A Blue Devil of France: Epic figures and stories of the Great War, 1914-1918

I left the region of Verdun to-day. An order calls me to Paris. I decided to bring Coco with me, because Coco is the "last civilian in Verdun."

The poor little parrot is ill at ease in his cage since Madame Louis went away and since the bombardment of the city began.

When window panes were smashed his feathers bristled up and his frail little body began to tremble——

I placed the cage in the machine that takes me to Bar-le-Duc—Repeatedly during the journey the bird cries:

"To Hell with the Crown Prince!"

It is surely Habert who has taught him this new "song"——

CHAPTER SEVEN
THE RECAPTURE OF FORT DOUAUMONT AND THE ATTACK OF PEPPER HILL

The author assisted in two important episodes of the great war. On October 24, 1916, he flew over Fort Douaumont with Major Armengaud at the precise moment the poilus swarmed over it after eight months' of incessant battle. The first men who entered Douaumont were the same sappers of the 19th Company, 2nd Engineers, with whom the author fought at Grande Dune. (Chaps. I and III.)

It is during this period that the author was appointed first lieutenant in July and Captain in October after the capture of Douaumont.

On December 15, 1916, Captain Capart was at Pepper Hill during the victorious advance of the French.

I have just dined with General Pétain. I find myself in the little home of M. and Mme. Lévy, where I have put up during the last days of our sojourn in this city.

I occupy a pretty room looking out on the garden, at which I look every morning on awakening——

Seated on my bed, I do not think of sleep, but let my thoughts wander, fixedly regarding the flame of my candle!

All at once my eyes rest on the new boots which I have bought the same morning in Paris.

I begin to laugh. It had been very apparent to me that all my comrades had admired them——

Yes, I recall, when the general was talking to me, I heard one of them say to the other:

"What wonderful boots!"

That is not all! I got ready for bed—From to-morrow a new life opened for me—I began with the boots.

I unlaced them, but perceived with despair that, in spite of energetic efforts, I could not pull them off my feet——

Unnerved and swearing like a madman, using the furniture as a buttress, I painfully succeeded in getting one off—but the other? Impossible!

This damned boot did not seem to understand—I heard a noise in the room above. Decidedly it is M. and Mme. Lévy who are frightened!

The next day at seven o'clock in the morning, my orderly, Lefèvre, entered my room. He opened his mouth very wide on finding his lieutenant in a pretty white bed, a leg swinging over the side with a new boot on it——

"Capart!"

I turned around. It is he! I saluted respectfully.

"Are you settled?"

"Yes, general. I am glad for this opportunity alone to tell you how grateful I am for having been appointed by you. You can count on me no matter what circumstance. Ask of me what you will, my life belongs to you, general, I give it to you——"

Our glances met, and he said:

"I know it."

The sun has just come up—I open my eyes. I am not wrong, it is the blowing of bugles that wakens me——

I jump out of bed and fling the large window clear up—my room is flooded with light——

It is a regiment which is passing—it comes straight from Dead Man's Hill. Our poilus are tanned, but their faces are worn——

"My poor poilus, your uniforms are covered with dry mud, but you are magnificent——!"

The band plays "Sambre and Meuse" and I am so affected that I throw myself on the bed and sob like a child.

I was assisting at some trench-mortar tests which have lasted several days. The President of the Republic, accompanied by a large suite, honored us by his visit to-day.

The camp presented an extremely unique aspect by reason of the great number of Russian officers and men, which one sees everywhere.

Out of consideration for the visit of M. Poincaré, a Russian Battalion gave an exhibition drill. When the President passed it in review, the Slavic troops became clamorous. They shouted in Russian something which must have meant:

"Long live the President of the French Republic."

From their gestures one of our poilus was explaining the meaning to one of his comrades in back of me.

"Hear what the Russians said to the President:

"'You have seen me in the little bar around the corner.'"

The priest of R—— has invited me to have coffee with him. The kindly old man saw the German invasion in 1914. He had been rudely treated in his native hamlet, and he appeared—when one saw the ruins—to have had many days of grief. Two days of battle and this was all he knew of war!

