eight days in dixmude
extracts from the diary of an artillery observer, by f. de wilde of brigade b (formerly 12th brigade)
october 19, 1914. we have been at nieucapelle for the last three days. the war is getting picturesque. blue or red burnous are now to be seen as the army passes along. the horses are small and their riders perched on the saddle like monkeys. the whole tribe must have set out together, as there are several generations, from youths to old men with faces like parchment.
at eight o'clock, we had been ordered to assemble at oudecapelle. we found the horde of goumiers there, giving a touch of orientalism to the melancholy flemish landscape. our men fraternised with them, and details about arab life were soon forthcoming.
these bedouins were accustomed to be paid three francs a day and to have the right of pillaging in the enemy's country. they were constantly asking, after crossing a field, if they were not yet in germany. armed with big knives, they kept brandishing them with the gesture of cutting off an enemy's head, at the same time grinning in a way that showed their white teeth. they have a great partiality, too, for ears. among them was a tall negro, who kept repeat[pg 257]ing in very bad french: "francise, belgise, anglise, all comrades!" thereupon he would hold out a huge hand and pretend to be drawing his gloves on, rather a suggestive way of asking for some, perhaps.
this country is by no means an easy one for them, cut up, as it is by wide, muddy ditches, in which their horses have to wallow breast high. in the distance, could be heard the english fleet, cannonading the coast and the german columns coming from ostend. the french marine fusiliers, together with the belgian 5th division, went to beerst. a violent combat was engaged there. beerst was taken, lost, and then retaken by the fusiliers. german reinforcements, coming from roulers, compelled all the troops to beat a retreat. it was decided that we should defend the bridge-head at dixmude. our brigade and the french marine fusiliers were entrusted with this. we were placed under the command of admiral ronarc'h. there was a very frugal board at the admiral's headquarters. we managed to find a biscuit and a tin of pressed meat and, what was better still, we found—a mattress.
october 20th. an attack on the bridge-head is imminent. we have received orders to take position at kapelhoeck with our three batteries, the 40th, 41st, and 42nd. a violent and ceaseless cannonading was to be heard from early morning. shrapnels, hidden in fleecy clouds, and mine-shells, with a clanging noise and black smoke, kept falling on dixmude and bursting with a deafening noise.
we were camping in a deserted farm. the dogs had lost their voices and the cattle were wandering about at their own will. at eleven o'clock, the 40th[pg 258] battery, under commander aerts, was sent to the north of dixmude, near the keiserhoek mill, and the 41st, under commander huet, towards essen.
at noon, just as some atrociously salt pork was simmering on the fire, we were sent with the 42nd battery, under commander schouten, to take up our position at keiserhoek, near the 40th, in order to support the 12th line regiment. major hellebaut, who commanded the artillery of brigade b., hazard, a pupil of the military school, a brigadier trumpeter, and i were in front. we trotted at a good rate over the paved road and, without uttering a word, crossed the bridge, and went along the streets leading to the square. a few infantry companies, in line by the houses, watched us in bewilderment.
on arriving at west street, we halted and dismounted in front of the house of the notary, m. baert. this house was empty. we left our horses in charge of the trumpeter and continued our way on foot, through dixmude, towards keiserhoek. the town was awful to behold; the streets were absolutely deserted and full of débris of all kinds and of shell-holes. the houses were shattered, the walls cracked, the tiles in fragments, and the window-panes broken. in the street leading to keyem, we noticed enormous splashes of blood. it was no use trying to find which side of the street was more sheltered. we were walking in the very centre of the firing line.[11]
suddenly, on a window ledge, we caught sight of max, a young malines collie, which our soldiers had adopted at boom and which had gone with us on one[pg 259] waggon or another everywhere. the poor dog was trembling now with fear. we took him away with us and continued our way. a waggon came back with half of its team. the whole road was being swept with shrapnels and it was impossible to keep straight on. we turned to the right by the handzaem canal and endeavoured to find lieutenant-colonel van rolleghem, who was in command of the 12th line regiment. thanks to the trees along the canal bank, we reached the trenches. the colonel was not there. we were advised to try the other side of the canal. a boat was at hand and we crossed, under the sharp whizzing of shrapnels. the colonel was at the extreme end of the winding line of the blood putteken trenches. it was impossible to employ the 42nd battery there. the 40th, which had been able to put only two of its cannons on the battery in an orchard to our right, had not been able to stay at keiserhoek.[10]it had two of its horses killed and would have lost a cannon if it had not been for the self-sacrifice of quartermaster vivier. the trenches were being shelled. thanks to wrong observation, the german firing was concentrated on a line of willows, the indistinct outline of which appeared to be a hundred yards away from the retrenchments. orders were given to us to return to kapelhoek. we had to go once more into the dixmude hell. just as we reached the big square, a big shell of 21 centimetres fell twenty yards away, at the corner of west street, filling the whole street with opaque grey smoke. we ran through this to the middle of a heap of stones, bricks, and beams. another projectile entered by the[pg 260] air-hole of a house and killed the band of the 12th line regiment which had taken refuge in a cellar. in the meantime, the 41st battery, returning from eessen, joined us and the three batteries crossed the bridge over the yser, arriving at a trot at kapelhoek. they opened a violent fire on the ground to the south of the cemetery, and the boches were obliged to clear out. that evening we entered a farm-house, and found five beds in a state which proved that there had been a hasty flight from there. we jumped into the beds just as we were. there was a deafening noise of artillery and the sharp crack of guns.
