In these words, the hunchback summarized the news of the defeat of the Germans at Le Grand Couronne de Nancy (Hill-Crest of Nancy), the defeat which duped the German High Command and nullified their plans for the supreme2 effort on Paris.
It was evening, the evening of September 4. Horace and his fellow fugitive4, safely arrived in Paris, were sitting at the window of a tiny room, looking at the night sky, across which the cones5 of searchlights wandered.
The tightening6 of the French lines, the re?stablishment of regular communications and military discipline had combined to relegate7 both Croquier and Horace from the front, though they had begged to be allowed to stay. They had been in Paris for over a week, now, the hunchback having offered his tremendous strength for heavy work in a munitions8 factory.
[Pg 254]
The "captive Kaiser" never left Croquier's sight. He took it to the factory in the morning and carried it back at night. He slept with the steel chain of the cage fastened to his wrist. In the quarter where they lived, the hunchback had already become a familiar figure, and boys tramped up the stairs in the evening with rats and mice for the eagle's dinner. Under the agile9 pens of newspaper paragraphists, the story of the "captive Kaiser" had brought merriment and superstitious10 hope to hearts heavy with listening for the tramp of the ever-nearing German feet.
Paris was silent but courageous11. Fear brooded heavily over the city, but the terrible tales of individual suffering never robbed the French capital of a simple heroism12 and a fine devotion that were worthy13 of its best traditions. The removal of the government to Bordeaux, two days before, had shown the people how narrow was the margin14 of safety by which Paris rested untaken. They accepted the dictum of their military leaders that it was a measure to allow greater freedom in handling the armies for the great action about to begin.
"Has the spring tightened15 at last?" asked Horace, remembering the veteran's prophecy that the[Pg 255] strategic diamond would be pressed back to the reserves, and that then the counter-attack would come.
"Tightened to its last spiral," answered Croquier. "It must rebound16 now, or smash. And the Germans have got a blow right between the eyes, at Nancy!"
Horace pressed him for details. The boy was eating his heart out from inaction. He had sent a cablegram to his father, according to his promise to Aunt Abigail, but he did not go to see the American minister, feeling sure that he would be sent back to America. He did not want to go. While he had taken his fill of battle, not for worlds would he have left Paris without seeing, as he phrased it, "the end of the war."
Under Croquier's guidance, the boy had followed every official bulletin and news dispatch with avid17 and intense excitement. His field experience and the veteran's lessons on strategy, when with the guns back of Givet, had given him an insight which enabled him to piece the scraps18 of information together. He was thus able to grasp the real significance of the victory at Nancy.
The defense19 of Le Grand Couronne was of tenfold more importance than it seemed at the time,[Pg 256] for it formed the starting-point of the greatest battle of modern times, known as "The Battles of the Marne," the series of victories which saved France. Croquier, who knew that part of the country thoroughly20, was able to give Horace an exact picture of that first great success on the hills south of Verdun.
"They've done well, the Germans," the hunchback began, "but if they're going to try to keep up this drive of theirs, they'll soon find themselves in a pickle21 for the lack of that chief need of a modern army—a short, strong Line of Communication. You remember how the forts of Liége tied up everything, even after the city was taken?"
Horace nodded vigorously. He was not likely to forget Liége.
"Already, the Germans are beginning to get into difficulties. Maubeuge is holding out, controlling the railway there, so all their supplies are coming by Belgium. It's a long way, and wastes a lot of men to hold it. There is, though, a good railway line from Metz, which is six times as short as the line they're using. But to take that, they've got to take Toul, and to take Toul, they've got to take Nancy, and to take Nancy, they've got to take Le Grand Couronne."
Courtesy of "The War of the Nations."
Attack on a Stranded22 Tank.
The Germans bombed it, fired through loopholes, tried to break its mechanism23, but failed. Finally the tank grunted24 and moved away.
[Pg 257]
"But why just exactly there," asked Horace, "if the position is so strong?"
"It isn't, it's the weakest point," the hunchback answered. "As you know, the French-German frontier is the most strongly fortified25 line in the world. The forts are in four groups, Belfort and Epinal to the south, Toul and Verdun to the north. Belfort and Epinal are in difficult, mountainous country, further away from Paris and less valuable for railway purposes. It would be bad strategy, too, to break through at the southern fort and leave the northern forts unreduced, for it would cut the attacking army in two and give the northern forts a chance to snip26 the Line of Communication. Verdun is enormously strong. That leaves nothing but an assault on the sector27 of Toul.
"Now," continued the hunchback, "you've got to understand the Alsace-Lorraine campaign. On August 10, while the forts of Liége were still holding out and Leman was peppering Von Emmich, we invaded Germany. We had nothing but victories for nine days. It was too easy. On August 20 one of our air scouts28 came back with the news that there was a huge German army gathering29 at Metz. On August 21, five army corps30 were hurled31 on our flank. We were surprised, partly[Pg 258] surrounded and crumpled33 up. The Boches got thousands of prisoners and scores of guns and Field Marshal Von Heeringen drove us clear back out of Germany. On August 25, the Crown Prince of Bavaria drove us back from before Nancy, and the German Crown Prince finally burst into France through Longwy. That was the beginning and the end of our Vosges campaign."
As the hunchback pointed34 out, however, while this campaign was of little military value, it had a vast political and strategic value. It mistakenly convinced the German High Command that France had concentrated the larger part of her armies on the frontier in the hope of retaking Alsace-Lorraine. This made more difficult, but also rendered more important, a victory at Toul.
Le Grand Couronne is a series of little hills, not more than 600 feet high at any point, lying north and a little east of Nancy. It was no use to take the city unless the heights were captured. If, however, the Germans took Le Grand Couronne, the French must evacuate35 Nancy and the invaders36 could then bring their heavy siege guns into place to demolish37 Toul.
"A Boche skull38 is thick," Croquier went on, "and even the slaughter39 of Liége didn't teach[Pg 259] them the waste of life in sending masses of troops against artillery40. They hadn't any idea, either, of the powers of our 'Soixante-Quinze.' For a week they did nothing but pile up hills of the iron-gray dead on the slopes leading up from the River Seille. They'll never take it now."
There Croquier was right. On that evening of September 4, where the two were sitting, chatting, in the little attic41 room, Von Heeringen knew that further attack was hopeless. Two days later, however, the Kaiser was seen in person on the hills overlooking the battle, in white uniform and silver helmet, waiting for his triumphal entry into Nancy—which never happened.
It was this decisive and unexpected defeat which convinced the Germans that the French were in great strength at this point and which caused them to send their heaviest re?nforcements on the eastern end of the attacking line, instead of re?nforcing Von Kluck and Von Buelow who were nearest to Paris.
