by Peter Hart
As we entered, many Belgian soldiers who were standing about surrendered. Colonel von Oven was to occupy the Citadel. As a result of the reports he received, he decided not to do this, but to take the road toward Fort de Loncin, on the north-west side of the town, and take up a position at that exit from Liège. Thinking that Colonel von Oven was in possession of the Citadel, I went there with the brigade adjutant in a Belgian car which I had commandeered. When I arrived no German soldier was to be seen and the citadel was still in the hands of the enemy. I banged on the gates, which were locked. They were opened from inside. The few hundred Belgians who were there surrendered at my summons. The brigade now came up and took possession of the citadel, which I immediately put in a state of defence.2
Major General Erich von Ludendorff, Headquarters, Second Army
The Germans were at this point in the strange position of having taken the city itself, but not the bulk of the surrounding fortifications. The forts were reduced in turn by a combination of 21 cm heavy mortars – which the fortifications had been designed to withstand – augmented from 12 August by the devastating power of the huge 42 cm mortars – which they emphatically had not. The huge mortar shells battered the forts one by one into submission. When the Fort de Pontisse, which commanded the crossings over the Meuse to the north of Liège, fell on 13 August, the gateway to Belgium swung ajar for the German First Army to begin its advance on 14 August. General Leman was trapped inside Fort de Loncin when at 05.00 on 15 August the Germans commenced a dreadful bombardment which was to continue for most of the day.
A shell wrecked the arcade under which the general staff were sheltering. All light was extinguished by the force of the explosion, and the officers ran the risk of asphyxiation by the horrible gases emitted from the shell. When firing ceased, I ventured out on a tour of inspection on the external slopes, which I found had been reduced to a rubble heap. A few minutes later, the bombardment was resumed. It seemed as though all the German batteries were together firing salvoes. Nobody will ever be able to form any adequate idea of what the reality was like. I have only learned since that when the big siege mortars entered into action they hurled against us shells weighing 1,000 kilos, the explosive force of which surpasses anything known hitherto. Their approach was to be heard in an acute buzzing; and they burst with a thunderous roar, raising clouds of missiles, stones and dust. After some time passed amid these horrors, I wished to return to my observation tower; but I had hardly advanced a few feet into the gallery when a great blast passed by, and I was thrown violently to the ground. I managed to get up, and continued on my way, only to be stopped by a choking cloud of poisonous gas. It was a mixture of the gas from an explosion and the smoke of a fire in the troop quarters. We were driven back, half-suffocated. Looking out of a peephole, I saw to my horror that the fort had fallen, slopes and counter-slopes being a chaos of rubbish, while huge tongues of flame were shooting forth from the throat of the fortress. My first and last thought was to try and save the remnant of the garrison. I rushed out to give orders, and saw some soldiers, whom I mistook for Belgian gendarmes. I called them, then fell again. Poisonous gases seemed to grip my throat as in a vice. On recovering consciousness, I found my aide-de-camp, Captain Colland, standing over me, also a German officer, who offered me a glass of water. They told me I had swooned, and that the soldiery I had taken for Belgian gendarmes were, in fact, the first band of German troops who had set foot inside the forts.3
Lieutenant General Gérard Leman, Liège Garrison
The final fort would surrender on 16 August. For all their courage, Leman and his garrison had little impact on the main advance of the German Army, which had only just completed its rail mobilisation. They may not have achieved much, but the determined resistance of the hitherto barely rated Belgian Army would act as an encouraging example to the Allies in the traumatic weeks that followed.
Plan XVII: the Alsace-Lorraine offensive
The French mobilisation had concentrated all five of their field armies in north-east France by 10 August. Plan XVII had hardly proscribed Joffre’s options, for his armies were then well placed to counter-attack northwards into Belgium, or thrust either side of the German Metz-Thionville fortress complex where Joffre believed the main strength of the German Army would be concentrated. In fact, his first operation had already been launched on the right flank, close to the Swiss border, when the First Army was ordered to send forward its VII Corps under the command of General Louis Bonneau. French troops had crossed the German border on 7 August in an effort to secure an early morale-enhancing victory on the sacred soil of Alsace. At first they met with very little resistance and pushed forwards to take the town of Altkirsch after a brief skirmish which was topped off as per the manual with a dramatic bayonet charge. They then pushed on to take Mulhouse on 8 August without further opposition. All seemed well, but this was far too weak a force to be pressing so deep into hostile territory. The German Seventh Army, commanded by General Josias von Heeringen, was preparing a counter-attack, hoping to cut off the presumptuous invaders. But then again, the French considered themselves anything but interlopers, as can be seen from Joffre’s stirring proclamation to the people of Alsace.
