https://wwi.lib.byu.edu/index.php?title=XIV_THE_FLIGHT_FROM_THE_MARNE&feed=atom&action=historyXIV THE FLIGHT FROM THE MARNE - Revision history2024-03-29T07:38:39ZRevision history for this page on the wikiMediaWiki 1.39.4https://wwi.lib.byu.edu/index.php?title=XIV_THE_FLIGHT_FROM_THE_MARNE&diff=8462&oldid=prevBkimberl at 18:44, 13 July 20092009-07-13T18:44:12Z<p></p>
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<tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-side-deleted"></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"></ins></div></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br/></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br/></td></tr>
<tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Go To </del>[[<del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">XV AT THE END OF THE FLIGHT </del>| '''<del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Next Chapter</del>'''<del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">]]</del></div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"><p align="right"> </ins>[[<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Main_Page </ins>| <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">WWI Document Archive ]] > [[Diaries, Memorials, Personal Reminiscences]] > [[A German Deserter</ins>'<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">s War Experience]] > </ins>''<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">'XIV THE FLIGHT FROM THE MARNE</ins>''' <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"></p><hr></ins></div></td></tr>
</table>Bkimberlhttps://wwi.lib.byu.edu/index.php?title=XIV_THE_FLIGHT_FROM_THE_MARNE&diff=5888&oldid=prevHirgen at 08:16, 1 November 20082008-11-01T08:16:43Z<p></p>
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<tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-side-deleted"></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Go To [[XV AT THE END OF THE FLIGHT | '''Next Chapter''']]</ins></div></td></tr>
</table>Hirgenhttps://wwi.lib.byu.edu/index.php?title=XIV_THE_FLIGHT_FROM_THE_MARNE&diff=5568&oldid=prevHirgen at 01:54, 2 September 20082008-09-02T01:54:00Z<p></p>
<p><b>New page</b></p><div><CENTER><FONT SIZE="+3"></FONT><FONT SIZE="+2">XIV</FONT><br><br><br />
<br />
<FONT SIZE="+2">THE FLIGHT FROM THE MARNE</FONT><br><br></center><br />
<br />
<br><br>WE soon reached the cathedral and reported to Lieutenant Spahn<br />
whom we found there. He, too, had defended his &quot;Fatherland&quot;<br />
in that town. Clean shaven and faultlessly dressed, he showed<br />
up to great advantage contrasted with us. There we stood in ragged,<br />
dirty, blood-stained uniforms, our hair disheveled, with a growing<br />
beard covered with clay and mud. We were to wait. That was all.<br />
We sat down and gazed at the misery around us. The church was<br />
filled with wounded men. Many died in the hands of the medical<br />
men. The dead were carried out to make room for others. The bodies<br />
were taken to one side where whole rows of them were lying already.<br />
We took the trouble to count the dead, who had been mostly placed<br />
in straight rows, and counted more than sixty. Some of them were<br />
in uniforms that were still quite good, whilst our uniforms were<br />
nothing but rags hanging from our backs. There were some sappers<br />
among them, but their coats were not any better than our own.<br />
<br />
<br><br>&quot;Let us take some infantry coats,&quot; somebody ventured;<br />
&quot;what's the difference? A coat is a coat.&quot; So we went<br />
and took the coats from several bodies and tried them on. Taking<br />
off their clothes was no easy job, for the corpses were already<br />
rigid like a piece of wood. But what was to be done? We could<br />
not run about in our shirt-sleeves! All did not find something<br />
to fit them, and the disappointed ones had to wait for another<br />
chance to turn up. We also needed boots, of course; but the corpses<br />
lying before our eyes had boots on that were not much better than<br />
our own. They had worn theirs as long as we had worn ours, but<br />
we thought we might just inspect them all the same. We looked<br />
and found a pair of fairly good ones. They were very small, but<br />
we guessed they might fit one or the other amongst us. Two of<br />
us tried to remove them. &quot; But they are a tight fit,&quot;<br />
one of the two remarked. Two more came up to help. Two were holding<br />
the leg of the dead man while the two others tugged at the boot.<br />
It was of no use; the leg and the foot were so rigid that it was<br />
found impossible to get the boot off. &quot;Let it go,&quot; one<br />
of those holding the leg remarked, &quot;you will sooner pull<br />
