For my part I'm not angry to see so many generals arrive at the Chamber. They will doubtless explain to you what special means they employed in being so constantly beaten. There must be a secret to this. Perhaps they'll reveal it to us. This won’t give us back Alsace and Lorraine, but at least we'll know why we lost them. They'll probably end up by confiding to us that if they lost so many battles it’s because they didn’t know how to make war, and this will be an excellent opportunity for us to cry out, we enemies of human butchery: “Well, if you don’t know how to do it, then don’t do it any more!”
~ Henri Rochefort,
For a citizens' army
42ème Division d'Infanterie Headquarters, Franco-German Border; July 1934
It was a balmy summer evening, one in which the troops of the French army stationed on the border might have hoped for a quiet night of sleep in the years gone by. The establishment of the Marechal’s new regime and the subsequent German reoccupation of the Rhineland had changed all that. Either side of the border was now restless, there were already rumours of small exchanges of gunfire which couldn’t be placed. Now those who watched over the developing situation were required to sleep with one eye open, the only consolation being that the same could be expected of their superiors.
Colonel Charles de Gaulle did not resent having far more sleepless nights over the past few months, not when the cause was his newfound role as Director of Strategic & Tactical Development. It may have been a long-winded title but it gave him a remit to overturn a decade of malaise within the French army and its supporting infrastructure wherever he found it. In achieving this aim, he would be able to put his theories of armoured warfare up against the Germans, preferably sooner rather than later.
It was for this reason that he was patrolling the border on this Summer night, inspecting the troops and surveying their readiness to see how it could be improved. He had found many shortcomings and almost many excuses from the local Commandants as to why they hadn’t been addressed.
The troops themselves were alert in spite of his time of arrival, his visit was meant to be a surprise but it had become widely known that an improvement campaign was underway and as such many units seemed ready for his appearance. All the same there were certain difficulties that couldn’t be fixed overnight and these were the ones de Gaulle was interested in.
The local Chef de bataillon whose office in which he now sat appeared more interested in diverting any blame away from himself. He eyed the medals from the last war proudly displayed on the desk whilst receiving the non-commissioned officer’s explanations.
“It’s a matter of logistics Colonel, the men are happy to have a go at the Germans but they don’t feel certain as to whether they will be properly supported when the time comes. They will hold well enough but they might be hesitant to charge across the border.” The local Commandant tried to explain.
The man was older than de Gaulle by a number of years but in spite of his pride in having served in the last war he appeared to have grown complacent in his rank ever since, to the Colonel’s horror the man had neither a phone nor a radio in his office.
“It is worse than that Commandant, you will not charge across the border regardless of your situation if you are unable to properly maintain your vehicles. We are embarking on a new form of warfare in this army, once which builds on the lessons of the last war rather than merely basking in the victory it wrought. We will use the expertise of our industry and the ingenuity of our troops to create methods which will allow us to overcome the greater numbers the Germans or Russians may bring to bear.”
The Commandant seemed genuinely happy to hear such an appeal, his eyes lighting up at the thought of his younger days.
“I served in the last offensives of the war Colonel and to hear that we as a nation are finally developing upon those lessons brings me great relief. We routed the Germans then and we will do so again.”
“But that relies on veterans such as you and I.” De Gaulle stressed, trying to remove the Commandant from the warm memories of victory. “The men under your command are not veterans, they are conscripts and that is why they need to have battle-hardened centurions to make them the veterans of the future!”
The Commandant had started to agree with the Colonel before the light in the office grew bright for a moment. The two men sat there hesitantly before things seemed to have returned to normal. Yet from the window the night appeared to have grown darker.
There was an echo from outside almost like a buzzsaw at a timber yard. Then came a sound like fireworks, as if someone hadn’t been informed that this year's Bastille Day celebrations had been cancelled. However the shrieking became far more directed and was soon being joined by a human chorus.
The men de Gaulle had spent the night inspecting were shouting amongst themselves, the Colonel and the Commandant looked to one another in confusion before exiting the office only to see chaos unfolding around them.
Tracer fire hung over the landscape to the east in all colours, illuminating the darkness in a vicious display of white, orange, green and yellow. De Gaulle recognised their own troops beginning to reply from afar as red flashes joined them with the Fusil-mitrailleurs opening up. De Gaulle himself wasn’t able to respond just yet.
He had believed there was time to wrinkle out the problems in the French army and he had been striving to do so as quickly as possible but this was far too early. De Gaulle wondered if the Germans had lost their minds, their leaked reports had shown how weak they were. Was this truly the beginning of the German attack the coup had been planned to pre-empt or was it all just a misunderstanding? Or perhaps a madman’s obsession being borne out?
The firing of a gun close to his ear brought the Colonel back out of his head, the Commandant was firing his pistol into the air to rally his bewildered men.
“Calm yourselves!” he shouted to them and perhaps to de Gaulle as well. “Alright then, little soldiers, this may be it. It wasn’t what we were expecting tonight my brothers but it is what we are faced with. So, to arms, we go up against the Boche once more, for God, for the Marechal, and France. France above all!”
The Commandant spoke with a fire that de Gaulle didn’t recognise from the man making excuses a moment ago but he seemed to be in his element amongst the approaching gunfire. His troops rallied around that energy, moved to take up arms and advance. They did so with a determination de Gaulle feared they did not have.
Behind them, artillery opened up and shells went soaring above their heads into the flurry of colours ahead of them before large explosions joined the cacophony of violence.
Colonel De Gaulle flinched as the junior officer embraced him with a look of grim resignation. At that moment he noticed the fear in the man’s eyes. He was as scared as the rest of them had been.
“As it was in the last war,” he said nonetheless, “it shall be again.”
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The photo is
Fireworks at Longchamps by Brassaï