On 27 August the Saxon Corps, the leading German infantry unit, secured the crossings of the Meuse at Dun and Stenay, destroying bridges to block the French route to Montmédy and raising hopes that they could be brought to bay on the west bank of the river. There was some concern lest the French should attack the nearest German units while Third and Fourth Armies remained separated by the densely wooded hills of the Argonne. Fourth Army, forming the weaker right wing, was accordingly cautioned not to provoke a French attack and to keep its leading units on the defensive until Third Army, the left wing, could draw level with it and complete the German concentration. By late on 27 August the German advance was threatening the French sufficiently, as we have seen, to dissuade MacMahon from attempting to continue eastwards, until Palikao’s imperative order drove him reluctantly onward.
Chapter 10
Hunter and Hunted
Nouart
On 28 August the French army clumsily resumed its eastward tack, lashed by pelting rain and all too aware that the enemy was close upon its heels. An officer of 7 Corps watched ‘Prussian scouts, posted on the hills, observing our march from a distance. They did not attack, to be sure; but there could be no misunderstanding this apparent reserve. If the enemy did not fight us, it was because as yet he had only cavalry to hand. Yet how cleverly he used it to surround us at a distance, like a net that draws tighter every moment, allowing him not to lose sight of our movements, to work on the already shaken morale of our soldiers, and to hinder our march by timely demonstrations!’1 Failly’s 5 Corps was again stalled for several hours by such demonstrations, for want of adequate protection from French cavalry.
Nor was this the only manifestation of enemy activity. In the night sky behind them the French saw a reddish glow as villages they had passed through only hours before were set ablaze. Convinced that shots fired at them by French rearguards or stragglers involved civilians, the Germans retaliated with the torch. In the dry words of the German official account, the village of Falaise ‘caught fire’ when Prussian cavalry entered it, as did Les Alleux. Next day Vonq was methodically burnt, leaving two hundred houses destroyed, seven hundred people homeless and without horses or livestock. Twenty-six villagers were made prisoner. French civilians looked in vain for their army to defend them.2
By now, a French junior officer reflected, ‘It was only too true that, thanks to indecision and lost hours, we had become an army that was marching in order to avoid fighting; and every day our troops, far from becoming battle-hardened by continual skirmishes and engagements which would have given them a feeling of strength and accustomed them to fire, were weakened by the demoralizing habit of repeated retreats.’ He believed that officers who complained about indiscipline should have tried harder to lead by example; but from them he heard more ‘Allez!’ – ‘Get going!’ than ‘Allons!’ – ‘Let’s go!’3
MacMahon’s new resolution was to drive directly east. He told General de Failly, ‘It is of the utmost importance that we cross the Meuse as soon as possible … in the direction of Stenay … We are marching on Montmédy to rescue Marshal Bazaine.’4 This plan too was modified at nightfall. Learning that the Germans holding Stenay had destroyed the bridges there, and that he had insufficient pontoons for bridging, MacMahon decided instead to cross the Meuse further north. This meant making a detour to use the bridges at Mouzon and Remilly, then following the east bank of the Meuse towards Montmédy. This would put him in the narrow corridor between the Meuse and the Belgian border, but he hoped for some measure of safety if he could put the river between his army and the Germans. Orders went out, and on 29 August the northern half of the army, 1 and 12 Corps, made better progress.
