The total obliteration of Fort Loncin, Liege, Belgium (15 August 1914)

Nowadays, the once-mighty Fort Loncin, one of a chain of fortifications built around the strategically important Belgian city of Liège, resembles an alien landscape. The hill that once concealed the fort is now a jumble of peaks, craters and escarpments, punctuated by grotesquely tilted steel structures and twisted metalwork.

When I visited the site earlier this year, I expected to find evidence of wartime destruction. However, the scene that greeted my fellow battlefield walkers and me was astonishing. What had once been a formidable fortress had been transformed into a landscape of almost total devastation.

Fort Lonsin, Liège - copyrite Phil Curme

So, what had caused such devastation? To answer that question, we need to return to the opening days of the First World War and examine how Belgium had prepared to defend itself against the threat of a German invasion in the 1880s.

The rivalry between Germany and France continued unabated following France’s defeat in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870–71. The unification of the German states, coupled with the deeply resented reparations imposed on France, created the conditions for a future confrontation between the two great powers.

Belgium recognised that, in any future conflict, German forces might attempt to outflank French defences by advancing through Belgian territory. To counter this threat, a ring of forts was constructed around Liège to protect the strategically important crossings of the River Meuse and obstruct a German advance.

By the early years of the twentieth century, however, many of these fortifications had fallen into a state of disrepair, and their defences were increasingly outdated. Nevertheless, they would soon be called upon to play a crucial role in Belgium’s resistance to the German invasion of August 1914.

Destroyed casement, Fort Loncin - copyrite Phil Curme

The German Schlieffen Plan envisaged precisely such a manoeuvre. Compounding the perilous position of the Belgian defenders, the plan called for the Netherlands to remain neutral, providing Germany with what has often been described as a ‘neutral windpipe’ through which trade could continue in the event of war.

This left the German advance into France dependent on a rapid passage through Belgium. When General Alexander von Kluck’s First Army, some 320,000 strong, moved to attack France in August 1914, it faced a narrow corridor between the southern border of the Netherlands and the foothills of the Ardennes. The fortified city of Liège lay directly in its path.

The forts around Liège would have to be overcome—and quickly.

To overcome Belgian resistance, the Germans brought forward artillery of unprecedented calibre. The forts around Liège had been designed to withstand bombardment from 21 cm mortars, but the German siege guns proved far more destructive than the fortifications’ designers had anticipated.

Among the weapons deployed were road-mobile Škoda 30.5 cm howitzers, which could be transported into position to bombard the Belgian defences. More formidable still were the enormous 42 cm mortars, popularly known as Big Bertha. These siege guns could hurl shells weighing approximately 2,200 pounds over distances of up to nine miles, delivering a devastating blow against the concrete and steel fortifications.

Big Bertha, Fort Loncin Museum - copyrite Phil Curme

Under the weight of this artillery bombardment, the forts began to fall, despite the courageous resistance mounted by Lieutenant-General Gérard Leman’s force of some 34,500 defenders. The first to succumb was Fort Barchon, situated on the right bank of the River Meuse, to the north-east of Liège.

Conditions inside the forts were horrendous. The relentless bombardment, dust, heat and mounting casualties made life for the defenders increasingly unbearable. Matters were made worse by a significant design flaw: the latrines were located outside the main fortifications, separated from them by an exposed area vulnerable to enemy fire. This shortcoming was addressed in the much more modern Fort Eben-Emael, constructed in the 1930s.

The decisive moment came when only three forts remained in Belgian hands. As the massive Big Bertha mortars opened fire on Fort Loncin, the defenders could hear the approaching shells. Leman himself survived the bombardment and later described its terrifying intensity:

‘We heard a rushing of air which increased in intensity until it became a hurricane roar and ended in a dreadful crash of thunder; fountains of earth and smoke were thrown into the air, and the whole earth shook.’

The undamaged entrance to Fort Loncin - copyrite Phil Curme

Comparison - the undamaged cap at Fort Lantin

After more than two hours of bombardment, which must have driven the garrison to the limits of endurance, a shell penetrated the fort’s protective dome of concrete and steel and exploded in the magazine. The resulting blast devastated the fort and brought resistance to an end. Of the 550 men manning the fort, 350 became casualties. General Leman himself survived, just.

A German pioneer who had rushed forward to help the stunned and confused garrison described what he found.

We could hardly make out the trace of the fort. The ruins formed a miniature alpine landscape, with debris strewn about like pebbles in a mountain stream. Heavy artillery and ammunition had been thrown everywhere; a cupola had been blown from its place and now looked like a monstrous tortoise, lying on its shell. A few blackened and dazed Belgians were stumbling about the wreckage'.

This devastating demonstration of the destructive power of modern artillery prompted the surrender of the neighbouring forts of Hollogne and Flémalle, opening the way into France for von Kluck’s forces.

Fort Loncin Memorial - copyrite Phil Curme

There is a modest admission fee to visit Fort Loncin. Near the entrance, a fascinating little museum is packed with photographs, artefacts, uniforms and other memorabilia. To reach the fort itself, visitors must walk around a small bungalow that has been built, rather incongruously, within the boundaries of the destroyed fort.

On the day of our visit, the bungalow’s owner was also running the museum. Delighted to welcome us, he generously took the time to show us a wealth of additional material that was not normally on public display.

Given the experience of the Liège forts, it is perhaps surprising that the French Army embraced the concept of a static, fortified line to defend its frontiers in the 1930s. Moreover, the fall of Fort Eben-Emael to German airborne troops on 11 May 1940 would demonstrate that heavy artillery was not the only threat to the effectiveness of fortifications as a means of conducting defensive warfare.

For my portfolio of Liege photographs, including the forts, click here.