But the situation grew worse. The Serbs along the seacoasts were pressed harder and harder by the Austrians and by Albanian bands.

Besides, the transporting to Tunis was too slow when the progress of the enemy was considered. Finally the appearance of typhus and cholera rendered more dangerous the removal of the unfortunate troops to a great distance. A new plan was arranged. The remaining Serbs were to be transported not into Tunis, which was so far away, but to a land as near as possible to the scene of disaster. Corfu was there; Corfu, only sixty miles away from the farthest point of debarkation; Corfu, whose climate was marvelously suited to the recovery of sick men; Corfu which offered a very safe harbor. It was decided to occupy Corfu, prepare the island, transport the entire Serbian Army thither and a.s.sure that this army would be built up there. And France was charged with carrying out this operation.

On the seventh of January, 1916, the first French organization of ten trawlers set out from Malta to make a preliminary reconnoissance around Corfu, to drag for mines and to clear out the submarines. A second flotilla followed it forty-eight hours later. On the eighth of January the armored cruisers _Edgar Quinet_, _Waldeck-Rousseau_, _Ernest Renan_, _Jules Ferry_ and five torpedo boats, which were located at Bizerta, received orders to embark a battalion of Alpine cha.s.seurs with their arms, baggage and mules and to take up their positions to be ready at the first signal.

On the night of the tenth, the French consul at Corfu woke up the Greek prefect in order to announce to him the imminent arrival of our squadron and what it was going to do. After he had received the formal protest of this functionary, he went down to the port, where there was no longer any doubt in anyone's mind of what was going to happen. With him went guides and automobiles to finish everything quickly before the Germans could offer any opposition. Some minutes later, on time at the rendezvous agreed upon, the French cruisers came into the harbor and immediately disembarked their contingent of Alpine Cha.s.seurs.

Before daybreak the princ.i.p.al vantage points as well as the most important positions on the island were occupied. Suspected persons were seized in their beds, a doubtful post of T. S. F. was seized also. Corfu, which went to sleep half German, woke up entirely French to the tune of the martial music that was to inform the inhabitants of the little change that had taken place over night.

The question remained of _Achilleion_, the property of William of Germany, which was about nine miles from the city. If _Achilleion_ had been a French property and German soldiers had paid a visit, what pillage, what defilement, what orgies there would have been!

But _Achilleion_ was a German property, and the French have a method of procedure that is peculiarly their own. This is what happened, according to the narrative of a young naval officer who was on the spot:

At four o'clock in the morning an automobile set out from the dock, carrying a squad of twelve marine fusilliers under the command of one of the ship's lieutenants. A half hour later he presented himself at the gate of the palace and demanded that he be admitted. There was no response. He was insistent. Finally a door opened and an angry voice cried out in the darkness: "This isn't the time for visitors." For the owner, who found that there are no such things as small profits, permitted a visit for the sum of two francs per person. Surprised, the occupant of the palace submitted, and our detachment entered _Achilleion_, whose occupants it a.s.sembled--the watchman and two red-haired chambermaids--_en deshabille_, also a mechanic and an entomologist who wore spectacles. Pale with fear, the latter threw himself on his knees before the officer. "If I must die, I ask that it may be here," said he. He was left in peace. A company of the Cha.s.seurs arrived and the marines, with their lanterns in their hands, went back to the ships. The Tricolor floated over the Kaiser's villa, which was to become a hospital for the Serbs.

At eleven o'clock in the morning it was all over, and the French cruisers put out to sea on the return trip to Bizerta.

But the easiest thing had been done. The most difficult was about to begin. It was not only a question of occupying Corfu; it was also a matter of arranging to receive a worn-out and decimated army. It was a difficult task that many would have judged out of the question.

Everything was lacking; there was nothing on hand.

A writer on naval matters, who has been the historian of the French Navy in this war, M. Emile Vedel, has painted in the pages of _Ill.u.s.tration_ an unheard-of and unique picture of what this preparation of Corfu consisted:

It was nothing less than a question of improvising all means that were necessary for disembarking; gangways, landing stairs, roads to and from various points on the island where the expected troops were to be concentrated; of uniting and collecting together the numerous boats--large and small--eighteen tugs (among them the _Marsouin_, _Rove_, _Iskeul_, _Ma.r.s.eillais 14_, _Audacieux_, _Requin_), twenty-seven smaller boats, nine barges, and a dozen mahonnes and small craft of all sizes, without counting the supply ships, floating tanks, unloading cranes and so forth--which the rapid unloading and revictualing of the new arrivals demanded; of isolating the sick who were infected with typhus and cholera; in a word, of putting on their feet the diverse offices that come under the heading of direction of the port, all the machinery of which was yet to be created. At the same time it was necessary to maintain and repair the booms of the harbor, to test the channels, make arrangements concerning piloting, anchorage, and new supplies of water, provisions and coal for the always hurried transports which arrived, unloaded and sailed away at all hours of the day and night; constantly to clear out and drag the waters near the island; establish observation posts around it, station batteries in suitable positions, and finally to protect the channels around Corfu and the Albanian coast, in which the English aided us effectively by sending a hundred drifters (a sort of little fishing boat which we call "cordiers" at Boulogne), which, beating against the wind under full sail, dragged a cable a thousand meters long to snare submarines. Thanks to a pair of floating docks, which were placed between the extreme end of Corfu and the neighboring coast, a distance of but two or three kilometers, our vessels were soon in position, in a line thirty miles in length so that they could execute all the movements necessary for the landing of the Serbs and also have gun drill, launch torpedoes and sea planes, and perform the rest of the maneuvers that are indispensable.

Furthermore, fresh water in sufficient quant.i.ties had to be procured. For if the springs on the island could supply eighty thousand inhabitants, they now had to triple their output and give out a far greater supply to meet the demand of one hundred and fifty thousand more mouths. Every bit of flour had to come from outside, from Italy, France or England since Corfu has very few resources and we did not wish to encounter the hostility of a population to which it was necessary for us to show firmness more than once. The most recalcitrant were forced to give in, not without ceasing to rob us very much in the dealings they had with us. Oranges went up to ten francs a dozen, and small shopkeepers realized fortunes by doing money changing at fantastic rates.

And all that will furnish only a very incomplete idea of the innumerable obligations the aquatic anthill, from an industrial and military standpoint, which is called a naval base, has to meet.

On the ninth of January, 1916, the situation of the Serbian Army was precisely as follows: In the neighborhood of San Giovanni di Medua there were twelve hundred officers, twenty-six thousand foot soldiers, seven thousand horses and two thousand cattle; at Durazzo there were thirty-six hundred officers, sixty-nine thousand soldiers, twenty thousand horses and four thousand cattle; on the roads that led to Valona some fifty thousand men including officers, two thousand horses and three hundred cattle.

In these three princ.i.p.al groups were forty-one field pieces, the glorious remainder of the Serbian artillery.

Add to that twenty-two thousand Austrian prisoners whom the Serbs carried along with them in their exodus towards the coast and also the pitiable troop of refugees, sick men, old men, women, children who, desiring at any cost to escape slavery and servitude, followed the retreating army.

The evacuation of this indomitable people was made at San Giovanni di Medua. The soldiers were sent to Corfu. The civilians were sent to Algiers and Tunis, the Austrian prisoners to Sardinia. But where were the typhoid and the cholera patients to be transported? No one wanted them; and in this stampede of a people, cholera and typhus had made their appearance and spread with alarming rapidity. A certain number of cholera patients had been taken to Brindisi; and everyone, naturally, refused to take them in.

Since this was the case, a French trawler, the _Verdun_, commanded by Lieutenant d'Aubarede, brought the sick to Corfu. And, as M. Emile Vedel tells it, this was perhaps one of the most beautiful episodes of our navy's activity, for there are few deaths as hideous as that to which they exposed themselves in taking in their arms poor beings touched with a malady essentially so contagious, and so dirty and covered with vermin that they made everyone shudder. With precaution and care that brothers do not always have for their own brothers, these near-corpses were taken to Corfu, where doctors and nurses from the French Navy saved some of them and made the end more easy for the rest.

In twenty-two days everything was almost over. The troops at San Giovanni and Valona and Durazzo had been evacuated, as had the Austrian prisoners. All the money of the Serbian treasury had been transported to Ma.r.s.eilles in the cruiser _Ernest Renan_. It amounted to about eight hundred million francs.

However, on the twentieth of January, about two thousand men still remained at San Giovanni di Medua. There were also a certain number of field pieces. After so many men and guns had been saved, were these to be abandoned? No. Everything must be saved. The last man must be saved and the last gun must be saved, whatever may be the risk, the fatigue and the hard work.

On the morning of the twentieth of January, Captain Cacqueray, commanding the French naval forces, had two young naval officers of the French fleet come aboard his ship, the _Marceau_, Ensigns Couillaud and Auge, who commanded the little trawlers _Petrel_ and _Marie-Rose_. He ordered them to return once more to San Giovanni and bring back with them all they could.

