The dawn of the 25th broke without a cloud over the village of Folies.
A heat haze hid the early morning sun. The enemy were quite near, and
the sentries on the barricades gave the alarm. The cuirassiers and
dragoons, leaving their horses under cover, had been on watch in the
surrounding country since the morning to protect the village and the
batteries of "75's," which were firing from a little way back.
A non-commissioned officer and I had remained mounted. M. de Thézy
sent us to investigate some horsemen whose shadows had loomed through
the mist and whom we had seen dismount in an apple orchard near the
village of Chocques. We set off at a quiet trot, convinced that we had
to deal with some French hussars whom I had seen go that way an hour
before. We crossed a field of beetroot and made straight towards them.
They seemed anchored to the spot, and when we were within one hundred
mètres, and they showed no signs of moving, our confidence increased.
The fog seemed to grow thicker and our horses, now at the walk, scented
no danger. We were within fifty mètres of them when a voice spoke
out and the word "carbine" reached us distinctly, carried by a light
breeze. The non-commissioned officer turned to me, his suspicions
completely stilled, and said, "We can go on, they are French, I heard
the word carbine." At the same instant I saw the group come to the
shoulder and a dozen jets of fire tore the mist with short red flashes.
A hail of bullets fell all around us, and we had only just time enough
to put between them and ourselves as much fog as would conceal us, for
before turning tail we had seen the confused grey mass of a column
coming out of the village. We had only to warn the artillery and then
there would be some fun.
The lieutenant of artillery was two kilomètres back perched on a
ladder. Having listened to what we had to say, he turned towards his
gun and cried through a megaphone, "2600, corrector 18." We were
already far off, returning at the gallop to try to see the effect, and
it was a fine sight.
Leaving the horses in a farm, we slipped from tree to tree. There was
the column, still advancing. A first shell, ten mètres in front of it,
stopped it short; immediately a second fell on the left, wounding some
men, and a horse reared and upset its rider. A third shell struck
mercilessly into the centre of the column and caused an explosion
which sent flying, right and left, dark shapes which we guessed to
be fragments of bodies. It rained shell, which struck the road with
mathematical precision, sowing death and panic. In the twinkling of an
eye the road was swept clean. The survivors bolted in every direction
like madmen, and the agonising groans of a dying horse echoed through
the whole countryside.
* * * * *
On the 1st of October we rejoined our division and the first
half-regiment at Tilloy-les-Mofflaines. Up to the 20th we passed
through a period of great privation and fatigue owing to the early
frosts. We were unable to sleep for as many as five days on end, and
when at night we had a few hours in which to rest, we passed them lying
on the pavement of the street, propped up against some heap of coal
or of stones, holding our horses' reins, each huddled up against his
neighbour to try and keep warm.