All this did not take ten minutes. God only knew what had become of
our other two columns. The terrible musketry fire on the left, and the
volleys of grape and canister which we heard rushing through the air,
were no doubt intended for them.
I thought we had had our full share of troubles, when Generals Gerard,
Vichery, and Schoeffer came riding up at full speed on the road below
us, shouting like madmen, "Forward! Forward!"
They drew their swords, and there was nothing to do but go.
At this moment our batteries on the road below opened their fire on
Ligny, the roofs in the village tumbled, and the walls sank, and we
rushed forward with the generals at our head with their swords drawn,
the drums beating the charge. We shouted, "_Vive l'Empereur_." The
Prussian bullets swept us away by dozens, and shot fell like hail, and
the drums kept up their "pan-pan-pan." We saw nothing, heard nothing,
as we crossed the orchards, nobody paid any attention to those who
fell, and in two minutes after, we entered the village, broke in the
doors with the butts of our muskets, while the Prussians fired upon us
from the windows.
It was a thousand times worse in-doors, because yells of rage mingled
in the uproar; we rushed into the houses with fixed bayonets and
massacred each other without mercy. On every side the cry rose, "No
quarter!"
The Prussians who were surprised in the first houses we entered, were
old soldiers and asked for nothing better. They perfectly understood
what "No quarter" meant, and made a most desperate defence.
As we reached the third or fourth house on a tolerably wide street on
which was a church, and a little bridge farther on, the air was full of
smoke from the fires caused by our bombs; great broken tiles and slate
were raining down upon us, and everything roared and whistled and
cracked, when Zebede, with a terrible look in his eyes, seized me by
the arm, shouting, "Come!"
We rushed into a large room already filled with soldiers, on the first
floor of a house; it was dark, as they had covered the windows with
sacks of earth, but we could see a steep wooden stairway at one end,
down which the blood was running. We heard musket-shots from above and
the flashes each moment showed us five or six of our men sunk in a heap
against the balustrade with their arms hanging down, and the others
running over their bodies with their bayonets fixed, trying to force
their way into the loft.
It was horrible to see those men with their bristling mustaches, and
brown cheeks, every wrinkle expressing the fury which possessed them,
determined to force a passage at any cost. The sight made me furious,
and I shouted, "Forward! No quarter!"
If I had been near the stairway, I might have been cut to pieces in
mounting, but fortunately for me, others were ahead and not one would
give up his place.
An old fellow, covered with wounds, succeeded in reaching the top of
the stairs under the bayonets. As he gained the loft he let go his
musket, and seized the balustrade with both hands. Two balls from
muskets touching his breast did not make him let go his hold. Three or
four others rushed up behind him striving each to be first, and leaped
over the top stairs into the loft above.
Then followed such an uproar as is impossible to describe, shots
followed each other in quick succession, and the shouts and trampling
of feet made us think the house was coming down over our heads. Others
followed, and when I reached the scene behind Zebede, the room was full
of dead and wounded men, the windows were blown out, the walls splashed
with blood, and not a Prussian was left on his feet. Five or six of
our men were supporting themselves against the different pieces of
furniture, smiling ferociously. Nearly all of them had balls or
bayonet thrusts in their bodies, but the pleasure of revenge was
greater than the pain of their wounds. My hair stands on end when I
recall that scene.
As soon as Zebede saw that the Prussians were all dead, he went down
again, saying to me, "Come, there is nothing more to do here."
We went out and found that our column had already passed the church,
and thousands of musket-shots crackled against the bridge like the fire
breaking out from a coal-pit.
The second column had come down the broad street on our right and
joined ours, and in the meantime, one of those Prussian columns which
we had seen on the hill in the rear of Ligny, came down to drive us out
of the village.
Here it was that we had the first encounter in force. Two staff
officers rode down the street by which we had come.
"Those men," said Zebede, "are going to order up the guns. When they
arrive, Joseph, you will see whether they can rout us."