The boches, on retiring, had set fire to four corners of the village and everything had been burned, save his church where he permitted some German wounded to seek shelter.

Our troops triumphantly entered the smoking ruins of the village at night——

"My brave boys," the priest said to them, "I embrace you and thank God——"

The poilus, stirred with the feverish lust of pursuit, demanded:

"Any Germans here?"

One of the men, gone completely mad, shouted:

"Where are they? I'll stick this bayonet through 'em——"

Then someone said:

"There are wounded in the church."

"I pleaded with them," the old priest said.

"My children, they are our enemies, but respect the wounded!"

"The wounded!" roared the other, "the wounded! I'll cut 'em to pieces!"

"They all followed me like a pack of hounds," the priest went on, "and I prayed to God for aid.

"The first one we saw, on entering the church, was a Bavarian stretched out in a pool of blood. Rolling his eyes up at me, he muttered:

"'A drink—I'm thirsty——'

"'Nom de Dieu, father, so you let your wounded die of thirst—that's a rotten trick! Here! drink this—you!' the poilu said, handing his canteen to the boche——"

"Since you are fighting near him—what is he?"

"Persevering;
"Energetic;
"Triumphant;
"Ardent;
"Intrepid;
"Nil-melior!"[27]

I left Paris during the night in an automobile and am returning to General Quarters. I have fallen asleep on the way——

A brusque stop! I open my eyes——

An old territorial flashes a lantern in my face—a railroad track crossed the road——

"What is the name of this place, mon petit?"

"This place, captain, is—the railroad crossing!"

Major Armengaud and I left Nettancourt this morning by airplane to assist in the operations about to be unloosed before Verdun.

The weather is uncertain and some large running clouds are above us. Before landing at Lemme, it had been decided that we would make a short incursion over the lines——

Here is the Meuse! The two banks of the battlefield appear to me yellowish gray with the Douaumont Hill tinted red.

The cannonade is raging—I see the vivid flashes of shells leaving the guns and I hear loud detonations above the noise of the motor——

The weather is very nasty! Always it is the same thing. It will surely rain to-night!

We flew above St. Michel Hill at the moment when our 400 shell fell on Douaumont and on Vaux, throwing up columns of earth and smoke.

From Fort Douaumont rise big voluted shafts of smoke. Fortunately our artillerymen had found the joint in the armor——

Not a boche avion in the air. What matter! This spectacle is so thrilling, that, for the moment, my machine-gun gets very little use——

The poilus themselves must be there in the trenches, waiting the hour of attack. I cannot see them, but my heart and thoughts go out to them.

I had the impression from that very moment the recapture of Fort Douaumont was certain——

We landed in about an hour without a single incident——

It is maddening. It is raining. At the aviation field where I am, everybody is effervescent. The first results of the day are magnificent, the poilus advanced along the entire line!

Unluckily it is necessary to renounce any thought of flying and the attendant consternation is general. Some "cuckoos" essayed to go up in the driving rain. They kept close to earth—they flew blindly and were shot at a few times——

We must remain inactive and powerless all day, when the others are participating in the fête!

Toward two-thirty o'clock the dark clouds in the south, part——The "cuckoos" leave their hangars, although many of the pilots are skeptical of the weather——

At three-fifteen a blue canopy in the heavens—at last! The whirring drowns everything—everyone hurries—one after the other they shoot out and take the air. Soon, perhaps, it will be too late——After having described a large circle over the field to gain altitude, they leave in groups, going northward——

Major Armengaud and I have decided to leave in our turn. I am really thrilled, I avow, at the idea of flying during the battle——

Some instants after, roads, flat stretches, forests, flit by beneath us. At the end of ten minutes' flight, we were in a rather thick mist—but what matter——!