off his leg than remove that boot.&quot; We let go just as the<br />
doctor passed. &quot;What are you doing there? &quot; he asked<br />
us. &quot;We want to get some boots.&quot; &quot;Then you will<br />
have to cut them open; don't waste your time, the rigid leg will<br />
not release the boot.&quot; He passed on. The situation was not<br />
complete without a brutal joke. An infantryman standing near said,<br />
pointing to the dead, &quot;Now you know it; let them keep their<br />
old boots, they don't want to walk on their bare feet.&quot; The<br />
joke was laughed at. And why not? Here we were out of danger.<br />
What were the others to us? We were still alive and those lying<br />
there could hear no longer. We saw no other things in war, and<br />
better things we had not been taught.<br />
<br />
<br><br>It is true that on the way we had got some bread by begging<br />
for it, but we were still quite hungry. Nothing was to be seen<br />
of our field kitchen. The crew of our field kitchen and the foraging<br />
officer and sergeant always preferred to defend their Fatherland<br />
several tens of miles behind the front. What were others to them?<br />
What were we to them? As long as they did not need to go within<br />
firing range of the artillery they were content. Comradeship ceases<br />
where the field kitchen begins.<br />
<br />
<br><br>There were, however, some field kitchens belonging to other<br />
parts of the army. They had prepared meals, but could not get<br />
rid of the food; even if their company, i.e., the rest of their<br />
company, should have arrived they would have had far too much<br />
food. Many a one for whom they had prepared a meal was no longer<br />
in need of one. Thus we were most willingly given as much to eat<br />
as we wanted. We had scarcely finished eating when we had to form<br />
up again. Gradually several men of our company had come together.<br />
We lined up in a manner one is used to in war. The &quot;old man&quot;<br />
arrived. One of the officers reported the company to him, but<br />
evidently did not report the number of the missing. Perhaps the<br />
old man did not care, for he did not even ask whether we knew<br />
anything about the one or the other. He stepped in front of the<br />
company and said (a sign of his good temper), &quot;Good morning,<br />
men!&quot; (It was seven o'clock in the evening!) As an answer<br />
he got a grunting noise such as is sometimes made by a certain<br />
animal, and a sneering grin. Without much ado we were ordered<br />
to go to the tool wagons which were standing near the northern<br />
exit of the town, and provide ourselves with rifle ammunition<br />
and three hand grenades each. &quot;At half past nine to-night<br />
you have to line up here; each man must have 500 cartridges, three<br />
hand grenades, and fuses for igniting them; step aside!&quot;<br />
<br />
<br><br>On our way to the implement wagons we noticed that everywhere<br />
soldiers that had lost their companies were being drawn together<br />
and that new formations were being gotten together with the greatest<br />
speed. We felt that something was in the air, but could not tell<br />
what it might be. The rain had started again and was coming down<br />
in torrents. When we were at the appointed place at half past<br />
nine in the evening we saw all the principal streets filled with<br />
troops, all of them in storming outfit like ourselves. A storming<br />
outfit consists of a suit made of cloth, a cap, light marching<br />
baggage, tent canvas, cooking utensils, tentpegs, the iron ration,<br />
and, in the case of sappers, trench tools also. During the day<br />
we got our &quot;Klamotten,&quot; i.e., our equipment together<br />
again. We were standing in the rain and waited. We did not yet<br />
know what was going to happen. Then we were ordered to take off<br />
the lock of our rifles and put them in our bread bags. The rifles,<br />
could not now be used for shooting. We began to feel what was<br />
coming, viz., a night attack with bayonets and hand grenades.<br />
So as not to shoot each other in the dark we had to remove the<br />
lock from the rifle. We stood there till about 11 o'clock when<br />
we were suddenly ordered to camp. We did not know what the whole<br />
thing meant, and were especially puzzled by the last order which<br />
was, however, welcomed by all of us. We judged from the rolling<br />
thunder that the battle had not yet decreased in violence, and<br />
the sky was everywhere red from the burning villages and farm<br />
houses.<br />
<br />
<br><br>Returning &quot;home&quot; we gathered from the conversation<br />
