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Page 40
The rifles were rattling fast, and with them soon came the heavy crash
of artillery. Bougainville ran up and down his lines, but, to John's
surprise, he was holding his men back, rather than urging them on. But
he quickly saw the reason. He heard the hissing and shrieking of shells
over his head and he saw them bursting in Chastel. The fire increased so
fast and became so tremendous in volume that all the French lay down in
the snow, and John put his fingers in his ears lest he be deafened.
He understood the purpose of the French commander. It was to hurl a
continuous shower of steel upon the enemy, and then when it ceased the
French were to charge. Raising his head a little he saw the ruined
buildings of Chastel melting away entirely under the tremendous fire of
the great French field guns. House after house was springing into flames
and wall after wall was crumbling down in fragments. German guns were
replying fast, but their position amid falling masonry was much worse
than that of the French in the open.
John was lying in the snow near Bougainville, with the shells from both
sides hissing and shrieking in a storm over their heads. He was used to
being under fire and he knew that none of these missiles was intended
for them, but he could not restrain a quiver of apprehension now and
then, lest some piece of shrapnel, falling short, should find him. It
was always the shrapnel with the hideous whine and shriek and its
tearing wound that they dreaded most. The clean little rifle bullet,
which if it did not kill did not hurt much, was infinitely more welcome.
"How long will this go on?" John asked of Bougainville; his voice could
be heard as an undertone in the roar of the battle.
"Not long, because at present we have the advantage. The Germans know
that they're worse off in the town than they would be outside. Our guns
are bringing tons and tons of brick and stone about their ears. Hark to
our splendid artillery, Mr. Scott! See how it sweeps Chastel!"
The French fire always increasing in volume was most accurate and
deadly. The famous seventy-five-millimeter gun was again proving itself
the most terrible of mobile field weapons. As walls fell, pyramids of
fire shot up in many places, casting a sinister glow over the snowy
earth. But above everything rose the lofty and beautiful spire of the
Gothic cathedral, still untouched.
All the time the moonlight had been steadily growing more brilliant.
Save where the burning houses and the flashing of the cannon cast a red
glow a veil of silver mist, which brightened rather than obscured, hung
over the snow. John distinctly saw Germans in the town and often, too,
he saw them fall.
A man with a bugle was lying in the snow near Bougainville and the
little colonel reached over and touched him. John saw the soldier put
the instrument to his lips, as if he would make ready, and he knew that
an important movement was at hand. He tautened his own figure that he
might be ready. The artillery fire behind them ceased suddenly. The air
there had been roaring with thunder, and then all at once it became as
silent as the grave. The bugler leaped to his feet and blew a long and
mellow note. The Bougainville regiment and other regiments both right
and left sprang up and, with a short, fierce shout, rushed upon the
town. John, his automatic in his hand, charged with them, keeping close
to Bougainville.
A scattering fire of bullets carried away many, but John knew that he
was not touched. Neither was Bougainville, who, like Bonaparte at Lodi
or Arcola, was now leading his men in person, waving aloft a small
sword, and continually shouting to his children to follow him. The
French fell fast, but they reached the first line of the houses, and
then they sent a deadly hail of their own bullets upon the defenders.
Every street and alley in Chastel was swept by the fire of the French.
John heard above the crash of the rifles the incessant rattling of the
machine guns, and then, as they opened out, the roar of the
seventy-five-millimeters added to the terrible tumult. The Germans,
withdrawing to the far edge and taking what shelter they could, replied,
also with cannon, machine guns and rifles.
John saw Chastel already in ruins fairly melting away. Caught as it must
have been in the former action it came tumbling, stone and brick walls
and all to the ground. Detached fires were burning at many places, and
a great pyramid of flame leaped up from a point where the H�tel de
l'Europe stood. The cathedral alone, as if by some singular chance,
seemed to be untouched. The lofty Gothic spire shot up in the silver
moonlight, and towered white and peaceful over fighting Gaul and Teuton.
John looked up at it more than once, as he fired a rifle, that he had
picked up, down the street at the fleeting shadows.
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