In the Vosges

By coincidence or not, the French forecast of a war of maneuver was preceded and followed by greatly increased activity of German patrols, all the way from the Moselle to the Rhine. Starting with dozens, the Nazi raids increased to as many as 80 in a single night, in such strength that even the tough Moroccans in the Wissembourg sector had to call for artillery support to blow the raiders back. The Germans tried a new system, approaching each French outpost in separate columns or files, to bomb it with grenades from three sides simultaneously. These raids, by seasoned troops, were interpreted by the French as "information please" parties (TIME, Nov. 27), to take the place of air reconnaissance which lately cost the Germans many a plane.* But the French took no chance on letting the scouts hold ground close up to their forward positions, which might prelude a general attack.

News correspondents were "temporarily" withdrawn from the French front Jines last week, but not before Correspondent Kenneth T. Downs of International News Service managed, with a comrade, to spend three days and two nights at outposts held by Moroccans in the Vosges foothills near Wissembourg. His account of this trip was one of the first notable pieces of reporting in World War II. Excerpts:

"Looking as tough as saddle leather and about the same color from 20 years in the Moroccan sun and winds, the adjutant smiled, barked an order in Arabic and in less than a minute we were swinging off through the woods single file. Six riflemen were ahead and six behind.

"We followed the forest across a savage, rocky plateau full of heather down into a long crooked valley.

"Finally we came upon another officer in a clearing with 30-odd Moors. Though we had gone only two miles, it had taken us half an hour because of the ankle-deep mud in the valleys and the spongy ground in the hills.

". . . The long-striding Moroccans . . . were not even breathing heavily. . . .

"It was 3:30 p.m., and with lowering clouds the skies were already darkening fast. The officer ordered us to string out in file ten paces apart.

"The edge was slightly taken off the tingling realization that we might be ambushed any minute by the complete competence of our escort.

"When you are with these highly professional soldiers, men who have been fighting this kind of guerrilla warfare most of their lives, you cannot help feeling unbounded confidence.

"It took us another half an hour to cover that last two miles before we came to a great wood-covered hill roughly shaped like a loaf of bread. We zigzagged our way up the side through barbed-wire entanglements, passages and trenches to the summit.

"Twilight was fast vanishing but it was still light enough to see hills, peaks, and valleys around us."

His officer guide told Correspondent Downs:

"Immediately after dark this entire area becomes a sort of No Man's Land, with patrols on both sides operating through the valleys. The Germans never fail to send patrols nightly. They operate in groups of 40, preceded by highly trained dogs which come to a silent 'point' when they scent other men.

"Sometimes they bark. Sometimes we clearly hear unseen Germans in the woods softly calling 'Komm, komm!' [Come, come].

"The German patrols are usually armed only with grenades, pistols and knives. Their objective is information. They want prisoners if possible [to learn about French troop dispositions, replacements].

"They also want to tempt us to fire with automatic arms in order to get our position.

"They haven't succeeded in taking a single prisoner. We don't fire automatic arms at present, so they can't get our positions.

"When my men discover the approach of a patrol party, they withhold action until they hear the marauders encounter our barbed-wire entanglements running down the slopes on all sides."

At 6 p.m., artillery opened up. From Far back in France, big shells roared through the sky "making the sound of thunder which accompanies sheet lightning." Each shell took 68 seconds to reach its destination in Germany after a flight of some nine miles. "The angry 'pang, pang, pang' of French 755 joined in the chorus. Their shells followed a short trajectory and made a sharper, hissing sound above us." German shells came back over, bursting far in the rear, each making a wide glow in the night.

Right after supper, in a dugout, "we heard the sharp crack of a rifle and then the pop of two grenades on the east side of the hill.

"An anguished cry rang out, followed by convulsive moans. After a few seconds, the moaning was cut off as though a hand had been clapped over the mouth of the sufferer. Some 30-odd more grenades went off.

" 'I believe we got someone,' the officer said.

"We again went out into the blackness. After a few minutes the shadowy form of a Moroccan slipped up to the captain and made a rapid report in Arabic." His patrol had grenaded a German patrol. About midnight a rocket shell cast a bluish-white light on the German ridge. " 'Ah,' said the French officer, 'you see, the Boches are mad. One of their patrols did not return on schedule, so they are showing the way home. It is probably the group with the wounded man.'"

Other dispatches of last week told of a French night patrol which captured three Germans. When they got back to a French dugout and could see, Captive Kurt Stoepel, German cyclist, recognized Captor Robert Oubron, French cyclist, against whom he had often pedaled in international races.

*German air reconnaissance last week was carried out at great altitude, concentrating on roads and railroads behind the front lines.

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