"It's the same old combination which smashed us at Charleroi, then," said Horace, "which threatens Paris."
"Yes," the hunchback agreed, "and, what's more, it's the same old clash between German and[Pg 260] French strategy. The diamond, now, has been squashed nearly flat, but you can see the formation, still."
"How?" asked Horace, "it looks like a straight line to me."
"It isn't, though," Croquier answered. "I'll show you. Paris, instead of being 'home base' is now 'third base' and the Verdun to Belfort line is 'first base.' Then the Fourth and Fifth French armies are the operative corner or 'third base,' while the great armies of reserve, under General Foch, swinging into line on the south, are 'home base.' The military point of Paris, as 'third base' is the new Sixth Army as organized under General Manoury."
"Well, then," said Horace, "if the battlefield works out according to French ideas, we ought to win by the rebound given by Foch's army."
"A few days will show," said the hunchback. "I only wish that I could help in the actual fighting. But, I suppose, I'm just as useful making shells as firing them."
"One minute," said Horace, as they were about to separate for the night, "where are the British?"
"The Expeditionary Force is tucked away between[Pg 261] Paris and the Fifth Army, with more than two thirds of its men lost. However, re?nforcements are pouring over from England."
Early next morning, before Horace was awake, Croquier left the house to pick up the first news of the day. When he returned to the frugal42 breakfast the lad had prepared, however, he had very little information.
"All that I can find out," he said, "is that the Sixth Army, under Manoury, is wheeling up to Von Kluck's west flank."
"I don't seem to know much about the Sixth Army," said Horace. "Who are in it?"
The hunchback gave the details of the divisions as far as they were known.
"That's a mighty43 weak army," commented the boy.
"It is," the hunchback agreed, "but it's only supposed to be a covering army, so far as I can make out. It can fall back on the defenses of Paris."
"But couldn't Von Kluck surround Paris, then?"
The hunchback shook his head.
"Impossible," he said. "Von Kluck would have to stretch his line out on a circle ninety miles[Pg 262] long—for that's the circumference44 of the advance trenches45 beyond the outer fortifications of the city—and to do that would make his line so thin that it could be broken like the paper in a circus-rider's hoop46.
"I think," he continued, "mark you, I don't know, that Manoury's army is intended to do the same thing that Le Grand Couronne did—to make the Germans think our line is strongest at the two ends, when, in reality, it is strongest in the middle."
"Is Joffre doing that so as to weaken the German opposition47 to our rebound?"
"It looks like it," Croquier admitted, "but that sort of thing is hard to find out until weeks, sometimes months, afterward48. A generalissimo never lets his plans be known. To-night's news may give some clew. Now, I'm off."
As soon as Croquier had started for the factory, Horace set out to put into effect a resolution to which he had come during a wakeful night.
He was not going to sit at home idle when Paris was in danger!
It was still a little early, so Horace strolled out into the streets. He was living in the northern quarter of the city, and the markets were choked[Pg 263] with the vast stores of supplies being hurried in for use in the event of a siege. Enormous herds49 of cattle were being driven into Paris to graze on the waste spaces kept free of buildings, not to interfere50 with the fire of the inner forts.
A steady stream of people had their faces turned to the southwest, women and children escaping from the threat of war, trekking51 for distant points of safety, with their goods piled into the bullock carts of the peasant, the pony52 carriages of the rich, or even in wheelbarrows. In almost every group there were tiny children and babies. It was for their sakes that the flight was made.
Where were the men?
None were to be seen save those who labored53 mightily54 with the supplies being brought in a steady stream into the city.
Where were the men?
Out on the fortifications, digging trenches, putting up barbed wire entanglements55 or dynamiting57 houses in the suburbs which would interfere with the line of fire.
There may have been a man in Paris that Saturday morning who was engaged in his own affairs instead of those of his country. There may have been—but Horace did not see one.
[Pg 264]
It was not too early now, the boy thought, to carry out his plan. He returned to the house, wheeled out his motor-cycle which he had cleaned and oiled and put in perfect shape during his days of inaction, and whizzed up to the headquarters of General Gallieni, Military Commandant of Paris, and in supreme control now that the government had moved to Bordeaux.
"Volunteering as a dispatch-rider, sir!" said the boy to the first staff officer before whom he was brought. He showed the paper "on special service" which had been given him at the time he had donned the dead man's uniform, which he was still wearing.
At headquarters there was no English red tape or delay.
"Good," said the officer, "we can use you." He went into an inner room and returned a moment later. "Take this!" he said, and gave Horace directions and orders.
The boy shot off through the streets of Paris, thronged59 with refugees. Signs of the French high-spiritedness were not lacking. On one store window was written:
"Closed until after my visit to Berlin!"
Another, a watchmaker's, referring to the difference[Pg 265] in time between France and Germany, had a sign which read:
"Gone to put German watches right!"
The streets leading to the railway stations were thronged, but, as he reached the outskirts60 of the houses, the streets were empty. The Sorbonne glowered61 upon streets of empty shops. The workmen were on the battlefield, the schools were closed, many of them turned into hospitals.
Here was a gate, with a real control of traffic, but small show of armament.
"Dispatches from General Gallieni!"
"Pass!"
Out through the gate to the green belt which cried aloud in strident tones the transition from peace to war.
Here were the men of Paris!
The aged58 ragpicker worked with pick and shovel62 beside the wealthy exquisite63, as irreproachably64 dressed in the ditch as in his luxurious65 home, necessarily so, for he had no old clothes to wear. The literary scholar had risen from his books to tear his hands in stretching barbed wire with the keeper of a dive for his companion. The consumptive carpenter had brought his tools, the still[Pg 266] vigorous blacksmith, too old for military service, had loaded anvil66, forge-frame and coal on a wagon67 and was sharpening pickaxe heads.
Here, too, were the women of Paris.
Frenchwomen of noble birth worked in extemporized68 kitchens beside the peasant mothers of the outer suburbs and the midinettes of Montmartre to feed this new-sprung army of workers.
One thing Horace saw, and saw that clearly—Germany might take Paris, but as long as one Frenchman or one Frenchwoman was left alive, the Germans would not take France. The boy dimly felt that France was not a territory, it was a soul.
He delivered his dispatch and waited.
A dirty, unshaved, mud-bespattered figure digging near by, spoke69 to him with a cultured voice and a gay laugh.
"It is nothing, my little one," he said to Horace, "what if they come? We shall bite their heads off. Those boches are going to put themselves in a guetapens, a veritable death-trap. We shall have them at last!"
