Henty George Alfred
The Young Franc Tireurs, and Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War
Under shelter of a low wall, another stand was made; but the superior force of the enemy enabled them to threaten to outflank them. Many of the Germans had fallen; but the rest advanced, with as much coolness and precision as if on parade.
"How beautifully these fellows do fight!" Ralph exclaimed, in admiration.
"Now, lads, we must retreat," the lieutenant said. "We have done very well. Now, across the village, and then make for the forest as hard as you can. It's not over five hundred yards. When you are once there, make a stand again."
The men turned and, in another moment, would have carried out the order when–from a house in a line with them, but about fifty yards off–a heavy fire of musketry suddenly broke out.
"Hurrah, lads, there's the commandant! Stand to your wall; we'll thrash them, yet."
Staggered by this sudden and heavy fire, the Germans paused; and then fell back, to a spot where a dip in the ground sheltered them from the fire from above. For a short time, there was a cessation of the fight. At this moment, the commandant joined the first company.
"Well done, indeed!" he exclaimed. "Gallantly done, lads! We heard the firing, and feared you would be crushed before we could get up. It is fortunate I started half an hour before daybreak. We have done the last two miles at a run.
"Have you suffered much?"
There was a general look round. Four men had fallen, in the retreat. Another lay dead, shot through the head as he fired over the wall. Four others were wounded; three seriously, while Ralph Barclay had a ball through the fleshy part of his arm.
"Fortunately," Major Tempe said, "half a dozen men from the other village volunteered to come over to help the wounded. I will send them over here, at once. They can take some doors off their hinges, and carry these three men right back into the forest, at once. We have not done yet.
"Get your men into skirmishing line, De Maupas. I will form mine to join you. Occupy the line of gardens, and walls."
Scarcely was the movement effected, when the Germans again appeared on the hillside. They had still a very great superiority in numbers; for the two companies of franc tireurs only numbered, now, forty-five men, while the Germans–who had lost upwards of twenty men–were still nearly eighty strong.
Ralph Barclay still kept his place in the ranks. Tim Doyle had bandaged up his arm; for Percy, who had at first attempted it, had nearly fainted at the sight of the blood. The Irishman was in the highest glee; and occasionally indulged in whoops of defiance, and in taunting remarks–which would not have flattered the enemy, could they have heard and understood them.
The Germans, as they emerged from their shelter, were about four hundred yards distant; and the fire at once recommenced. The franc tireurs were all lying down, and this gave them a great advantage over the Germans and, the disparity of numbers being less, the fight raged with greater obstinacy than before. Very gradually, the enemy won their way–taking advantage of every rock and inequality of ground–until they were within two hundred yards of the village. Nearer than this they could not come, for the ground was open and, in the face of the force in shelter, armed with breech loaders, it would have been madness to have attempted a rush.
For some time, the combatants remained in the same position; merely exchanging an occasional shot, when a head or a hat was exposed. At last, Major Tempe became uneasy at the prolonged inaction upon the part of the enemy.
"De Maupas," he said, "run up to the upper story of that house, and try and see what they are doing. Look all round. I don't like this long hesitation. They are greatly superior in force, and know it. I think that they must be going to try some flanking movement."
The lieutenant obeyed and, going up to the upper story of the house pointed out by his commander, peered cautiously out. As far as he could see, nothing was stirring. The Germans appeared to be lying in the little hollow in which they were sheltered. He was about to descend, when he remembered his orders to look around in all directions. He therefore went to a window at the end of the house, and looked carefully out.
As he did so he gave a start; and his heart seemed, for a moment, to stand still. Then, with a bound, he reached the door, sprang downstairs, and rushed out to where Major Tempe was standing, behind a wall.
"The cavalry are upon us," he said. "They are not five hundred yards off. They have made a great detour and are–"
Major Tempe stopped to hear no more.
"Fall back, men," he shouted. "Keep well together. The cavalry are upon us. Now, at a double to the forest, for your lives.
"Steady, steady!"
