The Battle of Verdun: A failed breakthrough turns into a catastrophe. After three hundred days, the fighting ends with hundreds of thousands dead.

Why Verdun? Why an attack on France's strongest fortress? The German Empire, inferior in manpower and economic strength, could not afford a war of attrition. Therefore, Erich von Falkenhayn, Chief of the German General Staff, wanted a swift decision in the war by the spring of 1916, before the Entente could launch its own major offensives.

Like the French Generalissimo Joseph Joffre and Field Marshal Douglas Haig, Commander of the British Expeditionary Force, Falkenhayn also sought the holy grail of all World War II generals: the operational breakthrough and a return to mobile warfare. And like Joffre and Haig, he too drew an important conclusion from the many failed attempts to achieve a mass breakthrough: no breakthrough without the prior attrition of enemy reserves.

­­­ Tactically, Falkenhayn therefore wants to create a compulsion for a counterattack. This should quickly deplete the enemy's reserves. Only then, he believes, can a breakthrough be achieved through a follow-up push with divisions of the German Army Reserve. The Chief of the General Staff is striving for a kind of "breakthrough over the barriers." The ultimate goal is a return to mobile warfare, not to "bleed" the enemy white.

But how can one entice the enemy into hopeless attacks? Answer: The opening offensive must threaten a target the enemy refuses to abandon. And that, Falkenhayn hopes, is the fortress of Verdun. The 5th Army will lead the Verdun attack. Nominally, it is under the command of Crown Prince Wilhelm of Prussia. In reality, however, its chief of staff, General Constantin Schmidt von Knobelsdorf, will command the troops.

In strict secrecy, an unprecedented mass of artillery is being massed in the forests northeast of Verdun. With its help, comparatively small, but therefore more easily controlled, infantry forces are to launch a surprise wedge attack on the eastern bank of the Meuse, the Côtes de Meuse.

This attack is to continue uninterrupted for about a week until the key line that determines the fortress's possession is captured: it connects several ridges on the Côtes and extends from the Thiaumont fortification to Fort Tavannes. Verdun lies in a valley basin. The eastern bank clearly overlooks the city. Whoever captures the key line will control the city. It is here, in particular, that the pressure for a counterattack should arise.

Falkenhayn is determined to capture the town and fortress at all costs – if only for propaganda reasons. Verdun, however, is only a secondary objective. Whether the tricolor or the imperial flag flies over the small town can't possibly determine victory or defeat in the World War. Falkenhayn knows this, just as Haig and Joffre do. Falkenhayn's greatest concern: the enemy could abandon Verdun, establish a new defensive front behind the Meuse, and the German attack could fizzle out as a mere airstrike.

In fact, all French planning revolves not around how to hold Verdun, but solely around the question of how to get supplies and troops out in time. Fortresses, it is believed, have lost their military value anyway. This is due to the heaviest German artillery. In Belgium, it easily penetrated the roofs of all the fortifications.

That's one aspect of Falkenhayn's plan. On the other hand, he always keeps the British sector of the Western Front in mind. Falkenhayn considers the British to be the easier opponent. He believes that the offensive at Verdun will force Haig, for reasons of alliance policy, to launch a hasty relief attack in Artois. This, in turn, will ultimately open up the possibility of a breakthrough in a counterattack with divisions of the German Army Reserve, so to speak, over the ruins of the failed Artois Offensive.

So, Falkenhayn's calculations are as follows: a breakthrough over the barrier, either by a follow-up thrust at Verdun or by a counter-thrust in Artois! Falkenhayn knows that machine guns and rapid-fire artillery will prevent an old-style war of movement. But he considers "a kind of war of movement with field fortifications" (Falkenhayn) to be possible. Fourteen days to five weeks at the most—that's roughly his time frame for the hoped-for breakthrough.

He considers the destruction of the enemy armies numbering millions to be essentially impossible. But Falkenhayn is counting on the fact that the high losses and the shock of a return to mobile warfare will suddenly break the will to resist in Great Britain and France.

