Log books of Albert Garnier

Verdun

15 days in Douaumont – Vaux

March 1916 

Albert Garnier was born on March 2, 1895, in the small village of Montbrand in the Alps (Hautes-Alpes) where his parents were farmers. As all the young men born this year, he registered for military service in 1915 and was mobilized on the front of The Great War.  

February 25, 1916 

In Frévillers, where the first battalion of the 17th infantry regiment was confined for two days, it was 8pm. In an estaminet, I was drinking a bottle of white wine with my comrades among which were the aides-de-camp of the 3rd company. The estaminet was crowded and conversations were going on, when the day’s sergeant of the Pacourt’s company came in. “Guys of the 3rd“ he said, “there’s an alert”. “Pack your bags, we need to go to Verdun this night!” “Alert, pooh !” I said to Pourbaix. “It must be a joke“. However the aides-de-camp left the café to see what was going on and to prepare the trunks if necessary.  At this moment, a poilu came in, a newspaper in hand. Over his shoulder, I read “Terrible german blow against Verdun: the Germans, after a tremendous shelling, launched several attacks of unprecendent violence against our positions”. “That’s what it is” I exclaimed. “We have an exercise tonight and it coincides with an attack in front of Verdun. This is why it’s rumoured that we have to go there”. The aides-de-camp came back after having packed their trunks and declared that the alert was serious. I went to bed without believing a word of it, and after having taking off my shoes, I rolled myself in my blankets and mocked at my comrades who, with their bags ready, went to bed all dressed. 

February 26 

The morning, around 9am, Sergeant Chavani came in the quarter and gave the following orders: “Mount the bags, clean the quarters, we have to leave at noon to embark”. The alert was real.  

At noon the company was gathered, we joined the battalion and left Frévillers to embark in Saint Pol. It was snowing. The cold weather was biting. The road, covered with black ice, made walking painful. The horse-drawn carriages couldn’t follow us anymore because horses fell down and wheels skidded. A detachment of the 62nd Artillery Regiment cluttered the road. With the bag on their backs, wrapped up in their balaclava, the poilus were joking without fretting.  

We crossed Magnicourt, Monchy-Breton where was confined the 97th, Ostreville and we arrived at 5am in Saint-Pol. We stacked arms outside the town. I took advantage of the fact that we were free to stock up on cans and tobacco. We were given some bread and three cans to each poilu. At 9pm we embarked in cattle wagons. We were abominably tight, but having taken the precaution of bringing some straw, we stretched ourselves and the train started, leaving behind it the station of Saint-Pol and all its lights. Knocked and hunched in a corner of the wagon, I fell asleep.   

February 27  

When I woke up, the train was still heading for Paris. We ate the stocks of food. I wrote a card to my parents, worded as follows: “I embarked in Saint-Pol and head towards an unknown destination, probably Verdun!”. But before reaching Le Bourget, the train stopped and took another destination. We crossed France and there was no more doubt: it was towards Verdun that we were heading. At nightfall, everyone fell asleep in his corner and I with this thought: “where are we going? Since we are heading for Verdun, that's not for nothing!” But I fell asleep with this thought that comes to you in the best and the worst moments: “We’ll see!”  

February 28  

At 4am, an officer opened the wagon’s door and said: “Hey! You there! We’re coming. Mount your bags and equip yourselves”. Candles were lighted and we got dressed in a hurry, equipped ourselves, packed our bags and the train stopped.  It was still night. I dismounted. There was no snow and what surprised me the most was that I didn’t hear the sound of cannons. So we weren’t far away from Verdun but I couldn’t explain why the sound of the cannon didn’t reach us. Horses, field kitchens, all the combat train disembarked.  

In fours, we started by night. We crossed Mussey and set off to a road through the woods and which was climbing steeply. Bags were heavy, poilus sweated, blew and the road seemed endless. At a fork, the battalion divided. The first and the second company stopped and we, with the fourth, had a break on the slope of the road. Finally we got back to walk and at sunrise we reached the village of Mognéville. 

The village had several destroyed houses because the Boche (i.e. German soldiers) arrived there and left, driven out by French people and the Battle of the Marne. The company was billeted in only one farm, people were very nice. They explained to us the Boche’s arrival in the country, saying that they didn’t do too much harm, but drank all their wine and that one evening, the meadow in front of the house was full of Boche sleeping off the booze. 

A fight happened in the village and the imprints of the bullets in the walls and doors were still there. Around 9 am, the 62nd Artillery Regiment was billeted to the village and then a battalion of the 158th and the 149th crossed it. 

There were some bars in the village and, naturally, we visited them because we were out of the foodstuffs that we had been given. A river was flowing there and I washed my face before having a rest. 

February 29 

I felt happy, the weather was fine, but at noon the 3rd and 4th company received the order to join the rest of the battalion which stayed in Couvonges, 1 mile from Mognéville. 

At 2pm, we did the same travel as yesterday. We were billeted on a barn. Couvonges was smaller than Mognéville and had some destroyed houses. The peasant on whose house we were billeted told me that during the battle of the Marne a patrol of Uhlans came there and asked if it had been a long time since French soldiers have passed by there. At the same time, a section of Alpine hunters ran down from the meadow which was above the house. A hunter appeared at the corner of a wall and the Uhlad got so scared that he ran away and, in the rush, jumped over a ten-feet-high balcony.  

March 1 

We spent the day resting. 

March 2 

In the morning, bags were packed and at 8am the battalion moved. We walked all day. It was hot and bags were heavy. The road was tiring and all along it I noticed little hillocks surrounded by stakes and fencings with little tricolour flags and this inscription: “here rests so-and-so of the 10th Infantry Regiment who died for his country in September 1914”. Or else in an isolated grave in which was stuck a cross made of sticks with these words: “here rests so-and-sos German soldiers”. There were often graves depending on the ground’s layout.  

