Stories of the Forgotten Heroes

Rivers of Blood: The First Battle of the Marne

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the countryside during that beautiful July day, men and women returned home from their city jobs, eagerly awaiting the next day. The village committee had spared no expense for this year's Bastille Day. In one of the largest manors, an elderly matriarch sat on the comfy sofa in the living room, her grandchildren gathered around her, the excitement evident in their voices.

Tell us a story, Grandmere, the youngest pleaded.
Yes, yes...the others continued in a chorus!
Fine, the grandmother said with feigned disinterest, I'll tell you the story of a miracle.

Living in the picturesque village of Meaux, had its charm if the steady and monotone life of a French village was something that was sought. The rolling hills crossed by the River Marne had been the favorite spots for those lovers of nature from the times of Napoleon the 3rd, and since it was on the outskirts of Paris, Meaux was not only readily accessible but also the starting point. It was during the autumn of 1914, that the German Army penetrated the frontlines, rushing to Paris in hopes of replicating the feats of their forebears. At just twelve years old, Elise had never seen such troubled times. Her mother raised her by herself since her father had abandoned them when she was just a babe. Working hard to keep her daughter fed left Elise free to wander to her heart's content.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the village as Elise wandered along the dirt road, lost in her own thoughts. Her mother had yelled at her for skipping school once again, but she couldn't care less about the boring subjects the old priest taught. She would have hated it less if her colleagues had refrained from always laughing at her for having older dresses than the others and dirty feet. Since they could not afford for her to have two pairs of shoes, she walked barefoot as long as the weather allowed it, in order to make the shoes resist as long as possible.

That did not bother her in the least, since she had always been a curious child, with a tendency to explore every nook and cranny of her beloved countryside, and doing it without the leather shoes gave her the freedom she longed for. The blades of grass creeping through her toes felt like the warmest hug when she was sad. Today, though, there was something different in the air—a sense of unease that she couldn't quite shake as she crossed the creek.

Once she reached one of the small wooded hills, Elise noticed a group of French soldiers marching towards the front lines. Their faces were grim, and their bright-colored uniforms were now caked in mud. Some of them spoke of the hardships they had endured since the war began. Elise had seen throngs of soldiers pass through Meaux in recent weeks, but few came back if any. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for them. They were off to fight for their country, leaving behind their families and loved ones. Maybe her father was one of the men marching right now and she would never know. But he would certainly recognize her, of that she was sure. One of the soldiers, a weary-looking corporal, caught Elise's eye. His uniform was torn and battered, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Elise's heart went out to him, and without thinking, she approached him.

Bonjour, monsieur, she greeted with her timid voice.

The corporal turned to her, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and weariness. Bonjour, little one, he replied with a faint smile.

The man indulged the curiosity of the small redhead child probing whether she was a refugee or a local. The fear of spies was great at that time, and no one should have aided the enemy for that was treason. The girl answered truthfully to any of the questions the young corporal, asked her, gaining his trust.

As he was telling her about his home city of Nantes, Elise hesitated for a moment but then blurted out what idea she had come up with.

Monsieur, there's something I need to tell you. I'd like to help France however I can. I know these hills better than anyone.

Would you risk your life for us? he asked incredulously.

In a heartbeat, Elise replied with pride.

Go home little one. War is a grisly business and the farther you are from it, the better it is.

Elise felt wounded to be dismissed so easily but took the advice of the corporal to heart and went home. Her mother was most assuredly looking for her since the sun indicated that it was nearly time for supper. The day passed uneventfully, though it cannot be said the same for the night.

The very next day, the girl could be seen running as fast as her feet could carry her toward the place where she had met the soldiers a day before. She hoped that they were still there, and willing to listen to her. To her surprise, the men were getting their kits ready for march once again when they saw her asking where the corporal's tent was. They pointed to the back of the camp, where he stood at a table, eating some cheese with wine. Without waiting a moment longer, Elise began to speak as fast as she could.

Up on the hills, not far from here, I saw something strange last night. I was up late at night, unable to sleep, so I decided to do what I'd always done. Seeing the puzzled look on his face she continued. I ventured to the nearby hills for a breath of fresh air. There, in the moonlight, I thought I saw a glimmer of metal, and thinking that our French boys were camped there I decided to go and greet them. Suddenly, I heard the faint sound of whispered voices but it didn't sound like us...it was...joyous but so foreign, finishing her story with a huge gasp for air.

And have you seen something like cannons, or..., the corporal tried to say before being interrupted again.

They have some long guns, surrounded by burlap sacks.

The corporal's eyes widened as he listened to Elise's tale, realizing the importance of her finding on the spot. She had stumbled upon a German unit they had been tasked with countering and she was lucky to be alive. If they would have heard her, he shuddered at the thought. The corporal quickly gathered his soldiers to relay the news. It was so exhilarating for Elise to watch as the soldiers exchanged urgent words and then set off toward the hills based on her story.

The skirmish that followed was fierce and unrelenting, the French forces clashing with the Germans on the rolling hills of the Marne. Thanks to their little spy they knew that the enemy positions were defended by machine gun nests and where they could be found. Despite being taken by surprise, the enemy fought valiantly but was eventually forced to retreat in the nearby forest.

Soon news reached Meaux that the French army had begun a strategic withdrawal, retreating towards the city in hopes of regrouping and mounting a stronger defense. Some reported that the retreat was chaotic and harrowing, with soldiers exhausted and wounded, but determined to protect their homeland, but few knew during those days which was the truth. Elise had her heart heavy with worry for the soldiers she had warned, but she was sure that the fate of her beloved France was in good hands. When the unit came back from the sortie, joyfully singing as they went to the new frontlines near the capital, the entire unit greeted Elise as a hero, filling those who had shamed her with guilt for the way they had behaved with this young girl.

From the titanic struggle the German Army had emerged victorious during the First Battle of the Marne, but their advance had been halted. Following the stabilization of the lines the French began to push them back during the Aisne Offensive. It was after this French counterattack, that the first lines of trenches began to fossilize as soon as the enemy realized that the French had managed not only to buy precious time, preventing the capture of Paris but also make them lose the hard-won territory.

Years passed, and the world was forever changed by the horrors of the Great War. Elise grew into a young woman, her fiery spirit undiminished. She married a kind and gentle man, and they raised a family together in Meaux.

As she finished her story, the children listened in rapt attention, as if expecting something more to follow. Elise's eyes glistened with pride as she looked at her children going on, and that, my darlings, she said, is the story of how a little barefoot devil helped protect our beautiful France. Her grandchildren hugged her tightly, grateful for the enticing story without fully realizing what their grandmother had really done, rushing to their parents who called them to bed.