all this was intermittent at first, but it increased until it became incessant. the machine-guns continued all the time. a terrified soldier came in and informed us that there was an attack on the town. all night we heard the tumult of the fight, the roaring of the cannon, the whizzing of balls, and a wild clamour.
october 21st. at daybreak, the firing diminished and the germans were falling back. our troops had been superb and had repelled three assaults. a band of prisoners passed by. nearly all of them were young and had come from brussels. they had not fought before. according to them, many of their officers had been killed the previous day. they had been replaced by officers they did not know, taken from the central army.
a german officer with dum-dum balls was arrested. when he was questioned, he declared that these balls did not belong to him. as he became arrogant, he was made to turn round. he took advantage of the first moment of inattention for trying to escape. he was shot down at a distance of 150 metres. his[pg 261] revolver was loaded with these same dum-dum balls, and he was buried at once. we then fired on vladsloo and on eessen. we did not have to wait long for the reply and a few of our men were wounded.
the morning was relatively calm, but towards one o'clock, the battle began again as fiercely as the day before. this time the enemy aimed at the roads by which we might retreat. the german firing was more exact now. a quantity of vehicles were stationed on the oudecapelle road. at the first shells, they started off at a trot for shelter. three waggons were hit and the horses fell down. the fête began once more and dixmude was again bombarded violently. a shell set fire to the collégiale and the tower was soon a brazier. through the capricious flames we could see an arch for an instant, and then the clock tower foundered in an apotheosis. it began to get dusk and five fires could now be seen against the horizon. dixmude burst into flames here and there. a roof flamed up and threw a vivid brilliant gleam over the open-work gables. the germans were firing continually and the bursting of their projectiles made a cloud of sparks. it was dismal and at the same time imposing.
the firing continued and then, in a moment's lull, which seemed strange in the midst of the infernal noise, we heard the charge being sounded. this was followed by an immense and ferocious clamour which was answered by an intense firing. suddenly, everything was quiet and this sudden silence in the midst of the darkness was most impressive. we wondered whether the enemy had succeeded or been repulsed. the silence continued. then the firing began again, more intense still and in the same spot.[pg 262] we breathed freely, for the line had evidently not been forced. the anguish which we had all felt was over. it had been atrocious, that anguish of listening and seeing nothing, knowing nothing for certain, except that our lives and the lives of so many others were at stake, in the midst of the mysterious darkness. we kept all our positions. for three whole days it was one incessant fight. the german infantry was a few hundred yards away from ours, and on the yser, to the north of dixmude, we were each holding one of the banks of the river. for four nights we had taken what rest we could, just as we were, and we had no notion of time. we ate when we could; sometimes the meals were good and frequently bad.
october 22nd. with the dawn the firing slackened. the germans were falling back and we opened a violent firing in the various directions of their retreat. then there was silence again. we wondered whether they had changed their points of attack. towards ten o'clock, an energetic cannonading began towards the right. our cavalry divisions were on that side and the english were making their way vigorously in the same direction. at eleven o'clock, the battle began again. the big calibre abounded on the german side. they showered their 15 and 21 on us in all directions. nothing was spared. the ground was ploughed up with a frightful noise and the fields studded with enormous craters. up to the present, there had been more noise than damage. during the afternoon and the evening, the boches attempted several more attacks, but these all failed. we fired with great rapidity and our storms did a great deal of damage and cut short their attempts. some of the prisoners told us that we had destroyed one battalion and[pg 263] part of the cavalry, which had been taking refuge at the castle to the south of dixmude. the french army had asked us to hold out two days on the yser, and our troops had resisted eight days, and had been attacked during six days with terrific stubbornness.
october 23rd, 24th, and 25th. the infantry attacks were getting fewer and farther between. on the other hand, the artillery was working hard. the germans have a fearful proportion of artillery of all calibres, and it is their cannon that does the most work.
