reconnaissance penetrated again to the Romagne area, but neglected to photograph the huge gun concentrations in the nearby Forest of Spincourt. Half-hearted as the French reconnaissance efforts were, they proved that the German ‘aerial barrage’ was not watertight. If the French aerial reconnaissance failed, it did so more owing to a combination of bad weather, the artillery bombardment of their airfields, and pure lethargy. Up to the time of the German attack, only seventy gun emplacements had been identified from the air, thus the French were never aware of the full extent of the artillery confronting them. What the reconnaissance planes did record, however, was the absence of any new ‘jumping-off’ trenches in the front line; and this, as indeed the Germans had hoped it would, entirely persuaded G.Q.G. that no attack could be imminent.
For all the shortcomings of French intelligence, evidence of the preparations for Gericht was piling up daily. Some of the first rumours percolating to the nervous French had been rather wild; the Germans were building, it was whispered, a long tunnel fourteen metres wide beneath the French lines south of Verdun, to enable them to attack from the rear. Then the deserters, many of them Alsatians, began to creep over in ever-increasing numbers — always a sign of an impending ‘push’. With them they brought Herr details of the secret Stollen, the purpose of which he immediately comprehended. (But no, replied G.Q.G., doubtless these are purely defensive installations). Early in January, observers noticed that church spires behind the German lines, useful reference points for French counter-battery fire, were disappearing. On the 12th, Herr’s Deuxième Bureau reported that the German artillery had begun ‘ranging’; the 14th brought news of the establishment of new hospitals, and the 15th disquieting details of heavy troop transports passing through Longwy. As February came, deserters told of all leave being cancelled and voiced fears that ‘something terrible’ was about to happen.
In Paris, the Army Commission appeared less concerned at thethreat to Verdun than at the outrage to the capital perpetrated by a Zeppelin attack on January 29th (to the extent of forcing the Undersecretary of Air to resign); up to a few days before the attack Joffre could still assure Haig that it was Russia the Germans were planning to attack; while G.Q.G. Ops maintained that if there were an offensive in France the main blow could be expected to fall in either Artois or the Champagne. But alarm was in the air. A flood of visitors descended on the harassed Herr. On January 24th, Joffre’s right-hand man, de Castelnau, arrived to dictate that all work be switched to completing the first and second lines on the Right Bank, and to creating a new intermediary line between the two. Even President Poincaré, clad in his usual incongruous chauffeur’s cap and leggings, was there inspecting the front from a special little rail car drawn by two mules. Finally the great Joffre himself appeared; but by far the most important arrival of all was the reinforcements Herr had been clamouring for over the past six months. Time was running out fast. The two additional divisions were in fact only placed at Herr’s disposal on February 12th — the very day the Crown Prince’s guns were due to begin their dreadful work.
All was ready. Across this strip of pleasant French countryside a few miles long, over 850 German guns — including some of the heaviest ever used in land-warfare — faced a motley collection totalling 270, most of them short of ammunition; seventy-two battalions of elite, tough storm troops faced thirty-four battalions in half-completed positions. Had the attack gone in on schedule the French at Verdun would have been caught in the midst of moving house and a hideous disaster must have ensued. As it was, at the eleventh hour there occurred one of those rare miracles that alter the destinies of
For all the shortcomings of French intelligence, evidence of the preparations for Gericht was piling up daily. Some of the first rumours percolating to the nervous French had been rather wild; the Germans were building, it was whispered, a long tunnel fourteen metres wide beneath the French lines south of Verdun, to enable them to attack from the rear. Then the deserters, many of them Alsatians, began to creep over in ever-increasing numbers — always a sign of an impending ‘push’. With them they brought Herr details of the secret Stollen, the purpose of which he immediately comprehended. (But no, replied G.Q.G., doubtless these are purely defensive installations). Early in January, observers noticed that church spires behind the German lines, useful reference points for French counter-battery fire, were disappearing. On the 12th, Herr’s Deuxième Bureau reported that the German artillery had begun ‘ranging’; the 14th brought news of the establishment of new hospitals, and the 15th disquieting details of heavy troop transports passing through Longwy. As February came, deserters told of all leave being cancelled and voiced fears that ‘something terrible’ was about to happen.
In Paris, the Army Commission appeared less concerned at thethreat to Verdun than at the outrage to the capital perpetrated by a Zeppelin attack on January 29th (to the extent of forcing the Undersecretary of Air to resign); up to a few days before the attack Joffre could still assure Haig that it was Russia the Germans were planning to attack; while G.Q.G. Ops maintained that if there were an offensive in France the main blow could be expected to fall in either Artois or the Champagne. But alarm was in the air. A flood of visitors descended on the harassed Herr. On January 24th, Joffre’s right-hand man, de Castelnau, arrived to dictate that all work be switched to completing the first and second lines on the Right Bank, and to creating a new intermediary line between the two. Even President Poincaré, clad in his usual incongruous chauffeur’s cap and leggings, was there inspecting the front from a special little rail car drawn by two mules. Finally the great Joffre himself appeared; but by far the most important arrival of all was the reinforcements Herr had been clamouring for over the past six months. Time was running out fast. The two additional divisions were in fact only placed at Herr’s disposal on February 12th — the very day the Crown Prince’s guns were due to begin their dreadful work.
All was ready. Across this strip of pleasant French countryside a few miles long, over 850 German guns — including some of the heaviest ever used in land-warfare — faced a motley collection totalling 270, most of them short of ammunition; seventy-two battalions of elite, tough storm troops faced thirty-four battalions in half-completed positions. Had the attack gone in on schedule the French at Verdun would have been caught in the midst of moving house and a hideous disaster must have ensued. As it was, at the eleventh hour there occurred one of those rare miracles that alter the destinies of
Similar Books
