CHAPTER SIX.
WOUNDED.
The stupendous events of the war rushed on with startling rapidity.
The invasion of France, in retaliation for the projected invasion ofGermany, was now an accomplished fact; and, day after day, the Teutonhost added victory to victory on the long list of their triumphantbattle-roll, almost every engagement swelling the number of Gallicdefeats and lessening the power of the French to resist their relentlessfoe, who now, with iron-clad hand on the throat of the prostratecountry, marched onward towards Paris, scattering havoc with fire andsword wherever the accumulating legions of armed men trod.
The battle of Woerth succeeded that of Weissembourg; Forbach that ofWoerth; and then came Vionville and Gravelotte to add their thousands ofvictims to the valhalla of victory. The surrender of Sedan followed,when the Germans passed on their way to the capital; but the bravegeneral Urich still held out in besieged Strasbourg, and Bazaine had notyet made his last brilliant sortie from the invested Metz. The lattergeneral especially kept the encircling armies of Prince FrederickCharles and Steinmetz on the constant alert by his continuous endeavoursto search out the weakest spot in the German armour. The real attemptof the French Marshal to break through the investing lines was yet tocome; that of the 31st of August, to which Fritz alluded in his letterto his mother, having been only made apparently to support Mcmahon as adiversion to the latter's attack on Montmedy, before the surrender ofSedan.
From this period, up to the beginning of October, the French remainedpretty quiet, the guns of the different forts lying without thefortifications of Metz only keeping up a harassing fire on the besiegingbatteries that the Germans had erected around on the heights commandingthe various roads by which Bazaine's army could alone hope to force apassage through their lines. Summer had now entirely disappeared andcold weather set in, so the Teuton forces found it very unpleasant workin the trenches when the biting winds of autumn blew through theirencampments of a night, making their bivouac anything but comfortable;while the sharp morning frosts also made their rising most unpleasantlydisagreeable; add to this, whenever they succeeded in making theirquarters a trifle more cosy than usual, as certainly would the cannon ofFort Quelin or the monster guns of Saint Julien send a storm of shot andshell to awaken them, causing an instant turn-out of the men in a bodyto resist a possible sortie. Bazaine made perpetual feints of thissort, with the evident intention of wearying out his antagonists, evenif he could do them no further harm.
The position was like that of a cat watching a mouse-hole, the timidlittle occupant of which would every now and then put out its head tosee whether the coast were clear; and then, perceiving its enemy on thewatch, provokingly draw it in again, leaving pussy angry at her repeateddisappointments and almost inclined to bite her paws with vexation ather inability to follow up her prey into its stronghold; for, the heavyartillery of the fortress so protected the surrounding country adjacentto Metz, that the Germans had to place the batteries of their works outof its range, that is, almost at a distance of some four miles from theFrench camp--of which any bombardment was found after a time to be worsethan useless, causing the most infinitesimal amount of damage in returnfor an enormous expenditure of ammunition and projectiles that had to beconveyed over very precarious roads all the way from the frontiers ofthe Rhine into the heart of Lorraine.
"Oh, that the French would only do something!" cried Fritz and hiscompanions, sick of inactivity and the wearisome nature of their duties,which, after the excitement of battle and the stirring campaigning theyhad already gone through, seemed now far worse than guard-mounting inCoblentz. "Oh, that the French would only do something to end thistedious siege!"
Soon this wish was gratified.
On the morning of the 6th of October, when the investiture of Metz hadlasted some six weeks or more--just at daybreak--a heavy, dull reportwas heard at Mercy-le-Haut. It was like the bursting of a mine.
"Something is up at last!" exclaimed one of the staff-officers, enteringthe tent where Fritz and others were stretched on the bare ground,trying to keep themselves as warm as they could with all the spareblankets and other covering that could be collected heaped overthem--"Something is up at last! Rouse up; the general assembly hassounded!"
The ringing bugle notes without in the frosty air emphasised thesewords, causing the young fellows to turn out hastily, without requiringany further summons.
