Part 16

About two miles to the south-east I saw a French brigade with six batteries of artillery, moving forward, formed for attack in their conventional manner. The guns came into action to the eastward, and almost at the same moment the Prussian divisional batteries also unlimbered, but the French found their range first, and so occupied the attention of the Germans that the infantry this time passed unscathed down the same slope which, on the other flank, had proved so disastrous to them. It was now evident, from the form of the ground, that the two infantries would butt up against each other at about two hundred yards, and victory would probably fall to the side which was quickest ‘on the drop,’ as the Americans say. Both sides were rapidly approaching one another, the Prussians still in line of company columns, the French in a dense line of skirmishers. Presently the former ‘front formed line,’ their drums began to beat, and the whole advanced in ‘parade march,’ dressed as on the passing line. Suddenly, and simultaneously, the French line dropped to the ground, the Prussians halted and came to the ready; for a moment they stood motionless. Then the French, finding, I suppose, that on the ground, they could not see, sprang to their feet, and that instant there was a glint of light along the line as the rifles came to the present, and the next second the scythe of death swept over the French, and they fell in swathes. But the Prussians began to fall too, and the French supports were closer at hand, and fed the fighting line more rapidly, but their fire was not equally in hand. I could hear the Prussian volleys and mark the course of each distinctly. For five minutes the struggle raged—the roar of musketry was deafening—but above it I again caught the beat of the drum, and saw the second Prussian line advancing. When it was almost close on the first, the shrill whistles sounded, the fire partially ceased, and, headed by their officers, the whole sprang forward with a rush. But the French did not give; their reserves, too, were close at hand in company columns; the fighting line rallied on these, and all dashed forward together. But no bayonet encounter followed. Both sides halted at about thirty paces, and again the magazine fire blazed out, telling on the French clumps much more rapidly than it did on the Prussian line—for a single bullet pierced ten or a dozen bodies. Then presently the French masses became ragged towards the rear—they bagged outwards like sacks, and began to move with increasing speed down the hill, and at this moment two squadrons of divisional cavalry, who had slipped out between the guns and the infantry, swept down on them from flank to flank.

They probably did not do much damage, but they separated the infantries—and a number of French batteries now appeared on the further hill, and compelled the Prussians to fall back also.

The artillery duel now began again—but lasted only a short time, for the French evidently only meant to break off the fight, and as soon as the wreck of the infantry were in safety, the firing ceased, and the guns withdrew.

The Germans were in no condition for immediate pursuit. They had to wait for the remainder of the corps to close up, and to rally the cavalry.

It was now about 11.30—and to the eastward on the high ground overlooking the Aisne about Vouziers we could see the flashes of a long line of guns, and in the plain below dark masses of troops.

About four we moved forward, and about six bivouacked near a place called Dricourt, whence I write this. I learn that our scouts discovered a whole Corps moving down on our flank this morning from St. Remy, but about 10 A.M., hearing presumably of the result of the action at Vaux, they bent off southward, and are evidently now on our front. It appears the French Corps we fought to-day came on with one division deployed for action on its left, a brigade in echelon on the right. The corps artillery between the two and the remaining brigade in reserve. Where the cavalry was we do not know.

Another French corps was defeated about Vouziers. So we have the wreck of two Corps, and the whole of one for certain, in our front for to-morrow, for our outposts are in contact along the whole line. How many more we may find I cannot tell, but we are two days clear ahead of their calculated mobilisation, and these two days’ fighting must have seriously deranged their plans.

The men are rather sober; they have seen death for the first time, and the slaughter caused by our new shells is most horrible to look at. Besides, only few of them were engaged in the actual fighting line, and the remainder do not yet know from experience the intensity of the passion for blood which seizes them when once they have taken active part in the slaying.

It has been a wise measure to let the massed bands play to-night, and I have never experienced anything more moving than the sound of the last great hymn, sung by all the men, with which the ‘Zapfenstreich’ winds up.

THE BATTLE OF MACHAULT.

GREAT GERMAN VICTORY.

(_From our Special Correspondent with the Germans._)

DRICOURT, _May 11_.

The gunners were moving long before daylight, and I went with them. Dawn was just breaking when we reached the summit of the rolling ridge which marks our front, and we could still see signs of bivouac fires burnt low on another and almost parallel wave some 2000 to 3000 yards to our front. The bottom of the hollow is steeper and we cannot see into it, but they tell me our Infantry are down there.

Our position faces N.N.W. by S.S.E., so again we shall have the sun at our backs. Some of our guns are entrenched, and I notice the intervals between them are wider than usual, probably, as before, to ward against the melinite shells.