By walking and seeing those graves, I felt the first phases of the battle of the Marne: the encounters of the scouts, the shots exchanged and, sometimes, the patrol caught in an ambush. Around 5pm, after having walked for 15 miles, we arrived at Rembercourt-aux-Pots.  

The town was big but it suffered a lot from the war. Some houses had been charred and raised their blackened shells. The church especially suffered and the first floor had been razed by the shells.  

The first and the second battalion were quartered in Rembercourt. General Mainvielle set up the brigade office in the town hall and so did Colonel Maréchal near it. As for my section, we were quartered in a farmhouse, two squads on the ground floor in a stable near cows, and two squads in the barn above. As for me, I made my bed in a layer of lucerne where I slept like a log because I was very tired. 

March 3 

I woke up just in time to eat the soup. It was sunny and I bought a newspaper and here is what I learnt: In Verdun, the battle was raging. The Germans assaulted our positions through a real deluge of shells of all calibres so that we were forced to move back. The enemy took over the Fort de Douaumont but we, thanks to a fierce counterattack, could retake the fort and the village. From Rembercourt, we were 21 miles from Verdun and 18 miles from Bar-le-Duc. The sound of the cannon reached us with a far-off and continuous rumble. At night, the glow of bursting shells was very visible, as well as the searchlights searching through the sky.  

At 2pm, Second Lieutenant Férié gathered us and led us to look for salad and play ball. However, the cyclist came and told Captain Vaillant: “My captain, soldiers have to come back, an order just came, we leave tonight”.  

We came back. I mounted by bag and, as we only had to leave in the evening, I ran to the stocks but grocery shops were overcrowded and it was impossible to be served. I nevertheless managed to get some chocolate but it was all I could find. We were given a ball and a half of pain and five tinned corned beef (that is to say five days of foodstuffs). We could get fat. 

At nightfall, the company gathered together because we had to leave at 7am by car. We stacked arms and the captain said: “3rd company, fall in! I need to talk to you”. The company formed a circle around him and the captain continued: “My friends, when I became in command of the company, I thought that I would stay with you for a very short time. But since we are all going to the action together, we need to know each other and be good comrades. I’m an old man, you can have confidence in me. I won’t drop you but you won’t leave me either”. “No, my Captain!” answered the company with one voice. “Thank you my friends, long live France!”. “Long live Captain!” the company exclaimed. 

The captain had tears in his eyes and it impressed me a lot to see this white-haired man – talking to us as if he had been our father – cry. 

Cars were slow and I had time to think. I remembered the battles of Lorette in which I took part and I told myself: “Well! We’ll see what happen, don’t worry yourself sick beforehand”. Yet cars arrived and we got into and left.   

We went by night, the long lines of cars followed each other and it looked like huge trains, or villages because the headlights of each car looked like a window. We ran for a long time. After many abrupt stops and car starts, we stopped in the night. We got out, lorries had their headlights switched off and there was no light.  

All the 21st corps moved and we could hear in the night those voices: “21st, here!”, “109th, here!”. It was an indescribable mess. I could find my company and we started walking. In the night, a lighted car overtook us. I recognized General De Bouillon, commanding the 13th division, and Maistre, commanding the 21st corp. Rockets soared and blew out in the night. Cannon shots could be heard very distinctly. We passed by the streets of a village, and by seeing a brave territorial (i.e. territorial infantry regiment), I caught him by the sleeve and told him: “what’s the name of this village?”. “It’s Regret” he said, “and here is the fort”.  

We kept walking in the night. Suddenly, I heard whistles and then the explosion of two German 750 whose shrapnel whistled to our ears. We sped up. Where were we going? Were we going to the trenches tonight? Rockets weren’t far away! The road was climbing steeply and bags were heavy. We arrived in front of the Chevert barracks and we had a break. I thought we were going to stay there, but we got going again.  From time to time, Major Dez, his flashlight in the hand, stopped and his face, burnt by the African Sirocco, leaned over the Ordnance Survey map (“carte d’état-major”). I came closer to Lieutenant Boniface, who was his adjunct, and asked him: “Is it far where we go?”. “We still have to walk for two hours” he said, “We are halfway”.  

The road was covered with sticky mud which made walking extremely hard, the road was furthermore climbing steeply. Hills’ ridges were covered with stonework. “These are forts or redoubts” I thought.  

However, as we walked, we went a little too far away from the front and flares seemed further. The cannon shots echoed with a muffled rumbling. On a col, we had a break. Men spread themselves out, breathless, on the talus. Major declared: “One more try! In half an hour, we’ll arrive”. And then we got going again.  

March 4  

When we crossed into Belrupt, a dull and biting morning was rising. The billeting officer Tomasi, who had gone to prepare billeting, came back and said: “There isn’t enough room. I found a place with the artillerymen. Come!”. We got to the building via a rickety scale. Artillerymen were sleeping, spreading themselves out on straw. I took my bag and shoes off. I rolled myself in my blankets and fell asleep. 

I woke up at 2pm. I went to inspect the village. In the streets, people sank knee-deep into the mud. It was an uninterrupted line of supply convoys, field kitchens and French Red-Cross lorries. We were in Belrupt with artillerymen of the 114th and the 9th Zouaves Regiment who managed to retake Douaumont. 

We could see Zouaves arriving, limping, some soil on their clothes, the face ravaged by pain and weakened by deprivation. The 17th was billeted just about everywhere. In schools, they were lying on tables, in corners. At the church, at the bottom of the altar or on benches. Everywhere was overcrowded.  

