Henty George Alfred
The Young Franc Tireurs, and Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War
As he spoke, the sentry on the bridge fired his rifle; immediately, this was repeated by the next sentry on the line, and the signal was taken up by each sentry, until the sound died in the distance. As it had done so, the franc tireurs had made a rush forwards. They were met by a straggling discharge from the Germans as, half asleep, they hurried out from the guard room. This was answered by the fire of the franc tireurs, who surrounded them. Five fell; and the others, surprised and panic stricken, threw down their arms. They were instantly secured, and the bridge was at once seized.
The firing still continued in the village; but in another five minutes it ceased and, shortly afterwards, Louis Duburg ran up with the tidings that the village was taken. The Germans, surprised in their beds, had offered but a slight resistance. Four were killed, and sixteen taken prisoners; one franc tireur, only, was slightly wounded.
"Take two men with you," Major Tempe said, "and escort those five prisoners to the village. Give them over to Lieutenant Houdin; and tell him to send them, with the prisoners he has taken, under charge of six men to the forest. Let their hands be tied behind their backs, for we cannot spare a larger escort. Tell him to be sure that the escort are loaded, and have fixed bayonets. Directly he has sent off the prisoners let him join me here, with the rest of his force."
Lieutenant Ribouville now set to work to inspect the bridge; and ordered the men–who were provided with the necessary implements–to set to, and dig a hole down to the crown of the principal arch. It was harder work than they had expected. The roadway was solid, the ballast pressed down very tightly, and the crown of the arch covered, to a considerable depth, with concrete. Only a few men could work at once and, after a half-hour's desperate labor, the hole was nothing like far enough advanced to ensure the total destruction of the bridge, upon the charge being fired. In the meantime the Prussian sentries were arriving from up and down the line and, although not in sufficient force to attack, had opened fire from a distance.
"Don't you think that will do, Ribouville?" Major Tempe asked.
"No, sir," the other replied. "It might blow a hole through the top of the arch, but I hardly think that it would do so. Its force would be spent upwards."
At this moment Ralph–who had done his spell of work, and had been down to the stream, to get a drink of water–came running up.
"If you please, Lieutenant Ribouville, there is a hole right through the pier, just above the water's edge. It seems to have been left to let any water that gets into the pier, from above, make its escape. I should think that would do to hold the charge."
"The very thing," Lieutenant Ribouville said, delightedly. "What a fool I was, not to have looked to see if such a hole existed!
"Stop work, men, and carry the barrels down to the edge of the water."
The stream was not above waist deep; and the engineer officer immediately waded into it, and examined the hole. He at once pronounced it to be admirably suited to the purpose. It did not–as Ralph had supposed–go straight through; but there were two holes, one upon each side of the pier, nearly at the same level, and each extending into the center of the pier. The holes were about four inches square.
The barrels of gun cotton were now hastily opened on the bank, and men waded out with the contents. Lieutenant Ribouville upon one side, and Ralph upon the other, took the cotton and thrust it, with long sticks, into the ends of the hole. In five minutes the contents of the two barrels were safely lodged, the fuse inserted, and the operation of tamping–or ramming–in dry sand, earth, and stones commenced.
"Make haste!" Major Tempe shouted. "Their numbers are increasing fast. There are some fifteen or twenty, on either side."
A brisk fire of rifles was now going on. The day had fairly broken; and the franc tireurs, sheltered behind the parapet of the bridge, on the bank of the river, were exchanging a lively fire with the enemy. Three-quarters of an hour had passed since the first shot was fired.
Suddenly a distant boom was heard, followed in a few seconds by a slight whizzing noise, which grew rapidly into a loud scream and, in another moment, there was an explosion close to the bridge. The men all left off their work, for an instant.
"And what may that be, Mister Percy? A more unpleasant sound I niver heard, since I was a baby."
"I quite agree with you, Tim, as to its unpleasantness. It is a shell. The artillery are coming up from Luneville. The fire of the sentries would take the alarm, in a couple of minutes; give them another fifteen to get ready, and half an hour to get within range.
"Here comes another."
"Are you ready, Ribouville?" the commandant shouted. "They have cavalry, as well as artillery. We must be off, or we shall get caught in a trap."