It was the same gallant70 French spirit which had been demonstrated a few days before by Colonel Doury. When ordered to resist to the last gasp72,[Pg 267] he said to the dragoon who brought the order,
"Very well, we will resist."
Then, turning to his soldiers, he said,
"We are to resist. And now, my boys, here is the password—'Smile!'"
It was the same gallant French spirit found in a soldier who, when re?nforcements reached him and asked whether a certain regiment73 was not supposed to hold the village, answered,
"It holds the village!" and pointed to his lone71 machine-gun. He was the only survivor74.
It was the same gallant French spirit seen in the little drummer, who, when his hand and drum were shot away, sang "Rat-tat-a-tat!" at the top of his throat to the advancing troops until his throat was still for ever.
Horace had seen the wonder of war in the field. Here he saw it in the defense of Paris and felt anew the depth of the hunchback's saying that victory lies in the spirit of men, not in its machinery75. He remembered the master's saying that the strength of a country is in proportion as its women are strong.
In the defense of Paris, the boy felt that he had his place. However irregular might be his position as a dispatch-rider, especially at the front[Pg 268] where military discipline prevailed, he was invaluable76 in the voluntary work of aiding to strengthen Gallieni's defenses. Moreover, he learned indirectly77 some of the tactics planned for that very afternoon.
Le Grand Couronne had shown that the Germans could not break through at Nancy. The German line, therefore, could not drive bodily forward to the southwest, as apparently78 had been intended. It became necessary for the invading armies to concentrate further to the east.
Von Kluck's army had been facing southwest, to attack Paris. On receiving news of the repulse79 at Le Grand Couronne, he was compelled to pivot80 his line on the Marne, so that it faced southeast. This maneuver81, reported by the French air-men, revealed that the German plan had changed. They dared not try to take Paris.
Nothing remained but to endeavor to engulf82 the French armies. The Germans deemed this impossible in the east, because of the supposed heavy concentration of French troops there, because of the strength of Verdun and because of the defeat at Nancy. The flanking movement, therefore, must be made in the west. This could only be done by driving a wedge down between Paris and the[Pg 269] Fifth French Army, heavily re?nforced and now under the command of General d'Esperey. This gap was held by the British, against whom the Germans had a special hate.
Von Kluck and Von Buelow had not reached their advanced positions easily. They had been severely83 mauled in two defeats, at Le Cateau and at Guise84. In a war of less magnitude, these would have appeared as great Allied85 victories, but Joffre preferred to lose the advantage of following up these victories for the greater advantage of falling back strategically in good order. Moreover, the forts of Maubeuge still held. It was not until the grim old warrior86 Von Zwehl, with superhuman energy, brought up the great siege-guns, that Maubeuge fell. It was then too late for the guns to be of any service in the Battle of the Marne.
That Saturday afternoon, learning from air scouts that Von Kluck had massed his forces to the south, in order to attack the British on the morrow and pierce the gap, Manoury determined87 to force the issue. He launched his small and war-wearied army against the reserve which Von Kluck had left behind to guard the crossing of the Ourcq. The western end of the Battles of the Marne had begun.
[Pg 270]
Two important results developed immediately. One was Manoury's discomfiting88 discovery that the German heavy artillery gave the invaders a tremendous advantage when great mobility89 was not needed, as, for example, in defense of the crossings of a stream. The other was Von Kluck's discomfiting discovery that Manoury's army, attacking his reserves, was far stronger in fighting power than he thought. Each of these surprises counterbalanced the other.
This same Saturday afternoon, moreover, at the time that Manoury attacked, Von Kluck, from the other wing of his army, had sent a scouting90 party of cavalry91 to find out the location of the British Army. It was an excellent opportunity to cut them up, but the British Field Marshal had drawn92 his troops into cover of the forests and he let the scouts go by. A courier, detached from time to time, took to Von Kluck the welcome news that the British were nowhere to be seen and that the hoped-for gap existed. The British chuckled93 with glee. Von Kluck, surer every moment of flanking the Fifth French Army, hurried his men southward.
Suddenly, however, that Saturday evening, Von Kluck received word of the Manoury attack and[Pg 271] realized that his reserves were threatened and his own flank was in danger. His men had marched all day. A large section of his army had to march back all night to re?nforce the reserves attacked by Manoury.
Horace, through his experience on the battle front, had learned that a motor-cyclist's greatest usefulness is at dawn or a little before. This is due to that fact that, when an army is on the move, telegraph cable is laid from division to brigade headquarters and from brigade to battalion94 headquarters, as soon as these positions are determined for the night. This is done from cable wagons95 and the Signal Corps men are so deft96 that the cable can be laid as fast as horses can canter. At about three o'clock in the morning, if headquarters are going to move, this cable is picked up, ready for use the coming night. Enemy assaults, however, are likely to begin at dawn and these may cause a change in the dispositions97 already decided99 on. It is then that the motor-cyclist dispatch-rider is especially valuable.
At three o'clock this morning of Sunday, September 6, Horace got up, put on the dead man's uniform, trundled out his motor-cycle and whizzed to General Gallieni's headquarters.
[Pg 272]
The place was buzzing with activity and Horace realized that grave news must have come in on the military telegraph wires. He was hailed at once.
"You're just what we've been looking for!"
A list of addresses was handed him.
"These are the names of taxicab companies and garages who haven't answered their 'phones; probably shut up at night. Find some one, any one, every one! Rout100 them out and tell them to rush every cab and car they've got to those section points."
"What for?" asked Horace, already in the saddle, and moving off.
"Troop movements. Hurry!"
Through the still, night-enshrouded streets of Paris, the boy sped. It was a dangerous ride. Round every corner and shooting along every street, taxis and motors were speeding, driven by half-awake chauffeurs101. All night long, troops had reached Paris by train. They were needed at Meaux, forty miles from Paris, where Manoury was attacking. If they marched, they could hardly reach the battle that day and would be too wearied to fight. But forty miles, to a fleet of motor-cars, was different.
By five o'clock that Sunday morning, four thousand[Pg 273] taxis, motor-busses and motor-cars were speeding from Paris to Meaux. Men rode on the front, on the back and hung on to the springs. Twelve and fourteen men piled into and on a taxicab. The motor-busses carried sixty and seventy, men hanging on by the straps102 of their rifles, jammed into window frames. They looked like insects on a plant. Inside they were packed like herrings in a cask. But they roared with delight at taking a taxi to the front. By noon, Manoury's army had been re?nforced by 70,000 troops. The army was, however, lamentably103 weak in artillery, for field guns cannot be loaded into taxicabs!
Courtesy of "Panorama104 de la Guerre."