Night came and after having chatted to artillerymen, I went to bed thinking that, tomorrow, we may go to the blaze.

March 5 

Around 9am, the sergeant came and told us that we had to mount our bags and that we were going to the reserve tonight. I packed all my things but field kitchens didn’t follow us so that we still had to eat corned beef. I was ravenous and when the artillerymen went eating their soup, I followed them. I asked the cooks if they had anything left to eat. The cook was a good sort and he filled my mess tin with stew and gave me a piece of meat. I shared it with my friend Pourbaix and when the grub was over, laced with a quarter of bleach, and after having smoked a pipe, I told him laughingly: “with that my pal, we’ll have them!”.   

At 2pm, the company was gathered and we joined the battalion and started walking. Kitchens were set up in the woods, hidden behind folds, while horses and caissons obstructed the road. We took a path through the woods. Suddenly, I saw the Colonel’s cyclist (i.e. soldier of the Bicycle Infantry) running through a shortcut and joined Major Dez who went back to Belrupt. “Let’s hope it won’t change the company’s situation” I thought.    

1 mile from Belrupt, we stopped and, by fours in the foods, we stacked arms. Artillery cannons were shooting without respite and their shots deafened me. Believing that we would stay there for the night, I looked for a place to sleep. But Veyrer, the liaison officer, came. “Chavani”, he told the sergeant, “Take the section to the road. We leave”.  

We put the bags on the back and the company gathered together on the road, following the battalion. “Where do we go? Eh?”. Rumour has it that we were going to the front line. “Oh! So they finally move their ass” privates said. I was seized with worry. “Where do we go?? What would be tomorrow?”. In the woods, artillery batteries were shooting without respite and their tremendous shots echoed in the woods with a thud.  

We followed the left side of the road in twos. Lieutenant Meysson, who was commanding the company since Captain Vailland, as he was sick, stayed at Belrupt, walked in the middle of the road. Suddenly, I saw the ground rising and a detonation rang out. I leaped aside because I instinctively understood that a projectile exploded just there, in the middle of the road, 10 feet from me. I didn’t hear any sound and I thought that it was an airplane’s bomb, but by seeing the hole it did, I understood that a shell just fall there.   

No one was hurt. I wasn’t frightened and I got going again. We followed a sloping road in the woods. You could find horses killed every 100 yards. Night came. Boche shells flew over our heads, whistling, and crashed against our batteries.  

After around 2 miles, we halted and the battalion slept by the wayside. Officers of the 3rd and 4th company came to sit beside me. Second Lieutenant Boniface, who was major’s adjunct, came to chat with them. “Major went on reconnaissance. From what the Colonel said, we’re going to the Fort Douaumont” he declared. “That’s not the right place” Lieutenant Meysson said. We stayed at least an hour on the road. Finally the column moved. Boche shells were still raining down but above all in front of us. We were quickly walking in single file. Bags seemed heavy but I still walked. All along the way, we found bodies, lorries bringing wounded soldiers, companies relieved of duty. We turned right and a burst of shells rained down on the field beside us. “Go on! Scram! It’s nothing” I exclaimed.  

Shells were still raining down and we hurried up. I glimpsed flares on the right and a gunfight broke out. “Halt!”. We stopped. The gunfight came to a stop and we got going again to the woods of Haudromont. A lying tree on the road required a detour. When I passed it, I couldn’t see anyone in front of me. Night was pitch-black. I started to run to catch up with my comrades. I found Boudeau running in front of me. ”Where are the others?” I asked. But he didn’t reply and continued to run like mad. Finally we caught up with the column. “Spread the message that they don’t follow behind” I ordered. We stopped and when the company joined us we got going.   

The shelling came to a stop. It was around 10pm. On the crest, flares went up and down. We crossed the village of Fleury which was almost destroyed. We followed then a small valley on the right of the woods of La Caillette. We went up to the crest. A human skeleton unearthed by a shell seemed all white in the night. I watched it without fear but I passed this remark: “it smells like stiff there!!”. The ground on which we were now walking was completely ploughed by shells and a house had been half demolished. “It must have been hot there!” I thought. Flares were still going up on the crest and I understood that it was the place we were going to. We went up section by section and found the 2nd company there. We went down at last in a piece of trench that I hadn’t seen yet. It was 3-feet-high and I saw that it was engaged. “Which regiment?” I asked. “9th Zouaves” they replied. Suddenly, a gunfight broke out on the right and bullets began to whistle. Flares shew me that the front line was horseshoe-shaped and that we had a lot of chance to be hit from the bullets coming from behind the woods of La Caillette.  

The gunfight continued to crackle. “Everyone gets up, but don’t shoot if you see nothing” ordered Lieutenant Férié. When it stopped, Zouaves left the trench by wishing us good luck. Night was a bit quiet. There were some gunfire on the right at the woods of La Caillette.  

A few misdirected 75 mm field guns fell in the trench or near it so that we had to shoot green flares to make shots longer. Austrian 74 swept the trench and exploded 100 feet below. It was cold and we stamped our feet to keep warm.  

March 6  

The day began and I realized that the trenches engaged by the 1st battalion were on a slope at a garden’s edge whose fences served us to lay down our guns. In front of the 3rd company, a half demolished house was called “Thiaumont Farmhouse” which was mentioned on communiqués for a long time. Behind us, on the right, there was the 109th Infantry Regiment which was in contact with the 1st company in front of which was the Fort Douamont whose walls could be distinguished. In front of the 2nd company, there were two houses and above it the road going from the fort to the village of Douaumont. Finally, we, the 3rd company which was in contact with the 2nd battalion. The trench at the location of the 5th section (where I was) was at right angles to the 5th company’s trench with whom we were in contact. At this angle, there were two machine guns. The Fort Douamont that the Boche occupied was, so to speak, surrounded by us. But along the crest where was the fort, we couldn’t obviously see any Boche trench. They were behind, shielded from our bullets.  