"You must succeed and you will succeed," Captain Cacqueray said simply.

Some few minutes later the two trawlers were out in the Adriatic, headed for San Giovanni. Here we must quote Ensign Auge's words. He commanded the _Marie-Rose_, and we must be satisfied with citing from the eloquent brevity of the ship's log:

From the peaceful docks of Brindisi, we pa.s.sed through the winding channel of the outer port and then out of the harbor, gliding between the buoys. Then the mine fields were to be traversed, although the night was black and foggy. As we approached the Albanian coast the wind freshened, and in a veritable tempest, with hail and icy rain we entered the Gulf of Drin, whose water is very turbid. More watchful than ever, since submarines had been sighted in the neighborhood, we finally arrived at Medua. Almost blocked off by the sand bars, the little harbor was further enc.u.mbered by a dozen wrecks, boats which the Austrians had sunk. The question was where to pa.s.s through this mess, on the top of the water, with masts and spars pointing every way. After having rounded the line of mines and the _Brindisi_, an Italian vessel that had struck a mine some days before, we made the port. Ten houses and a wretched wharf on worm-eaten piling at the end of a funnel of mountains with terrible rocks is all there is of Medua.

An empty sailboat was moored to the end of the wharf, which facilitated our operations. The _Petrel_, which was of lighter draft than my boat, managed to get alongside and, by vigorous efforts, we were able to join her. Ash.o.r.e there were soldiers in muddy clothes and worn-out shoes. The gangway and the sailboat were soon filled by a chilly cold wind, which tried to blow it offsh.o.r.e and which nothing could restrain. It was impossible to locate any responsible person and out of the question to make one's self understood. Everyone thought only of escaping from that h.e.l.l. Finally some Serbian officers came up who succeeded somewhat in controlling their impatient troops. They made us bring up the first cannon, which was pushed over the shaking planks of the wharf. With great effort and by the use of triple tackles the gun was got aboard the _Petrel_, and the carriage and wheels on the _Marie-Rose_, whose hatch was wider. The beginning was slow, but, after the second cannon, the embarking went along smoothly.

There was not enough time. Everyone stamped in the mud. With the completely washed out Serbian uniforms mixed the brilliant colors of those of the Montenegrin guard. Seated on a stone, King Nicholas sat stoically in the falling rain, awaiting the arrival of the Italian torpedo boat that was to place itself under his orders. Soldiers from the French mission arrived and did police duty. The radio-operators from the Italian post arrived and put their baggage on board. An officer of the Serbian Army was there with all the state archives. A crowd of people instinctively pressed towards us and got mixed up with the soldiers who were supposed to keep order. In spite of the tempest which thwarted everything, we managed to embark eighteen .75 guns and three 100 howitzers, as well as a hundred cases of projectiles. The weather grew more dreadful, with hail stones in the icy rain. Blows were necessary to prevent the crowding aboard of that mob of people whom neither shouts nor threats could stop. We allowed as many as possible to embark--about a hundred on the _Petrel_ and twice as many with us--Serbs, Montenegrins and Allies, of all cla.s.ses and conditions, and, despairingly we shoved off to stop the crowd that remained. We were the last hope of these poor people--there were about fifteen hundred of them, whose only hope now was to face the frightful paths, marshes and swollen rivers that separated them from Durazzo.

Night was falling; there remained only time to get away.

Cases of preserves were quickly opened. All our bread and biscuits were used, and some bowls of boiling tea comforted our guests. But leaving the harbor, the sea grew heavier and torrents of spray put the finishing touch to the inextricable disorder that prevailed aboard ship. The storm stayed with us until we made Brindisi, where we arrived at seven o'clock on the morning of the twenty-second. When Italy was sighted, the tiredness and discouragement disappeared as if by magic. Hand clappings, praise of France, promises of victory and of revenge, and absurd efforts to disembark everything at once--pa.s.sengers and material. (Journal of Ensign Auge, Commander of the _Marie-Rose_.)