He ran and I followed him. The fight at the bridge continued. The old
church clock struck five. We had destroyed all the Prussians on this
side the stream except those who were in ambush in the great old ruin
at the left, which was full of holes. It had been set on fire at the
top by our howitzers, but the fire continued from the lower stories,
and we were obliged to avoid it.
In front of the church we were in force. We found the little square
filled with troops ready to march, and others were coming by the broad
street, which traversed the whole length of Ligny. Only the head of
the column was engaged at the little bridge. The Prussians tried hard
to repulse them. The discharges in file followed each other like
running water. The square was so filled with smoke that we could see
nothing but the bayonets, the front of the church, and the officers on
the steps giving their orders. Now and then a staff officer would set
off at a gallop, and the air round the old slated spire was full of
rooks whirling about affrighted with the noise. The cannon at St.
Amand roared incessantly.
Between the gables on the left, we could see on the hill, the long blue
lines of infantry and masses of cavalry coming from Sombref to turn our
columns. It was there in our rear that the desperate combats took
place between the Uhlans and our hussars. How many of these Uhlans we
saw next morning stretched dead on the plain!
Our battalion having suffered the most, we fell back to the second
rank. We soon found our own company commanded by Captain Florentin.
The guns were arriving by the same street on which we were; the horses
at full gallop foaming and shaking their heads furiously, while the
wheels crushed everything before them. All this produced a tremendous
uproar, but the thunder of cannon and the crash of musketry was all
that could be distinguished. The soldiers were all shouting and
singing, with their guns on their shoulders, but we knew this only by
seeing their open mouths.
I had just taken my place by the side of Buche and had begun to
breathe, when a forward movement began.
This time the plan was to cross the little stream, push the Prussians
out of Ligny, mount the hill behind and cut their line in two, and the
battle would be gained. Each one of us understood that, but with such
masses of troops as they held in reserve, it was no small affair.
Everything moved toward the bridge, but we could see nothing but the
five or six men before us, and I was well satisfied to know that the
head of the column was far in front.
But I was most delighted when Captain Florentin halted our company in
front of an old barn with the door broken down, and posted the remnant
of the battalion behind the ruins in order to sustain the attacking
columns by firing from the windows.
There were fifteen of us in that barn and I can see it now, with the
door hanging by one hinge, and battered with the balls, and the ladder
running up through a square hole, three or four dead Prussians leaning
against the walls, and a window at the other end looking into the
street in the rear.
Zebede commanded our post, Lieutenant Bretonville occupied the house
opposite with another squad, and Captain Florentin went somewhere else.
The street was filled with troops quite up to the two corners near the
brook.
The first thing we tried to do was to put up the door and fasten it,
but we had hardly commenced when we heard a terrible crash in the
street, and walls, shutters, tiles, and everything were swept away at a
stroke. Two of our men who were outside holding up the door, fell as
if cut down with a scythe.
At the same moment we could hear the steps of the retreating column
rolling over the bridge, while a dozen more such explosions made us
draw back in spite of ourselves. It was a battery of six pieces
charged with canister which Bluecher had masked at the end of the
street, and which now opened upon us.
The whole column--drummers, soldiers, officers, mounted and foot, were
in retreat, pushing and jostling each other, swept along as by a
hurricane. Nobody looked back, those who fell were lost. The last
ones had hardly passed our door when Zebede, who looked out to see what
had happened, shouted in a voice of thunder, "The Prussians!"
He fired, and several of us rushed for the ladder, but before we could
think of climbing they were upon us. Zebede, Buche, and all who had
not had time to get up the ladder drove them back with their bayonets.
It seems to me as if I could see those Prussians still, with their big
mustaches, their red faces and flat shakos, furious at being checked.
I never had such a shock as that. Zebede shouted, "No quarter," just
as if we had been the stronger. But immediately he received a blow on
the head from the butt of a musket and fell.
I saw that he was going to be murdered and I burned for revenge. I
shouted, "To the bayonet," and we all fell upon the rascals, while our
comrades fired at them from above, and a fusillade commenced from the
houses opposite.