That's precisely why he also calls for the resumption of submarine warfare without warning. Verdun and the sea have been closely linked from the beginning. Submarine warfare without warning means war with America. But Falkenhayn wants to decide the battle before the US's weight can make an impact in Europe. In his calculations, the submarine weapon plays a similar role to the offensive at Verdun. It is, so to speak, the red rag intended to provoke the "British bull" even more surely into a hasty attack, for example, on the German submarine bases in Flanders.

A massive, seven-week deployment begins under strict secrecy. Vast quantities of supplies must be brought in. Cable cars transport supplies and ammunition up to the Côtes. Twenty railway construction companies, 26 armoring companies, and 7,000 Russian prisoners of war are deployed, totaling around 20,000 personnel. Ammunition depots stockpile ammunition.

For the first time, a large number of German aircraft were gathered in a small area: 168 aircraft, 14 tethered balloons, and 4 zeppelins. Fog, rain, and snow hampered French aerial reconnaissance for weeks. And so, the largest artillery buildup of all time ended at the beginning of February. In Damvillers, a sign hangs on the monument to Marshal Gérard: "On to Verdun."

Three assault corps move into their positions. Their thrust is toward Fort Douaumont, the fortress's flagship. The corps are to take the eastern bank in a single attack without relieving forces.

Wednesday, February 21, 1916, 7:12 a.m.: The Crown Prince gives the order to attack. The ground trembles in the Warphémont Forest. A 38-centimeter long-range gun, the "Lange Max," fires its first shell. 1,220 guns follow. Even in Montmédy, the windowpanes shake. 150 kilometers away, on the Vosges front, a continuous rumbling is suddenly heard. There, too, the ground trembles, like a constant drum roll drowned out by the beats of a timpani. Even 60 kilometers beyond the battlefield, pictures on living room walls are in trembling motion – for nine hours without a break.

Then, on the fourth day of the battle, the breakthrough came: the assault corps were suddenly able to advance significantly. General Frédéric-Georges Herr, commander of the Verdun fortified region, and General Fernand de Langle de Cary, commander of Army Group Center, wanted to abandon the east bank and evacuate the city. But on the night of February 25, General Édouard de Castelnau, Joffre's chief of staff, undertook a 300-kilometer nighttime drive from Chantilly, the seat of the Grand Quartier Général, to Verdun, on his own initiative and in the midst of a snowstorm. His intervention played a decisive role in stiffening resistance on the east bank once again.

And Haig, too, falls into Falkenhayn's trap! The "Chief" immediately issues orders for a relief attack. But for now, Joffre comes to his aid: the Generalissimo expects the main blow to come from another part of the French front. And, like Falkenhayn, he is saving reserves for a counterattack. However, the possibility of a hasty British attack remains on the table. The War Council in London decides that Haig must participate in a British-French relief strike in Artois as soon as a catastrophe occurs at Verdun.

For Joffre, a nighttime appearance by his head of government changes the situation. Aristide Briand fears for Verdun, fears for his government, threatens Joffre with dismissal in Chantilly, yells and rages – and ultimately prevails. Against all military reason, Joffre accepts the battle for political reasons. Once again, Falkenhayn has calculated correctly.

On the fifth day of the battle, Fort Douaumont falls in a surprise attack. This proves to be a turning point in several respects: First, the battle becomes the focus of propaganda. Special newspapers spread the news throughout the Reich. Church bells ring in many places. This makes it all the more difficult to relinquish advantages once gained.

Secondly, Falkenhayn and Knobelsdorf are in a state of euphoria. Now, Falkenhayn exclaims, drunkenly, it's all about not just defeating the French forces on the Western Front, but destroying them! Both generals mentally dismiss the conquest of the eastern bank. The attack on the western bank, which had already begun, is called off. The key line is now only about 3,000 meters away.

While large sections of the German artillery are busy changing positions, the exhausted infantry encounters French reserves, which Castelnau has diverted at the last second from the west bank to the east bank. And so the uninterrupted attack to the key line finally comes to a halt. The German units remain stationary, roughly at the heights to the left and right of Fort Douaumont.

Falkenhayn and Knobelsdorf overestimated the effectiveness of their own artillery. Furthermore, the number of heavy guns is still too small. Moreover, the artillery cannot reach many of the small installations in the intermediate field. And contrary to expectations, the roofs of the forts withstand even the heaviest shells. The army's "wonder weapons" fail due to the quality of the special concrete.

