The enemy's position thus made the north bank untenable and
orders were given to retire to the south bank under cover of the
darkness. At 9:30 P. M. the French, in accordance with these
plans, retired to the south bank and blew up a stone bridge.
The American machine gun companies during the retirement poured
a galling fire from the flanks into the areas evacuated by the
retiring troops.
The enemy was now shelling the south bank more heavily and the
enemy machine-gun fire was multiplied. The commander of Company A
was forced to change the position of his guns in order to secure
a better field of fire. With the light Hotchkiss pieces on their
shoulders he led his men into a wood further down the river. Here
they were spotted by enemy observers and thirty high explosive
shells crashed into the wood. The shelling ceased and the guns
went into their positions.
The French were still retiring at 10:30 P. M. It was pitch dark,
except for shell bursts and the streaky flame stabs from the
machine guns on both sides--the Americans were in the wood and
along the south bank of the river, the Germans on the crest of the
hill on the other side.
Suddenly there was an immense detonation. It was the big bridge
blowing up. Then there came out of the darkness across the river,
as the firing lulled, the ghostly chant of the advancing enemy.
It was one of those German mass attacks, where men, shoulder to
shoulder, singing in guttural tones the praise of Germany and the
Kaiser, blindly walk into death like fanatics.
The sort of creaky, shuffling sound their boots made as they
trotted into the open road came across the river like the wailing
of lost souls, converged toward the bridge and was heard by these
young Americans, who strained their eyes across the river to
get what machine-gun men call "the target." But it was in pitch
darkness, and there was only the sound to tell them there were
plenty of "targets." Every little black devil of a machine gun
tore loose with hellfire. The Americans behind them, who saw their
first glimpse of war about thirty hours before, fed in bullets
as fast as human hands could work. And the bullets caught their
"targets" on the opposite side.
The "target" came on again and again, but nothing could live in
that leaden hail. The enemy waves melted in the darkness.
Now come the even more thrilling experiences of the little band
of Americans under Lieutenant Bissell who had been cut off and
surrounded by the enemy across the river. Even experienced
soldiers could not be blamed if they had surrendered there.
At the beginning of the German mass attack a few French colonial
soldiers, also cut off by the blown-up bridge, made the Lieutenant
understand that then it was every man for himself. The north bank
was becoming a seething mass of Germans. All other forces had
retired across the river. Bullets were registering on every foot
of the space approaching the bridges.
The Germans chant to keep up the courage of the advancing masses.
They sometimes yell to disconcert their enemies. With this ghostly
chanting drawing nearer to the Lieutenant and his men and the
weird yells of the Germans occasionally splitting the night, there
was no thought of surrender. Their orders were to retreat by the
main bridge, and orders were orders.