The Prussians fell back, but a little distance away there was a whole
battalion. Buche took Zebede on his shoulders and started up the
ladder. We followed him, shouting "Hurry!" while we aided him with all
our strength to climb the ladder with his burden. I was next to the
last, and I thought we should never get up. We heard the shots already
in the barn, but we were up at last, and all inspired with the same
idea, we tried to draw the ladder up after us. To our horror we found,
as we endeavored to pull it through the opening between the shots, one
of which took off the head of a comrade, that it was so large we could
not get it into the loft. We hesitated for a moment, when Zebede,
recovering himself, exclaimed, "Shoot through the rounds!" This seemed
to us an inspiration from heaven.
Below us the uproar was terrible. The whole street, as well as our
barn, was full of Prussians.
They were mad with rage, and worse than we; repeating incessantly, "No
prisoners!"
They were enraged by the musket-shots from the houses; they broke down
the doors, and then we could hear the struggles, the falls, curses in
French and German, the orders of Lieutenant Bretonville opposite, and
the Prussian officers commanding their men to go and bring straw to
fire the houses. Fortunately the harvest was not yet secured, or we
should all have been burned.
They fired into the floor under our feet, but it was made of thick oak
plank and the balls tapped on it like the strokes of a hammer. We
stood one behind the other and continued our fire into the street, and
every shot told.
It appeared as if they had retaken the church square, for we only heard
our fire very far away. We were alone, two or three hundred men in the
midst of three or four thousand. Then I said to myself, "Joseph! you
will never escape from this danger. It is impossible! your end has
come!" I dared not think of Catherine, my heart quaked. Our retreat
was cut off, the Prussians held both ends of the street and the lanes
in the rear, and they had already retaken several houses.
Suddenly the hubbub ceased; they were making some preparation we
thought; they have gone for straw or fagots or they are going to bring
up their guns to demolish us.
Our gunners looked out of the window, but they saw nothing, the barn
was empty. This dead silence was more terrible than the tumult had
been a few minutes before.
Zebede had just raised himself up, and the blood was running from his
mouth and nose.
"Attention! we are going to have another attack. The rascals are
getting ready. Charge!"
He hardly finished speaking when the whole building, from the gables to
the foundation, swayed as if the earth had opened beneath it, and beams
and lath and slate came down with the shock, while a red flame burst
out under our feet and mounted above the roof. We all fell in a heap.
A lighted bomb which the Prussians had rolled into the barn had just
exploded. On getting up I heard a whizzing in my ears, but that did
not prevent me from seeing a ladder placed at the window of the barn.
Buche was using his bayonet with great effect on the invaders.
The Prussians thought to profit by our surprise to mount the ladder and
butcher us; this made me shudder, but I ran to the assistance of my
comrade. Two others who had escaped, ran up shouting, "_Vive
l'Empereur!_"
I heard nothing more, the noise was frightful. The flashes of the
muskets below and from the windows lighted up the street like a moving
flame. We had thrown down the ladder, and there were six of us still
remaining, two in front who fired the muskets, and four behind who
loaded and passed the guns to them.
In this extremity I had become calm. I resigned myself to my fate,
thinking I would try to sell my own life as dearly as possible. The
others no doubt had the same thoughts, and we made great havoc.
This lasted about a quarter of an hour, when the cannon began to
thunder again, and some seconds after our comrades in front looked out
the window and ceased firing. My cartridge-box was nearly empty, and I
went to replenish it from those of my dead comrades.
The cries of "_Vive l'Empereur!_" came nearer and nearer, when suddenly
the head of our column with its flag all blackened and torn, filed into
the little square through our street.
The Prussians beat a retreat. We all wanted to go down, but two or
three times the column recoiled before the grape and canister. The
shouts and the thunder of the cannon mingled afresh. Zebede, who was
looking out, ran to the ladder. Our column had passed the barn and we
all went down in file without regarding our comrades who were wounded
by the bursting of the bomb, some of whom begged us piteously not to
leave them behind.
Such are men! the fear of being taken prisoners, made us barbarians.
When we recalled these terrible scenes afterward, we would have given
anything if we had had the least heart, but then it was too late.