During the day, the shelling became heavier but shells fell above all behind, and for me who spent my summer in Lorette, I had seen others. Night came. It was cold and we kept watch in turn, and I with Chopin. Around midnight, sitting on my bag rolled in my blankets, I fell asleep. When I was awakened by a terrible explosion, it was as if I had received a blow from a club. I leaped up and saw that a shell just exploded on the trench’s parapet. Chopin was stretching out. “Are you wounded?” I asked him. “No, but the explosion knocked me out” he replied. But another projectile arrived, whistling, and I bended down. It was a 7.7 cm FK 96 field gun and I couldn’t refrain from saying: “Ah, how stupid the Boche are. They could buzz off!”. The rest of the night went quite well, apart from the fact that another 77 exploded so close to Brunet that it burnt his neck and his tent canvas without wounding him.  

It was starting to snow, fine and frozen. Standing up in the trench, I looked at it, thinking that a family life would have been more enjoyable. At that moment, Pourbaix came with some food for the section: bean salad, bread, a quarter of wine, and finally a drop of hooch into the bargain. 

March 7  

During the night, I dug a niche in the trench’s face that I covered with my tent canvas. Since in broad daylight there was only one lookout per squad, I entered my hole and, tired by two night watches, I fell asleep. I woke up around 10am and my first occupation was to write. While I was writing, sheltered under my tent canvas, a shell exploded right next to me. I heard a cry and hurried steps in the trench. I saw Corporal Brulin running, holding his arm and saying “Ouch! I’m wounded!”. We bandaged him and I saw that he received shrapnel in the right shoulder blade. I was going to see the place where the shell exploded and I saw my Corporal, Vaginay, lying on the floor, no longer giving a sign of life. He received shrapnel in the head. It gave me painful thoughts. Vaginay was a husband and the father of a family. He was an excellent comrade. Just a moment ago, he talked to me. Boche shells seemed to tell us “whose turn is it?”. “Yeah, whose turn is it” I said, “Today yours, tomorrow mine”.  

In the afternoon, the shelling became extremely violent and I thought about the Boche who could appear from one minute to the next. However, it was nothing but a terribly long gunfight in the woods of La Caillette. Night came. It was a restless one because gunfights broke out all the time so that everybody had to be awakened. But it was quickly calming down. Night was cold and no need to say that I didn’t sleep well.  

March 8  

The dawn appeared. Making the most of the day, I slipped into my hole to get some quiet and I fell asleep. I woke up because of explosions as the same time as backwards and forwards in the trench. Believing in an alert, I got up and saw that the Boche were throwing torpedoes that we called Minenwerfer or Crapouillot. By looking up, we could see the terrible death machine which seemed to head straight for us. Fortunately, they were going 150 feet away from us and exploded right on the 5th company. The trench was shaken while stones and clods of earth fell on us. The Boche continued to throw their dreadful machines. Instinctively I moved back in a corner of the trench and bent down when the torpedo touched down. I then realized that one of my puttees was undone. I rolled it and was going to put it on again when my comrades started to yell. “Here they are! Here they are!”. I put my puttee in my pocket and I ran to my gun. Indeed, it was the Boche, the hereditary enemy, the Germans. They were heading to the 5th company, fix bayonets. By fours, the helmet on the head, the bag on the back, they ran with a stoop through the shell holes. The gunfight broke out, brutal and terrible. Because of the downward slope, we couldn’t see them for a long time. Grenades exploded on all sides. Suddenly, a retreat occurred. The 5th company which retreated from its trench under the bombing just let the Boche jump into it. Once the first moment of surprise had passed, I regained my composure and started to shoot. Among them, I distinguished one who was carrying something tin behind the back, a flamethrower.  

When it arrived on the 5th, two 15-high-feet flames leapt, causing a black smoke. “I hope this isn’t gas!” I thought. I took carefully aim at the guy and shot him. I saw him disappear. In the French trench, many of my comrades were very nervous. Many of them, seeing the Boche for the first time, shot at random or kept shooting and jammed their guns in the panic. Being almost the older of the front, I preached to them the calm and the composure. “Take carefully aim at out guy” I told them, “because a bullet which misses its target, it’s better to not shoot”. However the Boche, hidden behind the roughness of the talus, kept shooting.  We could see helmets going up and down about 60 feet from us. The bars of the fence got in the way when I shot. I told my comrade Réon:”Here, take this one”. But the poor bloke shot in front of his noise. Lance Caporal Louette received a bullet in his jaw and yelled like a mad thing in the trench. Sergeant Gilbert who climbed on the parapet to see better fell down, a bullet through the heart. Among the hidden Boche, one of them suddenly jumped forward, three grenades in the hand, his helmet over his balaclava. He came to shelter behind a heap of stones, before any of our bullets could reach him. Immediately after he arrived, he threw a grenade at us. I saw it coming in a whirl. I bent down while it exploded on my left. A machine gunner retaliated and the grenade exploded on him. We could see his helmet jumping 30-feet-high in the air. By seeing their comrade’s fate, the Boche didn’t insist and moved forward in the trench with grenades.  