After a wretched night vainly trying to sleep with rainwater running down his neck, Dr Sarazin was cheered when the weather cleared that morning. Joining a group drying themselves round a fire, he felt ‘our Gallic spirit’ revive when someone passed round brandy and biscuit. The march of 1 Corps made a dazzling spectacle:
The sun rose and cleared away the morning mist that mingled with the smoke of bivouac fires in the valley below us. From this bluish haze we saw emerge files of cuirassiers with glittering helmets and breastplates, dragoons, lancers and light cavalry. All these regiments in bright and varied colours were in line to the right of the road and of the little town [Le Chesne], which could be vaguely discerned. To our left, heavy masses of infantry were formed up in lines under arms; they seemed to be getting into motion. In the distance we could make out the red of the Line Regiments and Zouaves, the black of the light infantry battalions and the sky-blue of the Turcos. At intervals we saw the artillery teams and the covered wagons of the hospital trains. All this unfolded as far as the eye could see in magnificent countryside broken by wooded hills, softened by the bluish mists of sunrise. What a striking picture!5
For the troops in the marching columns it was less picturesque. They struggled through a mighty traffic jam on leaving Le Chesne that morning and ran into another as they entered Raucourt that evening. There was ‘frightful disorder’ in the narrow streets of Raucourt, wrote Louis de Narcy, despite the presence of generals and officers who dined in houses ‘discussing events as if at the close of manoeuvres, without trying to prevent this dangerous situation.’6 Nevertheless, 1 Corps had covered 23 kilometres and was close to the Meuse. Lebrun’s 12 Corps had succeeded in crossing the river at Mouzon, 8 kilometres to the east.
Things had not gone so well for the two southerly French corps. On the night of 28 August MacMahon had entrusted orders to them for the change of direction northwards to a single staff officer. By ill omen, he was Captain George de Grouchy, grandson of the marshal whom Napoleonic loyalists blamed for the loss of Waterloo. Grouchy delivered the orders to 7 Corps safely but then, taking a wrong turn in the dark forest, was captured by German cavalry. He had on him the orders for General de Failly and other important documents.
French changes in direction on 28 August, together with poor visibility in the mist-shrouded hills, had caused the Germans some uncertainty. With these captured orders, however, Moltke would learn the enemy’s intentions and direct his columns accordingly.
Failly’s 5 Corps continued its eastward march towards Stenay on 29 August under the previous day’s orders, unaware of the change of direction and now separated from 7 Corps. In early afternoon, while crossing the marshy valley of the Wiseppe, it collided with the leading division of XII (Saxon) Corps of the German Fourth Army pushing forward from the Meuse. Germans posted near Nouart greeted the French with infantry and artillery fire which was alarmingly accurate, though luckily for the French many shells ploughed harmlessly into mud. French shells, by contrast, fell short or exploded prematurely. Failly deployed most of his men along high ground, and for a while there was heavy skirmishing, coming to bayonet-work in places, resulting in 257 French and 363 German casualties. Neither commander, however, wanted a major engagement, being uncertain of the other’s strength. Though Failly had superior numbers, he was content to stand off the German threat. In late afternoon MacMahon’s aide-de-camp reached him with a copy of the orders he should have received that morning. After dark Failly had decoy campfires lit to deceive the Germans, then withdrew his men northwards.
After days of marching, lack of sleep and false alerts, his troops were at the end of their tether. The night was dark, the roads glutinous, and the march through woods halting and beset with difficulties. Hunger and thirst added to the men’s fatigue, and many fell out to sleep by the roadside. After a seemingly endless night, the 17,000 men of 5 Corps slumped down around the village of Beaumont, 12 kilometres north of Nouart. The last units did not arrive until after daybreak. Everyone was so dog-tired that little attention was given to posting sentinels to guard the camp.
Beaumont
General de Failly was still abed when Marshal MacMahon visited him at Beaumont early on 30 August. Disappointed that Failly could give him no accurate estimate of the forces he had encountered the previous day, before depar
ting MacMahon urged him ‘not to lose a moment’ in marching on to cross the Meuse at Mouzon.7 However, Failly judged that his weary men were in no condition for an early start, and that it was better to wait until his wagon-train arrived and rations could be issued that morning. His men needed time to cook and to clean their gear and rifles, which needed attention after all the rain and mud of the past week. Although his troops were spread out in a hollow which was a poor defensive position, there was no expectation of a fight that day. They would start northwards for Mouzon in the early afternoon. The meagre information Failly had about the Germans confirmed his assumption that he had not been pursued. Little credence was given to farmers who came in throughout the morning bearing tales of masses of Prussians in the woods to the south. Madame Bellavoine, who ran a nearby orphanage, eluded a German sentry who shot at her to make her way to Beaumont to warn of an imminent attack. Like most of his officers, Failly was lunching in the village when she was ushered in to see him about midday. He listened politely while she showed him on a map where the Germans were, but reassured her with the words, ‘My good woman, that is impossible.’8
From the latest reconnaissance and the captured orders, Moltke knew that the French sought to cross the Meuse that day, and he planned to attack them while they were still on the west bank. To achieve the junction of his forces, his orders called for his left wing, Third Army, to make an early start and to advance towards Le Chesne, with the two Bavarian corps on its right bearing towards Beaumont to support Fourth Army. Fourth Army itself would start a little later and drive north towards Beaumont. When Crown Prince Albert of Saxony briefed his corps commanders that morning, he cautioned them to wait until everybody was in line before launching an attack.