We fly over the Meuse to the north of Verdun—we are 4,000 feet high and penetrate a thick cloud. We reach clear space. The air is full of avions—there are more than eighty! Chasse squadrons cross the horizon. The "sausages" are all up as usual. The sky is marvelous. There are vacant spaces of gilded light to our left—Verdun is somewhat in the haze. To the north the sky is clear—I see the most gorgeous spectacle that my eyes have ever beheld! The cannonade thunders and a thousand flashes burst from the mouths of our guns. Our exploding projectiles form a regular and mobile parabola, marking the advance of our troops——

The enemy reacts but feebly and his barrage is laid down over our old lines. Shell-holes filled with water appear like cups brimming with molten gold! To the west the sky is reddish scarlet; to the east all is steel blue——

We return closer to earth. Our barrage has gone beyond Fort Douaumont—our 400's are still breaking on Fort Vaux; great columns of dirt rise more than 125 yards in height——

Douaumont is ours!——

I jumped straight up in my seat; I laughed, I shouted, I wept——

Two avions flew very low. The daring Captain de Beauchamp soared over the du Hély ravine; it looked as if we would skid along the ground——

We circled over the battlefield like a great bird that has discovered its prey and is ready to sweep on it!

The poilus themselves, whom we regarded as the messengers of victory, swarmed around the superstructure of the Fort and signaled us! They waved their handkerchiefs and flapped their great-coats like birds' wings in order that we might recognize them.

I frequently turned to Major Armengaud, shouting:

"Douaumont, Douaumont is ours!"

Suddenly our motor became silent—Armengaud tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and he cried:

"We must land!"

We were at that moment at a fixed altitude and I saw Armengaud twist to the right and to the left in the fuselage, looking for a safe spot to land——

All at once the wind whistled loudly and we assumed a dangerous slant. At certain moments the machine rocked—it did not seem to be going ahead—then it recovered its nose.

"I do not see a place to put it!" Armengaud cried:

"Douaumont, Douaumont is ours!"

It did not matter to me, although we fell; it was perhaps death, but—Douaumont was ours!

The ground seemed to approach very rapidly; Major Armengaud guided his airplane toward a little prairie north of Dugny, bordered by two gullies. We landed easily on the ground, but our "cuckoo" broke a hidden telephone wire——

"Hein! what do you think about it, Capart?"

"What a spectacle—you're an ace, major!"

I jumped at the same moment under the fuselage to connect the telephone wire he had cut. At the same time the major examined his motor—it was a trivial matter and soon repaired!

At the end of half an hour we got the motor running and once more rose in the air.

Darkness fell and the atmosphere was biting cold. The wind sang in the wings of the machine. When we reached the environs of Lemme, above the forest, it seemed as if we were standing still. It became more and more obscure and I asked myself how we could land. It was black below, but, here, it seemed as if we flew through a sea of blue. The woods appeared a sombre tint and the mist which clung to the branches looked like clusters of fleece on Christmas trees——

The little lights underneath us flickered one after the other, enlivening the vista more and more as they grew more numerous. Streams of camions on the different roads resembled long, phosphorescent worms——

Masses of clouds, strung out like attenuated lawn veils, fluttered quickly past, between us and the ground, completing the fantastic sketch——

I turned yet again. Back of us, one could still perceive the last scintillations of the battle! The bursting shell, which we heard no longer, became long, vivid flames that rose above the horizon——

During those hours I experienced the most stirring moments of my life, and one of the greatest epochs in the history of the world! Thanks, dear bird!

We arrived above the aviation field; the major shouted at me:

"Lean over to the right and keep your eyes open——"

We watched the ground closely so as not to be smashed. What matter, once more, because we are still under the spell of the sight we have just seen——

Descending slowly, our eyes commenced to be accustomed to this obscurity. We recognized the contour of the field, and our old "cuckoo" dropped gently on earth——

And that's how we assisted in the recapture of Fort Douaumont!

To-day I went up on a rocket test at a very high altitude. Suddenly one of the rockets burst in the propeller, and it snapped like a pistol shot—the horizontal rudder also was damaged——

The descent commenced by great jerks and it seemed as if the machine would collapse and fall apart——

Flameng, my pilot, made a sign "that it could go very bad with us——" We went through a great cloud and I began to believe we would crash to earth. Despite three accidents in two days, this will be very pretty, I say to myself. I thought that after what I had seen these last three months, it would be absolutely idiotic to die in a bed, and I began to laugh at the idea——

The avion lands like a butterfly on a prairie——

We had gone to take a turn around Avocourt Hill; the air was magnificent. We were 7,000 feet high directly above the spot we were going to land——

The major stopped his motor and commenced to descend in circles; I recognized the château, the village, the station——

On a road in the fields, a man, a woman, and a dog—even at this altitude it was impossible not to know them, the three characteristic specimens of a bygone age, more fanciful than Nature herself!