The battle began. We retaliated with small grenades. Despite the slope, we could keep them at a distance. I thought the situation was perilous and I told my comrades: “Hang on! If they take the trench, it’s messed up and we’ll have to retake it. They won’t pass, there is only one company in front of us”. Grenades were running short. I reported it to the warrant officer who passed us two boxes. The Boche had no more grenades so they threw us ours that they took in the trench without priming it. I got my breath and understood that the gunfight stopped. But at this moment, if I had been leader, I would have counterattacked and we would have undoubtedly retaken the trench. “Be watchful” the warrant officer shouted, “They’ll come back!”.  Up there, from where they came, wounded Boche passed by crawling and those who were safe and sound asked for reinforcements. During the attack, our artillery didn’t blast a cannon and we had no more red flares to report it.   

A gunfight broke out near the edge of the woods of La Caillette where the 129th was. The enemy artillery strived doubly hard. We couldn’t hear each other anymore and a grey smoke covered the woods. Putting my gun on the parapet, I drank a quarter of plonk. The poilus, happy to have blocked the Boche, exulted: “Eh! We really hammered them!”.  The Boche suddenly appeared by fours, fix bayonet. “On left! Fire! Fire!” the poilus yelled. Around ten Germans fell down, while others were hiding in shell holes, throwing grenades. Sheltered behind a heap of stones, a German officer fired his revolver at us. Then shouting again, around ten Germans rushed in the trench.  

The gunfight crackled. The Boche tottered and fell down before having reached the trench. Around twenty of them who charged at the 2nd company were struck down by the machine gun that we installed. To the left of the section, the Boche tried to expel us out of the trench and to capture us. Grenades exploded without respite and, every minute, men fell down, dead or wounded. But Boche had to deal with poilus who would have got killed until the last one before surrendering. And poilus yelled: “They won’t pass!” They won’t pass!”. Boche got killed like flies but caused us a lot of trouble.  

For my part, I threw grenades but I was too far from the section so I took my gun back. Chopin filled my cartridge pouch while I shot without respite. Made half mad by the gunfight or the shells, I wasn’t aware of the danger. I shew myself down to the waist above the trench, my gun was burning my fingers so I took a wounded soldier’s one. A bullet crushed on my gun’s barrel and its lead entered my hand but fortunately only caused a little stretch. Boudeau who was on my left was shot in the neck, he couldn’t make noise while blood came out of it. At the same time, I got a knock on the head. “I’m wounded” I said. That wasn’t the case. A bullet went through my helmet making the crest flying off without hurting me. Suddenly Picon, who was on my right, fell flat on his back. I caught hold of him around the waist and I saw that a bullet grazed his head, parted his hair and exposed his brain. He rolled his eyes and I thought he was dead or at least going to die, but he came back to life and knocked back an entire bottle of mint alcohol. When he could speak, as I was telling him to go to the first-aid post, he replied: “All my left-part is paralysed”.   

It was noon. I realised the situation. The German assault had been halted but weren’t the Boche still going to attack tonight? It was bound to happen. Weren’t some reinforcements going to come in mass and overwhelm us in the plain? There wasn’t any trench behind us. Our numbers had been lessened, the trench was full of dead bodies and wounded soldiers. So here was the plan I deduced: if the Boche could afford to take the trench, I would have jumped above the parapet and sheltered behind the house, below behind the talus. There I would have seen. But I wanted to avoid being captured no matter what. Because I wasn’t sure that the Boche wouldn’t have killed us. We had almost no ranks. Three of our corporals had been wounded or killed. We didn’t have sergeant. Only Warrant Officer Lumeau was close to us. 

Second Lieutenant Férié had been shot in the shoulder in the beginning of the action. Lieutenant Meysson, who was at the command post since we had to cross a large distance without cover, couldn’t do it because of the shooting’s severity. At the edge of the woods of La Caillette, the gunfight crackled with an incredible violence. Machine guns didn’t stop their tremendous “tac tac tac”. Woods were covered with grey smoke. Bursts of large-bore shells rained down with a train noise. On all the sector, gunfight and cannonade were intense, enraged.  

Suddenly, we saw with the naked eye the 109th Infantry Regiment leaving it trench under the Boche thrust and running for their lives in all directions. The Boche got into the woods of La Caillette. But behind a fold we saw a battalion rushing on them, fix bayonet. These soldiers in blue-grey greatcoats dashed after them who retraced their steps. It was so nice to look at. It was the 3rd battalion of the 17th Infantry Regiment which retook the trenches left by the 109th. At the same time, in front of us, the Boche dashed forward in tight lines despite our shootings. “Throw grenades!” the warrant officer yelled. That was what the poilus did and, by exploding, grenades created a fire dam. We couldn’t distinguish anything but the gunfight was still going on. A Boche rushed in the trench, bayonet forward. In the smoke, he looked like a devil escaping from hell. He was heading straight for me. I shot. In the rush, I didn’t aim but he fell down. By seeing that I had nearly been killed by his bayonet, I pulled mine and put it on the tip of my gun. “Fix bayonet! Fire! Fire! Shoot! Shoot!” I shouted. The machine gun deafened me and threw earth to my eyes. Smoke blinded me and I suffocated. I coughed and stopped shooting. Little by little, smoke lifted and the gunfight stopped. I saw the ground covered with dead Germans or severely wounded. Those who were still alive hid in shell holes or crawled to return to their lines. No need to say that every Boche who appeared unleashed a volley of shots. Snow fell during the afternoon and a thin layer covered the ground. Boche who were lying on the ground shouldn’t have felt warm.   

At 4pm, the gunfight came to a stop. I was half deaf. My hands and my right shoulder where I pressed the butt of my gun hurt. I thought of putting on my puttee that I kept in my pocket since 7am. Major Dez and Lieutenant Meysson passed in the trench. “Well guys, how are you?” Major said. “Not too bad, my Major. We didn't half thrash these Fritz (i.e. common German name)! They got it in the neck! They can go to hell if they want to take Verdun” the poilus said. “With that, we’re not going to break stones in Berlin” Lieutenant added. Under the 3rd battalion, the branches of the horseshoe snapped shut and they were taken prisoners. Night fell and almost everybody was on watch because we feared that the Boche were up to something. Lieutenant Meysson passed the night in the trench. The day was eventful but the night was calm.   

