Part 15

Another "poilu," a very curious sort of fellow, comes from the Champagne district, and yet another from Verdun, smoking hot with battle. One can imagine the editor inditing his poems and dishing up his article--one can almost see him doing it--with an aerial torpedo sailing overhead and all sorts of death-dealing engines threatening his plant down in the deep-sunk chamber where the joyous little herald blows his blast of good hope and perseverance to the soldiers of its circulation. These are real examples of the indomitable will of France in the most tremendous episode of her existence, hardly excepting the Revolution--for the War of '70 sinks into utter insignificance before this vast and world-wide upheaval. There is no mistaking the gay insouciant character, though sometimes the effort to cheer may go a little beyond the strict requirements. Nevertheless, these little papers are barometers of the fighting spirit of France. It is not strange to find this fighting spirit so keenly developed in the first-line trenches, for here it was tuned to the highest pitch by reason of the stress of circumstances, by reason of the close proximity of danger, by the very intoxication of that danger, and by the common spirit of heroism that comes from close comradeship; but it is significant that the same spirit existed at the rear where men were awaiting their turn for battle--the sort of waiting that is the severest test for nerves; and it is as symbols of this splendid and invincible spirit that these charming little documents have their greatest psychological importance.

In glancing through the collection of M. de la Ronciere, Keeper of the Printed Books at the Bibliotheque Nationale of Paris, one is particularly impressed by the spirit of fraternity that pervades the trench newspaper, evidence of the thoroughly democratic army of France. No journal prides itself as being the organ of a "crack" regiment. There are, in fact, no _corps d'elite_--corps that are specially recruited. In the Republican model army each regiment is placed on a footing of equality, and the tendency in all records of achievements is to keep a strict balance and to give no more glory to one unit than another. None the less, certain regiments have perforce distinguished themselves in spite of this arrangement. They have distinguished themselves because they have been in the forefront of the fighting, because they have borne the brunt of dangerous enterprises, because they have persisted in keeping alive the old traditions of the corps, traditions which arose from the fact that the men forming it came from a certain district renowned for its hardy types, and capable of an endless energy of resistance. Such a regiment is the "Chasseurs a Pied," the most famous corps of the Home Army, and popularly known as the "Chasseurs Alpins." For although the Chasseurs were used all along the eastern frontier from Belfort to Luneville, the popular mind constantly associates them with the mountains--the little thick-set men in dark blue tunics and blue Tam-o'-Shanters, skimming over the snow upon skis. These are men of the Alps and the Vosges, sturdy of limb and sound of wind, real mountaineers, courageous, resourceful and capable of endless fatigue. No unit of the French Army has suffered as much as they in proportion to their numbers. They have been everywhere where the fighting was most severe, and at Verdun they took a foremost part in resisting the colossal attack of the Germans. Although there was a Chasseur regiment under the Empire, dressed very much as were the Grenadiers, with a high fur bonnet, in their present form the corps is of comparatively recent date, and has existed only three-quarters of a century; the regimental records, however, hold some well-known names. President Poincare performed his military service in this famous corps, Bar-le-Duc being his recruiting centre, and among its officers were both Canrobert and MacMahon, the one commanding the fifth and the other the eighth battalion.

The Great War effected changes in the traditional uniform of the Chasseurs. Though they kept their dark clothes out of pride of family whilst the rest of the army--except the Moroccans, who were in khaki--adopted the horizon blue, the famous blue _beret_ (Tam-o'-Shanter) embroidered with a golden bugle was sacrificed for the steel helmet, at least for service in the trenches--that valuable head-gear which has saved probably fifty per cent. of head wounds.

One of the most picturesque elements of the French army are the Zouaves, with their blue embroidered tunic and vest and the baggy red trousers reaching to the knee, the whole surmounted by the fez. Of this gorgeous uniform the only survival of the war, alas, was the fez. The blue tunic was changed to a khaki coat, the voluminous trousers copied from the old Turkish garb became merely baggy khaki breeches. _Sic transit gloria mundi_! But if the Zouaves were deprived of their brilliant plumage, they made up for it in glory of achievement. Largely employed in storming-parties, the Germans learnt to fear the Zouaves more than any other troops, so reckless were they in their bravery and their utter disregard of desperate odds. The corps dates from the early days of Algeria, and was created in 1831, when two battalions were formed, receiving the name of "Zouaves" from the Arab _Zouaoua_, a fierce and intractable tribe of Kabyle, the best fighters of Northern Africa. The Zouaves were recruited originally from the Kabyles and Arabs of Algeria and also, a curious feature, from the hot bloods of the Paris population--an element that was introduced, because it was thought advisable to dilute the number of natives by Europeans. The blend was admirable, and the new troops performed marvels of dash and daring in those days, just after the July Revolution of 1830, when France was not sure whether she wanted her new colonies or not, and left to the Algerian administration the onus of consolidating the nominal conquest and pacifying and developing the country. One of the early commanders of the corps was de Lamorciere, a bold and dashing officer, with more than a touch of eccentricity in his composition. He spoke all the Arabian dialects perfectly, and indeed was an ideal leader for such a corps of dare-devils.

