Guarding Fort Vaux's Flank

Fort Vaux Today
The Action Described Here Took Place About 500 Yards NW (Toward Upper Left) Beyond the Fort

The heroic defense, eventual fall, and retaking of Verdun's Fort Vaux has been the subject of several articles on Roads to the Great War over the years. It's one of the great sub-dramas of the memorable 1916 battle. Links to those earlier entrees can be found HERE.  Until recently I thought I had run out of fresh material on this fascinating topic, but I've discovered that at the critical May and June moments leading to the surrender of the Fort by its commander Major Raynal—just 500 yards away was positioned one of the greatest observer/diarists of the First World War.  In this article I want to share some of his memories on the titanic struggle to save the fort.

Captain Charles Delvert (1879–1940) is one of the great eyewitnesses of the First World War.  Born in Paris, he was educated as a teacher at the École Normale Supérieure and then taught history in schools in the south of France. During the war, he  became commander of the 8th company of the 101st French Infantry Regiment. He kept a diary recording his daily experience of the war between August 1914 and August 1916. In May-June 1916, his regiment was engaged at Verdun at  a redoubt, the fortified position designated R1, to provide immediate defense for Fort Vaux. At the same time, the Germans launched a violent offensive surrounding the fort, which fell on 7 June. At the height of the attack, under fire from both German and French artillery, the 8th company entrenched their position and held on until—reduced to 39 men—they were relieved on the evening of 5 June.

Charles Delvert

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18 May 1916

In front of headquarters is Fort Vaux. To the north and east it is surrounded by the Boche trenches.

The dreariness of the landscape is beyond description. At this moment (7 P.M.) it is bathed in the soft, warm, purple light of the setting sun. The ridges of the hill are bare, without a blade of grass.105 The Fumin Wood is reduced to a few tree-stumps ranged like the teeth of a comb along its summit, like that wood of ‘the Hand of Massiges’ [in Champagne] which our troopers have nicknamed ‘the Cock’s Comb.’ The soil has been so much churned up by the shells that the earth has become as shifting as sand, and the shell-holes make the place look like a range of dunes.

All of a sudden the cannonade, which had slackened off a little, breaks out in all its fury. In one minute we count eight Boche shells whistling over our heads. On the ridge of Vaux [Village], which shows up purple against the setting sun, the black clouds of our 155’s rise in every direction. It is an orchestra of Hell. . .

"Teeth of a Comb"

19 May 1916

The cannonade never stops day or night. It deafens our ears and clouds our brains. To-day, since 6 P.M., the hillsides of Vaux have been disappearing under our shell-fire. From here one can see them falling right on to the white lines formed in the ground by the Boche trenches and communication passages.  At night, in the starlight, green rockets shoot up from our front lines at the bottom of the ravines. ‘Lengthen the range! Lengthen the range!’ cry our poor comrades. . . 

Meanwhile, the Boches from their lines send up other kinds of rockets, trench flares or ‘star-shells.’ These flash forth from the darkness every moment in order to ensure that no shovelful of earth shall be removed by the victims marked out for annihilation by the shells.  The whistling of the projectiles which cross each other above our heads is so loud that you might imagine yourself to be by the sea, with the swell of the waves, as they rise and fall, crashing in your ears. The explosions, with their tremendous uproar, produce the effect of a continual thunderstorm, accompanied by periodic flashes of lightning.

20 May 1916 (11 P.M.)

The lake, with its dreary waters and its sombre setting, runs right up to the three ridges that shut in the horizon. The moon hangs over this distant quarter like a silver veil, dotted with darker specks along the summit of the hills. At the foot of our trenches she sheds her shimmering light over the marsh of the ravine, so that it forms a burnished island amid the ripple of the waters.

To the right, on the dyke, a procession of funereal shadows glides past in silence. It is the relief that is going by.  At a steady pace, never stumbling, it climbs up towards the Hardaumont plateau, where our shells are crashing, and the white, red, or green cones rise unceasingly into the sky—a firework display given by men marked out for death.

Trench Map of the Situation, Note Location of R1

On 1 June 1916 the Germans begin a concerted effort to take Fort Vaux

2 June 1916

A night of agony, broken by continual alarms. Yesterday we were not replenished. Thirst is what troubles us more than anything. Biscuits are being looked for.... A shell has just made my pen slip. It fell not very far off. It landed in headquarters by the door, and pulverized my quartermaster-sergeant, poor little C——. Everything suffered from the concussion. I was covered with earth, but was quite unhurt—not a scratch!

The Boches opposite us are emerging from their trench. Here, every one is at the loophole. I have had grenades handed out to the whole company, for at the distance where we are the rifle is useless.

"Here they come!"

"Forward, boys! Stick to it!"

S—— cuts the wire and we fling our bombs.

The Boches reply to us with rifle-grenades, but their range is too long. Those who came out of the trench, taken aback by our reception of them, turn tail and make with all speed for Sarajevo—except those who here and there, sometimes in groups, are left stretched out upon the plain.

