The Turning Point of the Battle

By WALTER DURANTY

[Copyrighted]

The turning point of the great battle came on June 11, when the French delivered a desperate counterblow south of Montdidier and drove the Germans back from the Aronde River, regaining important ground along a front of seven and one-half miles, and capturing 1,000 prisoners and many heavy guns. This phase of the struggle is described by Walter Duranty, another special correspondent, whose dispatch is copyrighted for Current History Magazine. It is dated June 11, 1918.

As the battle continues it seems that the second week of June will rank as one of the bloodiest and most decisive periods in the world's history.

It is the veritable climax of four years of struggle. In the last twenty-four hours the violence of the fighting has increased still further. The limit of human endurance has been forced yet another notch higher. Along a front of nearly twenty miles the Germans are driving more than a quarter of a million men forward through a sea of blood. The defenders say that it is as though the whole of the German Army is engaged against them; no sooner is one battalion annihilated than another takes its place, and another and another.

Early yesterday morning a handful of dismounted cavalry, greatly employed for liaison work, fought their way back to the French lines from the surrounded hill of Plemont. They reported that the survivors of the French battalion occupying the position were still holding out when they left, and that no less than fourteen attacks had already been repulsed.

CARPETED WITH DEAD

The grassy slopes of the hill bore a hideous carpet of thousands of German dead, over which new forces still advanced with the same madness of sacrifice as the Carthaginians of old, flinging their children, their possessions, and themselves into Moloch's furnace. The bloody religion of militarism that Germany has followed for forty years has led its votaries to culminating orgies of destruction.

But the defenders are not appalled by the fury of the struggle, nor by numbers. Each position is held until every foot of ground has been paid for by German blood. Again and again a swift counterattack, delivered at the right moment, has wrested from the assailant the fruits of the success he won so dearly and forced him to pay a toll of lives twice over. In the villages thus retaken, the poilus say, gray-clad corpses lay heaped up as though they had been collected for a gigantic funeral pyre, and more than once the advancing enemy was screened from the defenders' fire by a rampart of his own dead.

The general situation of the battle has changed little. In the centre the French have retired slightly. On the left also there is a southward bulge in the line. The right is still held by a wooded massif above Drelincourt. On the right the towers of Noyon Cathedral could just be distinguished. To the left smoke haze marked Lassigny, half hidden in a hollow. It was a natural fortress with an infinity of cover for guns, men, and machine guns against which no fury of sacrifice might prevail. Well may the Germans try to turn that grim salient by an advance further south in the centre—clearly their immediate objective. They held it once before last year's retreat and they know its strength.

As I returned from the observation post I passed through a great natural amphitheatre in a sort of mountain. At one side the Germans had carved a huge eagle, colored blood red, on a slab of rock above a grotto that had been their headquarters. Beneath it in Gothic letters was the Brandenburg motto, "On, Brandenburg, on!" The artist who designed the bird that is the symbol of German violence was well inspired. The Kaiser's eagles are red, indeed, clotted and stained from beak to claw with the crimson of countless slaughters.

The latest information from the battlefront emphasizes still more clearly the difference between the results of the new German method of attack when applied on a weakly held sector and a front where the allied strength is normal. On two previous occasions Hindenburg's storm divisions gained sensational success right from the outset by literally swamping small forces by sheer weight after the defenders had been half-stunned by the terrific bombardment to which their inferiority of artillery permitted no adequate response.

Conditions are very different today. In the first place there was no strategic surprise—the German move in this sector had been foreseen. The utmost vigilance was everywhere maintained, and unmistakable signs, such as the movement of troops, convoys, and artillery registration, had been carefully noted. Precautions to meet the shock had been taken. Against attack in depth by successive waves a depth defense had been planned, with a front line of thinly held outposts to minimize loss, and successive lines of greater strength extending back for kilometers.

When the German artillery storm broke out it was answered by a perfect hurricane of French fire. Not only was every possible point where the enemy troops might advance or batteries be hidden thoroughly registered, but artillery held in reserve had its guns trained on targets offered further in the rear by each hill, wood, or valley that the enemy might assail as a vantage point or medium for infiltration.

The consequence has been that, in direct contradiction to the former drives, the enemy's initial losses have been enormous and his gains small; and the French losses were greatly decreased. Above all, there has been no penetration of the line of resistance. In places it bulged slightly under pressure, but only at the price of the most dogged fighting and heavy sacrifice, and withal very slowly. One fact marks the difference sufficiently:

HOW THEY WERE CHECKED

On May 27 the Germans had reached the Aisne—seven kilometers from the starting point, across difficult country—in four and one-half hours after the attack. In the first thirty hours of the present attack they had barely passed thinly held outposts. Along the whole thirty-kilometer front, from the Oise to Assainvillers—somewhat shorter than the area of bombardment—fifteen to twenty assaulting divisions were met by a galling machine-gun barrage and the terrible "75" fire curtain from quick-firers and batteries. Irreplaceable storm troops, whose training had taken months and whose existence was essential to the continuance of Hindenburg's new strategy, melted like snow beneath the August sun.

At Plemont—the scene of one of the most gallant actions in the checking of the March drive by the men of the same army—the Germans met a stubborn resistance, though their dead lay there thick as fresh-cut wheat but a few hundred yards beyond the line of outposts. Even in the centre, where the enemy's progress was deepest, an unbroken line of defense was constituted by the same troops that had withstood the attack from the beginning. Their spirit and numbers were still sufficient, though the Germans opposing them had sent forward fresh storm troops in wave after wave.