The men sprang from the position behind which they had been firing, fell in hurriedly in the street; and then went off, at a fast double, towards the forest. There were a few trees near, but no shelter sufficient to be of any use nearer than five hundred yards. Fortunately they were unimpeded by wounded, every man having been carried back into the forest, immediately he was struck. Still, it was evident that they could not gain the forest in time. They had seen the leading horsemen turn into the end of the village, not more than three hundred yards distant, as they started; and the carbine balls were already whizzing over their heads.
With the rapidity and steadiness which mark the movements of the Prussian cavalry, they formed in line as they issued from the village and, before the fugitives were halfway to the forest, a line of horsemen, fifty abreast, were in full gallop behind. Then followed another, of equal strength, fifty yards behind. The franc tireurs, with their rifles and accouterments, were already slackening their speed.
"We must form square, major. They are not a hundred and fifty yards behind," De Maupas exclaimed. "We can beat them off, easily enough."
Major Tempe shook his head, and shouted cheerily:
"Keep on to the last moment, men, well together. I will tell you when the moment is come. Hold your rifles in readiness."
In ten more seconds, he gave the word. The men were in readiness, and the square was formed as if by magic. The Uhlans were not more than eighty yards off.
"File firing," the major shouted. "Steady! Don't throw away a shot."
Now was the time for breech-loading weapons, and so deadly was the fire that the center of the Prussian line melted away before it; and the men who remained reined aside their horses, as they reached the hedge of bayonets. The flanks kept on, and united again behind the square; drawing up near the edge of the wood, a hundred and fifty yards distant.
The charge of the second line was attended with precisely similar results. The instant that they had passed, however, Major Tempe shouted to his men:
"On again for the woods. Steady! Keep square. Reserve your fire till I tell you. We must break through the cavalry. They only want to keep us. Their infantry will be here in three minutes. They are through the village, already."
The position of the franc tireurs was now critical in the extreme. The enemy's cavalry–between them and safety, only a hundred yards distant–had unslung their carbines, and opened fire. The infantry were nearly two hundred yards behind but, fortunately, dared not fire for fear of hitting their own cavalry.
At a rapid pace–for they were running for life–the little knot of franc tireurs dashed forward. One or two fell from the fire of the cavalry and, as they were fifty yards distant from the wood, there was a cry and Philippe Duburg fell to the ground. In an instant Tim Doyle–who was his next man–stopped, caught him up as if he had been a feather and, with a desperate effort, again joined the others, just as they were within twenty yards of the cavalry.
"Fire!" Major Tempe cried; and from the front, and from each side of the little square–which was but six deep, either way–the rifles flashed out.
"Level bayonets; charge!"
There was a short struggle. The second ranks poured their fire into the cavalry line. There was a clashing of bayonets against swords, and then the band ran through the broken line of cavalry. There was a rush into the brushwood; and then, from behind the shelter of the trees, the fire opened again; and the cavalry fell sullenly back, having lost upwards of thirty men in that short five minutes since they had left the village.
The German infantry halted, at a distance of two hundred yards; but they would have lost too many men, in crossing the open, to make it worth while to attack the sheltered foe–who could pick them off, to the last moment, only to withdraw deeper into the forest when they approached its edge. Accordingly they too fell back, exchanging fire with the franc tireurs until they gained the shelter of the village.
The conflict over. The men sank, exhausted, upon the ground where they stood. Major Tempe went round to each; saying a word of praise, and giving a little of the brandy–with which he had filled his canteen, before starting–with some water from their own kegs. Then he gave a sharp whistle, and the men again gathered round him.
"Once more, lads, I must thank you for your conduct," he said. "You have defended yourselves against forces, altogether, four times your own. You fairly kept at bay an infantry force of twice your own number. You have withstood a charge of cavalry, also double your own strength; and have performed the unusual feat of successfully charging cavalry. You have inflicted a very heavy loss upon the enemy. Not less than forty of the infantry must have been placed hors de combat; and fifteen or twenty of the cavalry, at the lowest estimate. Altogether, although forced to fall back, the affair is more creditable than many a brilliant victory.