In addition, General Philippe Pétain, the new commander-in-chief at Verdun, brings in reserves every day. The attackers' superiority is diminishing.

Only now does the French artillery fire from the west bank have a devastating effect. Now the German infantry on the east bank is no longer only under fire from the enemy artillery on the Côtes, but also under fire from the French guns on the west bank—and thus in the crossfire. On the west bank, the defending batteries have taken up positions behind the Marre Ridge, shielded from German artillery observers on the ground.

Falkenhayn's order to attack on the west bank now comes too late. Pétain has been expecting this attack for days. He is prepared. And so the attackers can only advance as far as the Dead Man's Hill line.

That's not far enough. The German guns on the west bank cannot move far enough south to defeat the artillery behind the Marre Ridge. And so, they fail to even partially relieve the pressure on their own troops on the east bank. In short: a stalemate.

By early April, Falkenhayn's strategy had finally failed: the key line on the east bank had not been reached, there was no breakthrough at Verdun, and there was no British relief attack in Artois, and German losses were rising dramatically. Only now did the battle derail. Only now did it become a battle of materiel. Nevertheless, the offensive had lost its strategic meaning.

Falkenhayn conceals his failure from himself and others. He tells critics that the French army will "bleed to death" at Verdun. The means to an end quietly becomes the primary goal.

But even during the battle, many senior German staff officers close to the front suspected that the estimated French casualty figures could be completely exaggerated.

British and French staffs also frequently overestimate German losses. Such exaggerations are likely the result of an unconscious defensive attitude. Staff officers can more easily persevere and continue in the face of horrendous losses among their own troops if they believe the enemy is making even greater sacrifices.

For Falkenhayn, the "inner transition" to the battle of material was primarily a psychological process. Knobelsdorf played a key role in this. Whenever Falkenhayn wavered and wanted to "put an end to Verdun," Knobelsdorf backed him up.

Knobelsdorf, too, doesn't believe the enemy will "bleed to death." His only concern is to prevent an open defeat. Only on the key Thiaumont–Tavannes line can the establishment of permanent German positions succeed, despite the devastating flanking fire from the west bank. There, Knobelsdorf would likely win the "consolation prize": the fortress of Verdun. Simply standing still on the east bank, in other words, purely defensive action, is impossible due to the flanking fire. There are only "further forward!" or "completely retreat!"

This is the difference from all previous battles of the World War: in 1915, in Champagne or at Loos, for example, the attacker's lines were frozen in their new positions after exhaustion. Such a burnout of the battle is impossible at Verdun. Topographical features are a major reason for the extraordinary length of the battle. Knobelsdorf holds out the prospect of reaching the key line—somehow. And Falkenhayn sets no deadlines. As a result, more and more troops are gradually drawn into the fight. The army's reserves are dwindling.

Falkenhayn's mood is almost palpable: self-convincing and the need to justify himself in a seemingly hopeless situation. Soon, hundreds of thousands of soldiers on both sides are fighting for a city whose possession all military leaders on both sides consider secondary at best.

At the beginning of May, ammunition exploded at Fort Douaumont. Arms, legs, and torsos littered the ground, confused soldiers staggering around, smashed war material scattered among them. In the basement, dead bodies, their limbs completely shattered, lay pressed against each other, piled high. The pressure of the explosion hurled them against the wall as if through a rifle barrel. Torn bodies hung from the ceiling.

The stench of decay hangs over the Côtes . If the wind blows from the wrong direction, a sweet, acrid odor hits the soldiers approaching, miles from the combat zone. Animal carcasses, corpses, and body parts, scattered across almost every square meter of the battlefield, are repeatedly disturbed, dismembered, and reduced in size by the impact of grenades. Dead bodies everywhere.

Gerhard von Heymann, Knobelsdorf's "right-hand man," is increasingly urging the Crown Prince to abandon the offensive. He is demanding a transition to a formal siege. Heymann claims this will conserve forces. However, this is far from certain. Knobelsdorf, in any case, will not hear of it. He allows the mass attacks to continue. Heymann must go.