"I am ready," was the answer.
"Barclay, strike a match, and put it to the end of your fuse, till it begins to fizz.
"Have you lit it?"
"Yes, sir," Ralph said, a moment later.
"So have I," the lieutenant said. "They will burn about three minutes.
"Now for a run!"
In a couple of minutes the franc tireurs were retreating, at the double; and they had not gone a hundred yards when they heard the sound of two tremendous explosions, following closely one upon another. Looking back, they saw the pier had fallen in fragments; and that the bridge lay, a heap of ruins, in the stream.
"Hurrah, lads!" shouted the commandant. "You have done your work well. Those who get out of this with a whole skin may well be proud of their day's work.
"Don't mind the shells," he continued, as two more of the missiles burst, in quick succession, within a short distance of them. "They make an ugly noise; but they won't hurt us, at this distance."
The German artillerymen had apparently arrived at the same conclusion, for they now ceased to fire; and the retreating corps were only exposed to an occasional shot from the infantry, who had followed them from the bridge.
"The artillery and cavalry will be up, before we reach the wood," Percy said to his brother, as they trotted along, side by side.
"They may come up," Ralph said, "but they can do us no harm, on the broken ground; and will catch a Tartar, if they don't mind."
The ground was indeed unfavorable for cavalry, and artillery. It was broken up with the spurs of the hill. Here and there great masses of rock cropped out of the ground, while patches of forest extended over a considerable portion of the ground. In one of these, standing upon rising and broken ground, Major Tempe halted his men; and opened so heavy a fire upon the enemy's cavalry, when the column appeared, that they were at once halted; and although, when the artillery arrived, a few shells were fired into the wood, the franc tireurs had already retired, and gained the forest without further molestation. Upon calling the roll, it was discovered that six men, only, were missing. These had fallen–either killed or wounded–from the fire of the enemy's infantry, during the time that the operation at the bridge were being carried out.
There was great rejoicing at the success of their enterprise, the effect of which would certainly be to block the traffic along that line, for at least a week. Their satisfaction was, however, somewhat damped by the sight of several dense columns of smoke in the plain; showing that the Germans had, as usual, wreaked their vengeance upon the innocent villagers. The feeling of disgust was changed to fury when some of the peasants–who had fled into the woods, upon the destruction of their abodes–reported that the Germans, having found that three of the franc tireurs were only wounded, had dragged them along to the entrance to the village; and had hung them there upon some trees, by the roadside. Had it not been for Major Tempe's assurance, that their comrades should be avenged, the franc tireurs would at once have killed their prisoners.
In the evening the men were formed up, the prisoners ranged in line, and twelve were taken by lot; and these, with the officer taken with them–when night fell–were bound and marched off, under a guard of thirty men. Neither of the boys formed part of the escort, which was an immense relief to them for, although they were as indignant as the rest, at the murder of their wounded comrades by the Germans; and quite agreed in the justice of reprisal, still, they were greatly relieved when they found that they would not have to be present at the execution.
Two hours later Major Tempe returned, with the escort. The officer, and eleven of his men, had been hung on trees by the roadside, at a distance of half a mile, only, from the village; the twelfth man had been released, as bearer of a note from Major Tempe to the German commanding officer saying that, as a reprisal for the murder of the three wounded franc tireurs, he had hung twelve Germans; and that, in future, he would always hang four prisoners for every one of his men who might be murdered, contrary to the rules of war.
This act of retributive justice performed, the corps retreated to join the army of the Vosges, under General Cambriels. The news of the destruction of the bridge across the Vesouze had preceded them; and when, after three days' heavy marching, they reached the village which formed the headquarters of the general, they were received with loud cheers by the crowds of Mobiles who thronged its little streets. It was out of the question to find quarters; and the major therefore ordered the men to bivouac in the open, while he reported himself to General Cambriels.
The commandant of the franc tireurs was personally known to General Cambriels, having at one time served for some years under his command; and he was most warmly received by the veteran, one of the bravest and most popular of the French generals. As general of the district, he had received all Major Tempe's reports; and was therefore acquainted with the actions of the corps.