the struggle continued like the day before and the day before that. it was the battle of the aisne continuing. the adversaries had retrenched themselves, and more particularly before woumen. the boches had piled up their embankments here. as i was out on observation every day, along the banks of the yser, i could see their trenches spring out of the earth as though by magic, grow longer and become intersected with each other. they work with an ease and activity that is remarkable. in a place where there was nothing at night, a close network of trenches is to be seen the following day, together with a series of junctions and communication trenches. we fired violently, and overturned their mole-heaps, but a few minutes later we could see the rapid movement of earth turned over, and hear the noise of the iron spades, which would soon restore the damaged places.
in the distance, a few patrols were moving about; a battery was passing by at a trot in a sheltered road. in the beet-root fields, to the south of dixmude, could be seen long, grey figures lying in front of the german retrenchments. this was a neutral zone, within which no one could enter. all this was the ransom of[pg 264] the battles of the previous day, these were the dead bodies that could not be brought in.
on the evening of the 23rd, we heard groans and shouts in bad french coming from the long grasses in the fields. this was the first time i had heard wounded men shouting. a few voices could be heard above the rest: "help! help! french ... wounded!"
we wondered what this fresh ruse was, for ruse it certainly was, and a very palpable one. we did not stir, of course, and all was soon quiet again. the artillery was not long quiet though, and the quantity of ammunition it consumed was considerable. the germans bombard with unprecedented energy. the small calibre had almost disappeared and only the heavy guns were now doing their part. mine-shells exploded with a noise like thunder. it was sheer madness, for the boches were evidently firing without much observation, as, after placing the batteries, instead of firing in a way to destroy everything, they changed their target, fired at longer or shorter range, peppering the whole district, but not doing any great damage. when they have an idea though, they persist in it, so that when their idea was to attack one special point, they went on shooting with admirable persistency—even when there was nothing at the point at which they were aiming. a shell has just burst under one of our windows, breaking the panes and staining the adjutant major's papers with mud. our roof is like a sieve at present. one or other of us is all the time at the telephone. the wires are broken constantly by the shells. the telephonists run along and the communication is set up again. night and day, we hear the strident ring of the tele[pg 265]phone bell. some information arrives, or an order is given, one of the officers gets up, rushes off to the battery—and a telephonic message orders us to stop firing for the moment. when there is an important piece of information, everyone starts off. the dry, hoarse voice of our 75 mingles hurriedly with the dull rumblings in the distance, and with the formidable explosions of the projectiles that arrive. after this, all who have luck go to rest again, the privileged ones in any beds that are free, and the others on straw that is spread each night in the kitchen. for a whole week we have been installed on this farm. we have managed to find a few vegetables for our table, but meat is rare. the first day, we feasted on fowl, but now there are no more fowl. then we had a pig killed. to-day, we have some tinned meat; to-morrow, i do not know what we shall have. our greatest privation is the scarcity of cigarettes. we are reduced to making shapeless cigarettes with bad pipe tobacco. there is literally nothing to be had here. the water is so salty that we drink only coffee. fortunately there is no shortage of milk. our men go, in the early morning, and milk the wandering cattle which they find enjoying themselves in the beet-root fields. not a single dog barks. they all go creeping along close to the buildings, with their tails between their legs, and at the first whizz of a shell they jump down wildly into any hole they happen to find. the projectiles have made a hecatomb of cattle on every side. all the famous meadows round dixmude and veurne-ambacht are strewn with dead cows, lying on their back with their feet in the air. the game is all terrified. the cannonading keeps on all the time: the shooting is intermittent[pg 266] during the day and almost incessant during the night. whenever there is a lull, the prolonged roar of the ypres cannon in the distance is deafening. all this noise gets on our nerves, which are already at full tension.
october 26th. dixmude, kapelhoek. at six in the morning, we were suddenly roused by a firing almost in our ears. the bullets lodged in our walls. it was evidently an alert. a commander came back to us calling out: "the germans are 400 yards away!" we got up in haste, amazed at what we heard. on looking out, we were greeted by a hailstorm of bullets. they seemed to come from all sides at once, so that it seemed as though we were surrounded. we took counsel together quickly.
"to the guns," was the order "and shrapnel fire at short distance!"
it was impossible to get to the batteries. the morning mist was hanging over everything. we could see only indistinct figures moving about. there was a moment's lull in the firing and our men rushed to the guns. the zeal of one of our gunners was fortunately calmed in time. he was just about to aim at one of our own patrols.