The struggle seems like the argument between two blind men for the better view. Only a retreat to the starting position would have dramatically reduced the losses. In the Age of Enlightenment, in the age of reason, a Frederick the Great or a Field Marshal Daun would certainly have taken this course of action.

At Verdun, not a single staff officer even mentions this possibility! Armed forces are always a reflection of their society. And so Verdun is not solely the result of personal failure, but above all an expression of the thinking of an era.

The clock is ticking. The chiefs of staff of all German armies in the West warn that a massive enemy offensive is imminent. On July 1, a major British-French attack begins on the Somme. The last German army reserves are suddenly depleted. After consulting with Falkenhayn, Knobelsdorf orders the Verdun Offensive to be "temporarily" halted on July 12. The Kaiser transfers Knobelsdorf to the East. Shortly thereafter, Falkenhayn is also forced to leave. His successor, Field Marshal Paul von Hindenburg, confirms the halt to the Verdun Offensive. But this does not improve the situation of the soldiers on the east bank one iota. The fighting continues.

Three factors ultimately break the tactical stalemate in favor of the French side: the lack of German reserves, the "firestorm" tactic, and the new, heavy French railway guns. They are still able to penetrate the forts' roofs.

And so the German troops had no choice but to evacuate Fort Douaumont. In October and December, the French infantry, under the fire of General Robert Nivelle, suddenly regained almost all the territory that the German forces had conquered over seven months at great cost.

With around 700,000 casualties – including over 300,000 dead – the hell of Verdun ends after 300 days and 300 nights almost where it began.

How did this influence the course of the war? On the Allied side, firstly, the brunt of the fighting shifted from France to Great Britain. Secondly, Verdun paved the way for the Hindenburg-Ludendorff duo. This culminated in a kind of military dictatorship. In France, the Verdun crisis accelerated a shift of power from the military high command to parliament. In Germany, the opposite was true: Here, "Ober Ost" and the "myth of the savior" gained strength.

Thirdly, Verdun paved the way for submarine warfare without warning. Falkenhayn strongly advocated submarine warfare before and during the battle. But the Kaiser and Chancellor put him in his place. During the battle, they still held out hope that a decision could be forced on land. After the battle, the question "Verdun or America?" seemingly settled itself.

In January 1917, Germany declared submarine warfare without warning. The United States declared war on April 6. Only then did the Reich's defeat seem truly inevitable.

Nations are machines of solidarity and war. At Verdun, acting in accordance with the national ideal, which culminated in the total military, intellectual, and economic mobilization of Europe, made any operational conduct that attempted to coolly weigh costs and benefits impossible. This was typical of the World War as a whole.

All players remained glued to the poker table. Everyone was playing for their own good, seemingly unable to justify their horrendous losses without the "final victory." Military leaders and politicians on all sides seemed trapped by a kind of monster that, like Saturn, devoured its own children—a monster born of the combination of propaganda, public opinion, industrial people's war, and the fundamental beliefs of the era. Most of the details seemed reasonable, but as a whole, nothing. Strategically, the battle remained meaningless for all sides.

After the war, Falkenhayn claimed that he wanted to "bleed white" the French army. He never intended a breakthrough, and the capture of Verdun was unimportant. Rather, he aimed to have three French soldiers killed or wounded for every German soldier.

Not only veterans heard this with bitterness. Officers and men had stormed the fortress believing that the goal was to seize Verdun and bring a quick end to the war. Now the troops saw themselves reduced to "human material." That smacked of betrayal. Falkenhayn's self-justification achieved the opposite: a self-demonization with consequences for the political landscape as well.

His Verdun Strategy, allegedly presented to the Kaiser in a memorandum around Christmas 1915, is considered by some historians to be the most inhumane plan of the war. In truth, there was never a "Christmas memorandum." Falkenhayn subsequently sought to cast his role in a more lenient light.

"Operation Judgment" was no more or less inhumane than Joffre's "Battle of Usure" or Haig's "Wearing-Out Offensive." Joffre and Haig also disguised their failed attempts at a breakthrough with the alleged "bleeding out."

But France and England won the war. Therefore, the lies of Joffre and Haig released less toxicity than Falkenhayn's. Almost all Germans considered themselves "undefeated in the field" because not a single military leader took responsibility for their failure.