March 9 

Around 8am, Boche started to throw torpedoes. They fell on the right near the 2nd company and close to our trench. Lieutenant made preparations and asked some of us to be on fatigue duty, especially reloading cartridges and grenades. For my part, I went to get some water in a half demolished house where was a pump. Just for curiosity's sake, I came in, it was empty of its furniture. I went down in the cellar and to my utter amazement I discovered a goat and a kid of a few weeks. Torpedoes were still falling down, everyone stayed at his battle station, ready for anything that might crop up. 

Around 10am, Boche came out of the trench that they took from the 5th company yesterday. A sustained gunfight broke out and machine gun started its death job. Boche fell down by the dozens at a time. Those who were slightly shot retraced their steps in a hurry. The Boche column was destroyed and those who were still alive tried to shelter in shell holes, reaching the road’s talus which goes from the village of Douaumont to the fort. From there, they threw grenades but they were too far so they cannot reach us. An officer who was identifiable by his peaked cap waved to them in encouragement and cheered them to dash forward. Soon, about fifty soldiers reached on the 2nd company. But the machine gun took them in flank, reaping them like a handful of ripe wheat. They couldn’t reach the trench. Those who were unharmed slipped through a half demolished house. In front of the 109th Infantry Regiment in the woods of La Caillette, the gunshot crackled but this time, we held on and Boche couldn’t get us to move.  

Soon 155 CT started to shoot. Unfortunately they didn’t fire far enough and some of the shells fell down on the 2nd company where they caused losses. One of our 155 CT fell right on the house where Boche sheltered. Beams collapsed and Boche ran away in double-quick time, all unequipped and without knowing where to go because we were making a fire of hell on them.  

Suddenly, a Boche who I didn’t see and who must have been hidden in a shell hole jumped next to me in the trench. I had fix bayonet and was ready to stab him in the chest but I stopped in time because he was unequipped and wounded, raising his arms and shouting: “Kamarade! Kamarade!” (i.e. comrade). I put my hand on his shoulder, he was shaking like a lead but I was so surprised that I couldn’t refrain from saying: “Eh! Damn! He’s cheeky that one!”. He put his hand in his pocket and took a cigar out that he gave me, looking at me with a bewildered air. I took him down to Lieutenant Meysson to whom he told he belonged to the 24th Brandenburger Regiment and was Pomeranian.  

Night came and we stood guard carefully. It was snowing and large snowflakes covered the ground. It was extremely chilly. I stamped my feet to keep warm. Lieutenant came to congratulate us on having driving back the enemy attack.

March 10 

When day rose, it found me asleep under my tent canvas. Despite the cold weather and the snow, I could feel tiredness coming over me and I fell asleep.  Around 9am, the cold woke me up. Poilus were on watch, the usual cannonade reigned. Lieutenant Meysson came and said: “If today Boche still want to attack, I'll show them who's boss! I’m in touch with the artillery because we installed a telephone line tonight”.  Around noon, we were informed that Boche would soon attack us. A phone call informed the artillery and our 75 began to fire just in front of the trench. We were satisfied when they exploded behind the crest where the German Infantry must have been massed. Around 3pm, our artillery stopped firing. Boche were still throwing volleys of large-bore shells on the back. Night came. I met Bailly, the liaison officer, and I asked him: “What’s new?”. “I come from the command” he told me, “and I think that we’re relieved of duty tonight”. I was so happy and so were my comrades. For 5 days and 6 nights, we were hardly sleeping and exhausted.    

So I was packing my bag with a will and when the 75th Infantry of the 14th Army Corps came to relieve us, I was happy. I wished them luck and with my section, in the night, on the snow, I went down the slope. We followed the little Decauville and then the railway of Vaux in Souville. Finally, we made our way to the road.  Burst of shell passed above our heads and exploded not far away. A smell of tear-gas hung in the air. We were walking were very quickly. My throat was dry and I knocked back large quarter litre of water from time to time. The road was full of artillery supplying, field kitchens, lorries, wounded soldiers and relieved troops by the wayside. “Which regiment?” I asked while walking. “140th Infantry”. “Hey!” I thought “It’s Grenoble’s regiment. The 14th army corps might be there”. We had a short break and kept going.  My feet hurt me atrociously because they were half frozen. My eyes were closing with sleep. Thirst burnt my throat. We finally reached Belrupt, and by crossing the river, leaving the company, I could quench my thirst. Quarters were not ready yet and there was almost no place left. Field kitchens were not there. They were 2 miles away, in Haudainville. I sat on a stone to rest and, as I wanted to sleep, I set off in search of a home. I headed to the place where I was billeted the first time, where artillerymen were, but I didn’t have a candle and there was no light. I took my flashlight. I lighted an artilleryman’s candle, and noticing on the table a piece of meat and some bread, I ate it because I was ravenous and hadn’t eaten anything since the morning. I was worn out, my feet made me suffer terribly. I took off my shoes and among artillerymen, on wet straw, rolled in my blankets, I fell into the arms of Morpheus.  

March 11 

In the morning, comrades came to wake me up because the field kitchen arrived. We were given the yesterday’s ration. I ate heartily and as one was absent at roll call, I drank three quarters of wine. Its effect wasn’t long to happen because I was so tired and, as I went upstairs, I hummed. “When we were little we had some dreams, adorable lies….” (i.e. a French song). I went to bed and slept uninterruptedly until noon.  

