated March 4th the Crown Prince exhorted his troops to prepare themselves for the supreme effort necessary to take Verdun, "the heart of France." Our positions on the left bank of the Meuse now formed more or less of a salient, compared to those on its right bank, where our troops had been obliged to draw back, and against this salient the German attack was accordingly directed.

The same movement which had taken place on the right side now repeated itself. We held our first line only long enough to retard the German advance, but when they reached our principal positions at Mort-Homme and "côte" 304 they could go no farther. Then began a series of very bloody struggles. The wood of Corbeaux, for instance, was taken and retaken and lost over and over again, the enemy only succeeding in holding it after a third attack.

On the 14th of March, new German divisions having come up, another fierce attempt was made. Mort-Homme was shelled even more heavily than at the beginning of the battle; every infernal modern projectile, time and percussion bombs, asphyxiating and lachrymatory shells were hurled on our positions; one hundred and twenty were counted in one minute.

When at last, about three in the afternoon, the German infantry swept forward, most of the men in our trenches were half suffocated and almost buried alive. "Côte" 265 was taken, but the little peak 295 remained in our hands.

While the fighting on the left bank of the Meuse was going on, an attack was

village, from which they were almost entirely driven out by a brilliant counterattack on our part. At no time did they get near the fort, which lies to the rear; a fact which did not prevent their authorities from issuing the following sensational communiqué: "The 6th and 19th regiments of Posen reserves, led by General von Guretski-Cornitz, have stormed the armored fort of Vaux, and have also taken many other fortifications in that neighborhood."

It so happened that, at the very time when this "news" was being rushed everywhere, one of the officers of our General Staff went into the fort of Vaux and was able to assure himself that it had not been attacked, and that the troops holding it were quite undisturbed. Our General Staff thereupon immediately contradicted the lying report in the most positive manner.

Again, as in the case of the Sussex, the intentional bad faith of our enemy was exposed, but that did not disconcert him; it was then announced that the fort had been taken, and retaken later by a French counter-attack. It was not necessary for us to retake Vaux, for the simple reason that we had never lost it.

Day followed day, and the attacks on our right and left wings led to no more decisive result than those made at first on our centre. The German assaulting corps, which had borne the brunt of the fighting, were decimated and worn out; some of the regiment had lost as high as sixty per cent of their officers and men. It was absolutely necessary that they should be sent to the rear to rest and be reorganized.

But the officers of the German General Staff were well aware that the whole world had its eyes upon Verdun. They knew they were playing for a high stake, and that the outcome of the war depended to a great extent on the mighty struggle on both sides of the Meuse. Therefore, rather than acknowledge failure they decided to redouble their efforts. New divisions were hurried forward to replace

those which were exhausted, and on the 9th of April another very violent attack was hurled against our positions on the left bank of the river, at "côte" 304. But there were no longer sufficient reserves to give this thrust the power and scope of those in the beginning. All that could be done was to bring up one division after another, to relieve those which were most exhausted. Heavy artillery could be used like a battering-ram against one or other of our positions, but there was no longer any question of a general advance. I wish to dwell upon this point, for a new phase of the battle has begun.

In order to be convinced of the magnitude of the German failure, one has but to follow the successive changes in the tone of the Teutonic press as the struggle drags on.

It was taken for granted that the advance on Verdun would strike us like a thunderbolt. The Crown Prince said so in a proclamation, and the Kaiser, as usual, made an inspiring visit to the army about to fall on us. In a Bavarian newspaper, the Münchener Neueste Nachrichten, Colonel Medicus proudly wrote, "Our ring of steel is visibly tightening around the fortress; we shall therefore be able to record a great and decisive victory, of which the consequences will be felt at once; of this the governor of Verdun must be sadly certain." This was at the time when the German wireless stations were busily spreading the news broadcast that "the armored fort of Douaumont, the corner-stone of the defense of Verdun," had been carried by storm under the eyes of the Kaiser. The press, usually so carefully muzzled, was allowed to say what it chose: the Rheinische Westfälische Zeitung declared that "the taking of the fort of Douaumont, which breaks the circle of forts at its most vulnerable point, makes it possible to predict the speedy fall of the fortress itself." The Frankfurter Zeitung improved on this forecast by saying: "It is clear that men who have not recoiled before the defenses of Douaumont, one of the strongest fortresses in France, will not be stopped by any slighter resistance."

As time went on, and Verdun did not

fall, it became necessary to put a damper on this enthusiasm. The German press was therefore ordered to exhort the public to possess its soul in patience. All the military critics explained carefully to their readers that the delay was foreseen and intentional. The Berliner Tageblatt of March 15th said: "Spoiled by the extraordinary rapidity of the campaign which made us masters of the Russian fortresses last summer, we sometimes make the mistake of comparing it with the present fighting on the western front, which has for its objective the fall of Verdun."