The Men Whom no Danger Can Daunt105.
The voice of the High Command is in the hands of the Signal Corps: broken telephone and telegraph wires must be repaired in spite of shot and shell.
Von Kluck was destined106 to get another surprise this Sunday morning. Despite the report of his Uhlans that the British were nowhere to be seen, the astute107 general had placed two bodies of cavalry, about 18,000 men in all, as a precaution against a flank attack when he withdrew his men northward108 to meet the surprisingly strong shock of Manoury. The unsuspecting cavalry were awaiting orders to pursue either the Fifth or Sixth French armies, whichever one Von Kluck should decide to smash. They were dismounted and resting, when suddenly the western woods belched109 flame. The British had not fired a shot until sure[Pg 274] of the exact range. Shrapnel poured like the blast from a furnace, men and horses fell dead in inextricable confusion. The German cavalry had no time or means to reply, and, timed to the second, the English cavalry swept down and turned the scene to a rout.
In the north, despite Von Kluck's re?nforcements, Manoury's army fought with great courage, at several places forcing the Germans back. But they could not cross the Ourcq against the heavy artillery.
That same Sunday, Foch, in charge of the great line of reserves officially called the Ninth French Army,[19] did not attempt an advance, but rather, deliberately110, allowed his line to sag111. This was intended as a lure112 to lead the Germans on, in the hope that Manoury would be able to flank Von Kluck. But, on Sunday night, Manoury found that Von Kluck had brought back nearly all his army, and that he was being outflanked, in his turn.
On Monday, re?nforcements came to both sides, but more heavily to Von Kluck, who was supported by heavy masses of artillery. Manoury, lacking artillery support, held his ground, and[Pg 275] even advanced slightly, but Von Kluck moved further on his flank. On Tuesday the Sixth Army was driven back, but fighting heavily, with all its reserves in action, Von Kluck devoting only a part of his army to the frontal attack, while one whole army corps commenced to encircle the flank. On Wednesday the disaster was almost complete. Even as late as that day Von Kluck had been able to throw in more men, released two days before by the fall of Maubeuge. Nanteuil had been taken and the army was flanked. Manoury's army was almost horseshoe shaped, with Von Kluck gathering it in as a bag is clutched by its drawstring.
What would the morrow bring?
The morrow brought blank astonishment113.
The morrow, Thursday, September 10, saw Nanteuil abandoned by the Germans and Von Kluck in full retreat.
What had happened?
Foch had happened!
"Find out the weak point of your enemy," Foch had said once, when talking of strategy, "and deliver your blow there."
"But suppose," he was asked, "that the enemy has no weak point."
"Then make one!"
[Pg 276]
Joffre had made the weak point and Foch had delivered the blow. It was not without knowledge of his marvelous tactical ability that the generalissimo had selected Foch for the army of reserves, for the great rebound.
In order that Foch might deliver the blow, it was necessary that Manoury should risk annihilation. Why? That, as Horace saw long afterward, was a part of the great strategical plan of the French High Command under Joffre.
The four-day engagement between Manoury and Von Kluck had drained the power of the Sixth French Army to its last gasp, but—it had taken the whole force of Von Kluck's right wing to do it. The British were advancing steadily114 (though so slowly that it imperiled the whole plan) on Von Kluck's left wing. Manoury and the British, then, like two leeches116, were sucking Von Kluck's forces westward117, at a time when the German line was driving southeastward.
The Fifth Army, under General d'Esperey (who had taken Lanrezac's place when the army was re?nforced) was a powerful force, containing six full army corps, three of them fresh reserves. The Germans, believing it to be the same army they had routed at Charleroi, esteemed119 it lightly.[Pg 277] But on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, it steadily drove Von Buelow back, crossing the Marne and holding the bridgeheads. In this it was helped by the British heavy artillery, an arm in which the French army was weakest. At the same time, d'Esperey's pressure enabled the British advance. There was magnificent fighting here, for Von Buelow was in strength with a full equipment of artillery.
The Ninth Army, under General Foch, had suffered heavily. Two German armies opposed it: four army corps under Von Hausen, who was flushed with victory and pursuit, and the independent command of the Prussian Guard, consisting of one entire army corps. Foch had three army corps, nearly all fresh troops, but he would not use them all. Von Hausen and the Prussian Guard attacked savagely122 and heavily. Foch allowed his line to sag, purposely, to thin the German line, but on Monday he was driven back, and on Tuesday, the German drive was so vicious and powerful, that Foch's right wing was forced back for ten miles.
On Wednesday, then, the same day that Von Kluck was encircling Manoury, Von Hausen had all but pierced the French line at Foch's right[Pg 278] wing. A bad gap had been formed because Langle de Cary, on the left wing of the Fourth Army, had held firm. There was almost a hole, therefore, ten miles wide, running slantwise behind Langle de Cary's left rear.
The Battle of the Marne is the most important victory of modern times. It saved France. In a measure it saved the world. As the victory hangs on a curious battle formation which developed that afternoon of Wednesday, September 9, its main features may be repeated. It is well to see how the various armies stood at midday of this decisive day.
At midday, Von Kluck was encircling Manoury, having drawn his right wing far to the north and west to do so. His left wing was in momentary123 danger of attack from the British, who had crossed the Marne. This wing was being driven north.
At midday, Von Buelow was being pushed northwards by the hammer blows of d'Esperey, whose army was fighting in fine fettle, aided by the British heavy artillery. This army was strong enough to lend a corps to help Foch to sustain the central German push. Von Buelow, then, also was being pushed north.
At midday, Foch's left wing, stiffened124 by the[Pg 279] extra army corps, was holding the right wing of the Prussian Guard, but his right wing had been thrust ten miles out of the line by Von Hausen's drive. Von Hausen was therefore exerting every pound of force he owned to break through Foch's right wing, in other words, he was driving southeastward.
At midday, then, Von Buelow and Von Kluck, going northward and westward, were being dragged away from the Prussian Guard and Von Hausen, being dragged southward and eastward118.
This thinned the German line, and it thinned it at a very dangerous point, just where the edge of the plateau of Champagne125 drops suddenly to the marshes126 of St. Gond.
Possibly Von Hausen was aware of this, but if so, it is evident that he thought that the piercing of Foch's line was only a matter of hours. In any case, Von Hausen was as certain of piercing the line next day as Von Kluck was certain of swallowing Manoury the next day.
