Von Falkenhayn, personally superintending the disposition of guns and men, had now penetrated the outer defenses of Verdun. The tide was running against the French, and shells, more shells for the guns of all caliber; men, more men for the earthworks surrounding the devoted city were needed. The narrow-gauge railway connecting Verdun with the great French depots of supplies was totally inadequate for the transportation burdens suddenly cast upon it. In this desperate emergency a transport system was born of necessity, a system that saved Verdun. It was fleet upon fleet of motor trucks, all sizes, all styles; anything that could pack a few shells or a handful of men was utilized. The backbone of the system was a great fleet of trucks driven by men whose average daily rest was four hours, and upon whose horizon-blue uniforms the stains of snow and sleet, of dust and mud, were indelibly fixed through the winter, spring, summer and fall of 1916, for the glorious engagement continued from February 21st until November 2d, when the Germans were forced into full retreat from the field of honor, the evacuation of Fort Vaux putting a period to Germany’s disastrous plan and to von Falkenhayn’s military career. Lord Northcliffe, describing the early days of the immortal battle, wrote: “Verdun is, in many ways, the most extraordinary of battles. The mass of metal used on both sides is far beyond all parallel; the transformation on the Douaumont Ridge was more suddenly dramatic than even the battle of the Marne; and, above all, the duration of the conflict already looks as if it would surpass anything in history. More than a month has elapsed since, by the kindness of General Joffre and General Pétain, I was able to watch the struggle from various vital viewpoints. The battle had then been raging with great intensity for a fortnight, and, as I write, four to five thousand guns are still thundering round Verdun. Impossible, therefore, any man to describe the entire battle. The most one can do is to set down one’s impressions of the first phases of a terrible conflict, the end of which cannot be foreseen.