"what is the meaning of this? where are they? what is the matter?" were the questions everyone was asking.
about fifty germans had crossed the yser and search was being made for them. i rushed off to headquarters to give this information and to bring help. i met a patrol of dragoons, another of fusiliers, and a third of carabineers. the alarm had been given.
at the admiral's headquarters, everyone was up[pg 267] and discussing the incident. an enemy detachment had crossed the river and caused a panic, thanks to its firing, but at daybreak the troops had pulled themselves together, the positions were reoccupied, and the hunt was taking place. i went out towards dixmude and, in a ditch, i saw two germans lying face downwards in the mud. on the other side the road were two blue-jackets, with their sweaters unbuttoned and the blood flowing freely. a girl, half wild with anxiety, rushed across to me. she had been helping an old woman along. "oh, sir, my mother is dying; something to put her on, so that she can be carried!" i could only point to the headquarters. just then a stretcher passed by, carried by four of the fusiliers. on it was the dead body of commander jeanniot. his face was covered with a handkerchief, but his crushed arm was hanging down and he had a fearful wound in his thigh. there were dead bodies heaped up on the dixmude bridge. one of them was still hanging on to the railings, which he had clutched in his death-agony. all of them had quantities of wounds, holes in their breasts, and eyes wide open, scared by the frightful sights they had seen. beyond the bridge were heaps of dead bodies, lying pêle-mêle with their stiff limbs intermingled and their coagulated blood on the pavement.
still farther on were more dead bodies. a few belgians were also sleeping their last sleep on the footpath. patrols were going to and fro, searching houses, their weapons in their hands and their eyes on the lookout for everything. as i went farther into dixmude, i found heaps of ruins, charred walls, blackened stumps, broken windows. in one house, the whole fa?ade had given way and the ceilings had[pg 268] remained. it looked like a piece of stage scenery. strangely enough, too, one house stood entirely unscathed. the square was completely torn up and there were rows of craters bordered by paving stones.
the council house could still boast the skeleton of its clock tower and the stained glass was still dropping from its window frames. the headless tower and the four walls were all that remained standing of the collégiale building.
on my return, i met two stretchers, on one of which was an old german officer who had been mortally wounded, and on the other an immense fellow with square shoulders, wearing enormous spectacles with horn rims. the men could scarcely carry him, as he was so heavy. on returning to the battery, i learnt that two prisoners had been taken. i went to see the place where the last struggle had taken place. about fifteen bodies were lying on the muddy ground, which was all bespattered with blood. four of the men were still living. the major in command was lying on his back, dead, with his mouth open and his skull pierced. a lieutenant had fallen sideways with his arm under him. he was young, with refined features. he was very carefully dressed and was wearing extremely fine linen. one of the blue-jackets approached, turned him over skilfully, and plunged his hands in the dead man's pockets.
"ah, not much there, his pockets have been cleared out!" this was the only funeral orison he had.[12]
the other bodies were covered with wounds, for the bayonet is a terrible weapon. a little farther on[pg 269] were the fusiliers who had been assassinated in so cowardly a way. their wounds were frightful.
after this alert, the morning was almost tranquil. it was not until the afternoon, that the artillery began once more its nerve-wearing fire.
october 27th. dixmude-kapelhoek. after their failure of yesterday, it seemed as though the germans wanted to change the point of attack. they went towards the north. thirteen footbridges had been thrown over the yser towards tervaete and some of their troops had landed on our side of the river.
a french division reinforced us, thus enabling us to make a vigorous counter-offensive, but without regaining all the lost land. the artillery struggle began again more fiercely than ever. the heavy guns were used almost entirely. their projectiles seemed to cut the air. the explosions were terrible, sending up into the air enormous masses of earth. the splitting of the shells was such that at 800 metres fragments arrived like a whirlwind with a threatening bee-like noise. we picked up a fragment 45 centimetres long, by 12 broad and 6 in thickness. taubes were flying overhead. around dixmude, the network of trenches was getting more and more complicated. it was getting gradually smaller, and the encircling movement had commenced.
we remained at dixmude until the 6th of november. on that day, french batteries came to relieve us, and on that day we had only one cannon left out of twelve; the eleven others had been disabled. we had seen the grip getting tighter and tighter, the cannonading more violent, the firing more intense, and the assaults more frequently repeated. when necessity obliged us to leave, we had, at any rate, seen the[pg 270] inanity of the adversaries' furious attacks and their recoil from the quiet, mounting water and the inundation, which had just begun at the right moment. we had been able to guard intact the last shred of our beloved belgium.
footnotes:
[10] according to information taken from an account by major hellebaut.
[11] this information was obtained from an account given by artillery major hellebaut.
[12] the major's name was von oidtmann. he was in command of a battalion of the 222nd augusta regiment. the lieutenant's linen was marked p. and p.c.