At midday, Foch ordered the 42nd Division, one of the crack corps of the French Army, to fall back and rest. The order was thought to be a blunder and the men fumed127, for, they thought, they were holding the Germans triumphantly129. All through[Pg 280] that sultry afternoon, while the skies grew blacker and blacker and the thunder rumbled130 in the distance, the 42nd Division waited with piled arms, hearing the sound of battle only two miles away. And all through that afternoon, Von Hausen summoned his reserves from behind the Prussian Guard, gathered every man he could get to hurl32 them into the gradually opening gap.
To the German Commander, the French feet were slipping, slipping, slipping on the brink131 of disaster and defeat.
At exactly four o'clock in the afternoon, when Foch's right wing was holding back the German fury of assault by sheer valor132, the 42nd Division, rested and eager, received its long-awaited orders. It was bidden advance through the pine woods and burst upon the Prussian Guards, now forming a thin exposed flank to Van Hausen's army. At five o'clock, an order ran all along the whole line for a sudden stiffening133 and a French counter-offensive.
At a few minutes after five o'clock, the pine-woods suddenly became as great green fountains of living warriors134. For a moment the shouts of advancing hosts silenced the terrific roar of the artillery. Unnumbered batteries of the ever-potent[Pg 281] and death-dealing "Soixante-Quinze" came galloping135. As an avalanche136 sweeps away saplings, so was the Prussian Guard swept away. There was scarcely a pause as the armies joined. The French went through with a thunderbolt's strength and vindictive137 power.
The wild thrill of victory ran along the line. The gap widened, broke and shattered. The shouting lines went through.
Into the hole the Ninth Corps leaped, smashing and shivering the eastern corps of the Guards. All semblance138 of battle formation was lost, and the Guards were cut to pieces. There were no reserves behind.
The German line was broken, smashed, shattered irretrievably!
The Saxon offensive, under Von Hausen, still hoping to break through before night fell, learned of the peril115. Every moment spelt danger. The French were sweeping139 in behind them. Langle de Cary was in position to cut off their other flank. The German Drive, to which forty-five years of military preparation had been given, weakened, halted, wavered and went to pieces.
Now, into the battle Foch threw his reserves. Victory was in their hands! A million men could[Pg 282] not have stopped Foch's army now. Into the bewildered German ranks plunged140 the French, each man a giant with the intoxication142 of victory, each man a living vengeance143 for the atrocities144 inflicted145 on France and Belgium. Death was on Von Hausen's heels and that too close for an ordered retreat.
The German feet were slipping, slipping on the brink of disaster and defeat.
Von Hausen fled.
The storm held off long enough to make the smash complete and then the rain fell in torrents146. Woe147 for the heavy artillery now! Its very power which made it so dangerous, made it immobile, and the roads, rapidly turning to sticky mud, forbade its passage. There was light enough for slaughter, and the 75's, mobile and easy to handle, chased the Saxons, unlimbered, mowed148 down the fleeing invaders, limbered up again, chased forward, unlimbered and fired again. There were few wasted shells that night! Thousands of prisoners were taken, hundreds of guns captured, vast stores of ammunition149 seized.
Von Hausen had far to go. He had to get back, back, back into contact with the German line or he would be wiped out absolutely. Von Buelow had[Pg 283] been driven far north by d'Esperey, Langle de Cary had stubbornly held the Duke of Würtemberg. Von Hausen had far to go, and the French, fevered with success, would not stop. Hour after hour through that pouring night, the dripping trees saw a slaughter grim and great. Not until nearly morning did the pursuers halt, and that night Foch established his headquarters in La Fère Champenoise, twenty-five miles in advance of his headquarters of the night before.
France was saved!
The Battles of the Marne were won!
With the conclusion of the Battle of the Marne, Horace found his occupation gone. A victorious150 army is not in need of volunteer dispatch-riders, even though they may be partly accredited151. This the boy felt himself to be by reason of having the right to wear a French uniform under special conditions and by having been entrusted152 with dispatches.
None the less, Horace was convinced that he could pass the sentries153, at least, and he could follow behind the advance. He would at least be seeing the war for himself, and, if he were successful in making his way to the rear of his old army, the Fourth, he might be given something to do.[Pg 284] Anything was better than idling his time away in Paris, and Croquier, working over-time, was never home except to sleep.
On Sunday, September 13, just one week from the day when Gallieni had sent his fleet of taxicabs to re?nforce Manoury at Meaux, Horace started forth154 once more on his motor-cycle. The sentries at the gate knew him and he passed by with a cheery word of greeting. The uniform of the dispatch-rider passed him by many sentries, but one, either more careful or more curious than the rest, stopped him.
"Dispatch-rider formerly155 with the Fourth Army, temporarily attached to the army defending Paris, returning to my own command," the boy answered. The facts were true enough, though the implication was a little forced. He thanked his stars that the sentry156 did not ask for his identification disk, which, of course, he did not possess. Inquiry157 might have caused him to be suspected of being a spy.
Out through the suburbs of the city, Horace rode at slow pace, enjoying the fair weather after the rain. Beyond the suburbs he passed through little villages, as yet untouched by war. Then, as he trended farther north and east, he suddenly[Pg 285] entered a region still panting with horror and dismay.
This was Horace's first sight of a battleground that had been swept by two armies. The retreat he had witnessed from Givet, was a retreat from an advance-guard shock, and while the roads had been covered with débris and flocked with refugees, it had shown little of the signs of actual warfare158. In his participation159 in the retreat from Mons, he had seen a fighting retreat. The ground between the Marne and the Aisne was not like either of these. It was a battle-swept desolation.
A land of terrible contrasts! Gardens filled with a riot of color, where, here and there as it chanced, the flower-beds had not been trampled160 down, while in the middle stared the ruined walls and eye-less orbits of a shell-rent house. The trees were scarred with shell, the roads littered with broken boughs161. Here and there, in the fields on either side, shallow trenches had been scraped. Hay stacks and straw stacks had been torn down for cover.
Near and far lay stiffened figures in the German iron gray, and, in some places, whole groups of them, yet unburied. Furrows162 all along the roadside marked fresh graves. At one place, evidently,[Pg 286] a corps of bicyclists had been caught by a sudden storm of shell and decimated, the twisted and broken bicycle frames having been dragged into the ditch, so as not to interfere with traffic.
At one place, Horace had a fearful fright.
Running through a wood at low speed, he came out on a small open stretch of garden. In one corner, near a shattered pile of brick, was a half-overturned but still recognizable grand piano, and crouched163 half behind and half on it, the sun throwing his iron-gray uniform in strong contrast to the red wood and the light glinting on his rifle-barrel, was a German soldier, a sniper.
It was too late to turn.
The boy jumped the cycle to high-speed, thinking thus to dodge164 the aim. As he skimmed by, he cast a backward look at the soldier.
He had not moved.