the officers had among themselves that a last attempt was to be<br />
made to repel the French; that explained the night assault the<br />
order for which had now been canceled. They had evidently made,<br />
or been obliged to make another resolution at the general staff;<br />
perhaps they had recognized that no more could be done and had<br />
rescinded the order for the attack and decided upon a retreat,<br />
which began the next morning at 6 o'clock. We, however, had no<br />
idea that it should be our last night at Vitry.<br />
<br />
<br><br>We lodged in a shanty for the night. Being sufficiently tired<br />
we were soon in a deep slumber. We had to rise at four o'clock<br />
in the morning. Each of us received a loaf of bread; we filled<br />
our water bottles, and marched off. Whither we were marching we<br />
were not told, but we guessed it. The remaining population of<br />
Vitry, too, seemed to be informed; some were lining the streets,<br />
and their glances were eloquent. Everywhere a feverish activity<br />
was to be observed. We halted outside the town. The captain called<br />
us to gather round him and addressed us as follows: &quot;Our<br />
troops will evacuate their positions on account of the difficult<br />
terrain, and retire to those heights where they will take up new<br />
positions.&quot; In saying that he turned round and pointed to<br />
a ridge near the horizon. He continued: &quot;There we shall settle<br />
down and expect the enemy. New reinforcements will arrive there<br />
to-day, and some days hence you will be able to send a picture<br />
postcard home from Paris.&quot; I must avow that the majority<br />
of us believed that humbug at the time. Other portions of the<br />
army were already arriving from all directions. We had been marching<br />
for some hours when we heard that Vitry had already been occupied<br />
again by the French and that all the material stored at Vitry,<br />
together with all the hospitals, doctors and men, and whole companies<br />
of the medical service had been taken there.<br />
<br />
<br><br>Towards two o'clock in the afternoon we reached the heights<br />
the captain had shown us, but he had evidently forgotten everything,<br />
for we marched on and on. Even the most stupid amongst us now<br />
began to fear that we had been humbugged. The streets became ever<br />
more densely crowded with retreating troops and trains; from all<br />
sides they came and wanted to use the main road that was also<br />
being used by us, and the consequence was that the road became<br />
too congested and that we were continually pushed more to the<br />
rear. Munition wagons raced past us, singly, without any organization.<br />
Order was no longer observed. Canteen and baggage wagons went<br />
past, and here already a wild confusion arose. Every moment there<br />
was a stop and all got wedged. Many would not wait, and some wagons<br />
were driven by the side of the road, through fields turned sodden<br />
by the rain, in an attempt to get along. One wagon would be overturned,<br />
another one would stick in the mud. No great trouble was taken<br />
to recover the vehicles, the horses were taken out and the wagon<br />
was left. The drivers took the horses and tried to get along;<br />
every one was intent upon finding safety. Thus one incident followed<br />
upon another.<br />
<br />
<br><br>An officer came riding up and delivered an order to our captain.<br />
We did not know what it was. But we halted and stepped into the<br />
field. Having stacked our rifles we were allowed to lie down.<br />
We lay down by the side of the road and gazed at the columns,<br />
field kitchens, transports, medical trains, field post wagons,<br />
all filing past us in picturesque confusion. Wounded men were<br />
lying or sitting on all the vehicles. Their faces showed that<br />
riding on those heavy wagons caused them pain. But they, too,<br />
wanted to get along at any price for they knew from personal experience<br />
what it meant to fall into the hands of an uncompromising enemy.<br />
They would perhaps be considered as little as they and we ourselves<br />
had formerly considered the wounded Frenchmen left in our hands.<br />
Because they knew this, as all of us did, they did not want to<br />
be left behind for anything in the world.<br />
<br />
<br><br>We had as yet not the slightest idea what we were to do. Night<br />
came upon us, and it poured again in torrents. We lay on the ground<br />
and felt very cold. Our tired bodies no longer gave out any heat.<br />
Yet we stayed on the ground too tired to move. Sections of artillery<br />
now began to arrive, but most of the batteries had no longer their<br />
