by Lloyd, Nick
To a certain extent the German Army was able to compensate for its manpower shortages with the lavish issuing of machine-guns and the new machine-pistols, the highly effective MP18, which had originally been designed for the stormtroopers. This meant that even though German divisions contained far fewer men than their enemies, they could still bring an impressive amount of firepower to bear on the battlefield, something that all too many Allied soldiers would have testified to. Nevertheless, heavy casualties throughout the spring and summer, combined with disease, a lack of food and desertion, meant that many units were wasting away at an impressive rate. The German official history bemoaned the ‘extraordinary’ losses throughout August and September that amounted to 230,000 men.28 Those that went into the line were frequently exhausted because of insufficient rest, which did little for their morale or fighting spirit. Indeed, so bad were the problems over manpower that even first-class assault divisions could be reduced to near-mutiny after being almost constantly engaged at the front. By the end of September, the men of 2nd Guard Division – one of the best in the entire army – was described as being ‘very dispirited’ after returning to line without time to recover. In another case, one battalion of 153 Regiment (belonging to the excellent 8th Division) even refused to mount a counter-attack, the men complaining that they had suffered heavy losses without reinforcement. These were far from isolated incidents.29
Desperate attempts were made to shore up the men’s morale. Soldiers would regularly be reminded of what would happen to them if they were taken prisoner. To give themselves up was ‘a dishonourable act equivalent to treachery’. Pamphlets issued by OHL warned soldiers that if they were captured by ‘our inhuman foe’, they would be ‘slowly tortured to death’. Should they be questioned about military subjects, they were to parry them with stock responses such as ‘I’m just back from leave’, ‘I only joined the unit a few days ago’, or ‘I’ve been sick in quarters’ and so on.30 On 6 September, General-Leutnant Curt von Morgen, commander of XIV Reserve Corps at Bapaume, issued a proclamation to his men, urging them to realize the importance of the moment and the need to fight harder in the coming days.
Up till now, owing to military reasons, we have allowed the British to occupy a devastated enemy country. In rearguard battles we have inflicted heavy losses on him. Now, however, you have taken up a strong defensive position and not one foot of ground is to be given up. The British are seeking a decision here, and the XIV Reserve Corps holds a most important part of the line. Remember, then, that you are defending your own homes, your own families, and your own beloved Fatherland, and think, too, what it would be like if the war, and with it the hordes of the enemy, entered our dear Homeland. If you stand fast, the victory, as before, will be ours. You are more than a match for the enemy, who only attacks with dash when accompanied by Tanks, and these we will destroy. Therefore, use your rifles coolly, and, with the blood of battle in your veins, use cold steel – the bayonet.
On 16 September, the officers and NCOs of 119th Division, holding the front at Pontruet, northwest of Saint-Quentin, listened to a lecture on the importance of holding their ground and how:
there can be no question of going back a single step further. We want to show the British, the French and the Americans that any further attacks of theirs on the SIEGFRIED Line will be completely broken, and that this Line is an impregnable rampart; with the result that the Entente Powers will condescend to consider the peace terms which are absolutely necessary to us before we can end this war. In other words, each step backward now means a lengthening of the war.31
Nothing is known of how the officers and NCOs took the lecture, but it was unlikely to have restored morale significantly. Feelings in the division were already poor. Like many units in Second Army, it had been almost continually engaged since the summer and had suffered heavy losses.
