An hour before, fifteen of us had entered that old barn, now there were
but six to come out.
Buche and Zebede were among the living; the Pfalzbourgers had been
fortunate.
Once outside it was necessary to follow the attacking column.
We advanced over the heaps of dead. Our feet encountered this yielding
mass, but we did not look to see if we stepped on the face of a wounded
man, on his breast, or on his limbs; we marched straight on. We found
out next morning, that this mass of men had been cut down by the
battery in front of the church; their obstinacy had proved their ruin.
Bluecher was only waiting to serve us in the same manner, but instead of
going over the bridge we turned off to the right and occupied the
houses along the brook. The Prussians fired at us from every window
opposite, but as soon as we were ambushed we opened our fire on their
guns and they were obliged to fall back.
They had already begun to talk of attacking the other part of the
village, when the rumor was heard that a column of Prussians forty
thousand strong had come up behind us from Charleroi. We could not
understand it, as we had swept everything before us to the banks of the
Sambre. This column which had fallen on our rear, must have been
hidden in the forest.
It was about half-past six and the combat at St. Amand seemed to grow
fiercer than ever. Bluecher had moved his forces to that side, and it
was a favorable moment to carry the other part of the village, but this
column forced us to wait.
The houses on either side of the brook were filled with troops, the
French on the right and the Prussians on the left. The firing had
ceased, a few shots were still heard from time to time, but they were
evidently by design. We looked at each other as if to say, "Let us
breathe awhile now, and we will commence again presently."
The Prussians in the house opposite us, in their blue coats and leather
shakos, with their mustaches turned up, were all strongly built men,
old soldiers with square chins and their ears standing out from their
heads. They looked as if they might overthrow us at a blow. The
officers, too, were looking on.
Along the two streets which were parallel with the brook and in the
brook itself, the dead were lying in long rows.
Many of them were seated with their backs against the walls. They had
been dangerously wounded in the battle but had had sufficient strength
to retire from the strife, and had sunk down against the wall and died
from loss of blood.
Some were still standing upright in the brook, their hands clutching
the bank as if to climb out, rigid in death. And in obscure corners of
the ruined houses, when they were lighted up with the sun's rays, we
could see the miserable wretches crushed under the rubbish, with stones
and beams lying across their bodies.
The struggle at St. Amand became still more terrible, the discharges of
cannon seemed to rise one above the other, and if we had not all been
looking death in the face, nothing could have prevented us from
admiring this grand music.
At every discharge hundreds of men perished, but there was no
interruption, the solid earth trembled under our feet. We could
breathe again now, and very soon we began to feel a most intolerable
thirst. During the fight nobody had thought of it, but now everybody
wanted to drink.
Our house formed the corner at the left of the bridge, but the little
water that was running over the muddy bottom of the brook was red with
blood. Between our house and the next there was a little garden, where
there was a well from which to water it. We all looked at this well
with its curb and its wooden posts; the bucket was still hanging to the
chain in spite of the showers of shot, but three men were already lying
face downward in the path leading to it. The Prussians had shot them
as they were trying to reach it.
As we stood there with our loaded muskets, one said, "I would give half
my blood for one glass of that water;" another, "Yes, but the Prussians
are on the watch."
This was true, there they were, a hundred paces from us, perhaps they
were as thirsty as we, and were guessing our thoughts.
The shots that were still fired came from these houses, and no one
could go along the street, they would shoot him at once, so we were all
suffering horribly.
This lasted for another half hour, when the cannonade extended from St.
Amand to Ligny, and we could see that our batteries had opened with
grape and canister on the Prussians by the great gaps made in their
columns at every discharge.
This new attack produced a great excitement. Buche, who had not
stirred till that moment, ran down through the path leading to the well
in the garden and sheltered himself behind the curb. From the two
houses opposite a volley was fired, and the stones and the posts were
soon riddled with balls.
But we opened our fire on their windows and in an instant it began
again from one end of the village to the other, and everything was
enveloped in smoke.