"Our own loss has been heavy–as heavy, in proportion to our numbers, as that of the enemy–though, owing to an advantage of position, while engaged with the infantry, it is actually far less than theirs. Still, lads, it is very, very heavy," and the major looked round, with a saddened face, on the diminished band.
"Our only consolation is that our friends have died doing their duty, and setting a noble example. If all Frenchmen were but animated with a spirit like that which, I am proud to say, animates the franc tireurs of Dijon, there are few of the invaders who would ever recross the Rhine.
"Lieutenant Ribouville, go through the muster roll of the two companies. Our brave friend De Maupas has, alas! fallen. He was at my side when a rifle ball struck him, in the temple."
The list was now called over, and the result was a sad one. The two companies, including officers, had gone into the fight fifty-five strong. Only thirty-one answered to their names. Besides these, eight had been removed farther into the forest, severely wounded; and Philippe Duburg lay a short distance off–the surgeon being employed bandaging his leg, which a rifle ball had entered, above the knee. Fifteen, therefore, were dead or missing–which, as the Germans bayoneted all wounded franc tireurs, was the same thing. Of the thirty-one who answered to their names, nine had wounds more or less severe; and the surgeon, with his assistants, had work on his hands which would take him far into the night.
The instant that they were dismissed from parade, the boys hurried to their cousin. He was very pale from loss of blood, but was perfectly sensible. His brother sat on a bench beside him, holding his head on his knee.
Philippe smiled faintly as the boys came up.
"I am so glad you have escaped," he said, in a low voice.
They clasped his hand.
"Does it hurt you much, Philippe?"
"Not very much; not so much as I should have thought."
"Did the doctor say anything about it, Philippe?"
"Yes, he said that it had just missed the great arteries; and that he thinks it struck the bone, and has glanced up somewhere; but he can't say till he probes it, when–"
"Then your leg is not broken?"
"No, he says it is certainly not broken, but it may be splintered."
"Thank God for that, anyhow," the boys said.
"We owe his life to Tim Doyle," Louis said. "I was not next to him; and did not see him fall, or know he was hit till I saw Tim come up, with him on his shoulders–and even if I had, I could not have lifted him, and carried him off. Tim saved his life. There is no doubt about that."
As it was evident that Philippe was too weak to talk, and would be better for being quiet awhile, the boys now left him with his brother.
Looking through the trees towards the village, a dense smoke could now be seen rising in several places and, in a few minutes, the whole village was in a blaze. Moved by the sight, the unfortunate inhabitants came out from their hiding places in the forest; wringing their hands, crying, and cursing the invaders. In spite of the advice of Major Tempe, several of the women went off towards the scene of conflagration, to endeavor to save some little household treasure from the flames. In a short time one of them returned to fetch her husband, saying that the enemy had all left before they reached the village, and were already far down the hillside. Major Tempe at once sent forward the unwounded men; to assist the villagers to put out the fire, and to save property. Their efforts were, however, altogether unavailing; the Germans had scattered large quantities of petroleum, before leaving, upon the beds and such other furniture as they could not carry away, or destroy.
It was a pitiable sight to see the poor homeless people sitting about, looking at the ruins of their houses. Some cried piteously; others gazed with listless faces, but with a cold despair even more painful to see. Fortunately, they had saved all their animals but, at present, they were too much absorbed in the thoughts of what they had lost, to bestow even a thought of satisfaction on what they had saved.
Major Tempe, grieved and touched at the painful scene of which he and his men had been the cause, called the franc tireurs together; and made a proposition to them, which was at once heartily agreed to. He then called together the cure and schoolmaster and–after a few well-chosen words of regret, at the ills which he and his had involuntarily brought upon the village–he handed over to them, in the name of the whole corps, the hundred pounds in thaler notes which had been found upon the schoolmaster whom they had executed for treachery; to be distributed among the inhabitants, according to their necessities.