full number (6) of guns. One had lost three, another two; many<br />
guns even arriving singly. Quite a number of limbers, some 50<br />
or so, passed without guns. Those batteries had only been able<br />
to save the horses and had been obliged to leave the guns in the<br />
hands of the French. Others had only two or four horses instead<br />
of six.<br />
<br />
<br><br>Presently some fifteen motorcars, fine solid cars, came along.<br />
We gazed in astonishment at the strong, elegant vehicles. &quot;Ah!&quot;<br />
my neighbors exclaimed, &quot; the General Staff!&quot; Duke Albrecht<br />
of Wurttemberg and his faithful retainers! We were getting rebellious<br />
again. Every one felt wild, and it rained curses. One man said,<br />
&quot;After having sent thousands to their doom they are now making<br />
off in motorcars.&quot; We were lying in the swamp, and nobody<br />
noticed us. The automobiles raced past and soon left all behind<br />
them. We were still quite in the dark as to our purpose in that<br />
place. We lay there for hours, till ten o'clock at night. The<br />
troops were surging back largely in dissolved formations. Machine-gun<br />
sections arrived with empty wagons; they had lost all their guns.<br />
In the west we heard the thunder of guns coming nearer and nearer.<br />
<br />
<br><br>We did not know whether we were going to be sent into battle<br />
again or not.!<br />
<br />
<br><br>The confusion in the road became worse and worse and degenerated<br />
in the darkness into a panic. Refugees, who were wandering about<br />
with women and children in that dark night and in the pouring<br />
rain, got under the wheels of wagons; wounded men in flight were<br />
likewise crushed by the wheels; and cries for help came from everywhere<br />
out of the darkness. The streets were badly worn. Abandoned vehicles<br />
were lining the sides of the road. We began to move at three o'clock<br />
in the morning, and before we were fully aware of what was happening<br />
we found ourselves with the rear-guard. Regiments of infantry,<br />
shot to pieces, arrived in a pitiful condition. They had cast<br />
away their knapsacks and all unnecessary impediments, and were<br />
trying to get along as fast as possible. Soon after, the first<br />
shrapnel of the enemy began to burst above our heads, which caused<br />
us to accelerate our march continually. The road, which had also<br />
been used during the advance, was still marked by deep shell holes<br />
that were filled with water to the very edge, for it rained without<br />
interruption. It was pitch-dark, and every now and then somebody<br />
would fall into one of those shell holes. We were all wet through,<br />
but continued to press on. Some would stumble over something in<br />
the dark, but nobody paid, any attention. The great thing was<br />
to get along. Dead horses and men lay in the middle of the road,<br />
but nobody took the trouble to remove the &quot;obstacle.&quot;<br />
<br />
<br><br>It was almost light when we reached a small village and halted.<br />
The whole place was at once occupied and put in a state of defense<br />
as well as was possible. We took up positions behind the walls<br />
of the cemetery.<br />
<br />
<br><br>Other troops arrived incessantly, but all in disorder, in a<br />
wild confused jumble. Cavalry and artillery also arrived together<br />
with a machine-gun section. These, however, had kept their formations<br />
intact; there was some disorder, but no sign of panic. One could<br />
see that they had suffered considerable losses though their casualties<br />
had not been as heavy as ours. The enemy was bombarding us with<br />
his guns in an increasing degree, but his fire had no effect.<br />
Some houses had been hit and set alight by shells. Far away from<br />
us hostile cavalry patrols showed themselves, but disappeared<br />
again. Everything was quiet. Ten minutes afterwards things in<br />
front of us began to get lively; we saw whole columns of the enemy<br />
approach. Without firing a shot we turned and retired farther<br />
back. Mounted artillery were stationed behind the village and<br />
were firing already into the advancing enemy. A cavalry patrol<br />
came galloping across the open field, their horses being covered<br />
with foam. We heard the leader of the patrol, an officer, call<br />
out in passing to a cavalry officer that strong forces of the<br />
enemy were coming on by all the roads. We left the village behind<br />
us and sought to get along as quickly as possible. We had no idea<br />
where we were. The cavalry and artillery sections that had been<br />
left behind were keeping the enemy under fire. Towards noon shrapnel<br />