Aye, something was up. The pioneers of the Seventh German army corps,on the extreme right, had mined and blown up the farm buildings ofLegrange aux Bois, close to Peltre. These farm buildings had hithertoserved as a cover to the French troops when they made their foragingsorties, but they could not be held by the Germans, for they weresituated within the line of fire of Fort Quelin; so, as may be imagined,their destruction was hailed with a ringing cheer by the besiegers. Theartillerymen in the fort, however, apparently anticipating an attack inforce of which this explosion was but the prelude, were on the alert atonce; and, soon after sunrise, they began to pour in a heavy rain offire on the German works, which the conflagration of the buildings andremoval of intervening obstacles now clearly disclosed. Wholebroadsides of projectiles from the great guns flew into the valley ofthe Moselle as far as Ars, sweeping away the entrenchments as if theywere mere packs of cards; and, presently, an onward movement of Frenchbattalions of infantry, supported by field artillery and cavalry, showedthat, this time at least, something more was intended by Marshal Bazainethan a mere feint.
Trumpet called to trumpet in the German ranks, and speedily the whole ofthe second army under Prince Frederick Charles mustered its forces inline of battle, the men gathering in imposing masses towards thethreatened point at Ars. Here the 61st and 21st infantry regiments,which were on outpost duty, were the first: to commence hostilities,rushing to meet the French who were advancing from Metz. Aided by thebatteries erected by the side of the Bois de Vaux, the Germans, after asharp conflict, succeeded in repulsing the enemy, who had ultimately toretire again under the guns of Fort Quelin, although they made avigorous resistance while the engagement lasted--only falling back onsuffering severe loss from the shower of shrapnel to which they weresubjected, besides losing many prisoners. During all the time of thisattack and repulse, Fort Saint Julien, on the other side of thefortress, was shelling the Landwehr reserve, causing many casualtiesamongst the Hanoverian legion; and, but that the men here were quiteprepared for their foe, the combat might have extended to their lines.
As it was, the expected fight, for which the Tenth Corps was ready andwaiting, was only delayed for a few hours; when, if Fritz and hiscomrades had complained of the cold of the weather, they found the workcut out for them "hot" enough in all conscience!
In the afternoon of the following day, Bazaine made a desperate effortto break through the environment of the Germans in the direction ofThionville. On the previous evening, in resisting the attack from SaintJulien, which had been undertaken at the same time as that from SaintQuelin on Ars, the French had been driven from the village ofLadonchamps, and their adversaries had established foreposts at SaintRemy, Petites et Grandes Tapes, and Maxe; and now, under cover of athick fog, the French Marshal advanced his troops again and commenced avigorous attempt, supported by a heavy artillery fire, for the recoveryof the lost Ladonchamps. Failing in this, although possibly the attackmight have been a blind, the general being such a thorough master ofstrategy, Bazaine made a dash for Petites et Grandes Tapes, annihilatingthe foreposts and hurling great masses of men at their supports. Havingoccupied these villages, the French Marshal then sent forward a largebody of troops to the right, close to the Moselle. These advanced upthe valley against the German entrenchments on the heights until checkedby cannon fire from batteries on both sides of the river, and were onlyfinally stopped by an advance in force of two brigades of the Landwehr,the men of whom occupied a position just in front of Petites et GrandesTapes.
Amongst these latter troops was the regiment of our friend Fritz.
The fighting was terrific here.
Clouds of bullets came like hail upon the advancing men, reaping theranks down as if with a scythe, while bursting shells cleared openspaces in their midst in a manner that was appalling; still, those inthe rear pressed on to fill the places of the fallen, with a fierce roarof revenge, and the needle-gun answered the chassepot as quickly as thecombatants could put the cartridges into the breech-pieces and bringtheir rifles again to the "present."
Fritz felt the frenzy of Gravelotte return to him as he gripped thesword which he now wielded in place of the musket; and, urging on hiscompany, the men, scattering right and left in tirailleur formation weresoon creeping up to the enemy, taking advantage of every little coverwhich the irregularities of the ground afforded.
Then, suddenly, right in front, could be seen a splendid line regimentof the French, advancing in column. A sheet of flame came from theirlevelled rifles, and the Fusilier battalion of the Landwehr regiment tothe left of Fritz's company were exterminated to a man, the enemymarching over their dead bodies with a shout of victory.
Their progress, however, was not to last.
"Close up there, men!" came the order from Fritz's commanding officer;when the troops hurriedly formed up in a hollow which protected them fora moment from the galling fire. "Fix bayonets!"--and they awaited thestill steady advance of the French until they appeared above the risingground. "Fire, and aim low!" was the next order from the major; andthen, "Charge!"
With a ringing cheer of "Vorwarts!" Fritz dashed onward at the head ofthe regiment, a couple of paces in front of his men, who with theirsharp weapons extended in front like a fringe of steel, came on behindat the double.