"Ah, major!" he said, after the first greetings, "if I had only a few thousand men, animated with the spirit and courage of your fellows, the Germans would never get through the Vosges. As it is I shall, of course, do my best; but what can one do with an army of plow boys, led by officers who know nothing of their duty, against troops like the Germans?
"As for my franc tireurs, they are in many cases worse than useless. They have no discipline, whatever. They embroil me with the peasantry. They are always complaining. The whole of them, together, have not done as much real service as your small band. They shoot down Uhlans, when they catch them in very small parties; but have no notion, whatever, of real fighting.
"However, I cannot thank you too warmly. Your name will appear in the Gazette, tomorrow, as colonel; and I must ask you to extend the sphere of your duties. We want officers, terribly; and I will brigade four or five of these corps of franc tireurs under your orders, so as to make up a force of a thousand men. You will have full authority over them, to enforce any discipline you may choose. I want you to make a body to act as an advanced guard of skirmishers to my army of Mobiles. I have a few line troops, but I want them as a nucleus for the force.
"What do you say?"
"Personally, general, I should greatly prefer remaining with my own little corps, upon every man of whom I can rely. At the same time, I should not wish for a moment to oppose my own likings, or dislikings, to the general good of the service. Many of these corps of franc tireurs are composed of excellent materials and, if well led and disciplined, would do anything. I can only say I will do my best."
"Thank you, Tempe. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"I should like to see a step given to the three officers serving under me," the major said. "They have all served in the regular army, and all have equally well done their duty."
"It shall be done; and two of them shall be posted to other corps, while one takes the command of your own," the general said. "Do you wish commissions for any of the men?"
Major Tempe named three of the men, and then added:
"The two members of the corps who have most distinguished themselves I have not mentioned, general, because they are too young to place over the heads of the others; at the same time, their services certainly deserve recognition. I mentioned them, in the dispatches I sent to you, as having done immense service by going down, in disguise, into the midst of the Germans. In fact, at Saverne they saved the corps from destruction. They are two young English lads, named Barclay."
"I remember distinctly," General Cambriels said. "They speak French fluently, I suppose, as well as German?"
"Both languages like natives," the major answered.
"And can they ride?"
"Yes, admirably," Major Tempe said. "I knew them before the war, and they are excellent horsemen."
"Then they are the very fellows for me," General Cambriels said. "I will give them commissions in the provisional army, at once; and put them upon my own staff. They would be of great value to me.
"You will spare them, I hope?"
"I shall be extremely sorry to do so, general; but for their own sakes, and for the good of the service, I will of course do so."
"Thanks, colonel. I shall put the franc tireurs of Dijon in general orders, tomorrow, as having performed good service to the country; and please to thank them, in my name, for their services."
"Thank you very much, general. It will give me more pleasure than even the step that you have been kind enough to give to myself."
"Good evening, colonel. We must have a long chat together, one of these days.
"The chief of my staff will give you the names of the corps to be placed under your orders. The matter was settled this morning, and I have picked out the best of those here. Orders have been sent for them to assemble at Raoul–a village, a mile from here–in the morning; with a notification that they are placed under your command.
"Goodbye."
Chapter 11: A Fight In The Vosges
Upon Colonel Tempe's rejoining the men–who were already busy preparing their suppers–he ordered the assembly to be sounded and, when they were formed up, he formally thanked them, in the name of the general, for the service that they had rendered; adding that they would appear in general orders, upon the following day.
The men replied with a cheer of "Vive la France!"
Their commander then informed them that he, himself, had received a step in rank and would, in future, command them with several other corps; that Lieutenant Ribouville would, in future, be their special commander, with the rank of captain; that the other two lieutenants would be promoted; and that three of their number would receive commissions and, while one of them remained under Captain Ribouville, the others would–with the newly-made captains–be attached to other corps. The two Barclays would receive commissions as officers, on the staff of General Cambriels, himself.
When Colonel Tempe finished speaking, the boys could hardly believe their ears; and looked at each other, to inquire if they heard aright. There could be no mistake about it; for Colonel Tempe called them forward and, shaking hands with them, congratulated them on the promotion which, he said, they had well earned. The men gave a hearty cheer; for the young English lads were general favorites, for their good temper and willingness to oblige.