At noon, I washed my face. The evening, taking a breath of fresh air while smoking a pipe, I mused on what I saw. It was like if I had dreamt. But this dream was reality. 

Albert’s postcard to his parents: “Memory of your little poilu. Caresses to you. Albert”. 

March 12 

Boche shelled Belrupt in the night. Two shells fell in the village and wounded an artilleryman. At noon, I met Firard, my best mate of the 2nd company. I shook his hand and he told me: “I think you go back to the front tonight!...”. I could have been slapped in the face that I wouldn’t have been that surprised. I remained dazed a moment, unable to believe it. In the street, I met Second Lieutenant Boniface. “You know Garnier, we go back tonight” he told me. “They’re crazy!” I replied, “We’re exhausted!”. He merely smiled in reply and went away after asking me if I had received news from my parents. I packed my bag unwillingly. After the soup, the company was gathered and Major Dez told us: “Well, we have to fight again, kids”. We left after the battalion. Second Lieutenant Boniface came back to the company. “Where do we go?” I asked him. “To a place that won’t be better than the one we come from. It’s near Vaux I think”. Tourtet, who was on leave, came back and walked with me.   

We left at nightfall and at the first break, I sat against a killed horse’s carcass. It stank. The road was still terribly congested. We had a break and it was rumoured that we were going to the reserve. The shelling came to a stop. We walked quickly on the road which had been destroyed by shells. Holes all touched each other. At a fork, I noticed a huge hole that swallowed up a house. I found out about it. “It’s a Big Bertha’s hole” I was told. A section stopped in the shelters of a quarry. Two others among which mine headed through the woods and soon arrived to a sand quarry. Shelters were built right up against the walls. I slipped into with one of my Breton comrades, Le Moener. The hole was long but its solidity was doubtful, it was a riddle made of woven branches and covered with one inch of earth. I unwrapped my blanket and soon fell asleep.   

March 13  

All the day, I lied down, unable to do something else. Shell didn’t fall too much. Around 9pm, Pourbaix brought soup. We were going to be on fatigue duty when a major’s order arrived. The company was advancing for the attack. I packed my bag and the company, Second Lieutenant Boniface at the front, went down the ravine. Boche with their artillery enfiladed it and sent a volley of about fifteen large-bore shells off every two minutes. When we got inside, a burst exploded. Section lied down and we only received earth, almost no shrapnel reached us. The ravine was smoke-filled. Taking advantage of a lull, we left at a jog trot, went along the ravine cluttered with broken trees. The pond of Vaux was in front of us. In a rush, we passed on the edge.

I noticed in the light of a flare a spring near which were lying three corpses of riflemen who must have been killed while they were taking water. I learnt since then that troops nicknamed this ravine “the death ravine”. We turned left and took at the top of a slope the double railway Vaux-Fleury along which we reached the company that we had to replace. It was the 21st Infantry Regiment. The command post was installed on the railway, the shelter against the talus. This was where Second Lieutenant Boniface, Lieutenant Meysson and the four liaison officers stayed. As for us, we climbed the talus and the trench we had was on the side of the slope that went down the ravine. Artillery on each side fell silent. The sector was quiet. The trench was large and composed of small shelters, not very solid, but practical. With Corporal Vacheron, we were together. Everything was quiet. Flares went up and down on crests. I unwrapped my blanket and fell asleep. Night was very quiet.  

March 14 

The day was very quiet. We didn’t receive any shell. There was a radiant sun. I took Tourtet’s binoculars and inspected surroundings. In front of us, between the two lines, there was the abandoned redoubt of Hardaumont. I distinguished two or three cannons’ muzzle. The ground in front of the redoubt was covered with corpses. On the right, the village of Vaux of which the Boche took the surroundings. Behind the railway, the pond of Vaux and, in the woods, the fort. If I have had a camera, I would have taken a splendid picture.   

The setting sun gave the village of Vaux and the surrounding crests a fiery glow and I thought about what our forefathers said, that it meant that blood would flow tomorrow. Perhaps for the future this thought would be true! Because history will never register bloodier battles than in this piece of landscape.  

Night fell and Germans started to fire on the fort of Vaux’s batteries. Second Lieutenant Boniface came to ask after me and said: “You know, Garnier, we’re relieved tonight and we’ll go behind the lines”. Around 11pm, a company of the 158th Infantry Regiment came to relieve us.    

The company gathered together under Lieutenant Boniface’s command because Lieutenant Meysson stayed to give orders. Bursts of large-bore shells enfiladed “the death ravine”. “Let’s wait until the storm blows over. We’ll leave after” Boniface said. Bursts followed each other and it was like if a train passed in the air. Little by little, bursts became more distanced from each other. Taking advantage of it, we left in a single line. When we started crossing the terrible ravine, Lieutenant said: “Speed up! Hurry up!”. “The death ravine” was full of unbreathable smoke. The ground was turned over by the shells. Broken trees blocked the road which was littered with corpses. While we crossed it, no shells fortunately fell there.  

We walked for about two miles without mishap and as men were breathless, we had a break in the woods without worrying about the shells. We gathered together and got going again. Suddenly, I saw ten feet from me the ground rising up and a blaze streaked the night. At the same time, a muffled explosion happened.  I instinctively put my hands in front of my face to shield myself from shrapnel, understanding that it was too late to lay down because I didn’t hear the shell coming. I only felt a little prick on my chin but it was just a stone. Noticing that my comrades and Lieutenant Boniface were lying down in the ditch, I asked: “Is anyone wounded?”. But no one replied and poilus ran away in a rush. But I heard a voice saying: “I’m wounded!”. “Me too!” another answered.  Maroyer had received a minor splinter in the thigh and Barralon a big one in the cheek. It looked like a stab with a knife and blood flew. Poilus ran at a fork. Two shrapnel shells exploded with a thud. So there was a mad rush: poilus charged all over the place. As for me and Chavani, I didn’t move and it was not such a bad thing. My feet were atrociously painful because they were half-frozen.   