No matter how much faith they had in the Supreme Command, the unceasing fighting wore men down. Crown Prince Rupprecht went on leave in late August having been advised by his doctor that he needed six weeks’ rest to cure his insomnia. Owing to the continuous Allied pressure he had to cut short his leave and return.32 For General von der Marwitz, he could only wonder at the stupidity of Europe. ‘France is becoming an American colony,’ he opined. ‘England is handing over her mastery of the world to them and to Japan. If the Monroe doctrine: “Europe for the Europeans” counted, our old part of the earth would be a better place, but we are not capable of this.’33 Others wrote similarly vain expressions of disgust and fear at the state that Germany – and the world in general – had been reduced to. Rudolf Binding, an officer who was terribly weak from fever, had a dream that the Kaiser, ‘bareheaded and on foot’, came into their camp ‘to give himself up to their mercy’. He could see and feel, he wrote, ‘mysterious powers rising out of the deep’. Since the counter-attack on the Marne, he had always known Germany was finished. ‘How are we to recover ourselves?’ he would ask, but there was never an answer.34
As was perhaps to be expected, both Hindenburg and Ludendorff had no time for such musings, and they became increasingly frustrated by what they saw as the indecision and incompetence around them. General-Leutnant Fuchs, the commander of Composite Army C, which had been defeated at Saint-Mihiel, was sacked soon after the battle, and on 22 September Marwitz was removed from command of Second Army, apparently because of his failure at Amiens. Although he was awarded the Order of the Red Eagle with Oak Leaves and Swords – one of the highest Prussian decorations – he was depressed at the news. ‘Physically I am fresher than ever,’ he wrote, ‘but if one is not satisfied with my leadership, I would gladly let a better leader take my place and hope that he will achieve victories with the Second Army.’35 He was informed by the Kaiser that he would take command of Fifth Army, under the Army Group of Max von Gallwitz, in the Argonne. Only the most ruthless commanders could survive on the most important fronts and Marwitz would have to prove himself again on what had long been seen as a quieter area. But, in a wicked twist of fate, by the evening of 25 September fifteen large US divisions and seven French corps were moving into place in this sector, supported by over 2,700 guns and scores of aircraft. At that moment the US First and French Fourth Armies were ready to go, two daggers poised to plunge deep into the German flank. Far from coming to a quiet front to see out the war, Marwitz was headed straight for the biggest battle in American history.
9. Return to the Wilderness
It was a battle pursued more by ear and sense of touch than with the eye. Troops moved by dead reckoning of pocket compasses, as ships in fog.
Major-General Hunter Liggett1
26–30 September 1918
The window panes were shaking in General Max von Gallwitz’s headquarters at the medieval village of Montmédy on the Franco-Belgian border. It was nearing midnight on 25 September and the artillery barrage that would precede the Franco-American attack was in full swing, rumbling away across the forested hills on the front of Third and Fifth Armies, and making everybody anxious. For days intelligence officers had been reporting extensive movement at the front, with large fleets of trucks and lorries bringing in men and supplies, while they had counted no fewer than 380 aircraft at enemy airfields. A number of American prisoners had also fallen into German hands, revealing that French troops had been relieved from their usual positions, and that Americans were now in this sector in strength. In the last few days Gallwitz had issued final deployment orders for his reserves – and there were not many of them – and awaited developments with calmness and surety. Yes, it was true that the artillery fire might signal the beginning of a major attack northwards, but perhaps it was just a ruse, a diversion, before the Americans struck at Metz or into Lorraine, as his spies were informing him. In truth he just did not know. The Americans, it seemed, were an unknown quantity.2
Like many Prussian officers, Gallwitz had initially been sceptical that much could be expected from the United States. The American soldier, it was confidently explained
, was cowardly and weak; constantly in thrall to finance and business interests; lacking the enduring Kultur of Germany. It is true that some observers shivered in apprehension of the great, latent power of the Americans – their industrial strength, their financial power, their vast population – but these were the exceptions. Regarding the Americans, a kind of fatal amnesia ruled German hearts. Any worries were soothed with the thought that America would not be able to fight; that her large German communities would hinder the war effort; that it would take years for them to marshal their strength. In short, it was not Germany’s fault and it would probably not matter. The key thing was to win the war in the meantime. Yet, over the course of 1918, Gallwitz was forced to reconsider his earlier dismissal of American capability. Saint-Mihiel had been a warning. Now, on the Meuse–Argonne front, it looked like something much bigger was taking place.