The offer was gratefully received, and the priest and schoolmaster at once went round and told the poor people, whose gratitude and delight were unbounded. To so poor a population, the sum seemed immense; and although it would not replace what was destroyed, it would go far towards making their abodes habitable. The village only contained about twenty houses. The walls were still standing. Timber for the roofs and floors was to be had for cutting, in the forest. Bushes for thatching could be found in abundance. The principal portion of the houses, therefore, would cost only labor, and this money would suffice to keep them alive, while engaged upon it; and enough would remain to get at least a few blankets to lay upon the straw–which would, for the time, serve for beds–together with a few other simple necessaries. The sale of a portion of the animals would do the rest and, in their gratitude to the franc tireurs, for having thus relieved their first and most pressing difficulties, the inhabitants altogether forgot the ill-feeling which they had before felt against them, as the authors of their disaster.
After burying their dead, the men set to work to assist the villagers in building temporary huts–or rather bowers–to the edge of the forest; in which, before nightfall, they had the satisfaction of seeing them installed. The few articles of bedding, blankets, etc. saved at the approach of the Prussians were spread on heaps of freshly-cut grass; and one of the oxen of the franc tireurs, which had arrived the day before, was killed and divided. Great fires were lighted and–had it not been for the bandages on the heads, and the arms in slings of several of the franc tireurs–no one coming upon the scene would have guessed how desperate a skirmish had raged here.
The next day the carts which had been sent for arrived; and the wounded were placed in them, upon heaps of straw, and sent off with one of the surgeons; with instructions to travel among the hills, until they reached a point where it would be quite safe to descend into the valley, and take the train to Dijon, at the first station at which it was open. Among them was Philippe Duburg, who was accompanied by his brother. Louis had obtained a week's leave of absence, for the purpose; and was the bearer of letters, and innumerable messages, from the boys to their parents and sisters. A few hours later, the remnants of the first and second companies marched to join their comrades.
Chapter 10: The Bridge Of The Vesouze
The very day after the fight, news arrived which induced a sudden change of position. Upon the Sixteenth of September the Baden troops occupied Mulhouse, having entered Colmar on the preceding day. It was evident that the railway was so strongly guarded, between Strasburg and Nancy, that it was hopeless to expect to be able to interrupt it, seriously, with so small a force as that at Major Tempe's command; still less possible was it to render any assistance, whatever, to the doomed city of Strasburg. After taking counsel, therefore, with his officers, Major Tempe decided to march more to the south; so as to assist to oppose the passage of the enemy west from Colmar, or Mulhouse, through the passes of the Vosges.
The alarm was, however, but temporary for, having made requisitions as usual, the Prussians retired; and the corps returned to their old quarters. There another ten days passed; spent not in ease, but in constant marchings and counter-marchings. Whenever news arrived that any parties of Uhlans were approaching the mountains, with the object of making requisitions, the corps were instantly set in motion. Sometimes severe skirmishes were the result. Sometimes the news turned out to be untrue and, after a long day's march, and a night spent watching, the men had nothing to do but to march back again.
Upon the 28th came the news of the surrender of Strasburg, upon the preceding day, after one of the most heroic defenses in history. There was now no doubt that the Germans would, ere long, advance seriously. By this time, the total of the French forces among the Vosges mountains was considerable. Scarce a day passed without the arrival of a corps of franc tireurs and–had all these corps been animated with a spirit such as that evinced by the franc tireurs of Dijon; and had they acted in unity, with discipline and intelligence–they might have rendered immense services to France.
Unfortunately, this was very far from being the case. Very many of the men had entered the ranks only to avoid being called upon to go out with the Mobiles–or mobilized national guard. Others had only entered from the impulse of the moment. Very many were altogether unwilling to submit to any steady discipline while, in a great number of cases, the corps were completely paralyzed from the utter incapacity of their officers. Owing to these various causes, the corps of franc tireurs distinguished themselves, in a great number of cases, only by the extreme ingenuity and foresight which they displayed in keeping at a prudent distance from the enemy. Some, too, earned a bad name not only for themselves, but for the whole body of franc tireurs, by their conduct towards the villagers; helping themselves freely to what they required, and making themselves almost as much dreaded by the peasantry as even the Germans, themselves.