Days lengthened into weeks, and the fortress still stood; so the press faced about, gravely affirming that the General Staff had never really meant to take Verdun at all, and that any such statement was a malevolent and perfidious invention of the French. The staff had only attacked at that point in order to prevent the general offensive for which the French were making ready.

These contradictions are very significant and enlightening, because they bear witness to the hopes, the fears, and the disappointment of the German people from day to day.

To sum up one may say: First, Germany knew that a war of erosion must of necessity be to her disadvantage, because time was working against her, and the resources of England, Russia, and France were increasing, while her own steadily diminished. She therefore meant to end the struggle by a smashing blow, and chose the sector of Verdun in order to deal this blow to her "chief enemy," France. After masterly preparation she had accumulated in this sector all the resources in men and munitions of which she could dispose. The result of the first four days of the battle was in her favor, but as soon as our reserves came up her advance was checked. Willing to sacrifice any number of lives in order to win, she has drawn ruthlessly on her reserves, and at the end of three months of carnage she finds herself like a desperate gamblershe has risked her fortune on a single stake, and luck has turned against her. May, 1916.

T was forenoon of a bright Sunday, and by and by the down-river boat came whistling and chugging around the bend to the landing.

The Creole Belle she was, bound to New Orleans. She tied up, lowered her stage, and onto the bank piled her roustabouts; and as they did so every waiting colored girl there began to roll eyes at them.

From the bank to the boat the chatter flew. "Whar yo'all been so long, Sammie?" "Min' now yo' brings me somet'ing f'm N'Awleans nex' time up-min' now, Ab'aham!" "Ain't yo'all nebber gwine stop off yer agin-ain't yo', Cyrus?" And from the roustabouts, hustling cord-wood as they shouted: "I ain't been laid off yit, but any time yo' cares to tek a trip down ribber!" And "Huh, huh, Chloe, dere yo' is wid yo' laffin' mout'!" and "Deedy yes, I's de man ain't never gwine to forgit yo', gal!"

I greeted Captain Joe, went aboard, and was watching things with Charlie Stuart from the cabin deck, when a pretty mulatto girl, with a bulging carpet bag, stepped onto the stage to the boat, just as one particular husky-looking rousta was loping down the stage to the bank.

"Mah soul, dis you, Dinah!" he grinned, and stopped dead to have a further word with her; but "You black Buzzard you, come on yer an' hustle this fire-wood!" barked Captain Joe from the bank.

"Mah Lawd 'n' soul, dis yer's a wear'some world!" sighed Buzzard, and resumed his lope down the stage.

By the time we had taken on the firewood and shoved out into the stream, the mulatto girl was sitting on a canned-goods box next the boat guard, and Buzzard was sitting close by. "So you is sho' gwine down ribber dis time, Dinah?"

Diana eyed him haughtily. "You Buz

zard-I has no time fo' you, man! I has bizniss on dis boat. I's gwine visit mah Aunt Lindy down to Layton's Landin'."

"Huh, huh!" cackled Buzzard, "an' I has a gran'mammy to Layton's Landin'." "What-all I know 'bout yo' gran'mammy? Whar was yo' last Christmas week?"

No more of that conversation floated up to us, because the call to dinner came to the roustas below. A few minutes later the dinner bell rang for us.

We heard a commotion on the lower deck as we were sitting down to eat. "Excuse me, gentlemen," said Captain Joe, and went out. He was soon back. "That black nigger Buzzard was talkin' to that yeller wench come abo'd,the last landin', when that other big yeller nigger, Cyrus Larmie, comes along an' puts in a word. An' Buzzard didn't like it."

There was one other cabin passenger. Joe had already said of him: "If he was one o' them young ladies brought up in a convent, I don't reckon he'd be more backward." This passenger, Layton by name, asked timidly: "Did you stop them, captain?"

"I stopped them-after they had it out," said Captain Joe. "They c'n fight all they want to so they don't stop hustlin' freight when there's freight to hustle."

"How did it end?" I asked.

"There's only one endin' to a fight abo'd this boat when Buzzard turns hisself loose. After one or two or three or fo' minutes, Buzzard goes over to the guard, draws a bucket of water from the river, an' washes the blood off his hands. An' I tell the other nigger if he ain't over the stage at the next landin' I'll take it outer his time. He's sure a pow'ful nigger, that Buzzard. And a good nigger. An' that yeller wench had been comin' down to that landin' back yonder pretty reg'lar till along about a couple o' months ago, when she stopped. There was a no'count white sto'keeper to that landin'