Gallwitz was one of the most well-respected and experienced commanders in the German Army. He had first seen action in 1870, commanding an artillery battery during the Franco-Prussian War, and had served almost everywhere since: Belgium, Galicia, Serbia, the Somme. He knew as well as anyone what his troops were up against and what would happen should the Allies attack. It would be like the Somme again: the endless, ravaging bombardments; the thin lines of infantry moving forward, fear masking their faces; the shocked German defenders doing whatever they could to hold their lines against the seemingly unstoppable forces ranged against them. His Army Group could muster little more than 190,000 men, strung out along a vast front with too few reserves immediately available. Fifth Army in particular was weak. It was situated north of Verdun, had lost heavily in the summer, and had much of its infantry and artillery stripped from it at Saint-Mihiel. It consisted of just seven divisions, many of which had only nine battalions. The ground and defences in their sector may have been strong, and would certainly present any attacker with major obstacles, but given enough time and willpower, not to mention the growing firepower the Americans could muster, they would get through. The important thing was to hold on for as long as possible.3
In the days after Saint-Mihiel, the US First Army began to concentrate northwest of Verdun, relieving the French Second Army along a section of the line between the Meuse and the Aisne rivers. They moved into difficult terrain. On their left lay the Argonne forest, a nightmare of thick woodland, hidden defiles and thin, winding tracks. In the centre the country was more open, with scattered woods and hills, but it was dominated by the forbidding rise of Montfaucon, bristling with defences and an ideal observation point from which to spy on any attacker. On the right, the dominating heights on the far bank of the Meuse also allowed oblique fire to be directed on any Allied advance. No one liked the ground, particularly in the Argonne, but it was in a position of great strategic significance (‘second to none on the Western Front’, Pershing had said), guarding the southern flank of the great German bulge into northern France. All supplies for the German armies ran through two rail systems, one in the north at Liège and the other in the south from Carignan to Mézières. This latter section was critical to German survival. The newly appointed commander of Fifth Army, General von der Marwitz, described it as their ‘most vital artery’ on the Western Front, and if this could be severed, the war would be over.4
For those American soldiers who knew their history, the one battlefield that the Meuse–Argonne was reminiscent of was the Wilderness of 1864. During this battle – one of the worst of the Civil War – General Robert E. Lee’s outnumbered Confederate forces had engaged Ulysses S. Grant’s Union Army in the tangled undergrowth of the Wilderness, Virginia, using the terrain to mask their inferiority in men and artillery. Because the ground was so poor, commanders found it difficult to coordinate their units effectively, meaning that combat often degenerated into scattered groups of men becoming lost in the trees, struggling to catch sight of a hidden enemy that was seemingly everywhere. It would be even worse in 1918 as the attackers attempted to cross ground that had been held by the German Army for four years. Since then they had constructed an elaborate series of defences with scores of dug-outs, blockhouses, connecting trenches and switch lines, all covered by thickets of rusting wire. One doughboy remembered seeing ‘acres of barbed wire’ and crossing ground that had been so torn up by shellfire that it ‘resembled the turbulent waves of a stormy ocean’.5 From no-man’s-land to the German rear line, there were four main fortified systems within just eleven miles, meaning that nowhere on the Western Front was there as dense a defensive system as here. Perhaps inevitably, this sector had been quiet for some time, with many French commanders regarding military operations here as nothing short of suicidal. For Pershing, although he was still upset at abandoning Saint-Mihiel, he recognized that if his troops could punch through the German line and drive north, a great victory would be gained and the war would surely be over; the final and irrevocable proof of the superiority of American aggression and the wisdom of an independent army.
Pershing’s plan was simple. After an intensive, but brief, artillery bombardment, three American corps – perhaps as many as 375,000 men – would drive north towards Mézières, aiming for a complete break in the enemy line in the centre at Montfaucon. They would be assisted by the French Fourth Army, which would jump off on the left of the Argonne forest, and by their swift advance compel its evacuation, hopefully without getting bogged down in it. First Army orders stated that the line Stenay–Le Chesne–Attigny–Rethel would be the main objective for the day, thus clearing the thick belt of enemy defences and turning the River Aisne.6 Unfortunately, many of Pershing’s most experienced divisions had been employed at Saint-Mihiel, meaning that they would be unavailable for the start of the battle. Instead, the main assault would be entrusted to Major-General George Cameron’s V Corps, comprising 79th, 37th and 91st Divisions, none of which had much battlefield experience. Yet these troops, men from Maryland and Pennsylvania, all the way to Ohio and the Pacific Coast, would have to storm some of the toughest positions in France, maintain their cohesion, and – above all – keep going. As Pershing knew only too well, any delay could be fatal.
