"The bugler of Destiny has sounded 'Halt!'"

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 supreme effort on Paris.

It was evening, the evening of September 4. Horace and his fellow fugitive, safely arrived in Paris, were sitting at the window of a tiny room, looking at the night sky, across which the cones of searchlights wandered.

The tightening of the French lines, the re?stablishment of regular communications and military discipline had combined to relegate 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 munitions 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 agile pens of newspaper paragraphists, the story of the "captive Kaiser" had brought merriment and superstitious hope to hearts heavy with listening for the tramp of the ever-nearing German feet.

Paris was silent but courageous. Fear brooded heavily over the city, but the terrible tales of individual suffering never robbed the French capital of a simple heroism and a fine devotion that were worthy of its best traditions. The removal of the government to Bordeaux, two days before, had shown the people how narrow was the margin 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 tightened 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 rebound 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 avid 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 scraps of information together. He was thus able to grasp the real significance of the victory at Nancy.

The defense 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 thoroughly, 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 pickle 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 Stranded Tank.

The Germans bombed it, fired through loopholes, tried to break its mechanism, but failed. Finally the tank grunted 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 fortified 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 snip the Line of Communication. Verdun is enormously strong. That leaves nothing but an assault on the sector 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 scouts came back with the news that there was a huge German army gathering at Metz. On August 21, five army corps were hurled on our flank. We were surprised, partly[Pg 258] surrounded and crumpled 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 pointed 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 evacuate Nancy and the invaders could then bring their heavy siege guns into place to demolish Toul.

"A Boche skull is thick," Croquier went on, "and even the slaughter of Liége didn't teach[Pg 259] them the waste of life in sending masses of troops against artillery. 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 attic 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 frugal 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 mighty 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 circumference of the advance trenches 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 hoop.

"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 opposition to our rebound?"

"It looks like it," Croquier admitted, "but that sort of thing is hard to find out until weeks, sometimes months, afterward. 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 herds of cattle were being driven into Paris to graze on the waste spaces kept free of buildings, not to interfere 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, trekking for distant points of safety, with their goods piled into the bullock carts of the peasant, the pony 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 labored mightily 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 entanglements or dynamiting 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, thronged 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 outskirts of the houses, the streets were empty. The Sorbonne glowered 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 aged ragpicker worked with pick and shovel beside the wealthy exquisite, as irreproachably dressed in the ditch as in his luxurious 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 anvil, forge-frame and coal on a wagon and was sharpening pickaxe heads.

Here, too, were the women of Paris.

Frenchwomen of noble birth worked in extemporized 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, spoke 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 gallant French spirit which had been demonstrated a few days before by Colonel Doury. When ordered to resist to the last gasp,[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 regiment was not supposed to hold the village, answered,

"It holds the village!" and pointed to his lone machine-gun. He was the only survivor.

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 machinery. 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 invaluable in the voluntary work of aiding to strengthen Gallieni's defenses. Moreover, he learned indirectly 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 apparently 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 repulse at Le Grand Couronne, he was compelled to pivot his line on the Marne, so that it faced southeast. This maneuver, 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 engulf 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 severely mauled in two defeats, at Le Cateau and at Guise. In a war of less magnitude, these would have appeared as great Allied 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 warrior 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 determined 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 discomfiting discovery that the German heavy artillery gave the invaders a tremendous advantage when great mobility 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 scouting party of cavalry to find out the location of the British Army. It was an excellent opportunity to cut them up, but the British Field Marshal had drawn 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 chuckled 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 battalion headquarters, as soon as these positions are determined for the night. This is done from cable wagons and the Signal Corps men are so deft 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 dispositions already decided 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! Rout 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 chauffeurs. 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 straps 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, lamentably weak in artillery, for field guns cannot be loaded into taxicabs!

Courtesy of "Panorama de la Guerre."

The Men Whom no Danger Can Daunt.

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 destined to get another surprise this Sunday morning. Despite the report of his Uhlans that the British were nowhere to be seen, the astute 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 northward 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 belched 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, deliberately, allowed his line to sag. This was intended as a lure 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 astonishment.

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 steadily (though so slowly that it imperiled the whole plan) on Von Kluck's left wing. Manoury and the British, then, like two leeches, were sucking Von Kluck's forces westward, 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 ............