Is that all? No; it is not. For if French effort is limitless, the tonnage of the trawlers is not. And, in spite of every effort, they were unable to get everyone aboard. Down there in the mud at Medua some Serbs still waited, turning anxious eyes towards the high seas to see whether or not the tricolor would appear on the horizon.... Well, it did reappear, for France never gives up the fight. The French motto here, as everywhere else, was "to the bitter end." On the twenty-fourth of January the _Petrel_ and the _Marie-Rose_ started on the final trip. Will they arrive in time? Probably not. In the mountains that surround San Giovanni rifle shots and the rattle of mitrailleuses were heard; the road to Alessio was deserted, the beach seemed deserted, Medua harbor was covered with wreckage of all sorts, rendering navigation impossible. However, the tiny craft entered the harbor and approached the sh.o.r.e. Finally they saw some Serbs there.

The news was as disturbing as possible. The Austrians were only a few kilometers off. There was fighting on the outskirts of the town. The last able-bodied Serbs struggled manfully to hold off the Austrian advance guard, which pressed them hard. Not a minute was to be lost if a last salvage was to be made.

After a brief consultation, the two young commanders decided to take off everyone in their old boats, aided by a huge lighter which they took in tow. A grave responsibility if the weather did not hold; but the man who risks nothing will gain nothing.

They worked with feverish haste. The hope of not being abandoned gave wings to the weak. By four o'clock in the afternoon everything was practically ready ... four "seventy-fives," ten artillery caissons, two radio outfits, a thousand new rifles, hundreds of cases of sh.e.l.ls, cartridges and grenades and likewise large quant.i.ties of harness were loaded on the trawlers. All the men who were in the town, its outskirts or on the beach were a.s.sembled and embarked on the boats.

Not one was left behind. This time, safe from the rifles in the distant mountains, everyone was saved.

At four-fifty in the afternoon [writes Ensign Auge] our little boats cleared the harbor for the last time and made the open sea. Suddenly we see a trail of foam hastening on us with a mad rush. It started three or four hundred meters off on our right. There is a lightning flash and we see the torpedo cross our bows, too low, fortunately. A submarine has tried to attack us but has missed. We describe a great circle in order to avoid a second attack. Fortunately night falls to end the chase, and we make for the Italian coast.

Although the sea is smooth, the third boat is lurching terribly. About midnight I hear terrible cries from this boat. It is dark as pitch and impossible to make out anything in the darkness. The cries continue: sparks burst forth. Something is thrown into the sea. It is impossible to know what is happening. So much the worse. The most dangerous thing would be to stop. Let us go on.

They went on and finally arrived in sight of Italy the next morning.

The incident of the night before had been a little thing which had started a panic on board the boat. Little by little the roofs and towers of Brindisi appeared in the distance. The entire squadron of Allied ships was there, ranged in battle formation. When they saw the two little boats which were bringing in the last Serbs with their last guns, they rendered military honors to the heroic saviors, the crews cheering and the colors saluting. Supreme and unprecedented homage was rendered two nations: France and Serbia.

In January, 1918, M. Vesnitch, Serbian Minister to France, on a mission to the United States, during an after-dinner speech, in a voice that did not conceal his emotion and with a different manner from his usual downcast one, told some of the details of this Pa.s.sion.

And he added:

"We are grateful to everyone, but Serbia's heart will remain attached through all centuries to come to France."

I repeat these words, which are France's sweetest reward, because they attest in history what France, the nation "worn out and bled white"

has done to save and succor her little ally.

Finally let me say that the men are wrong who believe France is without strength and resources. Beneath her torn garments, in rags, under flesh that is cruelly bruised, there beats a virile heart which fights on and on. And there is young, red blood which still flows and is always ready to flow for the immortal principles of Liberty, Justice and Humanity.

IV

THE WAR AIMS OF FRANCE

A French statesman, Mr. Louis Barthou, has summed up the War aims of France in the three words: "Rest.i.tution, Reparation, Guarantees."

Rest.i.tution means the surrender of all occupied territories, of the territories occupied by force during forty-seven months, as well as the territories occupied by force during forty-seven years. Between the five departments forming Flanders-Argonne and the five departments forming Alsace-Lorraine, France is unable to make any distinction.

France wants Metz back on the same ground upon which she wants Lille back. If Germany is to keep Metz she might as well keep Lille. Her claim to Strasbourg is not better than her claim to Cambrai.

And this is a thing which "the man in the street" fails sometimes to understand. He says: "Yes, we know, Alsace-Lorraine was taken from France forty-seven years ago by violence, without the people of the occupied territories being consulted. But how did France acquire Alsace-Lorraine in previous times? Was it not also by force after successful wars? Is it not a fact that Alsace-Lorraine, in days of yore, belonged to Germany, and that, historically, Alsace is a German land?"

No, it is precisely not a fact. It is the contrary of a fact and of truth. And this must be made clear, once for all.