The Zouaves hold many distinguished records in French history. Under Marshal MacMahon they fought at Malakoff and Sebastopol, and the Third Zouaves went into action under the eyes of Victor Emmanuel, taking a prominent part in the capture of the bridge at Palestro, marking the victory of the French and Piedmontese over the Austrians.

The formation of the Zouaves led to the establishment of other native or semi-native corps, notably the Tirailleurs Algeriens. Since that day the conquest of Morocco has added other elements to the native army; and, particularly in the early days of the war, the French populations in the region of the Front were interested to see the picturesque figures of the Spahis, or native Moroccan cavalry, in their robes and turbans, sitting superbly their swift and strong little horses.

Later, however, the native element (which could not overcome its fear and repugnance to cannon) was largely eliminated, and the Zouaves, greatly increased from their original numbers, were mainly composed of colonials of French parentage.

But perhaps the most interesting regiment from the psychological point of view--the regiment that teems with romance and holds thousands of secrets in its ranks--is the famous Foreign Legion. Under Napoleon I the Foreign Legion existed side by side with distinctly national regiments, such as the Portuguese, the Dutch, and even the German regiments. But under Louis Philippe the two regiments that were the original force became definitely formed into a Foreign Legion. The sphere of the Foreign Legion was mainly Africa, for owing to its mixed nationality, resulting in a large diversity of sympathy, it was deemed unsuitable for European warfare. True, it was actively employed in the Crimea, and also earlier against the Carlists in Spain; but during the Crimean War there was a certain amount of desertion by elements of the corps that had Slav sympathies. Hence the Foreign Legion was mainly employed in tribal warfare, and Africa was its recognised home. Strangely diverse were its ranks--the Paris hooligan, the swindling banker, unfrocked bishops, aristocrats who had dragged their names into the dust, the discredited politician. Of the Legionaries no questions are asked, and the pseudonyms they adopt often cover the once famous names of men who have "disappeared." Rumour credits the corps with many strange tales, but it is undoubtedly true that an authentic German princeling fought with the Legion until the opening of the war, when he crossed over to Germany and used his local knowledge to great effect against his quondam friends.

At the beginning of the war the ranks of the Foreign Legion were swelled to a vast extent by the stream of volunteers of all nationalities who loved France and rushed to her succour. There were Italians, Belgians, Greeks, English, Americans, who were anxious to take up arms for the invaded country. Poles, Russians, Croates, Slovanes, Serbs, Finns, Montenegrins, and Tcheques joined. Some came to France from the uttermost ends of the earth to offer their services: Peruvians, Swiss, Argentines, Norwegians. There were German Poles and Danes from Sleswig-Holstein, Spaniards, Galicians, and Italians from the Trentino, and ten thousand Alsatians, German subjects, who had escaped. There were thus available 35,000 men, a veritable army corps. This was the figure, in spite of the rejection of a great number by the recruiting board at the Invalides. They all left for their depots four days later. These volunteers were of all ages and of all nationalities--boys of eighteen, and mature men of fifty and even more; Polish miners from the north of France; Kabyle workmen from factories in the Seine et Oise; Russian artists, international boxers (including a negro champion), famous trick cyclists, and jockeys, who had often worn winning colours at Longchamp and Auteuil. Alec Carter the well-known jockey was killed. There were also young artists from various nations at the Ecole des Beaux Arts. Prominent writers and artists, a son of Maxime Gorki, and several quite well-known poets from Central America; the son of the Russian ambassador, M. Iswolsky, and a famous pelota player, Pablo Irraguerro.

The regiment has fought splendidly at the Front, partaking all the sufferings of the soldiers, all their danger and their glory too. The force has been employed in all the grand _coups de chien_. There was the spirited address of a Captain who read out the order of the General, and then said, "Mes Enfants, we have the honour of attacking the first. Pay no heed to those who fall. If I go down, leave me; push on without thinking of anything else." Some sang the _Marseillaise_ and others their national hymns. Their conduct on that great day was sublime. They rushed fearlessly forward under the storm of shell, bayonets glittering in the sunshine of an early May morning. Nothing stops the formidable advance. They swarm over the parapet; the course commences. Their orders were to carry Hill 140, and they fulfilled their instructions. The Polish Legion was extraordinarily brave, and it saw fall at its head, brandishing the colours, Ladislas de Szuynski, son of the celebrated Polish historian. Concerning the Polish Legion there is the pretty story of a Pole who, wishing to discover whether there were Poles among the enemy, crawled on his stomach in the night to the German trenches. Once arrived there, he sang, very quietly, an old Polish song. Surprised, the German Poles lifted their heads, observed the bold singer, and allowed themselves to forget the horrors of war. When he had finished the listeners began to talk about Poland, that the Prussian kept underfoot. A Pole surely should not fight against France, who fights for Poland, insinuated the emissary. There was another song, and then, under the enchantment of the old memories, the Poles allowed themselves to be persuaded and carried over to the French trenches.

