Chapter XIV: Badonviller the Martyr

In the foothills of the Vosges Mountains just inside the Lorraine border is the site of what was once a peaceful village. This village suffered the most terrible devastation of any along the eastern front in France. Not only the town but also the civil population received such treatment at the hands of the Boches that it is beyond my powers to describe the atrocities that were committed. But I shall endeavor to set forth some of the outstanding facts in order that the reader may understand why this village is now known as “Badonviller the Martyr.”

When the German Army invaded France from Lorraine this peaceful little village lay in its path, and, after sharp fighting, was occupied by advance troops of this army.

The enemy entered the town at three o’clock in the morning and marched five abreast all through the day and long into the night—a continuous stream of men that never paused. On they went to the next village, Roan L’Etape, and in its turn that village suffered even a worse fate than had Badonviller, as the resistance by the French here was greater, hence the destruction was to be greater. At this point, the German command allowed free sacking, and applied the torch. The homes of the inhabitants were burned and destruction of things and pillage in general permitted, even though of no military value whatever.

In this town the German officers caused to be written all over the altars of churches, public buildings and store fronts the words “Capute Ramberviller,” the name of the next village in the path of this army. This meant that not a stone should be left unturned and the torch applied to every home, store, church or building of any kind. There was a reason for this, a German reason.

During the Franco-Prussian War, over fifty years ago, the civil population in this village of Ramberviller turned out to assist a handful of French soldiers in holding back some crack Prussian regiments until the French reserves could come up and defeat them. Fifty years of grievance, and this was their opportunity for revenge.

Think of revenge on a people most of whom were unborn at the time because their grandfathers defended their homes from pillage a half century before! But the stories of atrocity that had been handed down were borne out by the new generation of German soldiery, the flower of the German Army of to-day.

Now this village happened to be the next in the line of march, but the French had anticipated what was in the heart of the Hun and the French Headquarters Staff, knowing what would happen to this town if captured, decided to make a stand against the invader between Roan L’Etape and Ramberviller. And here history repeated itself, for the glorious poilu of France administered a smashing defeat to the invading army, and Ramberviller was again spared. But not without the toll that always attends heavy fighting.

To-day the fields and the woods are filled with crosses, black for the Allamand and the Tri-color for the French. Thirty-five thousand men fell in the fighting before this village. From this point the French kept pushing the Boche back until they got them out of Roan L’Etape and finally back to Pexonne, just outside of Badonviller.

As the Germans were falling back they used the upper part of a house in this town as a hospital for officers—one large room, and a smaller one adjoining. The smaller of the two rooms was used as an operating room, while the larger one became a ward where the stretchers were placed on the floor. In the small room was a window looking out on to a little courtyard, and, as the arms and legs and hands and feet were amputated, they were thrown out of this window into a pile on the ground floor. The woman who owned the house was forced to assist wherever her services might be required. After the elapse of several days, she requested the privilege of cleaning up the little courtyard of its human debris. For reply she was told by a German surgeon to mind her own business, or she might ornament the pile also with her “filthy French carcass.”

The brancardiers, or stretcher-bearers, of the German Army were bringing in officers in numbers as the fighting increased, and it so happened that in the ward to which I have alluded there was no more room, being filled to its capacity, except in one corner where a young French boy was stretched out, his leg amputated at the thigh. As the last German officer was brought in and it was found there was no room for him, two Boche stretcher-bearers lifted the French boy up and threw him out of the second-story window into the street below, where, needless to say, he died very shortly.

To give you the history of just one of the families here it will be necessary for me to go back to the first attack by the Boches on this village. A young boy nineteen years old, the son of the mayor of this town, was shot and mortally wounded while defending the village from attack. He was carried to his home and laid at his mother’s feet, where he soon died. (Number 1.)

The following morning, with her son dead in the house, the mother stood at her gate weeping. The Boches were filing through the streets in front of her home when a German officer took notice of her. He stepped out of the ranks, and, as he approached, inquired why a woman should feel so badly at seeing the glorious soldiers of the Kaiser marching by triumphantly, and when she replied, “You have killed my boy,” the officer drew a revolver and shot her dead. (Number 2.)

In the house we have described as used for a temporary hospital, on the first floor was located a large room used by some of the German officers as a Headquarters. This room had two large windows looking out upon the street. A little boy nine years old, walking down the road, was called by one of the officers sitting at one of the windows and given a pitcher in which to bring some beer from a neighboring café. The child returned in a few moments with the beer, which he handed to the officer, and, for some unknown reason, the officer lifted him by the collar into the room and shot him.

As the child fell mortally wounded, he was picked up bodily and placed on a red-hot stove used for heating the water for the operating room upstairs. The odor issuing from the burning clothing and flesh soon brought the doctor to the head of a small staircase on the second floor. “What is that smell?” he demanded, and the officer who had placed the child on the stove replied, “Doctor, we are preparing your dinner.” Whereupon, the doctor shouted, “Take that damn stinking thing off of there, as the smell is coming upstairs and it will make somebody sick.” Thereupon, the body of the boy, now dead, was taken from the stove and thrown out of the kitchen window onto the pile of arms and legs in the courtyard. (Number 3.)

Four days later a young girl was carried off by the Boches, as they were evacuating the city through pressure from the French, who had, by this time, so increased in number that the Germans saw that it would be impossible to hold the village. What became of this girl no one can say, but from what I know of a great many other cases I believe it would have been much better for her had she been killed in the streets than to have suffered the fate that I am sure must have been hers. (Number 4.)

Her father, who was the mayor of the town, protested to the German command regarding the treatment his family, as well as the women and children of the town generally, had received, whereupon he was tied hand and foot and mutilated, being told at the same time that this would refresh his memory whenever he had any thought of interfering with the supreme command of that particular army. (Number 5.) The total of the family.

The French pressure now becoming too heavy, the Boches were unable to withstand it, and started a systematic sacking and demolition of the village. Barricades were thrown up in preparation for street fighting; not even the dead were held in reverence, for trenches were dug through the cemetery and the bodies and skeletons were thrown up to become a part of the embankments and the headstones lined the parapets, behind which the barbarians would fight.

I have related the happenings that have taken place in only one home and in one village. I have occupied the room described herein as the officers headquarters and prepared meals on the same stove. There were many such families, there were many such operating rooms, and there were many women known to be alive that were carried off by the Boches. It is hard to understand how such things are possible, but that is why this little town is now known as “Badonviller the Martyr.”