Whiz, sang a bullet by his ear, but he did not mind that; crash, plungeda shell into the ground in front, tearing up a hole that he nearly fellinto; when, jumping over this at the run, in another second he hadcrossed swords with one of the officers of the French battalion, whorushed out as eagerly to meet him.
They had not time, though, to exchange a couple of passes before afragment of a bursting bomb carried away the French officer's head,bespattering Fritz with the brains and almost making him reel withsickness; while, at the same moment, the men of the German regiment boredown the French line, scattering it like chaff, for the sturdyHanoverians seemed like giants in their wrath, bayoneting every soulwithin reach!
This was only the beginning of it.
"On," still "on," was the cry; and, not until the lost villages wererecaptured and the unfortunate German foreposts avenged did the advancecease.
But the struggle was fierce and terribly contested. Three several timesdid the Germans get possession of Petites et Grandes Tapes, and threeseveral times did the French drive them out again with their fearfulmitrailleuse hail of fire; the bayonet settled it at last, in the handsof the northern legions, who had not forgotten the use of it since thedays of Waterloo, nor, as it would appear, the French yet learnt towithstand it!
Beyond a slight touch from a passing bullet which had grazed his lowerjaw, having the effect of rattling his teeth together, as if somebodyhad "chucked him under the chin," Fritz had escaped without any seriouswound up to the time that the French were beaten back after the thirdattempt to carry their positions; but then, as they turned to run andthe Hanoverians pressed on in pursuit, he felt suddenly hit somewhere inthe breast. A spasm of pain shivered through him as the missile seemedto rend its way through his vitals; and then, throwing up his arms, hefell across the corpse of a soldier who must have been shot almostimmediately before him, for the body was quite warm to the touch.
How he was hurt he could not tell; he only knew that he was unable tostir, and that each breath of air he drew came fainter and fainter, asif it were his last.
He heard, from the retreating tramp of footsteps and distant shouts,that his regiment had moved on after the enemy; but, as he lay on hisback, he could not see anything save the sky, while each moment somestray shot whistled by in the air or threw up earth over him,threatening to give him his finishing blow should the wound he hadreceived not be sufficient to settle him.
Then, he felt thirsty, and longed to cry out for help; but, no soundcame from his lips, while the exertion to speak caused such intolerableagony that he wished he could die at once and be put out of his misery.When charging the French battalion, he recollected putting his foot onthe dead face of some victim of the fight, and he could recall thethrill of horror that passed through him as he had done thisinadvertently; now, each instant he expected, too, to be trampled on inthe same manner.
Ha! He could distinguish footsteps pressing the ground near. "Oh,mother!" he thought, "the end is coming now, for the fight must bedrawing near again. I wish a shell or bullet would settle the matter!"
But the footsteps he imagined to be the tramp of marching men--onaccount of his ear being so close to the ground and thus, of course,magnifying the sound--were only those of the faithful Gelert, who withthe instinct of a well-trained retriever was searching for his new-foundfriend. He had tracked his path over the valley from the advanced postwhich the regiment had occupied in the morning, and where the dog hadbeen kept by Fritz to watch his camp equipments until he should return.Gelert evidently considered that he had waited long enough for duty'ssake; and, that, as his adopted master did not come to fetch him, heought to start to seek for him instead, one good turn deserving another!
At the moment, therefore, when Fritz expected to have the remainingbreath trampled out of him by a rush of opposing battalions across hispoor prone body, he felt the dog licking his face, whining andwhimpering in recognition and mad with joy at discovering him.
"Dear old Gelert, you brave, good doggie," he ejaculated feebly, inpanting whispers. "You'll have to try and find a third master now!" andthen, overcome by the effort, which taxed what little strength was leftin him, he swooned away like a dead man--the last distinct impression hehad being that of seeing a bright star twinkle out from the opal skyabove him as he lay on the battlefield, which seemed to be winking andblinking at him as if beckoning him up to heaven!
His awakening was very different.
On coming to his consciousness again, he felt nice and warm andcomfortable, just as if he were in bed; and, opening his eyes, he sawthe sweet face of a young girl bending over him.
"I must be dreaming," he murmured to himself lazily. He felt so utterlyfree from pain and at ease that he did not experience the slightestanxiety or perplexity to know where he was. He was perfectly satisfiedto take what came. "I must be dreaming, or else I am dead, and this isone of the angels come to take me away!"
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