One of the principal elements of the new Foreign Legion were the Garibaldians, who showed immense fervour. They formed a part of the 10th Division under General Gouraud in the Argonne, and with them were the six grandsons of Garibaldi. Their tactics were extraordinarily impetuous, and in a three-days' fight they lost 800 men. The special corps into which they were formed was disbanded on Italy's declaration against Austria, but their valour had been such that Joffre expressed his sense of honour in commanding them.

Wherever it has fought, whether to-day or yesterday, the Foreign Legion has always left a record of valour, daring and devilry. An amusing story is recalled from Crimean days, when Canrobert stopped in front of a Legionary and asked him what sort of shoes he was wearing? Strange shoes indeed! for he had blackened his feet, having sold his boots for _eau de vie_. But episodes such as this are ever typical of a corps that sells its shoes for a little brandy, and its life for a spice of glory.

The colonial troops of the French Army were called, until a few years ago, Marine Infantry, and were attached directly to the Navy. Nowadays the system adopted is that of some regiments in the British Army; that is to say, one battalion remains at home whilst the other battalions serve in the colonies. They wear a dark blue uniform with yellow epaulettes. During the course of the war their composition became very mixed, and negroes and tribesmen from the Soudan were embodied with them. In this case also the colonial troops are perhaps less adapted to European warfare than they are to their own special field of action in the colonies against insurrectionary tribes.

A very fine corps, which covered itself with glory at Dixmude, is the Marine Fusiliers. The force retreated to Dixmude when their original mission, which was to defend Antwerp, failed, owing to the collapse of the Belgian defence. Here they held their ground with the greatest heroism for over a month, though the original plan was that they should be relieved in a few hours, and at this spot a peculiarly tragic incident took place. A second in command, a naval captain, Janiaud, went up to take the surrender of two German companies of infantry, which were surrounded by the Marines. The Germans seized the captain and kept him prisoner. The Fusiliers then opened fire, which was briskly returned by the Germans, but during the short engagement which ended in the capitulation of the enemy force, the captain was shot dead by two German officers with their revolvers. After this act of treachery, which took place in November 1914, the Marine Fusiliers swore to take no further prisoners, a resolution to which they have rigorously held in their various engagements ever since.

*CHAPTER XIX*

*THE AIRMAN IN WAR*

"Ah, monsieur, you fly like a bird!" said an admirer one day to Pegoud.

"A bird!" was the famous reply, "Les oiseaux ne savent pas voler!" ("The birds don't know how to fly!") And indeed the bird-man, soaring at immense height and incredible speed, has left the little denizen of the air far behind. The wings of the machine are rigid, it is true, but also they are tireless; and the skill of the inventor and science of the mathematician have excelled the pulsing wings of flesh and feather. A few years back--ten years ago to be exact--the birds must have tittered as they watched at Bagatelle the fearsome efforts of the ugly ducklings of the early days of aviation. On November 13, 1906, a famous date in the history of flying, Santos Dumont flew 220 metres in twenty-one seconds, that is, at the rate of nearly thirty-eight kilometers an hour. He had won the prize of the Aero Club for a hundred meters in a straight line. The experiments began at ten in the morning, but the test was not accomplished until late in the afternoon. Two enormous birds spreading their white wings of canvas--the one belonging to Santos Dumont and the other to Bleriot--lay upon the green carpet of the ground. A crowd of enthusiasts, amongst whom were some of the great names in aeronautics, such as M. Archdeacon, the Marquis de Dion, Surcouf, Louis Renault and M. Besancon, were upon the ground surrounding the two pioneers and eagerly discussing the theories of lighter than air and heavier than air--that is, the bag filled with hydrogen that floated in air, or the aeroplane which flew by its own means of engine and wings. The machine of Santos Dumont was a weird-looking thing. Some compared it with an ibis or heron as it rose into the air with its long neck outstretched and its wings spread--a strange thing like an antediluvian bird. Its planes were formed of canvas frames divided into cubes, so that at one angle it looked like a flying cupboard. The square box-like head in front was the steering apparatus. The tail of the beast was represented by the screw continually lashing its way through the air. The pioneer sat in a little cage arrangement between the planes, so that his head and body emerged and he had the appearance of riding astride. The first starts were a little unpromising. The machine rose a few inches, and then a few yards, and came to earth abruptly in each case. In three separate attempts it flew one hundred and fifty yards in all, achieving, in the third attempt, eighty yards in seven seconds. But it was not until the light was failing that the machine really rose to any height. It then flew at six metres from the ground at a tremendous rate. The airman, however, was forced to descend for fear of an accident to the crowd, which was following his movements with impassioned interest. He had won the prize of the Aero Club for sustained flight, an advance, at any rate, upon the series of leaps in the air which had passed for flight before that. It was said that the Wright brothers had flown twenty-five miles; but that was in America, and, besides, the Parisians were not very sure about it; but here in France it was the first time that mortal man had flown over the heads of humanity by mechanical means. The Bleriot-Voisin machine, though very ingenious in its construction, did not succeed that day; Santos Dumont, the little plucky Brazilian, was the real conqueror: future laurels were being reserved for M. Bleriot. The French, indeed, have pioneered in the air. The brothers Montgolfier were the first to make ascents in their balloon; and the balloon originally appeared as a military engine for observation above the battle-field of Fleurus, where the Revolutionary General Jourdan vanquished the Austrians in 1794. The dirigible is also largely the product of French invention.