I pointed my finger toward the ground so that Major Armengaud might see them also. He looked and likewise began to laugh——

I swear, it was drôle: like three big flies jigging on the bald head of an old man!——

I am not sure of the road. It is night and as we are close to the lines I stop the machine——

I see a poilu and beckon him over.

"Do you know this territory well?"

"I know this sector better than anyone——"

"How is that?"

"Because I'm the gravedigger of the Regiment!"

Night falls—victorious day—success along the whole line——I go by foot along the road from Louvemont, something I have not done since the first days of the battle of Verdun. The German prisoners and wounded, in their field-gray uniforms, dirty with mud, descend the hill in little groups, their arms raised.

Some of them approach our men, saying:

"War finished—War finished!"

"I believe you're telling tales," was the reply of a poilu.

I assisted yesterday the second attacking party, at Pepper Hill.

I have just passed the night at Froideterre,[28] which has been well named—At dawn the sound of the battle diminished. On leaving the shelter where I had been installed, I saw, a few steps away, an airplane, its tail in the air, that I had noticed the night before——

At Brigade Headquarters I was asked to interrogate two young German officers who had been captured on the backbone of Pepper Hill——

I go back to Bras over the same route that I came. The ruins of the village are flooded with mud. For a whole year, day in and day out, I was once at Bras, but then it was a pretty village with inhabitants——

To-day there is nothing more than ruins, mud and dead bodies——

On entering the door, I hear Anne-Marie, who is saying her prayer du soir.

"Lil' Jesus, protect papa, who is at war, mamma, my grandparents, my little brothers——"

"Louder, Anne-Marie, the good God is neutral and does not hear——"

CHAPTER EIGHT
THE BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE OF 1917

The author fell seriously ill and spent several weeks from the beginning of January, 1917, in the hospital at Châlons-sur-Marne.

At the end of February, 1917, he again took up his work with General Pétain.

In the attack of Mont-sans-Nom, he accompanied the Morocco Division (Champagne, April 17, 1917).

Captain Capart left France June 2, 1917, for the United States as a member of a Scientific Mission which collaborated with officials of this Government just two months after America became an Ally against Prussianism.

General Gouraud, when speaking of his poilus, never fails to tell the following story: "It was during a violent bombardment—The men are in their dugouts, save only the lookouts——

"One of them, every time a shell broke near him, responded with a shot from his rifle, so that several times his comrades, passing by the opening in the shelter, got ready to dash out, believing the enemy was attacking. Finally they shouted at him:

"'Nom de Dieu, what do you mean by shooting like that with your rifle——'

"'Eh! les vieux, I'm laying down a barrage!'"

"The morale of our poilus," cried our comrade Delormes, "is simply magnificent!" I have just bought some writing paper at the store of petite Antoinette, who was literally jubilant the moment I entered her shop. She received a letter from her husband, who is fighting on Maisons-de-Champagne Hill. She made me read the missive, which I would like to see awarded a prize by the Academy:

"Do not worry, my Nenette," it read, "we will beat these brutes! Here, our bowels are firm! But what we are doing to them! But above all, don't worry!"

It was signed "Rintintin!"

The poor boy will suffer no longer—he passed away quietly. The nurse is bent over him, and, one after the other, closes his eyes——

She is deeply moved on seeing her poilu go! This exquisite creature, wife of one of our comrades, loves her wounded with all her soul!

Her last one arrived in terrible shape. She remained at his side night and day. Two times he was operated on. At times he was better, at times worse. During his first moment of consciousness, he asked that his wife be summoned——

What difficulty she had in obtaining a complete address and formulating a telegram according to his wishes! Then he murmured:

"She will not arrive too late?"