From Sarajevo (the Sarajevo trench, occupied by the enemy, is scarcely 50 or 60 yards from the redoubt) shadows can be seen flitting out hastily and betaking themselves to the rear: doubtless this is the second wave that is ebbing back.

"To your rifles, lads! We must follow them up!"

Ch—— sends up a red rocket. If we could use 75’s now, the conditions would be ideal.  All of a sudden there is a spurt of flame behind us, with torrents of black and white smoke. It is as though fiery fountains were playing. There can be no doubt about it! They have forced a passage on the right and are directing a liquid fire attack at us.

German Flamethrower Team

But now, from the conflagration, red and green flames are rising. What can it be? Ah, it’s my store of rockets that is ablaze. At such a moment! Luckily the Boches have been well looked after. Some poor devils rush down on the right, with loud shrieks. A few of the men near me take alarm and leave the loophole.

"Back to your places! Good heavens, what do you think you are doing? And you, you pack of fools, bolting away because a couple of rockets catch fire!"

In less than two minutes order is restored. The flames rise and bubble incessantly, in the blackness of the night, amid the shower of shells. Every moment a fresh rocket gushes out into flame. The blaze reaches headquarters, and two tongues of fire soon dart out from there. First of all we must save the grenades, which are quite close to us. A sack of cartridges has been caught in the furnace, for we can hear the crackling. The worst of it is that the walls are made of sandbags and also help to feed the flames. Then there are the shells, and the bullets that never stop whistling.

At last! All the cases of grenades have been cleared away. Shovelfuls of earth are thrown on to the fire, which is now beginning to grow less violent. Fortunately, our bombs have had a sobering effect upon the Boches. True, we must go and look for more grenades if we wish to hold out against a fresh onset. Nearly twenty cases of them have been emptied.

10 o’clock P.M.—A man comes from the Colonel’s headquarters with five water-bottles—one of them empty—for the whole company. The bottles hold four pints each. This makes not quite eighteen pints for 60 corporals and privates, 8 sergeants and 3 officers. The sergeant-major, in my presence, distributes this water with scrupulous fairness. It has a taint of corpses.

Trench at R1

3 June 1916

I have not slept for nearly sixty-two hours.

2.30 P.M.—The Boches are making a fresh onslaught.

"Keep cool, my lads! Let them get well out! We have to husband our ammunition. At twenty-five paces! Let them have it hot and strong when I give the word of command!

"Fire!"

"Jump to it!"

“Crack!" go the rifles, all together. A smart piece of work. Well done! Black smoke rises. We see batches of Boches spin round and fall. One or two get up on their knees and manage to crawl away. Another lets himself roll down into the trench, so great is his haste. Some, however, advance towards us, while their comrades who remain in the trench riddle us with bullets. One of them even comes right up to the wire entanglement, three yards from the parapet. D—— lays him out with a bomb flung fair and square at his head. At three-thirty they have had enough, and withdraw into their lair. The sun is shining brightly. A song rises to my lips.

"You are in good spirits, sir!"

"Obviously. After all, when the die is cast——"

At six o’clock the German stretcher-bearers come out to pick up their wounded. I forbid my men to fire upon them. The Germans pass the dyke without a stop. They occupy R1.  [Redoubt 1] We are hard pressed on all sides. The situation is highly critical. The horror of it grips our very heart-strings. This evening, the Boches clear the way with heavy artillery fire. We shall certainly have to face a fresh attack.

I order my men to reconstruct the machine-gun emplacement, which has been destroyed during the day, and to take up a position with the one of the two guns which they have succeeded in repairing. For drinking-water, as it is raining, the men have put their mugs outside, and have laid down canvas.

At 8.30 P.M. the gentlemen over the way emerge from Sarajevo. The poilus rejoice at this. At 15 yards they send them such a violent barrage of bombs, supported by machine-guns, that the Germans are not inclined to press the point. The attack is brought to a dead stop.

Shelter DV4 at R1 Today
Probably Delvert's Position

“At 10 P.M. an officer appears in my quarters. This is to announce reinforcements, some details of the 124th and 298th Regiments which have come to help in the defence. The sorely-tried little garrison of R1 is already greatly thinned in numbers. The shells begin to fall again. It is impossible to light a candle in the C.O.’s headquarters. If the least bit of light is seen from outside, the Jack Johnsons land on the spot. In order to make out my report for the past twenty-four hours, I have to crouch down in a corner, under a blanket, and write on the ground.

As for taking a moment’s rest, that is not to be thought of. The bombardment does not break off for a single minute, and, what is more, we are so much pestered with fleas that we scratch ourselves as if we had the itch.

4 June 1916

"They’re not up to taking R1, those Boches," cries one of my poilus to me as he passes.  I was at the redoubt, organizing the connections with my left. "Well, about twenty-four hours ago you had a pretty gruelling time of it here," remarks X—— to me.

“‘Yes, you saw those grenades being handed out.’