Fourth Army moved up the difficult forest roads in four columns, with Gustav von Alvensleben’s IV Corps in the van. As its leading division approached the edge of the forest south of Beaumont, scouts reported large French camps ahead. There seemed to be no sentinels, and the French could be seen wandering at ease in their shirt-sleeves in the sun as smoke rose from their cooking-fires. It was too good an opportunity to let slip. The German commander had his men deploy quietly for action, but as they did so a stir in the nearest French camp indicated that the alarm might have been given. Alvensleben now arrived and ordered an immediate attack. At a range of 700 metres, his artillery opened fire at about half past twelve.
The first shells caused mayhem in the French camps. Men were struck dead in their tents or as they pulled on their uniforms. Horses were killed tethered to their picket ropes. There was indescribable confusion in Beaumont as men, horses, wagons and artillery caissons careered pell-mell up the road to Mouzon. Amid this panic-stricken mob Dr Léon Moynac felt a shell explode very near him. Dazed, his eyelashes singed, his vision blurred, choking on powder and smoke, it took him a moment to realize that he was not wounded, and that the blood on him was from the smashed thigh of a soldier who clutched it in agony. To his left, men and horses ran over an officer whose side was split open. As shells and solid shot smashed into roof tiles, walls, and the crowd, Moynac saw ‘shreds of human being hurtling through the air, and sprays of blood gushing like lava spouted by a volcano. A great howl rose from this throng, a groaning sound made up of cries of pain, moans and curses. These terrified, unthinking, maddened soldiers rushed up the road to Mouzon …’.9
This panic was only part of the picture for, after a moment’s shocked silence, enough French troops rallied to put up a fight. Seizing their stacked arms and steadied by their officers, they greeted the oncoming Prussians with punishing rifle fire. Some regiments advanced and even managed disjointed bayonet charges, while within a short time artillery and mitrailleuses opened fire on the Germans from high ground behind their infantry. Alvensleben’s men took heavy casualties as they advanced, but the sound of cannon brought fresh troops hurrying to their aid. To their right, the Saxons of XII Corps struggled up over clogged roads and muddy streams. On the left, the approach of the Bavarians of I Corps was heralded by their artillery. As more and more men and batteries came into line, the advantage tilted in the Germans’ favour. Although the French put up a contest, they were unable to recover from their initial disadvantage, and by 2 p.m. had been pushed out of Beaumont and were retreating northwards.
Off to the west, General Douay’s 7 Corps was approaching Stonne, with German patrols nipping at its tail. His troops had started early that morning to try to make up for their slow progress the previous day. When Douay heard the cannonade he rode up a hillock, from which he watched a semicircle of German fire driving 5 Corps from Beaumont. In contrast to German commanders, who marched automatically towards gunfire, Douay resolved to continue his march north-eastwards. The Marshal’s injunction to him that morning, to hasten to cross the Meuse ‘at all costs’, rang in his ears. ‘If you don’t get across the Meuse this evening you will have 60,000 Germans to deal with,’ MacMahon had warned.10 Douay later claimed that he had been too far away to help 5 Corps, adding that no change of orders came from MacMahon. He feared an ambush if he tarried. In any event, he marched away from Failly.
As he did so, however, one of his six infantry brigades, including many raw reservists, strayed too far east because the staff officer posted at a crossroads to direct it had disappeared. This brigade, escorting the baggage train, continued down the road to Beaumont, right into the path of an oncoming division of General von der Tann’s I Bavarian Corps. In the ensuing fight the French brigade was taken in front and flank and reduced to a horde of maddened fugitives, leaving its commanders dead or dying. Encountering the fleeing survivors, Douay abandoned all hope of crossing the Meuse at Mouzon and directed his corps northwards towards a safer crossing.