Directly the men were dismissed, the colonel again called the lads to him.
"I am sorry to lose you," he said, "but of course it is for your good. Come with me, at once, to General Cambriels. I will introduce you, and you had better ask for four days' leave. You can get the railway in four hours' ride from here. You will have no difficulty in finding a place in some of the commissariat cities going to fetch stores. If you start tonight, you can catch a train before morning, and be in Dijon quite early. A couple of days will be sufficient to get your uniforms made, and to buy horses.
"Your cousin will go with you. I gave him leave, last night, to start upon our arrival here. He is not so strong as you are; and the surgeon says that he must have rest, and quiet. He is quite worn out.
"Now, pile your rifles–you will not want them any more–and come with me. I have said good night to the general, but he will excuse me."
Still bewildered, the boys did as they were ordered. As they were piling their rifles, they heard a loud blubbering. Looking round, they saw Tim Doyle, weeping most copiously.
"What is the matter, Tim?"
"Matter! Your honor, ain't yer going to lave us? What am I going to do, at all?"
The boys hurried away, without reply–for Colonel Tempe was waiting for them–and, on the way to headquarters, mentioned Tim's grief at parting with them.
The general received the lads most kindly and, at once, granted them four days' leave to go to Dijon, to procure uniform.
Colonel Tempe then said:
"You do not want orderlies, do you, general?"
"I do, indeed," the general answered. "I have about a dozen cavalry men, of different regiments, who form my escort and act as orderlies; but they are my entire force of cavalry."
"I have an Irishman in my corps, general, who only joined to be near these young fellows. He was brought up among horses; and you have only to put him in a hussar uniform, and he would make a capital orderly, and would act as servant to your new staff officers."
"By all means," the general said; "send him over, in the morning. We will make a hussar of him, in half an hour; we have got a few uniforms in store."
What a meeting that was, near Dijon! The boys, upon reaching the station, had found a train on the point of starting; and it was seven in the morning when they reached the town. The shops open early, in French country towns; and although their tailor had not as yet taken his shutters down, he was up and about, and willingly measured them for their new uniforms–promising that they should have them, without fail, the next afternoon. They then walked up to the cottage; and dropped in just as the party, there, were sitting down to breakfast.
There was a loud exclamation from Captain Barclay, and a scream of delight from their mother, and Milly; and it was a good ten minutes before they were sitting round the table, talking coherently. It was but six weeks since they had left, but it seemed like years; and there was as much to tell, and to talk about, as if they had just returned, after an absence of half a lifetime, in India.
"How long have you got leave for?" was one of the first questions.
"Only four days," Percy said. "The corps has now joined the army of the Vosges, and will act regularly with it. A move forward will take place, in a few days, so that we could not ask for longer."
"Only four days!" Mrs. Barclay and Milly repeated, aghast.
"It is not much, mamma," Ralph put in, "but it is better than nothing. You see, you did not expect us at all."
"Quite so," Captain Barclay said, cheerfully. "It is a clear gain, and we waste the time in regretting that it is not longer. It is a great delight to have you back again, even for a few hours. You both look wonderfully well, and fully a year older than when you left. Roughing it, and exposure, evidently suits you.
"Has Louis come back with you?"
"Yes, papa, he has come back to stay, for some time. He is completely done up, and the surgeon has ordered rest and quiet, for a while.
"How is Philippe?"
"He is getting on well; and will walk, the doctor hopes, in another fortnight, or three weeks; but I have not seen him for–although your uncle comes in, as usual, for a chat with me–Madame Duburg has never forgiven me for having, as she says, influenced him in allowing the boys to go; and of course, since this wound of Philippe's, she has been more angry than ever."
The boys laughed. They understood their aunt's ways.
"Tim has not been hurt, I hope?" Milly asked.
"Oh no; Tim is as well as ever, and the life and soul of the corps."
As breakfast went on, the boys gradually related the changes that were taking place: Major Tempe's promotion to be colonel, and the fact that he was placed in command of several corps of franc tireurs, who were hereafter to act together. They said no word, however, about their own promotion; having agreed to keep that matter secret, until the uniforms were completed. They had also asked their cousin to say nothing about it, at home; as otherwise their uncle would have been sure to have come in to congratulate them, and the secret would have been at an end, at once.