At the same time the villagers had, in very many cases, only themselves to blame for the rough measures adopted by the franc tireurs; for often, instead of doing all in their power for the men who had taken up arms in the cause of France, the villagers looked upon them only as strangers, out of whom the richest possible harvest was to be obtained; and charged the most exorbitant prices for all articles of necessity supplied to them. In fact, they sometimes did not hesitate to say that they would not provide them, at any price, with the provisions required; as these would be wanted to satisfy the requisition of the Germans, upon their arrival.
Perhaps in the whole world there is no class of people so completely engrossed by the thought of gain as are the French bourgeois, and rustic population. Every change of Government, every political alteration, every law passed, is regarded by them simply, and solely, from the view of how it will affect their own pockets. Thus, instead of driving away their flocks and herds, at the approach of the invaders; the people remained quietly in their houses, and shamelessly trafficked with the invaders. This apathy, faint heartedness, and want of patriotism, upon the part of the inhabitants of the small towns and villages, caused innumerable difficulties to the franc tireurs; and Major Tempe was sometimes obliged to take the law into his own hands, when the villagers absolutely refused to sell provisions, or to give quarters to his men.
In these cases he summoned the priest, the schoolmaster, and two other head men of the place, and formed a committee with them and his own officers. These fixed a fair price upon the articles required, and Major Tempe then sent round a notice to the effect that, if these articles were furnished in two hours, they would be paid for at the agreed rates; but that if not furnished, he should quarter his men upon the inhabitants, in accordance with the size of their houses, and should remain there at least a week–a threat that never failed in producing the required effect.
It was but seldom, however, that the major encountered any difficulties of this sort. The corps was, for the most part, composed of men with some money. They had now, too, sold the sheep and cattle which they had captured at Blamont; finding the inconvenience of sending for them, whenever meat was required. The proceeds of these, and of the horses captured at the same time, had given them a good sum in their regimental chest; and they were, therefore, able and willing to pay a fair price for such articles as they required. Besides this, the report of the actions of Blamont and Still had now widely circulated and–as a general thing–the people were glad to do all in their power, for a corps composed of men who really meant work, and had given good proofs of their courage and energy.
By this time, the boys had received several letters from home; and it may be readily imagined the pleasure these letters afforded them. Major Tempe's official report of the doings of his corps had been published in the Dijon papers and, from these, had been copied far and wide through France; and the people of Dijon were not a little proud of their corps. The names of the two Barclays had appeared, in the report, as specially distinguishing themselves; and their father had written, saying how pleased and gratified he was at their conduct. Mrs. Barclay and Milly had also written; but their expressions of pleasure were mingled with many hopes that the boys would not expose themselves, unnecessarily.
The band had dwindled much, in the month since they left Dijon. Upwards of thirty had been killed, or disabled, in the fights of Blamont and Still. Half as many more had been killed or wounded in smaller skirmishes; and ten or twelve had gone home, or into hospital, completely knocked up with the hard work and exposure. Only about sixty men, therefore, remained.
Schlestadt and Neu Brisach were now invested by the Germans and, after waiting for a few days, to ascertain the course that they were likely to take, Major Tempe determined (as General Cambriels was forming an army, down by Besancon) to defend the upper passes of the Vosges and–as it was rumored that a second German army was likely to advance south, from Nancy–that he would recross the Vosges, and aid in the defense against this second army of invaders.
Three days' fatiguing marches brought them to Epinal; where the boys, in accordance with their promise, went straight to the house of the gentleman who had so hospitably served them, at their last visit. Their friends were delighted to see them, and expressed great regret that one of the party was missing. The boys were, however, able to say that their last letter from Dijon had given good accounts of Philippe Duburg, who was now considered out of danger. There was, however, no hope of his being able to rejoin them; as the surgeon considered it probable that his leg would be a very long time, before it would be sufficiently healed to allow him to use it.