The nurse had written:

"Your husband is gravely wounded; come quick, but hope for the best."

What a painful journey she would have to endure!

During these days she learned a little more of the life of this man. Every minute she went to see if the wife had not come. She returned close to him.

"Be assured, mon brave, you will get better. She will come. One travels with difficulty these days——"

She exaggerated the slowness of travel and he accepted what she told him; but he whispered:

"Urge her, madame, to come more quickly!"

Then she became impatient—Why did she not come? Some instants after she pitied her: surely she must have had great obstacles—some grim sentinel must have stood in her way—and she might have fallen angry herself thinking of these things.

She often interrogated the doctor and told him very softly:

"I wish she would come right away!"

She knew that the wife of her poilu had three babies to care for—What a catastrophe in this poor laborer's home if he never returned.

Soon she knew there was no longer any hope. "At least," she said to the doctor, "you can keep him alive—she will come——"

The agony was long, very long and the wife did not come. She sent for her again. What could be the matter?

On seeing her dear dead, an ineffable sadness engrossed her and big, silent tears fell from her eyes——

An attendant approached her—she turned her head and wiped her eyes——

"Someone there to see your wounded, madame—" said the man who did not know——

Paralyzed, fixed to the floor, she could not move. She saw coming toward her, shrouded in an impressive silence, a woman—one of those women of France, good mother, good wife, good patriot, accustomed from youth to go through a harsh and bitter life as the wife of a laboring man, with serenity——

She went straight to him. The nurse followed her with her glance. She could no longer see her face, but saw the woman bend a great while over her dead. Of what was she thinking? Of the Calvary of her man, of his wound, of his agony, or rather of her own sadness, or the children for whom she would have to struggle——

She turned and, coming toward her:

"Is it you, madame, who have cared for him? Permit me to kiss you."

It was the nurse who wept——

An élite Division was au repos[29] in a pretty little village on the Meuse where the houses are gray and from where one can hear the cannon at Verdun, like a spring thunderstorm.

General Pétain has gone to spend a few hours with these heroes, accompanied by my worthy comrade de Buisseret.

The brave poilus do not permit themselves the pleasures of complete inactivity. Whatever spot they may find themselves in, they organize and "dig themselves in" as if they must remain for the rest of their lives!

A poilu is working arduously over a little board hut. He has running around him two of his "loves," small pigs, plump and rosy. It is understood they will be eaten, but not before the squad finds them completely "à point."[30] While waiting it is necessary to keep them in a shelter and our poilu will quickly finish the sumptuous dwelling for his favorites.

My comrade, busy looking around while awaiting the general, becomes interested in the conscientious labors of the man——

"Is it for them you are working?"

"Yes, captain, I am making them a wonderful P.C."

I return from Fort Douaumont and am worn out. An automobile is coming to meet me at Galavaude Bridge and I am waiting for it——

The gendarmes guarding the approaches to the bridge notice that I am fatigued. They approach me, asking if I would not like to sit down.

"Did not someone ask you if Captain Capart had returned?"

"No, captain. Wouldn't you like to come in our home where it will be more agreeable than in the road?"

I entered the home of the gendarmes. On the table, which had been set, several covers had been laid with infinite care. A pot of steaming soup simmered over a smouldering fire——

"Oh!—soup!" I cried, sniffing the air——

"If we dared, captain, we would be happy, very happy, if you would ask for a plate—or better—two plates——"

On saying these words, he lifted the lid of the kettle on the fire; then with a ladle filled the soup plate full to the brim——

The soup was excellent!

Since that day, I always regard les cognes[31] with sympathy——

To Captain Noël D——

My dear friend:

I regret that I was not able to grasp your hand to-night—I leave in a moment to join the Morocco Division——[32]

If you receive this letter, you will know I have fallen in the attack on Mont-sans-nom. Do not pity me. When I was a child, I experienced then a profound emotion in reading the lines of the Cid——

This is not the time to grow sentimental, because I have only a few minutes more—It is raining hard outside and I have builded a roaring wood fire in my room—I have burned not a few of my old papers, as you advised me——

If I am unlucky, you will find a letter which I wish you would send to Madame X—— together with some bric-à-brac and souvenirs you will find in my room——

There is also a box on which is written "Destroy in case of my death": burn it!