The gray uniform still lay crouched behind and across the piano, and the hands still rigidly165 held the rifle, but there were no eyes in the sockets166 of the dead man. They had been pecked out by the crows.
Many fields in France will be haunted by ghosts when the war is over.
The road was greasy167 and covered with débris,[Pg 287] requiring slow riding. It was not wise to look too closely at the piles along the way.
Overhead the September sun shone brightly, here and there a clump168 of wild-flowers which had escaped destruction waved in the wind, the arching trees were green, for, over this battlefield mainly shrapnel and rifle-fire had been used and no high-explosive shell with looping trajectory169 had stripped the branches. On through the beech-forest to the desolation beyond and Horace, looking down, saw the road a mere170 tangle56 of beams, stones and scrap-iron. He got off, to lead his wheel, and saw, under his foot—a paving stone.
This, then, was a street!
Yes, bit by bit, he could see the outlines of a tiny village. It could not have held more than a dozen houses, but not a wall, not a fence was standing171. Here the Germans must have made a stand and the ground was leveled flat for their pains. Over a horrid172 pile, a trellis-work of roses had fallen. It made the boy think of the gardener's reply to a recruiting sergeant173, when he joined the colors:
"The only plants that France is interested in growing now are—laurels."
Few villages were as wholly devastated174 as this,[Pg 288] though in many of them the houses were piles of brick and plaster, with walls standing here and there. Everywhere were graves, bearing thin wooden crosses, with the soldier's kepi or a few faded flowers hanging on them. A village of formerly a hundred houses had but one left habitable. Like most of the places in the march of the retreating army, it had been deliberately set on fire for revenge.
A sudden whistle made the boy duck his head.
A bullet?
No, a blackbird singing.
"In spite of all, he knows it is French soil again!" said Horace, half aloud, and laughed at his own thought.
On through a little town where, two nights before, a squadron of Chasseurs d'Afrique and a regiment of Zouaves in motor-cars and taxis had surprised the Germans at dead of night and where—never mind why!—the captured German officer had been quietly but expeditiously175 shot. On through a farm-yard, marked by a shell-hole in which some ducks were dabbling176. Swift must have been the pursuit that did not linger to seize them for the cooking-pot!
On through an almost deserted177 country, with[Pg 289] scarcely any people to be seen save little groups here and there. All these groups were engaged in the same occupation—digging graves. It was one of these aged villagers, who, when a German officer asked him why he troubled to dig graves instead of burning the bodies, answered fiercely.
"From every French soldier's grave, ten soldiers will grow!"
Gutted178 houses, torn and charred179 hayricks, scraps of clothing, broken motor-cars, scraps of shells, and fires where the bodies of scores of horses were being burned, marked the line of the storm of war.
Ah! There is a farmhouse180 standing, almost untouched. The road to it is covered with shell-splinters. There are white figures there.
Turned into a hospital, of course, with doctors, orderlies and—nurses. So soon! So near the battlefield! Later, when the war was systematized, the nurses were not found in such advanced positions, but at this crisis for France, the red cross on the sleeve was but little less eager to plunge141 into its work than the arm that thrust the bayonet.
Are the Germans returning? They do not know.
[Pg 290]
Will that farmhouse be shelled in the next half-hour? They cannot tell.
Nor do they greatly care. For they know that they, too, are saving France.
Horace throbbed181 on, his thoughts vibrating to the tune182 of his motor-cycle, and, as he thought of the Red Cross of the Battlefield, the master's voice rang again in his ears,
"A nation's strength is in proportion as its women are strong."
Here, too, lies the Wonder of War, more, a thousand times more, than in any invention of a larger gun, a more deadly shell, or a more abominable183 method for taking life.
Now the lad found himself approaching the battling armies. Chateau-Thierry, abandoned by the Germans only two days before, had already become a supply depot184 for the right wing of Manoury's army, for Manoury had taken advantage of Von Kluck's defeat to cross the River Aisne and was holding the whole northern side of the river, from Compiegne to Soissons. While lunching in the little town, Horace learned of the magnificent attack which had established Manoury on the northern side of the river, ready to assault the heights the next day.
[Pg 291]
His eastward journey took him to the south of the British Army. The memory of the "human icicle" still lingered, and though Horace knew that he would not find all the English officers of the same stripe, yet he kept away, passing south of Epernay. He learned, however, that though Manoury had crossed, Sir John French had not, and the German heavy artillery forbade any attempt to force the Conde bridge. The British were, in fact, at the most impregnable point of that impregnable barrier, the ridge120 above the Aisne.
Still the boy pushed on, his course now being south of the Fifth Army, under d'Esperey. This army had also crossed the Aisne, but had not been able to establish a firm footing on the other side, and its position was precarious185. The long afternoon had shown sights as desolate186 and in some cases more horrible than those he had seen in the morning and he was glad to find a little village where he might sleep, wearied and heartsick with the sights of the day.
"The only thing more sad than a great victory," Wellington said once, "is a great defeat."
Though Horace was some little distance from the front, the cannonading that night was heavier[Pg 292] and more sonorous187 than any he had heard before. There was a good reason. General Von Zwehl, one of the grimmest warriors in all the German Army, had brought the great siege-guns up the heights overlooking the Aisne, after four nights and three days of continuous marching. The thirteen traction-engines couldn't move the guns, for there had been wet weather, and General Von Zwehl had tailed the infantry188 on with long ropes. Like the slaves of Egypt who hauled blocks of stone for the pyramids, the German soldiers slaved under blows, curses, and threats of death. During the last twenty-four hours of this march, the 18,000 troops and the guns covered 41 miles. Human nature rebelled and red mutiny showed its head for a second, but Von Zwehl had a nature as hard as the steel of his guns. Every murmurer189 was shot dead in his tracks. The guns crawled on.
All night long, searchlight bombs were thrown. All night long, angry streams of flame flickered190 like serpents' tongues on the sky and the jagged gash191 of explosions lit up the black smoke of burning buildings or the white puff-clouds of hungry shrapnel.
Von Zwehl knew what was going forward. He[Pg 293] knew that it was the night set for the crossing of the Aisne. He knew that no matter what might be the fury of flame and bursting chemicals that poured down on the banks of that river, engineers would be laboring192 to construct bridges and bodies of troops would be trying to cross. The searchlights, like eyes white with hate, peered here and there, the discovery of a crossing party being a prelude194 to a tornado195 of lead which opened the gate of death, a gate which swings, alas196! too easily on its hinges in war time.
