Famed for their fierce charges, these French colonial troops were
helpless in the face of prolonged shelling.]
“Nearer and nearer rolled the wall. Gaps opened and closed again.
Lines halted and rolled on again. Whrr rratt—tenggg—ssstt—crack! Our
artillery sent them its greeting! Whole groups melted away. Dismembered
bodies, sticky earth, shattered rocks, were mixed in wild disorder.
The black cloud halted, wavered, closed its ranks—and rolled nearer
and nearer, irresistible, crushing, devastating! And the rifles were
flashing all the time. A dissonant, voiceless rattle. The men still
stood there and took aim. Calmly, surely, not wasting a single shot.
The stamping and snorting of thousands of panting beasts ate up the
ground between us.”
“HELL SEEMED LET LOOSE”
“Now the wave was only 300 paces from our defenses—from their
remnants—now only 200—100—irresistible, seething and roaring—50
paces!—‘Rapid fire!’ I roared, I shrieked, through the swelling
cracking of the rifles. A hurricane swallowed my voice! Hell seemed
let loose at a single blow, raging, storming, obliterating all
understanding! Shoving and stamping, shrieking and shouting, cracking
and rattling, hissing and screeching. A heavy veil hung over the wall.
In this cloud pieces of earth, smoke spirals, black, red, white, yellow
flashes, quivered and flared. Rattling, rapping, pounding, hammering,
crackling. And the shots fell unceasingly. Clear and shrill the rifles,
heavy and roaring the shells.
“And now came the gruesome, inconceivable horror! A wall of lead and
iron suddenly hurled itself upon the attackers and the entanglements
just in front of our trenches. A deafening hammering and clattering,
cracking and pounding, rattling and crackling, beat everything to earth
in ear-splitting, nerve-racking clamor. Our machine guns had flanked
the blacks!
“Like an invisible hand they swept over the men and hurled them to
earth, mangling and tearing them to pieces! As an autumn storm roars
over the fields they swept in full flood over the ranks and snuffed
out life! Like hail among the ears of grain, their missiles flew and
rattled and broke down the enemy’s will! Singly, in files, in rows and
heaps, the blacks fell. Next to each other, behind each other, on top
of each other. Hurled in heaps, in mounds, in hillocks. Fresh masses
charged and fell back, charged and stumbled, charged and fell. And
there were always fresh forces! They seemed to spring from the very
earth!
“We had losses; heavy losses. Here a man suddenly put his hand to his
forehead and swayed. There another sprang gurgling to one side and
fell, as flat and heavy as a block of stone. S-s-s-t—it went above our
heads. The French were throwing shrapnel against our trenches, hissing,
cracking, and in volleys.
“Hell still rages. The blacks get reinforcements. Finally the whites
themselves charge, a jerky, rolling, bluish-green mass! In a powerful
drive they get over the first rise in the ground. Now they have
disappeared. Now they bob up, as out of a trap door. Here and there
the ranks shoot forward in great leaps, the officers ahead of all,
with their swords swinging high in the air, just as in the pictures!
A splendid sight. Now they reach the bodies of the blacks. They halt
for a few seconds, as if in horror, then on they roll over the dead,
jumping, wallowing, dozens falling.”
“WE STILL STAND FIRMLY”
“Our nerves are strained to the snapping point, gasping, bleeding,
feverish! We dare not waver. ‘Steady, men! Steady!’ We must calmly let
them come as far as the wire entanglements, as the blacks did. The
blacks? Where are they? Disappeared! Only they left their dead behind.
The same thing will happen to the whites. We are waiting for them.
The death-spewing machine guns are lying over there. They lie there
and wait until their time comes. Steady, steady! They lie there and
wait impatiently—but yet they are silent— Now!—No—I am raving! ‘Rapid
fire!’—I hiss—My neighbor staggers—I only listen and wait, wait and
listen, for only one thing. Something that has to come, must finally
come, has to come! Great God, otherwise we are lost! Be calm, be calm!
Now they will begin reaping! Now they must begin to rattle, our machine
guns, our faithful rescuers—now—at once! What can they be waiting for?
Why, they are there in the wires already. Hell and Satan! No man can
endure that! They are hesitating too long—the enemy is almost in the
trenches! Ah! At last! A rattling—a hoarse crackling—Heaven help us,
what is that?
[Illustration:
_Drawn by Joseph Cummings Chase._