Children of Alsace! After forty-four years of sorrowful waiting, French soldiers once more tread the soil of your noble country. They are the pioneers in the great work of revenge. For them what emotions it calls forth, and what pride! To complete the work they have made the sacrifice of their lives. The French nation unanimously urges them on, and in the folds of their flag are inscribed the magic words, ‘Right and Liberty. Long live Alsace. Long live France’.4
General Joseph Joffre, General Headquarters, French Army
The French would not celebrate for long. On 9 August the German forces stormed back, unceremoniously ejecting the French from Mulhouse and, with no significant reserves available, Bonneau pulled swiftly back to Belfort on 10 August in order to avoid being cut off by the superior German forces massing against him. This chastening dénouement provided a somewhat cruel disillusionment to all those French Alsatians who had prematurely celebrated the relief of Mulhouse. Overall it had been a humiliating experience. Recriminations were swift and Joffre dismissed the hesitant Bonneau, who was somewhat unfairly blamed for this reverse.
Although irritated at this failure, Joffre still believed that the Germans had not committed their reserve divisions to the frontier battles. He was therefore confident that he would be facing just six, instead of the actual eight, corps in the Alsace-Lorraine area when he launched his main attack there on 14 August, timing it to coincide with the expected Russian offensive on East Prussia. He swiftly bolstered his forces on the right, creating a new Army of Alsace to be commanded by the distinctive figure of General Paul Pau, a one-armed veteran of 1870. This new army would again attack towards Mulhouse and secure the right flank. Alongside it the First Army under General Auguste Dubail would push through the Vosges Mountains and towards the Rhine, while the Second Army under General Édouard de Castelnau would advance on the left, driving towards Morhange. But this was just the first phase of Joffre’s planned assault. Once he was clear as to the line of the German assault in Belgium, he planned an attack north of Metz-Thionville striking at the weak hinge of the main German attack. As for the British, it had been reported that they would not be ready for action until 26 August and that in the first instance they would have only four infantry divisions instead of the expected six. Joffre would not wait: why would he? The British forces would be useful, true enough, but they were hardly essential in the greater scheme of things.
As before, the Germans were willing to cede ground as the French advanced across the border into Lorraine. The German Sixth Army, led by Crown Prince Rupprecht, and the Seventh Army, led by General Josias von Heeringen, were acting in accordance with the overall strategy laid down by Moltke, which aimed to suck in the maximum number of French troops. The French armies advanced up to eighteen miles in the first three days of the of
fensive: Mulhouse fell to Pau, Dubail captured Sarrebourg and de Castelnau’s men closed in on Morhange. Throughout, the Germans fought an excellent delaying battle, falling back, trying to avoid committing too many infantry units, while using artillery to inflict heavy casualties. In addition the French were beginning to experience a number of related problems that slowed and confused their advance. The armies were attacking on wide, and widening, fronts, the terrain was often difficult and, in such circumstances, it was all but inevitable that significant gaps would begin to open up between formations. There was also the failure by the French commanders to organise and maintain tactical reserves ready to counter-attack in the event of a reverse. Crown Prince Rupprecht was well aware of the opportunities that lay before him and pleaded to be allowed to go on the offensive. This was strictly contrary to the overall German strategic plan, but short-term tactical temptations overwhelmed long-term good intentions. In the end Moltke gave way and, on 20 August, a crushing counter-attack was launched against the overstretched French Second Army in the Battle of Morhange. The French artillery found themselves outranged by the heavier and better sited German guns and were generally doomed to lose any counter-battery duel. This then left their infantry prey to heavy bombardments prior to German attacks.
When the Second Army fell back in considerable confusion this uncovered the flank of the First Army and then the Army of Alsace. They, too, were forced to surrender their gains and, by 22 August, they had tumbled right back to their original start lines. By this time Rupprecht had lost sight of the overall German strategic vision and was entirely caught up in the excitement of prosecuting his own battles. He envisaged a breakthrough to capture Nancy which would thereby threaten the envelopment of the right flank of the main French forces, thus mirroring the threat to the French left flank posed by the main German advance through Belgium. Once again Moltke assented and Rupprecht launched a major offensive between Toul and Épinel. However, this time the French were in prepared defensive positions rather than straggled across the countryside – and put up a stiff resistance for four long days, thereby consuming huge numbers of German reserves with their dogged resistance. At the same time the French were able to send the equivalent of four army corps to join the battle against the main German assault through Belgium. For the Germans, this ill-considered addition to the main plan was proving very costly.
Plan XVII: the Ardennes offensive
Joffre planned a second great offensive by his Third, Fourth and Fifth Armies striking through the lower Ardennes north of Metz-Thionville to commence on 22 August. The growing awareness of the German presence marching through Belgium further north had already forced a major adjustment in the role of the Fifth Army under the command of General Charles Lanrezac. It was moved across to the north-west to take up a line along the River Sambre, ready to attack the German right wing when it appeared; that offensive intent makes it evident that Joffre still did not appreciate the extent of the threat to his own left flank. His mind was still firmly centred on the Ardennes offensive, intended to break through the German centre and threaten the flank of the German Second Army wheeling through Belgium. The Fourth Army, commanded by General Fernand de Langle de Cary, was to move on Neufchâteau in the central Ardennes, while the Third Army under General Pierre Ruffey would advance towards Virton and Metz. Here it would encounter head-on the German Fourth Army commanded by Duke Albrecht von Württemberg and the Fifth Army commanded by Crown Prince Friedrich Wilhelm, which had been pushing cautiously into the Ardennes, carefully entrenching at every pause. The series of encounter battles that ensued on 22 August were bloody affairs, complicated by the wooded hilly terrain and poor visibility caused by fog. When the French advanced they often found the Germans dug in on the forward edge of thick woods.