Good logistics and smooth planning were central to Pershing’s plan. The task facing First Army’s planners was not only unprecedented, but was also taxing in the extreme: how to move a vast army in secret from one part of the front to another and keep the men supplied, equipped and ready to launch a subsequent offensive. The man behind the plan was George Marshall, assistant to Pershing’s Chief of Staff, Hugh Drum. Marshall was a supremely gifted staff officer with a ruthlessly logical and balanced mind, although he did admit that the news of the shift to the Meuse–Argonne ‘disturbed my equilibrium’ as he racked his brains trying to think how it could be done.7 Transport was the major problem. There were only three routes between Saint-Mihiel and the Argonne, one of which was in German hands. All movement had to be made at night – not an easy task given the primitive state of the roads in this part of France. Many of the horses attached to artillery batteries were already exhausted, which played havoc with their movement schedules. Troops had to march across the rear zone of those units involved at Saint-Mihiel while that battle was still going on and, at the same time, large numbers of French units also had to shift eastwards to join Fourth Army, which would cover Pershing’s left flank. It was like learning to swim after being thrown in the ocean.
Given the lack of experienced staff officers within First Army it was something of a minor miracle that the move was accomplished at all. In just two weeks, 500,000 men, 2,000 guns, 90,000 horses and up to a million tons of supplies were moved from Saint-Mihiel to the Argonne, a distance of over sixty miles.8 American troops were marched and bussed to the front and then filtered quietly and secretly into the lines. Officers and scouts borrowed French greatcoats and helmets (to maintain the ruse that the French were still in the line) and peered into no-man’s-land, urgently trying to familiarize themselves with their new sectors before the attack went in. One scouting party from 77th Divisio
n was led by Major Charles Whittlesey, accompanied by his three lieutenants. Their French guides could not stop laughing when Whittlesey tried to squeeze into his borrowed overcoat, which had obviously been taken from a small man. Whittlesey was over six feet tall.9 Undeterred they crept out of their trenches, down a valley and through a village that had been demolished by shellfire. Once through this area they would pass on into the Argonne forest itself; its black pines and thin tracks looking almost medieval, haunted even. Somewhere out there was the enemy.
Covering the Americans’ left flank was the French Fourth Army, commanded by Henri Gouraud, a battle-hardened, if somewhat eccentric, soldier who had lost his right arm at Gallipoli. Fourth Army was impressively big, consisting of seven corps and, as usual, a mass of artillery, tanks and aircraft. It met the Americans just west of La Harazée and was tasked with attacking the enemy from the left bank of the Aisne to the River Suippe. It was to push north towards Grandpré thus outflanking the Argonne forest, before linking up with the Americans again and heading off, on the final march, up to Mézières and Sedan.10 Although the ground was not as forbidding as the hills and woods faced by the Americans, the French sector was far from ideal. The German front-line position was protected by extensive belts of barbed wire and reinforced with concrete shelters. Behind that was the second position, lying on the reverse slope of a large, forbidding rise known as Blanc Mont, and covered with the usual network of deep trenches and dug-outs, all swathed in barbed wire. Nevertheless, their Commander-in-Chief, Philippe Pétain, was confident that together their attacks would present great problems for the enemy. One morning he visited Major-General Hunter Liggett, commander of US I Corps, and together they studied the map. Quietly and calmly, as was Pétain’s way, he put his finger on the town of Étain, behind the German lines just north of Saint-Mihiel. ‘That is where the enemy is holding his heaviest reserves. That is where he expects us to attack him. Instead we shall attack almost everywhere but there.’11