An hour later, Monsieur Duburg came in to see them. After the first talk, he said to Captain Barclay:
"The way in which your boys have stood the fatigue is a proof, in itself, how much the prosperity of a nation depends upon the training of its boys. England is strong because her boys are all accustomed, from their childhood, to active exercise and outdoor, violent games. In case of a war, like this which we are going through, almost every man could turn soldier, and go through the fatigues of a campaign; and what is more, could make light of–not to say enjoy–them.
"Here, upon the contrary, our young fellows do nothing and, in an emergency like the present, want both spirit and strength to make soldiers. Almost all the boys who went from here in Tempe's corps have returned, completely worn out. Even Louis is a wreck; although, thanks to the companionship of your boys, he has supported it better, and longer, than the majority of them. Had he began, as a child, to take pleasure in strong exercise; no doubt he could have stood it as well as Ralph and Percy, who look absolutely benefited by it. Unfortunately, I allowed my wife's silly objection to prevail; until the last three years, when I insisted that they should do as they liked.
"As I have said before, Barclay, I say again: I congratulate you on your boys. You have a right to be proud of them. I wish the race of young Frenchmen were only like them."
Great indeed was the astonishment–upon the afternoon of the following day–when Ralph and Percy walked into the sitting room, dressed as staff officers; feeling a little awkward with their swords, but flushed with an honorable pleasure and pride–for their epaulets had been gained by no family interests, no private influence. They were worn as the reward of good service. Captain Barclay wrung the boys' hands, silently. Their mother cried with delight, and Milly danced round the boys like a small possessed one.
"It is not for the absolute rank itself, boys, that I am pleased," their father said, when they had related the whole circumstances; "for you have no idea of remaining in the French service and, consequently, the rank will be of no use to you, after the end of the war. Still, it is a thing all your lives to be proud of–that you won your commission in the French army, by good service."
"What I am thinking of most," Mrs. Barclay said, "is that, now they are officers in the regular army, they will run no risk of being shot, if they are taken prisoners."
"We don't mean to be taken prisoners, mamma. Still, as you say, it is certainly an advantage in favor of the regular uniform."
"And what is to become of Tim?" Milly asked.
"Oh, Tim is going to become a hussar, and act as one of the general's orderlies; and be our servant, when he has nothing else to do. You see, now we are officers, we have a right to servants."
"I am very glad Tim is going with you," Mrs. Barclay said. "My brother tells us that he saved Philippe's life, and it seems a comfort to know that he is with you."
The next morning Captain Barclay went down with them to the town, and purchased a couple of capital horses which, by great good fortune, were on sale.
Upon the morning of the fourth day of their visit, the boys took leave of their father and mother, and left to join the headquarters of General Cambriels. The parting was far less trying than it had been, the first time they went away. The boys were not, now, going out to an unknown danger. Although the risk that a staff officer runs is, absolutely, somewhat greater than that incurred by a regimental officer; still, it is slight in comparison with the risk run by a franc tireur, employed in harassing an enemy, and in cutting his communications–especially when capture means death. Those who remained behind were encouraged partly by this thought, but still more by the really irrational one that, as the boys had gone away and come back safe, once, they would probably do so again.
The evening of the same day, the Barclays reported themselves for duty to the general and, next morning, began work. Their duty was hard, though simple. By day they were constantly on duty–that is to say, either riding over the country, or waiting near the general's quarters in readiness for a start or–more seldom–writing, and drawing up reports in the office. By night they took it in turns with the other staff officers to be on duty–that is to say, to lie down to sleep in uniform, with the horse saddled at the door, in readiness to start at an instant's notice.
Tim's duties as an orderly were not heavy, and were generally over by five o'clock; after which he acted as servant to the boys. It was impossible, under the circumstances, for the staff to mess together, as usual. There was neither a room available nor, indeed, any of the appliances. Among Tim's other duties, therefore, was that of cooking. They had also another orderly allotted to them, and he devoted himself to the care of the horses; Tim undertaking all other work.