In a day of disasters for the French the worst calamity was that suffered by the 3rd Colonial Division at Rossignol some ten miles south of Neufchâteau. Six battalions launched successive attacks on entrenched German troops in the woods just north of the village. Much of the fighting was confused in the extreme.
We spotted some infantry in the bushes on our right; they soon fell back, running. A voice cried out from our Company, ‘Don’t shoot, they’re French!’ Lieutenant Colonel Vitart beckoned me towards him, shouting out loud, for the noise was deafening, ‘Extend to the right and at them with the bayonet!’ I return to my Company and give the command, ‘Forward the Seventh: fix bayonets!’ Followed by my four sections I entered the woods as ordered. We moved quickly, on the road near to us we can hear the bugles calling – it lifted the men – they were a superb sight. But the wood was thick and as the sections advanced at varying speeds, soon I could no longer see all of my company. We advanced 300 to 400 metres. The charge was hardly begun when it faltered under rapid fire at close range from the enemy sheltering behind earthworks. Several of the Germans wearing Silesian shakos, were standing to get a better sight of us. One of them took a deliberate aim at me – his shot struck the Sergeant at my side – but he himself fell almost simultaneously. The officers of colonial troops did not wear the kepi cover and their distinctive headdress made them obvious targets. The fighting became confused, my sections were dispersed – I could not see my No. 2 Section, I looked back and saw that the No. 3 and No. 4 Sections had not followed our advance, they were facing the road firing straight ahead. I could clearly hear the orders shouted – or rather bellowed – by the enemy commanders. I got the impression that my company was going to be split in two. A soldier came up and reported, ‘Lieutenant Fichefeux is dead!’ He was the leader of the No. 1 Section. I set off immediately to the leading section with the aim of moving them towards the No. 2 Section. But I barely had time to go a few steps before I got a bullet that hammered into the top of my left arm. The shoulder was shattered, my arm left hanging only by pieces of flesh. I fell half-fainting.5
Captain Ignard, 1st Colonial Infantry Regiment
The French poilus were obvious enough in their red and blue uniforms, but their officers stood out even more, adorned as they were with white kepis and gloves. Rossignol witnessed a terrible slaughter. Captain Ignard, although badly wounded, was in a sense lucky: the post-war monument for the 3rd Colonial Division commemorates 4,083 soldiers killed on 22 August. Their total losses are estimated at 10,500 killed, wounded and taken prisoner out of a total of some 15,000.
In these battles few people at any level of command had much idea of what was happening and for the troops on the ground it was all utterly baffling. Pre-war tactics seemed to have no impact. Bayonet charges led only to more slaughter, while calling up artillery support was often doomed to failure.
How was I to get forward in these conditions? The answer to this question was quite instinctive: I must call on the support of the artillery. I sent a note to the colonel to let him know the situation and to ask for the assistance of the artillery. At that time no officer was attached to liaise between the battalion making an attack and the gun batteries charged with supporting the assault.6
Lieutenant Colonel Pierre Lebaud, 1st Battalion, 101st Infantry Regiment
Lebaud appealed in vain as he did not get the help he needed so badly. Sometimes the gunners were too far behind, sometimes too close and caught under fire from the longer-range German guns. Whatever the reason, the infantry were often left in desperate straits.
My Company was sustaining heavy losses. Evidently its action was hampering the enemy who concentrated the combined fire of his infantry, artillery and machine guns on us. We were surrounded by a heavy cloud which at times completely veiled the battlefield from our eyes. Little Bergeyre sprang up, shouted, ‘Vive la France!’ at the top of his voice and fell dead. Among the men lying on the ground one could no longer distinguish the living from the dead. The first were entirely absolved by their grim duty, the others lay motionless. The wounded offered a truly impressive sight. Sometimes they would stand up bloody and horrible looking, amidst bursts of gunfire. They ran aimlessly around arms stretched out before
them, eyes staring at the ground, turning round and round until, hit by fresh bullets, they would stop and fall heavily. Heart-rending cries, agonising appeals and horrible groans were intermingled with the sinister howling of projectiles. Furious contortions told of strong and youthful bodies refusing to give up life. One man was trying to replace his bloody dangling hand to his shattered wrist. Another ran from the line holding the bowels falling out of his belly and through his tattered clothes. Before long a bullet struck him down. We had no support from our artillery! And yet there were guns in our division and in the army corps, besides those destroyed on the road. Where were they? Why didn’t they arrive? We were alone!8