On Monday Horace passed south of Rheims, not dreaming, as no one in the world dreamed, that it was to be shelled two days later, and that its shelling would be deliberate. That there might and there would be cruelty, butchery, massacre197, that, of course, he knew, but that absolute and reckless vandalism should also be ordered, neither his nor any civilized198 mind would have expected. No one, save a Teuton, ever dreamed that deliberate destruction of one of the world's marvels199 would be sanctioned, permitted, even deliberately determined, and that for petty revenge, spite and foiled rage. The German point of view was put by Major-General Von Ditfurth:
"It is of no consequence," he wrote, "if all the[Pg 294] monuments ever created, all the pictures ever painted, and all the buildings ever erected200 by the great architects of the world were destroyed, if, by their destruction, we promote Germany's victory over her enemies. The commonest, ugliest stone placed to mark the burial place of a German grenadier, is a more glorious and perfect monument than all the cathedrals in Europe put together."
If it be asked why Rheims was bombarded, the answer must be given in the terms of the Battle of the Aisne, the essential details of which, however, are simple.
The main factor in the Aisne battlefield is contained in this sentence:
"Strategists have said that from the Ural Mountains to the Atlantic Ocean there is no natural line so strong as the line occupied by the Germans."
When to this natural strength was added the skill of Field Marshal von Heeringen, sent to assume the duties of a generalissimo over Von Kluck and Von Buelow (Von Hausen being disgraced and relegated201 to the rear), the iron craft of General Von Zwehl, the extraordinary concentration of artillery and the vast ammunition supplies, it can[Pg 295] be seen why the Allies were never able that winter to take the heights overlooking the Aisne. For, from Rethel to Compiegne, are bluffs202 450 feet high overlooking the river with natural spurs jutting203 out from point to point to enfilade the stream. Every place of crossing is defended by a natural spur, and every spur mounted a terrific array of artillery. Every road on the north bank was in German hands, every road on the south bank was an easy and direct mark for artillery.
Courtesy of "L'Illustration."
The Endless Line of Motor Convoys204.
Gasoline is king of that vast stretch of endless energy behind the battle front. Movement of troops, munitions and provisions depend on the unceasing operation of tens of thousands of trucks.
As Horace found out that day, when his course took him south of Foch's triumphant128 army, the Battle of the Aisne was governed by the old rule of war which declares that the army which chooses the battleground has an advantage of almost two to one. The French had chosen the Valley of the Marne, the Germans chose the ridges193 commanding the Aisne.
Yet there was a great deal more than that involved. It would be gravely unjust to German strategy to suppose that they had not considered the possible results of a failure in their plan of attack. The German General Staff was fully205 prepared with its defensive206 line in case Paris did not fall. The sapping and mining corps, the engineer corps, did not join in the advance on the Marne.[Pg 296] For a week they had been working with indomitable energy on the Aisne to prepare what proved to be an invulnerable natural fortress207, strong as the Rock of Gibraltar.
Months before the war began, Germany had not only laid out a basis of battle on a favorable terrain208, but she had also laid out in detail the manner in which a defensive position was to be taken up, should this prove necessary. She knew that if she failed at Paris, the loss of life would have been fearful. The German system of fighting in massed formations ensured that. It would, therefore, be all the more necessary that the defense should be made with machinery. If the heights were to be taken, let flesh and blood do it. The Germans had been slaughtered209 in attacking Liége. Let the Allies be slaughtered in attacking the Aisne. Every foot of land had been mapped and studied, the heaviest artillery in the world was available, and the ammunition supply system was in full operation. Let them come!
Germany had prepared a marvelous attack which was within an ace3 of success and was prevented from the accomplishment210 of its final and full aim only by three things, each, in its way, a glory to one of the Allied Nations: the valor of[Pg 297] the defense of the Belgians at Liége; the dogged courage of the British in the fighting retreat from Mons; and the superb dash of the French when they shattered the German line at the Marne. All three were needed to save France.
The battle of the Aisne consisted simply of the efforts of the English and French to gain those forbidding and strongly protected heights. Von Kluck, given all the men and artillery he needed, drove back Manoury in the space of a few hours. The British crossed by a superb frontal attack, which ranks as one of the bravest deeds in modern warfare, and were wiped out. D'Esperey crossed the Aisne east of Bourg, only to find that the Craonne plateau was unassailable. By Friday, September 18, Joffre was compelled to realize that the bluffs above the Aisne had been turned into an impregnable open-air fortress, not to be stormed by flesh and blood.
For Germany one thing was lacking, a strong Line of Communication. The main railroad to Coblentz, with a branch to Metz, passed through Rheims. If Germany were to have the vast supplies she needed, she must take Rheims or content herself with the weeks of delay which the Belgian route required. Rheims was imperative211.
[Pg 298]
But Foch held Rheims!
The keenest strategist of them all, with no natural defenses save two small hills at Pouillion and Verzenay, the great French general had made his line of defense so strong that it had become practically unassailable. Especially it bristled212 with battery upon battery of "Soixante-Quinze" guns. For four successive nights, waves of men, such as those which were hurled at Liége, drove against Foch, striving by weight of numbers to break through.
It was in vain. The disposition98 of Foch's troops was deadly. The positions had been chosen by the best strategist in Europe, who had anticipated this very attack, knowing the importance of Rheims to the Germans. There was not a foot of ground that was not covered as with a web by the shrapnel and melinite shells. Only twice did those terrific attacks break through the "Soixante-Quinze" zone into machine-gun fire range and there they fell in heaps.
By the night of September 19, Field Marshal von Heeringen was compelled to realize that Foch's position could not be taken save by the use of heavy artillery. This could not be brought into position without exposing itself to destructive fire[Pg 299] before he would have a chance to fire a shot. Battle was impossible. Savage121 revenge remained.
On Sunday morning, the German artillerists redoubled their fire on the Cathedral—to France her most sacred building, where all her kings had been crowned and to which Joan of Arc led the Dauphin, and to the art-lovers of the world, a work of transcendent beauty.
The cathedral was not being used as an observation station, as the Germans alleged213. It was being used as a hospital for the German wounded and two large Red Cross flags were flying from it. A shell struck the scaffolding which had been erected for restoring the left tower. The scaffolding flamed, and the fire spread to the old arched roof of oak below the roof of stone. The molten lead from the gutters214 fell on the straw within, where the wounded Germans were lying. The interior became a mass of flames, threatening to burn the wounded men alive.
Swift to the rescue sprang the gray-haired Archbishop Landreux. The aged prelate, together with a young priest, rushed into the flaming fane. Within, the straw was ablaze215, overhead the timbers were crackling, glistening216 drops of molten metal menaced them every few yards and shells[Pg 300] were dropping steadily. The frail217 archbishop lent his feeble strength to those who were able to stagger, and Abbé Chinot bodily picked up the wounded and carried them out.