The boys liked their new duties much. The work was hard, but pleasant. Their fellow officers were pleasant companions, and their general most kind, and genial.
A week after they had joined, General Cambriels advanced into the Vosges to oppose the Prussians, who were marching south. The progress of the army was slow, for they had to carry what supplies they required with them. Colonel Tempe kept, with his command, a few hours' march ahead; and one or other of the boys was frequently dispatched with orders, etc. to obtain reports from him.
After three days' marching, they neared the enemy. All was now watchfulness, and excitement. The franc tireurs were already engaged in skirmishing and, early one morning, Ralph received orders to ride forward and reconnoiter the enemy's position. Passing through the posts of franc tireurs, he rode cautiously along the road; with his hand on the butt of his revolver, and his horse well in hand–ready to turn and ride for his life, on an instant's notice.
Presently, as the road wound through a narrow gorge, lined with trees, he heard a voice say, close in his ear, "Stop!"
He reined in his horse, and drew his pistol. The leaves parted; and a man of some sixty years of age, armed with an old double-barreled fowling piece, stepped out.
"The Germans are just beyond," he said. "I expect them every moment."
"And what are you doing here?" Ralph asked.
"What am I doing?" repeated the peasant. "I am waiting to shoot some of them."
"But they will hang you, to a certainty, if they catch you."
"Let them," the old man said, quietly; "they will do me no more harm than they have done me. I had a nice farm, near Metz. I lived there with my wife and daughter, and my three boys. Someone fired at the Prussians from a wood near. No one was hit, but that made no difference. The black-hearted scoundrels came to my farm; shot my three boys, before their mother's eyes; ill treated her, so that she died next day and, when I returned–for I was away, at the time–I found a heap of ashes, where my house had stood; the dead bodies of my three boys; my wife dying, and my daughter sitting by, screaming with laughter–mad–quite mad!
"I took her away to a friend's house; and stayed with her till she died, too, a fortnight after. Then I bought this gun, and some powder and lead, with my last money; and went out to kill Prussians. I have killed thirteen already and, please God," and the peasant lifted his hat, devoutly, "I will kill two more, today."
"How is it that you have escaped so long?" Ralph asked, in surprise.
"I never fire at infantry," the peasant said. "It was Uhlans that did it, and it's only Uhlans I fire at. I put myself on a rock, or a hillside, where they can't come–or in a thick wood–and I content myself with my two shots, and then go. I don't want to be killed, yet. I have set my mind on having fifty–just ten for each of mine–and when I've shot the last of the fifty, the sooner they finish me, the better.
"You'd better not go any farther, sir. The valley widens out, round the corner; and there are Prussians in the nearest village."
"Thank you," Ralph said, "but my orders are to reconnoiter them, myself, and I must do so. I am well mounted, and I don't think that they will catch me, if I get a couple of hundred yards' start. There are franc tireurs in the village, a mile back."
Ralph now rode carefully forward, while the peasant went back into his hiding place by the wood. As he had said, the gorge widened into a broad valley, a few hundred yards farther on. Upon emerging from the gorge, Ralph at once saw a village–almost hidden among trees–at a distance of less than a quarter of a mile. After what he had heard, he dared not ride on farther. He therefore drew his horse aside from the road, among some trees; dismounted, and made his way carefully up the rocky side of the hill, to a point from which he could command a view down the whole valley.
When he gained this spot, he looked cautiously round. Below, beyond the village, he could see large numbers of men; could make out lines of cavalry horses, and rows of artillery. A considerable movement was going on, and Ralph had no doubt that they were about to advance. In his interest in what he saw, he probably exposed his figure somewhat; and caught the eye of some sharp-sighted sentry, in the village.
The first intimation of his danger was given him by seeing some twenty Uhlans dart suddenly out of the trees, in which the village lay, at the top of their speed while, almost at the same moment, eight or ten rifles flashed, and the balls whizzed round him in most unpleasant propinquity. Ralph turned in an instant; and bounded down the rock with a speed and recklessness of which, at any other moment, he would have been incapable. Fierce as was the pace at which the Uhlans were galloping, they were still a hundred yards distant when Ralph leaped upon his horse, and galloped out in front of them.
