French soldiers defending a position from a hill in the Vosges, November 15, 1916.

French soldiers defending a position from a hill in the Vosges, November 15, 1916. 

This photograph, colourised by 'greatwarincolour' on Tumblr, was taken today 107 years ago. 

Although this photograph is likely a staged scene, it does accurately depict the ferocity of the fighting in the Vosges mountains during the First World War. The following is excerpts of the translated letter from French soldier André Larrue of the 27th Chasseurs Alpin Battalion, describing a French attack on April 6, 1915, during the Battle of Hartmannswillerkopf:⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

"We were in quite a calm location, 500 m from the Boche, when the day before Easter, we were told that we were going up to the nearby ridge that same evening to attack a small German blockhouse just 90 m from our trenches. You can imagine how that darkened the mood, especially the idea of fighting on Easter Sunday.

The weather was obviously unfavorable. My Corporal was sadly singing "Salut ô mon dernier matin", which made us even more gloomy. The artillery would start the bombardment at 1 o'clock and the attack was set for 4 o'clock. Everyone got ready for whatever might befall us.

At 1 o'clock the heavy guns came into action and gradually the bombardment increased. The Boche returned fire but without doing much harm, whereas our shells fell right among them. Soon everything was rumbling. Shells, bombs and aerial torpedoes sent trees flying up into the air and rocks too.

At 3:50, everyone in positions! The Boche shells rained down on our trenches. Wounded men turned back, faces covered in blood. At 4 o'clock: "En avant !" That fearsome cry rang out. We ran forward into battle as the bullets rained down. In a single leap the blockhouse was surrounded. It was nothing more than a smoking heap of stone full of horrifyingly mutilated Boche corpses.

“In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields."

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