After many breaks, at dawn, I came in Belrupt and, entering in the first billet, I fell asleep.  

March 15 

All day long, I stayed in bed because my feet stringed and I limped. Belrupt was shelled and one exploded in the middle of the village, near the church, killing two artillerymen. Boche planes came in broad daylight throwing bombs on the kitchens without any fear. 

March 16  

I was still limping and I had a rest. 

March 17 

My feet were still painful. A Boche plane throw two bombs on the 2nd company’s kitchen, killing two cooks and injuring Sergeant Major and the cyclist. 

March 18 

I felt a bit down because the village was evacuated. Impossible to find wine. 

March 19  

In the morning, we were told that we were leaving after lunch. At 2pm, after four hours of hard walking, we reached Regret where cars were waiting for us and it was with pleasure that I said: “Farewell Verdun! Farewell Douaumont! Farewell Vaux! Farewell Death!”. Cars brought us to life and we left the blaze. The evening, we reached Resson, two miles away from Bar-le-Duc and 25 miles away from Verdun.  

I got back home… End.    

On April 18, 1916, in the camp of Chalons, the 17th Infantry Regiment’s flag was awarded the Croix de Guerre with palm. In front of all the 21st army corps and the 54 flags of the Fourth Army, General Gouraud read the mention in dispatches (i.e. “citation à l’ordre du jour”) out: “Placed in first line in a sector violently attacked by the Germans, was subjected during many days to an intense shelling of large-bore shells and Minenwerfers. During three consecutive days, had repelled all the attacks carried on by the enemy with a large strength, preceded by jets of burning liquid. Spurred on by Lieutenant Colonel Mareschal, had repelled all the attacks and, despite sensible losses, held fast.”  

Signed: General Pétain, commanding the Second Army.   

Lieutenant Colonel Mareschal was appointed Colonel.

First Battalion’s Major Dez was awarded the rosette of the Legion of Honour.   

Note of General Gouraud

Greetings, glorious soldiers of the 17th Infantry Regiment. By your admirable conduct since the beginning of hostilities, you have today the greatest recompense for what a soldier could strive. You never failed in your duty. In Alsace, in the Vosges, in the Marne, in Lorette, in Givenchy, in Verdun, you wrote a beautiful page of history. You can walk with head held high and I say it in front of all the army out loud. Long live the 17th, long live France.  
General Gouraud 

(Albert is on the far right) 

This song is called “Glory to the 17th Infantry Regiment” (“Gloire au 17e” in French), composed by the French song-writer Montéhus. It was initially written in 1907 in honour of the 17th Infantry Regiment which mutinied to protect rebellious wine-growers. During the Great War, Montéhus wrote another version in honour of the poilus which remains not very well-known. Here is its translation:  

I

If formerly in a day of anger

Our kids have in this regiment

Refused to shoot on their mother

Today they’ve sworn

To fight until victory

Crying for sacred liberty

The 17th covers itself with glory.

Refrain

Greetings, Greetings

Brave poilus of the 17th

Greetings, Greetings

Everyone admires and loves you

Greetings, glory and honour

To this magnificent regiment

It’s the reflection of the workers

Proud soldiers of the Republic.

II

If they’ve refused to stain the ground with blood

By shooting on their good old parents

Today, in this horrible war

For France, they give all their blood

The soldier is not the right person to strike

He is to guard the country

Until the fine dream comes

Where all the people will be united.  

Refrain

Greetings, Greetings

Brave poilus of the 17th

Greetings, Greetings

Everyone admires and loves you

Greetings, glory and honour

To this magnificent regiment

It’s the reflection of the workers

Proud soldiers of the Republic.

III

Writers who said that France

Was just a depraved country

Where do you find better bravery

Than in Gavroche, this boy on paper?

Greetings, French race

When we have the river Marne and Verdun

We can fearlessly say that in Ninety-Three (i.e. 1793 – title of Victor Hugo’s book)

They didn’t do what these kids do.      

Greetings, You who fight in the blaze

Greetings, Greetings,  

Majors and soldiers of the French Army

Greetings, glory and honour

Your duty is magnificent

It prepares for our happiness

The triumph of the Republic.

Montéhus

Albert Garnier

Albert Garnier, Camp A, June 15, 1916, Champagne 

After a first campaign on the front of Verdun, Albert went back to the Ardennes in 1918 where he sustained a bullet-wound on October 26, 1918. Transferred to the military hospital of ClermontFerrand, he died on November 3, 1918, of the Spanish flu epidemic, 8 days before the armistice.  He had just turned 23 years old.   

Albert’s medical file drawn up by the military hospital of Clermont-Ferrand. “Date of admission to hospital: October 30, 1918”, “Hour of death: November 3, 1918, 10:30”, “Kind of illness: asphyxia-type flu, War bullet-wound on October 26”. 

He rests at the National Necropolis “Les Carmes” in Clermont-Ferrand (Grave n°30). 

In his native village’s church, a plaque pays homage to him, as well as the other combatants who gave their life for France.   

(The name before last) 

“Born on November 2, 1895, in Montbrand (in the Alps)”

“Brown hair, blue eyes, 5 feet 6 inches”

“Appointed Corporal on August 3, 1918”

“Wounded on October 26, 1918, in the Ardennes”

“Was voluntarily part of a chain of runners in charge of bringing orders between two elements. Pelted with poison and threatened of enemy infiltration”

“Was awarded the Croix de guerre”