Of our strategic position all I know is that we have a Corps on either flank, and two within supporting distance—what the 2d Army is doing I don’t know.

* * * * *

VOUZIERS, _May 12_.

I was obliged to break off my dispatch abruptly, owing to the sudden development of events. I had just written the last line when the first gun went off about ten minutes before sunrise, and for an hour an incessant roar of artillery raged. The French shot well, but the sun in their eyes gave them never a chance.

I had now time and daylight enough to look round. Our troops were all carefully under cover at least 2000 yards to the rear, mostly in rendezvous formations, waiting. Of the enemy I could only see his guns, and when the sun rose high enough, one could distinctly make out the line of an entrenchment just at the break of the long slope into the hollow. Even then I might not have noticed it but for the indiscretion of its occupants, who would keep moving about. It may have been about six o’clock when I saw, out of the hollows away to the rear, three great columns rise up, which proved to be six batteries of Artillery each. They trotted forward, forming line to the front, and then I realised that I was at length about to see a real Napoleonic battle, the blow to pierce the centre or fail.

Nearing the outer edge of the zone, where the splinters of bursting shells meant for us began to be dangerous, the gallop was sounded, and the whole eighteen batteries dashed forward in superb form. Our guns increased their fire to the utmost extremity, shrouding the enemy’s front in the smoke of their shells, and then ceased for a few moments as the new arrivals passed through the intervals, resuming it again as soon as they were clear, and maintaining it at this extreme rate till it was seen that the others had unlimbered and were ready to take their part in the action at a range of about 1500 yards. This move brought them, however, to within 1000 yards of the enemy’s advanced Infantry, and we saw many drop; but our own advanced posts had been reinforced by small driblets, too insignificant to attract the enemy’s artillery fire, and these with the aid of a few guns that could now be spared soon took the edge off the French Infantry fire.

In fifteen minutes or less, the effect of these eighteen fresh batteries was plainly apparent; to stay where they were meant for the French gunners annihilation, and that was not their business, and presently we saw their teams come up by alternate batteries. In the crowd of men and horse thus assembled our shells made terrible havoc, and probably not one-third of the guns were successfully withdrawn. Then the whole power of our sixty batteries was turned on the Infantry, and we had the ‘defender’s dilemma’ before us. He could not retire his Infantry up the slope, for that meant beginning the action with a retreat; and he could not leave them there unsupported, for that would mean annihilation; his only chance was to move troops down the slope to reinforce them—and presently we saw them coming. Then a repetition of yesterday’s slaughter began.

Had we known for certain what was going on out of our sight, we might have been content to let the foe bleed himself to death in these fruitless efforts; but we did not, we could only guess that he would be moving forward his reinforcements of all arms with all haste, and our game was to crush what was before us as quickly as might be.

Our Infantry were now rapidly coming up, the two divisions side by side, the brigades of each in the same order, with their regiments each one behind the other. The leading regiment had two battalions in first line and one in support, and the foremost battalions, each two companies in front and two behind, in company column. As the troops approached our guns they formed line and came forward, their drums beating, with the strictest possible discipline, for the bullets were flying in showers overhead, and men were constantly dropping.

The lines went down the slope with about 500 paces between them, and as the leading one reached the advanced posts, the latter rose, and, with a cheer, dashed down into the hollow, where they found shelter for a moment in the dead angle at the foot of the slope. Our gunners now turned their fire on the Infantry trench for a few moments with high explosive shells, and then the whole crowd of men in the hollow rose and rushed it at the point of the bayonet, clearing it in a moment and pursuing beyond. Then came the turn of the French, and gallantly they availed themselves of it. Our rapid advance had masked our guns, the French falling back before it had been taken up by their supports, and now having only Infantry to deal with, the whole of them turned and came on again.

It did not come to cold steel, however, for again both sides stopped and blazed into each other with magazine fire and astounding inaccuracy. The air above our heads seemed alive with bullets—but our reserves were coming up under cover, and those of the French moving down hill caught many of the missiles that flew too high. Soon, perhaps in five minutes, the whole body, both assailants and defenders, began to move slowly up the hill, the movement never ceasing till our Infantry reached the top. Our Horse Artillery, followed by our Divisional Cavalry, galloped forward in support. What happened for the next few minutes I am unable to state from observation, for I, too, was moving across the valley, and looking for a reasonably secure spot from which to see further. I found one at the junction between two French Corps, where a copse came right up to the edge of their line—both Corps being hotly engaged in front had wheeled inwards a little towards the centre, and there was a gap of some 500 yards, and not a soul on the look-out. From here I could take in the whole situation. To the south-eastward guns flashing and heavy masses of troops showed the battle extended for miles beyond the left of our corps, and south-west of us I saw at least thirty French batteries in line along a low crest that ran about parallel to the ridge we had now reached, whilst up the slope towards us, but from our left front, a whole French Division of Infantry was moving towards their comrades on the hill already hardly pressed, from whom they were yet about one thousand yards distant.