was again exploding above our heads, but the projectiles were<br />
bursting too high up in the air to do any damage to us. Yet it<br />
was a serious warning to us, for it gave us to understand that<br />
the enemy was keeping close on our heels---a sufficient reason<br />
to convert our retreat into a flight. We therefore tried to get<br />
away as fast as our tired out bones would let us. We knew there<br />
was no chance of a rest to-day. So we hurried on in the drenching<br />
rain.<br />
<br />
<br><br>The number of those who dropped by the way from exhaustion<br />
became larger and larger. They belonged to various portions of<br />
the army. We could not help them, and there were no more wagons;<br />
these were more in front. Those unfortunate men, some of whom<br />
were unconscious, were left behind just as the exhausted horses.<br />
Those that had sufficient strength left crawled to the side of<br />
the road; but the unconscious ones remained where they fell, exposed<br />
to the hoofs of the horses and the wheels of the following last<br />
detachments. If they were lucky enough not to be crushed to atoms<br />
they fell into the hands of the enemy. Perhaps those who found<br />
our men were men and acted accordingly, but if they were soldiers<br />
brutalized by war, patriots filled with hatred, as could also<br />
be found in our own ranks, then the &quot;boche&quot; (as the<br />
French say) had to die a miserable death by the road, die for<br />
his &quot;Fatherland.&quot; To our shame, be it said, we knew<br />
it from our own experience, and summoned all our energy so as<br />
not to be left behind. I was thinking of the soldier of the Foreign<br />
Legion lying in the desert sand, left behind by his troop and<br />
awaiting the hungry hyenas.<br />
<br />
<br><br>The road was covered with the equipment the soldiers had thrown<br />
away. We, too, had long ago cast aside all unnecessary ballast.<br />
Thus we were marching, when we passed a wood densely packed with<br />
refugees. Those hunted people had stretched blankets between the<br />
trees so as to protect themselves from the rain. There they were<br />
lying in the greatest conceivable misery, all in a jumble, women<br />
and men, children and graybeards. Their camp reached as far as<br />
the road, and one could observe that the terrible hours they had<br />
lived through had left deep furrows in their faces. They looked<br />
at us with weary, tired eyes. The children begged us to give them<br />
some bread, but we had nothing whatsoever left and were ourselves<br />
tormented by hunger. The enemy's shrapnel was still accompanying<br />
us, and we had scarcely left the wood when shrapnel began to explode<br />
there, which caused the refugees, now exposed to the fire, to<br />
crowd into the fields in an attempt to reach safety. Many of them<br />
joined us, but before long they were forbidden to use the road<br />
because they impeded the retreat of the troops. Thus all of them<br />
were driven without pity into the fields soaked by the rain.<br />
<br />
<br><br>When we came to a pillaged village towards the evening we were<br />
at last granted a short rest, for in consequence of our quick<br />
marching we had disengaged ourselves almost completely from the<br />
enemy. We heard the noise of the rear-guard actions at a considerable<br />
distance behind us, and we wished that they would last a long<br />
time, for then we could rest for a longer period. From that village<br />
the head man and two citizens were carried off by the Germans,<br />
the three being escorted by cavalry. We were not told why those<br />
people were being taken along, but each place had to furnish such<br />
&quot;hostages,&quot; whole troops of whom were being marched<br />
off. The remaining cattle had also been taken along; troopers<br />
were driving along the cattle in large droves. We were part of<br />
the rear-guard. It is therefore easy to understand why we found<br />
no more eatables. Hunger began to plague us more and more. Not<br />
a mouthful was to be had in the village we had reached, and without<br />
having had any food we moved on again after half an hour's rest.<br />
<br />
<br><br>We had marched two miles or so when we came upon a former camping<br />
place. Advancing German troops had camped there about a week ago.<br />
The bread that had evidently been plentiful at that time now lay<br />
scattered in the field. Though the bread had been lying in the<br />
open for about a week and had been exposed to a rain lasting for<br />
days, we picked it up and swallowed it ravenously. As long as<br />
those pangs of hunger could be silenced, it mattered little what<br />
it was that one crammed into one's stomach.</div>Hirgen