I wish to thank you, my dear friend, for all you have done for me since I have known you—You have been to me a devoted brother and I have for you a deep affection——

My best regards to all my comrades—I will do my duty——

Vive la France!

To Madame X——

Dear little woman:

I send you and my three little ones my last and tenderest kisses——

The weather is atrocious—The attack will begin at four forty-five this morning—I rejoin the Morocco Division immediately——

Tell my boys that I want them to be soldiers like myself——

Do not weep at my death, which is coming, it is the most beautiful end a soldier may hope for——

I thank you for having made me happy on earth: you were my first love——

I kiss your lips for the last time—When you see mother, tell her my last thoughts were of her——

What bad luck!

Every time an attack is planned it must rain. One must paddle along in the mud—and then the water runs down your neck——

As we will start before daybreak over the top, one, naturally, will stumble—we collect all kinds of sticks so that we may scrape the mud from our sleeves——

I find myself leaping over the first German lines—then, the wide open space before reaching the second position.

Our artillery has done good work, the wire entanglements are fortunately destroyed.

We leap over more trenches and boyaux—From time to time our glance is arrested by German corpses around which occasionally some of our own have fallen——

Bullets sing in every direction—machine-gun nests we have passed sputter at us from behind.

We go ahead without hesitation, but without speaking—one never speaks during these moments!

The field inclines and it is necessary to stop and pant a few instants—a circular view—prisoners hastily descend the hill, their arms raised, staggering like drunken men——

It is a nasty place to tarry any length of time—two boche machine-guns sixty yards to our right spit at us. Our advance can be effected, luckily, thanks to the deep craters our guns have made the preceding days. Day has fully broken—a fine rain is falling——

The position is as unmanageable as a runaway horse. We gain the second objective. The trench is wider than the former one and I cannot jump over it——

It is necessary to descend into the trench. I am followed by a few companions—A young German blessé is stretched out in the bottom. He is extremely young. He has curly hair and so blond that he looks like a little child——

He has been thrown in a jumble and the partially demolished trench on top—his head is twisted and his body and legs are sticking up in the air——

He makes an effort to rise. Striding over him, I see bloody froth on his lips—I heard him murmur:

"Wasser, wasser——"

With his arms and shoulders he makes another effort to get up——

One after the other we pass over the wounded boy, careful not to step on him——

The attack progresses, but I have the vision of this child continually before my eyes. I replace my revolver in the holster, and with blows of my cane I stop a crowd of prisoners we have just taken, who attempt to flee, throwing down their rifles as they go——

We have attained our last objective. Without losing an instant, we begin to organize it and get ourselves settled. At the end of a few minutes, officers and poilus commence to feel the reaction of what we have just passed through.

Everyone talks at once. We comment on the missing ones. There are several versions on the death of the friends we have seen fall——

For example, several had seen the little boche. Many remarked about his youth and his childish face—he yet breathed——

Some hours later, I could not resist—I made my way back two miles to see if he still lived——

I found without difficulty the path which will forever remain solemn in my memory. From a distance I saw the trench and the indentation at the foot of which I was sure of finding him——

He is dead! He has not changed his position, but his face is waxen. His two arms are extended with fists clenched toward the heaven he has without doubt cursed!

After having contemplated the dead boy, I retrace my route, with lowered head, to find my companions——

I had not gone fifty steps before I met, face to face, one of my comrades of the attack that morning——

"What are you doing here—you, too?"

"I come to help him out——"

"He is dead——"

"Let's go back."

It is night. What quiet after that terrible day of battle. Glorious day!

We are quartered in the German shelters—use whatever we can find to build a fire——

It continues to rain outside. We have formed a circle and discuss the events which have just passed endlessly.

In a corner of the shelter several men, lying full length on the floor, speak in a low voice. They are the colonel's messengers. I hear one who says to the other:

"I went back to see him—he was dead. I will reproach myself the rest of my life for not having helped him up this morning when we jumped over him."