At the same moment comes a significant crackle. A duel of grenades is in progress. I hastily scramble up the narrow path which leads me into the trench and reach my post in the fray. The weather is superb. The bombs are roaring on all sides. A grenade duel is a fine sight: the bomb-thrower, firmly ensconced behind the parapet, hurls his bomb with the graceful swing of an athlete. “S——, crouching down near the grenade cases, calmly cuts the wires and passes them to us without a word. A dense black smoke rises heavenwards, in front of the trench.

At four o’clock all is over, but for a few rifle-volleys. These are like the final sobs of a long spell of weeping. The sunshine is glorious, and makes one realize all the more keenly the utter desolation of this ravine. Some wounded come down, streaming with blood.

“The dead are brought in, among others poor D——, who rose up in the trench in order to smite down a Boche officer, and had his skull pierced. At the end of the trench occupied by bomb-throwers of the 5th, and ten men of the 124th, two Boches entered and were blown to atoms. 

A prisoner comes down. His face is beardless, his eyes are sunken. He lifts his bleeding hands and shouts "Kamerad!" Our fellows take hold of him and hurry him off to the dressing-station. I go to visit that dressing-station. It is a gloomy place. In a dark room, with only one candle for a light, the patients are laid out, and one hears a constant groaning. They recognize me and call out to me. One of them has been asking for me long before I came in; he wants me to give him news of his brother. Another requests me to write to his parents. . .

Close-in Bombardment

6 o’clock P.M.—The bombardment opens again.

A stretcher-bearer, gasping for breath, comes to lean for a few moments against the wall of my headquarters. His plucky, honest, good-natured face is now worn and hollow; his eyes, with blue circles round them, seem to start out of his head. "Sorry, sir, but I am simply done up. There are only three of us stretcher-bearers left; the others have been killed or wounded. For three days I haven’t had a bite of food or drunk a drop of water."

One feels that his frail body only lasts out through a miracle of energy and will-power. They are always talking of heroes nowadays; here is a hero, a more genuine one than many who are so acclaimed. 

“The appalling cannonade goes on all the time.  “D——, R——, and I, under a low shed built of planks covered over with a few sandbags, wait for the shell which will blow us to pieces. We all look glum. The horror of the situation is clutching at our very vitals.

8 P.M.—We are relieved!

11 P.M.—A note from the colonel: In view of circumstances which have arisen, the 101st cannot be relieved.  Thanks! What a disappointment for my poor lads!  Lieutenant X—— is astounded at them, and with good reason. But I have only thirty-nine left!

5 June 1916

I should like to take a rest, but the fleas seem to have an objection. Since the relief has been countermanded, the company won’t have any water to-day. As soon as I received the order I sent out a fatigue party for water. It did not come back. It must have been overtaken by daylight. Probably it is held up at Tavannes or in the tunnel. Luckily it is raining. The men go to spread out canvas so as to catch the water.  One’s throat is parched with a terrible thirst. I am hungry. To eat bully beef with biscuit will make my thirst still worse. . . 

5 P.M.—The order for the relief has come. If only it isn’t countermanded!

We shall leave our dead in the trenches as a souvenir. Their comrades have piously laid them out of the way. I recognize them. Here is C——, with his velvet breeches; A——, poor youngster, of the 1916 class; and D——, stretching out his waxen hand, the hand that once flung bombs so valiantly; and P——, and G——, and L——, and so many others!  Alas! how many ghastly sentinels we leave behind! There they are, lying in a row on the breastwork, stiff and stark in their blood-stained, blood-dripping canvas,—grim and solemn guards of this nook of French soil where it seems that, even in death, they would fain bar the way to the enemy.

“9 o’clock P.M.—The relief.”

The uninterrupted bombardment, the fire in the neighbourhood of the grenade store, the daily onslaughts, the lack of provisions, the lack of water, the lack of sleep, the smell of the corpses and the asphyxiating shells, the mind preyed upon by the sense of death as the body is preyed upon by vermin,—these men have endured all. And because the sun is shining, the captain finds a song rising to his lips.

“You are in good spirits, sir.”

“Obviously. After all, when the die is cast——”

The whole attitude of our soldiers is summed up in that phrase. A private as he passes exclaims with a laugh:

“They’re not up to taking R1, those Boches.”

Yes, the whole attitude is summed up in this: to stick to one’s post and to think nothing of self.

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Site of R1 Today

Aftermath

The 8th Company of the 101st is relieved on June 5, in the evening, by a company of the 298th, which will hold out for three days longer, under more and more critical conditions, but will be outflanked in the night of June 8–9. The enemy has managed to make progress on the right. The fall of the fort, in the early morning of June 7, has given him a tactical point. R1, however, throughout the whole siege of the fort, from June 2 to 7, has floated, like a fishing-boat that has mastered the waves, in the wake of the great vessel.

After the defense of Fort Vaux, Delvert, who had been wounded, was evacuated and temporarily declared unfit for fighting. He later was given a provisional assignment to the 5th Army headquarters, and then, to the Italian Expeditionary Force, until his demobilization in August 1919.

Sources: From the Marne to Verdun: The War Diary of Captain Charles Delvert, 101st Infantry, 1914–1916; 1914-1918 Online