Their host had read the account in the papers of the doings of the franc tireurs; and his wife laughingly made a further apology to the Barclays, and their cousin, for her remark at their first visit about boys.
"My girls have talked about nothing else but your doings, ever since we had the news of your attack upon the Uhlans, near Blamont," she said. "One would think, from the interest they take in the corps, that the whole future of France depended upon the franc tireurs of Dijon."
The young Barclays laughed, and Percy muttered something under his breath; while Louis Duburg replied, seriously, that he hoped the franc tireurs of Dijon would always do their best to deserve the kind thoughts of mademoiselles–at which piece of politeness Percy muttered, "Bosh!"
Epinal had, as yet, escaped; but it was feared that, ere long, the enemy would advance. The town looked deserted, for all the young men had left with the Mobiles–or mobilized national guard–and all men under forty were drilling, in readiness to march at a moment's notice. No serious movement of the enemy, south of Luneville, was as yet signalized.
After two days' rest, the corps again marched north; their destination being kept a profound secret, even from the men. So anxious, apparently, was Major Tempe that, this time, their object should not be foiled by treachery; that after the first day's march he left the main road and, having secured the services of a peasant, as a guide, he made two long days' marches through forests, and over mountains–avoiding even small villages. Four led horses accompanied the march; one laden with the gun cotton, and the other three carrying provisions, so that they might be independent of the local supply. Each night they bivouacked in the forests but, as the weather was now fine–although the nights were cold–this was no hardship, whatever.
Upon the morning of the fourth day from their leaving Epinal, Major Tempe told his men that he had learned, at Epinal, that the line was no longer so closely guarded as before–the Germans being confident, now, of the impotence of the French to harm them–and that they were now in the forest of Moudan, within three miles of the railway between Luneville and Rechicourt, on the line to Strasburg. His intention was to reconnoiter that day and–if success should be found possible–to attempt, at daybreak next morning, to blow up the railway bridge over the Vesouze.
The news was received with great satisfaction, as the corps were burning to distinguish themselves; and in no way could they do such service as to cut the line of communication–although, as the Germans were no longer dependent upon a single line, the advantage would not be of so signal a nature as it would have been, could they have cut it at the time when they first made the attempt. The Barclays were naturally selected to reconnoiter and, as their change of clothes had been always–by Major Tempe's orders–carried on the baggage horse, they had no difficulty upon that score.
Their expedition was uneventful. At the village nearest to the bridge, they went in and bought some cheese and other articles and–after gaining all the information they were able, without exciting attention–they made their way, through broken ground, to a point near enough to the bridge to enable them to reconnoiter it, undiscovered.
A sentry was posted at each end. At a cottage hard by were ten others, while there were twenty in the village they had just left. There were also sentries down the line; but these were far enough apart to render it certain that they could not muster in time to interfere, seriously, with the enterprise. With this information, they returned to the forest.
A council of war was held; and it was decided that the news was satisfactory, and that the attack should take place at daybreak. Each man was instructed in the work he would have to perform. Lieutenant Houdin, with thirty men, was to surprise the German party in the village. The rest–having made a detour to avoid the village–were to be in readiness to attack the posts near the bridge, immediately a gun was fired in the village. The attack was to be made at daybreak. From the bridge, to the nearest point where the forest was thick enough to afford a safe shelter, was a distance of about two miles.
As soon as it became dark, the camp fires were allowed to bum low; and shortly afterwards the whole corps, with the exception of the sentries, were sound asleep. At four o'clock they were roused, and marched silently off in the appointed direction. By five o'clock each party was at its post and, for half an hour, they lay in expectancy. The Barclays were with Major Tempe's party, near the bridge. Louis Duburg, and Tim, were with the party at the village.
The attack upon the village was to take place at half-past five; and never did moments appear so slow, to the boys, as those which passed as they awaited the signal. At last the silence was broken by the sharp crack of a rifle, followed by three or four others.
"There goes the Prussian sentry, and there is our reply," Major Tempe said. "Now, lads, forward!"