A revulsion of mob fury seized the people. They saw their Cathedral in flames, they saw the shells deliberately aimed for it, they saw their inoffensive dead in the bombarded streets and they saw a just vengeance in allowing the German wounded to burn alive in the pyre of their own making. The mob, hoarse218 with rage and growing wilder every minute, raised its rifles to fire at the wounded men who had been carried out.
The gray-haired archbishop, a Prince of Men as well as a Prince of the Church, stepped quietly between them.
"Very well, my children," he said, "but you will fire on me first."
The demon-shriek of the shells continued, the drumming of gunfire continued, but in the crowd there was silence. Then, with that sudden response to greatness which lies hid in the hearts of all men, the crowd leaped forward as one man to save the wounded men for whom, a moment before, they had been clamoring to see burned alive.
And, through the whole scene, the statue of Joan[Pg 301] of Arc looked on at the brave act of a prelate she would have delighted to honor and the recognition of courage by the people she herself gave her own life to save.
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1
bugler
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| 喇叭手； 号兵； 吹鼓手； 司号员 | |
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2
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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3
ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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4
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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5
cones
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| n.（人眼）圆锥细胞；圆锥体( cone的名词复数 )；球果；圆锥形东西；（盛冰淇淋的）锥形蛋卷筒 | |
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6
tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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7
relegate
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| v.使降级，流放，移交，委任 | |
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8
munitions
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| n.军火，弹药；v.供应…军需品 | |
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agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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10
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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12
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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13
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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14
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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15
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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16
rebound
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| v.弹回；n.弹回，跳回 | |
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17
avid
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| adj.热心的；贪婪的；渴望的；劲头十足的 | |
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18
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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19
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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21
pickle
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| n.腌汁，泡菜；v.腌，泡 | |
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22
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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24
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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25
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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snip
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| n.便宜货，廉价货，剪，剪断 | |
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sector
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| n.部门，部分；防御地段，防区；扇形 | |
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28
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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29
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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31
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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32
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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33
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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34
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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35
evacuate
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| v.遣送；搬空；抽出；排泄；大(小)便 | |
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invaders
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| 入侵者，侵略者，侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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37
demolish
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| v.拆毁(建筑物等)，推翻(计划、制度等) | |
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38
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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39
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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40
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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41
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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42
frugal
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| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
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43
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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44
circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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45
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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46
hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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47
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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48
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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49
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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50
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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51
trekking
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| v.艰苦跋涉，徒步旅行( trek的现在分词 )；（尤指在山中）远足，徒步旅行，游山玩水 | |
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52
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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53
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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54
mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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55
entanglements
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| n.瓜葛( entanglement的名词复数 )；牵连；纠缠；缠住 | |
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56
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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57
dynamiting
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| v.（尤指用于采矿的）甘油炸药( dynamite的现在分词 )；会引起轰动的人[事物]；增重 | |
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58
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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59
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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61
glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62
shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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63
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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64
irreproachably
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| adv.不可非难地，无过失地 | |
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65
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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66
anvil
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| n.铁钻 | |
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67
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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68
extemporized
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| v.即兴创作，即席演奏( extemporize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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70
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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71
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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72
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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73
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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74
survivor
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| n.生存者，残存者，幸存者 | |
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75
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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76
invaluable
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|
| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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77
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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78
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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79
repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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80
pivot
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| v.在枢轴上转动；装枢轴，枢轴；adj.枢轴的 | |
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81
maneuver
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|
| n.策略[pl.]演习；v.(巧妙)控制；用策略 | |
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82
engulf
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| vt.吞没，吞食 | |
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83
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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84
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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85
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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86
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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87
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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88
discomfiting
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| v.使为难( discomfit的现在分词 )；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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89
mobility
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| n.可动性，变动性，情感不定 | |
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90
scouting
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| 守候活动，童子军的活动 | |
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91
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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92
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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93
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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95
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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96
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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97
dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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98
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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99
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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100
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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101
chauffeurs
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| n.受雇于人的汽车司机( chauffeur的名词复数 ) | |
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102
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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103
lamentably
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|
| adv.哀伤地，拙劣地 | |
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104
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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105
daunt
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| vt.使胆怯，使气馁 | |
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106
destined
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|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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107
astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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108
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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109
belched
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| v.打嗝( belch的过去式和过去分词 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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110
deliberately
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|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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111
sag
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| v.下垂，下跌，消沉；n.下垂，下跌，凹陷，[航海]随风漂流 | |
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112
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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113
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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114
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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115
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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116
leeches
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| n.水蛭( leech的名词复数 )；蚂蟥；榨取他人脂膏者；医生 | |
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117
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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118
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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119
esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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120
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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121
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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122
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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123
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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124
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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125
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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126
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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127
fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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128
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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129
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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130
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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131
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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132
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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133
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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134
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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135
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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136
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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137
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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138
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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139
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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140
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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141
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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142
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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143
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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144
atrocities
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| n.邪恶，暴行( atrocity的名词复数 )；滔天大罪 | |
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145
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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146
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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147
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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148
mowed
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| v.刈，割( mow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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149
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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150
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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151
accredited
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| adj.可接受的；可信任的；公认的；质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
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152
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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153
sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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154
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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155
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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156
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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157
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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158
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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159
participation
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| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
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160
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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161
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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162
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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163
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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165
rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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166
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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167
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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168
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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169
trajectory
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| n.弹道，轨道 | |
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170
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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171
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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172
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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173
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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174
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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175
expeditiously
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| adv.迅速地，敏捷地 | |
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176
dabbling
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| v.涉猎( dabble的现在分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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177
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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178
gutted
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| adj.容易消化的v.毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的过去式和过去分词 )；取出…的内脏 | |
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179
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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180
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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181
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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182
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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183
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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184
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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185
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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186
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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187
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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188
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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189
murmurer
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| 低语 | |
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190
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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191
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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192
laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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193
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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194
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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195
tornado
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| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
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196
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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197
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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198
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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199
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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200
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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201
relegated
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| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
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202
bluffs
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| 恐吓( bluff的名词复数 )； 悬崖； 峭壁 | |
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203
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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204
convoys
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| n.（有护航的）船队( convoy的名词复数 )；车队；护航（队）；护送队 | |
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205
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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206
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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207
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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208
terrain
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| n.地面，地形，地图 | |
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209
slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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210
accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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211
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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212
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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213
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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214
gutters
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| （路边）排水沟( gutter的名词复数 )； 阴沟； （屋顶的）天沟； 贫贱的境地 | |
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215
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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216
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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217
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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218
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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