Meanwhile, Failly had withdrawn from the high ground north of Beaumont under German pressure. Contact between the armies was briefly broken, but once the Germans had reformed their columns they pressed the pursuit. A running fight lasted all afternoon as the French defended every hill and copse between Beaumont and Mouzon, 8 kilometres to the north. Eventually the Germans drove them from every position, and by 5 p.m. were fighting for the last high ground south of Mouzon.
As Failly fought to hold the Germans at bay while his men crossed the Meuse, he at least got help from 12 Corps, which was stationed on the east bank at Mouzon. Grasping the seriousness of 5 Corps’ plight more quickly than MacMahon, General Lebrun took the initiative in sending some of his troops and artillery back to the west bank to bolster Failly’s line. He also had his artillery fire at the enemy from across the Meuse. This intervention, combined with the difficulties of the terrain, stalled the right flank of the German advance. On their left, however, they broke through, forcing the French off Mont de Brune, the last anchor of their line. In desperation Failly ordered the 5th Cuirassiers to charge. They did so, with the usual heroic futility. Firing at will, German infantry emptied over one hundred saddles, stopping the cavalry in its tracks at no loss to themselves. Some fleeing troopers tried to swim the Meuse, only for men and mounts to be lost in its waters.
German artillery wrought havoc among French troops thronging to escape over the stone bridge at Mouzon. Whatever his failings as a commander, Failly showed personal courage in holding together a last-ditch defence. As darkness fell there was fierce fighting in the Faubourg de Mouzon – that part of town lying west of the Meuse. It raged around the church, in the cemetery, in gardens and house-to-house, while fires illuminated an infernal scene of streets littered with corpses of men and horses. Finally, most of the surviving French got over the bridge, which was kept covered by mitrailleuses to prevent any German pursuit. In the early hours of the morning remnants of a rearguard regiment, the 88th under Colonel Demange, boldly tried to rush German lines and cross the bridge. Of 223 men who made the attempt, 98 got through, the rest being killed, wounded, drowned or taken prisoner. Demange himself was mortally wounded.
Beaumont had been a calamity for the French. Losses reached 7,500, of whom 4,700 were from 5 C
orps and 2,000 were unwounded prisoners. Forty-two cannon and great quantities of material had been lost. The Germans counted 665 dead, 2,717 wounded and 182 missing, for a total of 3,564.11
Moltke had caught the French army while it was straddling the Meuse and had mauled it severely: 5 Corps was crippled. Yet, for all the vigour and competence of German operations, he had not succeeded in surrounding the French or preventing their passage of the river. Third Army on the left had not been far enough forward to crush Douay, much to King Wilhelm’s frustration. ‘The King was very impatient,’ noted one of Moltke’s officers, ‘just as on 18 August. It all goes too slowly for him, and in his enthusiasm he forgets that a real battle does not happen as quickly as a manoeuvre.’12
That night, indeed, Douay’s 7 Corps was still on the west bank. Continuing northwards to avoid being caught up in Failly’s disaster, he made for Remilly. It was here that Ducrot’s 1 Corps had crossed that day, some of his men amusing themselves with an impromptu ball in the meadows with local girls while they waited their turn to cross. The fun had ceased when the rumble of gunfire from the south was heard and Prussian scouts appeared on the horizon.13 Like Douay, Ducrot considered that his duty was to get across the river without allowing himself to be detained by rearguard fighting. Thus he devoted his attention to bridging operations and pushed his leading units onward towards Carignan. When Douay’s column reached the riverbank it was growing dark, but the last of Ducrot’s men had still to cross, together with Bonnemains’s cavalry. Douay waited in acute anxiety, aware that the Germans would be upon them if he did not get all his men over by dawn. The river was high, and the planking of the pontoon bridge was awash. One of Douay’s staff watched as Bonnemains’s troopers crossed:
Sedan 1870- The Eclipse of France Page 19