Some battles are won by a stroke of genius. Verdun was won, at a terrible price, by simply refusing to break. For ten months in 1916 two armies fed themselves into the hills around a French fortress town, and it became the longest battle of the First World War and one of the most murderous in history.
Bleed France white
The German commander Falkenhayn did not expect to break through at Verdun. His aim was colder: to attack a place France could not afford to lose, and there to bleed the French army white, trading life for life until France ran out. Verdun, ringed with old forts and heavy with national pride, was the bait.
The forts fall
In February 1916 a massive bombardment opened the battle, and the Germans pushed forward. Within days the great Fort Douaumont, the strongest in the ring, fell almost without a fight. It looked as if Verdun might collapse.
Ils ne passeront pas
General Pétain took command and turned Verdun into a fortress of will. A single road into the town, later called the Voie Sacrée, the Sacred Way, kept it supplied by an endless stream of trucks, and fresh divisions were rotated through the front so the army was bled but never shattered. The rallying cry became ils ne passeront pas, they shall not pass.
The mill
What followed was not a battle so much as a machine for killing. Artillery churned the ground into a moonscape of mud and craters; forts and villages changed hands again and again; men lived and died in holes under constant shellfire. Both sides poured in everything they had.
The toll
By the time it ended in December, the front had barely moved, and together the two armies had suffered around 700,000 casualties or more. Falkenhayn's plan failed: Germany bled almost as heavily as France. Verdun won nothing on the map, but it became France's supreme symbol of endurance, and a lasting emblem of the futility of a war of attrition.