Their guns were still silent, for their Infantry masked their view, and it was fortunate for our battalions that they were so, for the fight for the moment was stationary, and we were only just holding our own.

For some moments it continued so, and the effect to the spectator was very curious. The air was so filled with the roar of musketry that it seemed to come from nowhere in particular. There was nothing, in the absence of all smoke, to connect it with these two long lines of men, whose rifles spasmodically rose and fell. Along the front of the French, owing, I suppose, to the angle at which I saw them, a row of little blue sparks scintillated like the spark discharge from an electric brush, and over both there lay a blue-grey mist which gave a curious mirage effect to the whole. The shooting must have been vile on both sides, for according to practice-ground results, thirty seconds should have sufficed for mutual extermination; but, though men fell fast, the net result appeared wonderfully small.

This may have lasted some three minutes, but it was impossible to keep the run of the time, and then above the roll of the musketry I caught the beat of the drums, and a reinforcing line, closed and in perfect order, came over the brow to our assistance. The sight of these closed lines was enough for both sides; the French gave way, and our fighting line dashed forward. But only for some 300 yards or so, for again French reinforcements brought the movement to a check. And now the French Artillery opened fire on our following lines, and we had a taste of what it means to come down hill in the sweep of shrapnel.

Our gunners were, however, quickly on the spot. They had been waiting behind till room was made for them, but till they picked up the range our losses were terrible, and I think that that following line must have lost a larger percentage than any other troops this day.

The French fighting line was now sagging to the rear, and their last reinforcement—a still intact division—was yet some 500 yards away from them, when I noticed a couple of cavalry officers pass close to where I stood in the copse, take in the whole scene at a glance, and gallop away.

I knew then what was coming; it would be the death stroke if given in time, before the fresh French Infantry had actually joined the fighting line. These were now not 300 yards away from their comrades when the first squadron passed me galloping straight down the hill in column of troops. The first squadron no sooner had its last troop clear of our Infantry front, than it wheeled into line, and went right at the flank of the French, who attempted to fall back to meet it, but gave way at the last moment and ran right back on the reinforcements, and pell-mell fugitives and pursuers crashed right into the angle of these fresh troops. The second squadron followed, then a third and fourth. The confusion became indescribable, and now by the same track an endless succession of squadrons began to emerge, for the first arrivals had been only the Divisional regiment, and two whole fresh Cavalry Divisions were now to follow. On the French side, too, a Cavalry Division appeared coming out through the line of guns in line of squadron columns, and a cavalry duel was now imminent.

There was not much time on our side to prepare for it. The first regiment of the leading Division joined in the charge on the Infantry, but that blow sufficed, and the whole mass began to break up and fall to the rear with increasing velocity. The remaining squadrons, as they arrived, formed line to the front, and awaited the arrival of their fellows.

As soon as the 1st Division had completed its formation, it trotted forward to meet the enemy, who were now only some 800 yards distant. Both sides were suffering from Artillery fire, and there was no room for manœuvre. The gallop and charge were sounded simultaneously, and the shock took place all along the front; but the German files were not closed as well as on former occasions, and the two lines fairly threaded each other, then wheeled about by troops, and went for one another again. Then a closed, locked, _mêlée_ arose, and the fight became stationary. But our 2d Division was now rapidly arriving, and its leading brigade delivered a shock which set the mass in motion towards the French guns. Then another brigade was sent in, and this fairly started it on the run, and in a few seconds the whole confused mob of over 6000 horsemen was flying in wild confusion right down on and over the gunners, who again tried to limber up, but were again too late.

The battle was over, the French line pierced, their last closed reserves broken, and we had a brigade of Cavalry and masses of Infantry, who had not yet pulled a trigger, in hand.

I looked at my watch, it was just 8 A.M., and I turned and rode for the nearest wire. Crossing the ground over which we had come, I was able to notice that our two divisions had both still a regiment in hand, and of the following Corps only the Corps Artillery had been engaged, so we were in ample strength for the pursuit.

THE LESSON OF THE FIGHT.

