SOIRÉE MUSICALE
By BRIG.-GENERAL C. F. ASPINALL-OGLANDER, C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.
THE news which arrived in England in the third week of October, that when the Germans launched their open- ing, and so far their only attack in the West—on the line Saareguemines—Bitche—the French successfully adopted the plan of elastic defence, which was first put into practice by their famous General Gouraud twenty-one years ago, must have awakened many memories among those who knew that gallant commander in Gallipoli, or who served under him in France in the Great War of 1914-1918.
During his brief six weeks in Gallipoli, where he com- manded the French Corps, General Gouraud won the admiration and respect of all who came in contact with him. His brilliant leadership revived the spirits of the French troops ; his sage counsel was eagerly sought by the British Commander-in-Chief ; and when he was struck down by a Turkish shell while visiting a French hospital on V Beach, the news was received by the Expeditionary Force with some- think akin to consternation. " His loss," wrote Sir Ian Hamilton that night, " is irreparable. We could more easily spare a brigade."
Chance in war is a factor that cannot be ignored. A lucky random shot may decide the issue of a battle : its results may even shape the course of world history. And if it be true, as many have often asserted, that an Allied victory at the Dardanelles in 1915 would have shortened the first World War by two years, the unknown Turkish gunner who burst that fateful shell in the middle of the crowded beach at Sedd-el-Bahr has a great deal to answer for.
But Gouraud happily survived, with the loss of one arm, to command an army in France, and it is for his defence of the sector east of Rheims exactly three years later, and for the stupendous results that accrued from the use of " Gouraud's manoeuvre " that his name is chiefly renowned. It was to that period in particular that my thoughts flew back a few weeks ago, when I heard that that famous " man- oeuvre " had once again been adopted ; for I had the good fortune, in May, 1918, to hear from the General's own lips the outline of his scheme for meeting the great attack that was then impending, and to witness the steps he was taking to fit his troops for the heavy strain it would impose on them.
The VIII British Corps, on the staff of which I was then serving, came under Gouraud's command in the third week of May, and on May 20th he personally explained to us the elastic method by which he wished his front defended, and the counter-attack which he intended to launch as soon as the Germans' initial thrust was spent. It was to be a system, he explained, of " reculer pour mieux sauter." As the forward trenches would certainly be obliterated by the German bombardment, the front line system was to be held lightly, and, as soon as the attack began, the garrison was to fall back to a main position beyond the limit of the enemy's offensive barrage. Here the Germans' attack would be shattered, and counter-attacks launched, at the moment of their greatest confusion.
It was obvious that, once a retirement began in front of a German attack, a high state of discipline would be needed to prevent it going too far, and General Gouraud had adopted, amongst other measures, a remarkable plan for getting into personal touch with his men and raising their fighting spirit to the highest possible pitch. From the ranks of his Army a picked orchestra had been formed. An officer with a knowledge of history had been detailed to prepare a lecture on the greatest episodes in French military annals. A photographer had been sent to Paris to make lantern slides of famous French battle pictures ; and the chef d'orchestre had been ordered to trace out the most popular martial music of the particular periods in which those battles were fought. The Army Commander then sent this " travelling company " to tour the theatres in his army area, and invited the resting troops to a " Soiree Musicale."
I had the good luck to attend one of these functions with General Gouraud, and it always remains an ineffaceable memory. A large theatre in a town behind the line, packed from floor to ceiling with French troops. Across the stage a white cinema screen, and beside it the officer lecturer. The orchestra a huge military band, with a large proportion of horns and silver trumpets. Page by page the record of French glory was unfolded, and battle pictures were thrown updn the screen to the stirring music of some contemporary march. The audience, listless at first, were gradually worked up to a frenzy of enthusiasm, which reached its fever heat when, after the story had been brought to 1918, the Army Commander himself mounted the stage and personally ad- dressed the troops. " You have listened," he cried, " to the great story of our country. But the greatest moment of all is close at hand. The enemy is preparing to attack us. Against our impregnable line his attack will be shattered. I shall then lead you forward to victory, and all your regiments' colours will be crowned with the Legion d'Honneur."
As the General spoke of la victoire the effect of his words was heightened to an indescribable degree by the stump of his maimed arm gesticulating inside his empty sleeve. It would be hard to exaggerate the effect of the Army Com- mander's appeal to the very hearts of his men. We seemed to be in the presence of some great vital force, and the whole audience to be infused with the spirit of victory. When the German attack was launched on July 15th the formation to which I belonged was no longer serving in General Gouraud's area. But when I heard of it, I remembered the scene of that "Soirée Musicale."
The system of an elastic defence in General Gouraud's area was the factor upon which Marshal Foch had counted when making his plan for Mangin's counter-offensive ; and three days later, on July 18th,' that brilliant onslaught was set in motion which proved to be the beginning of the end. No one in France or England at first realised its signifi- cance, and plans still went forward for a massive Allied attack in the summer of 1919: But the sun of victory had risen. Four months earlier, as one of our historians has written, Ludendorff stood the apparent arbiter of Europe. Four months later he and his master were in exile.
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