One of the amazing features of the war was the rapid development of aviation after the outbreak of hostilities. In a few months only the aeroplane emerged from its experimental stage and appeared as a highly finished and accurate instrument of war. An immense stride was attained when the machine was first adapted by the French to carry cannon, which enabled the attack upon another aeroplane to be made in the horizontal plane instead of vertically, as was necessary when one machine had to mount above another in order to drop bombs or _flechettes_--one of those refinements of cruelty which the present war has produced. Incidentally, there are some who say that the German _flechettes_, launched from the skies, were of such inferior steel that they buckled up when they touched a hard object. However that may be (and we have no reason to complain of such an arrangement), weight, whether in the form of cannon or other armaments, was constantly added to the aeroplane, and the problem then arose as to the maintenance of speed. In the aerial machine, speed is the first requisite, especially nowadays when it is necessary to mount and mount, perhaps, to six thousand yards to overfly the enemy craft, be he Zeppelin or fellow airman. And a few minutes make all the difference--the difference of kilometers--in the pursuit; thus speed must always be combined with those offensive properties that are being gradually added to the battle-plane.

And a third difficulty was that of starting the machine quickly in pursuit of an enemy travelling at the great heights that are now customary--and indeed obligatory--with the development of anti-aircraft artillery. Naturally the machine even of the speedier sort loses time as it mounts spirally or in a series of inclined planes to give battles to the Zeppelin or Fokker. Would it be possible to turn the observation balloon into a sort of perch for the airman, so that he would be suspended always midway between earth and sky ready instantly (if one may suppose him able to detach himself) to fly away in pursuit of the stranger? Yet in the present stage of development such a desideratum is difficult of realisation. The airman must start from the ground or return to it every time he wants to overhaul his engine or replenish his reservoirs. That is his touch with solid realities: otherwise one might suppose him flying for days, never setting foot to earth, the modern Guardian Angel, hovering eternally in the heavens.

The aeroplane has completely revolutionised warfare, inasmuch as it has deprived strategy of its chief weapon--surprise. As the eyes of the army the aeroplane played its most important role. A light and very speedy machine is the scout, and it is his duty to make reconnaissances, report upon gun emplacements, the numbers of the opposing troops, the movements of the enemy, and the disposition of his trenches. But the aeroplanes used in warfare are not all alike. The tendency is towards differentiation, and while the scout is swift and light, the battle-plane is extremely powerful and heavily armed with cannon or machine-guns, sometimes also carrying a spur for ramming enemy craft; and again there is a third type of machine armed also for defence, but adapted principally to range-finding, and fitted with signalling and photographic apparatus; it hovers continually over the enemy lines directing artillery fire. None of the offices of the aeroplane proved more valuable than that of giving the range of enemy positions to one's own artillery, and then registering the shots, marking where they fell too short, or overpassed the mark. This is one of the most dangerous as well as the most useful of the services rendered by the man-bird. It requires great nerve, judgment, and coolness on the part of the aviator, for he must hang over the enemy trenches and expose himself to the fire of their anti-aircraft guns, the efficacity of which made rapid strides as the war progressed. The German method of signalling to the opposing batteries by means of smoke bombs with different-coloured fuses was soon improved upon by the French, who used wireless telegraphy and the heliograph by day. But the role of the aeroplane is not confined even to these important services. It becomes at times the instrument of aerial bombardment for the destruction of fortified places, military stores, railway junctions, dirigible sheds, encampments, bridges, and roads used by the military. When war broke out, the French airmen received explicit instructions not to bombard any town for fear of inflicting harm upon civilians, but the Germans were not so scrupulous, and their defiance of the dictates of humanity forced a change in the policy of their Allies, if only in self-defence.