What the effect of this victory will be on the course of the war it is too soon to prophesy. It may very well prove decisive, for we have now driven a wedge right in between the French Armies, behind their eastern and northern defences, and stand with five Corps on either face of the wedge, with three more in between ready to move to the support of either. The French must either move against us by lateral roads and railways, in which case we can always meet them on a broader front, or attempt to concentrate far away to the southward, and in any case our strength is morally more than doubled by our successes. The Germans took the field with no overweening opinion of themselves. They are a modest people, as a whole, given to pessimism about themselves, and ready to believe the overdone reports as to the regeneration of their hereditary enemy that reached them through the public Press. The French, on the other hand, had again learnt to believe in themselves; their journalists, who were not going to do the fighting, had lauded them to the skies, while the nation and rank and file had believed all they were told, even if the experienced soldiers had not. They have fought with the greatest gallantry, but for the second time it has been their want of thoroughness that has ruined them. In each arm and every branch they were just a little behind their adversaries. They lost two clear days in mobilisation, and hence were strategically unready when the blow fell. Their Cavalry was brave, but not a match for the Germans in mobility, and consequently was beaten. The defeat of the Cavalry led the Infantry to blunder into a trap where no human courage could avail them, and this again entailed a concentration backward, with the obligation of standing on the defensive to await the arrival of a reinforcing Corps which came just too late; and the consequences we have seen in to-day’s fight. I do not believe the Germans have lost very heavily, though isolated bodies may certainly have done so. But the three arms played into each other’s hands so perfectly, and the arrival of the supports was so well timed, that none were ever called on for exertions beyond their strength. Such tactical handling has never been seen since Napoleon’s days. But there is this difference to note, that this time the troops have handled themselves instead of being handled by the General.

It is too early yet for a list of casualties to have been made out, but at the last moment I learn that our Cavalry yesterday lost 20 per cent. of their strength.

THE WAR IN THE FAR EAST—THE CAPTURE OF VLADIVOSTOCK.

DETAILS OF THE ENGAGEMENT.

A correspondent at Hong-Kong telegraphs under date July 18th as follows:—

Every one is engaged in discussing what we shall do with Eastern Siberia, now that we have got it. The fall of Vladivostock was so sudden, and so apparently easy of accomplishment, that it almost seems as if the Admiral, Sir Frederick Richards, and General Barker are likely to lose the credit of the success which they themselves achieved.

It is known that the 1st Battalion Leinster Regiment, together with the 1st Battalion of the 4th Goorkhas, the 21st Bombay Rifles, another Bombay regiment, and two batteries of Artillery, were dispatched to Hong-Kong from India at the very beginning of the troubles, and that they were joined there by 1000 of the finest men ever seen from Australia, with distinct orders to the Admiral and the General at Hong-Kong (who was given the military command) to operate against Vladivostock.

The _Leander_ and _Mercury_ were instantly sent to the north to reconnoitre, while the remainder of the squadron was brought to Hong-Kong, it being understood that cruisers would be detached from the East Indian and Australian stations to guard Singapore and the Straits.

Except two ships which claimed protection in the neutral waters of Japan, it was known that all the Russian squadron had retired to Vladivostock. Telegrams had further informed the Admiral that four ships from the Pacific station had been ordered to Yokohama to wait his orders.

It was frightful work getting the necessary armaments and stores on board the transports, from the intense heat prevailing; but there was much less sickness than might have been supposed, the new troops being roomily housed on board the steamers which were to take them north, and kept employed, except during the greatest heat, in assisting in all the work of preparing and loading the transports. In rather over five weeks everything was finished, and the _Archer_ and _Swift_ being left to guard Hong-Kong in the event of any stray Russian cruiser appearing, the remaining thirteen ships of the squadron, headed by the Admiral in the _Imperieuse_, who had the General with him, and convoying fifteen or sixteen transport, store, and collier steamers, sailed for Vladivostock.

The harbour of Vladivostock is one of the finest in the world. It lies east and west, and is about two miles long in those directions, while it is about half a mile wide from north to south. All over this fine space there is a clear depth of from five to nine fathoms—precisely that of greatest convenience for an anchorage. The town is situated at the north-west angle of the harbour, and the latter is everywhere overlooked by high ground, but especially from the south. The immediate entrance to the harbour is by a passage a mile and a half long and three-quarters of a mile wide, lying about N.N.E. and S.S.W., and opening into the west part of the inner harbour. This passage is formed by a peninsula not more than half a mile wide at any part, and more than three miles long. It is generally high ground, rising in parts to 300 feet. The entrance to Vladivostock is wholly covered by the large island of Kazakavitch, which measures five or six miles either way, and contains in itself the very fine and extended harbour of Novik Bay. The strait between this island and the mainland, which must be entered to pass into Vladivostock Harbour, narrows gradually, but with much indentation and many anchorages, to the west entrance, formed between the Shkota Peninsula before described, and the island. At this point it is only about one-third of a mile wide, and the north shore is the end of a very narrow, sandy spit, about a third of a mile long.