There were two lines of barbed-wire entanglements, one in the bed of the stream which would prevent fording or swimming, and which, being under water, could not easily be destroyed by gunfire from the southern bank.  Above this was a heavy chevaux-de-frise and barbed-wire entanglement, partly sunk and concealed from view; in many places pitted and covered with brushwood.  Above this, following approximately a thirty-foot contour, came a line of trenches for infantry, and fifty yards behind a second line of trenches, commanding a further elevation of fifty feet.  Two-thirds of the way up the hill came the trench-living quarters, the kitchens, the bakeries, the dormitories, and so forth, and the crest of the hill bristled along its entire length with field guns, effectually screened by trees.  On the further side of the ridge, in chalk pits, were the great howitzers, tossing their huge shells over the ridge and its defenses into the river itself, and even on the south bank beyond.  Truly, a position of power, and one that the boldest of troops might hesitate to attack.

It is quite possible that had the entire strength of the German position been known, no attempt to cross would have been made, but there was always a possibility that the counterchecks of the German army were no more than the rear-guard actions of the three or four days immediately preceding.  Yet Sir John French seems to have expected the true state of affairs, for he remarks in his dispatches: 

“The battles of the Marne, which lasted from the morning of the 6th to the evening of the 10th, had hardly ended in the precipitate flight of the enemy when we were brought face to face with a position of extraordinary strength, carefully intrenched and prepared for defense by an army and staff which are thorough adepts in such work.”

Yet it was evident that if the armies of the Allies were to secure any lasting benefit from the battles of the Marne, they must dislodge the invading hosts from their new vantage ground.  It was obvious that the task was one of great peril and one necessarily likely to be attended with heavy loss of life.  Sir John French, knowing the tactical value of driving a fleeing army hard, determined on forcing the issue without delay.

Before proceeding to recount in detail the events of that six days’ battle of the Aisne, which little by little solidified into an impasse, it might be well to trace the new positions that had been taken by the respective armies engaged in the struggle for the supremacy of western Europe.  General von Kluck, still in charge of the First German Army, was in control of the western section from the Forest of the Eagle to the plateau of Craonne.  He had forced his men to almost superhuman efforts, and by midnight of September 11 he had succeeded in getting most of his artillery across the Aisne, at Soissons, and had whipped his infantry into place on the heights north of the stream.  That, with his exhausted