The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1915-07-15
IN. THICK OF FIGHT
Fierce Exaltation OF Battle Told
by Frenchman.
Corporal Describes .he Hoarse Shouts,
the Rasp OF Steel on Steel, the
Appeals for Mercy In Street
Fighting.

PARIS no more excitement, an
astonishing calm fills us as we open
IRE upon the Germans who have taken
cover In the houses In the outskirts
OF the village" writes Charles Tar
dieu In q recent installment of his
Impressions Of Corporal" published
In the Figaro.
From windows, embrasures, from
the cover of doorways they blaze away
at us Forty bodies are strewn across
the interval between us; few wound
ed men are scrambling and wriggling
In the mud Little by little we re-
gain our breath
AT the top of the village street de-
bouches company of German infan-
try. A hellish fire welcomes them,
but still they come on, sowing their
dead by files. Faster and faster we
pump our breech bolts. Their first
ranks crumple, they tramp over them;
the next rank falls. still they come
on AT last their chief, huge devil
OF an officer. who Is waving them on,
goes down. A new volley drops seven
or eight more men. This time they
stop. hesitate second, then turn and
run
Charge!' r0ars the captain. Give
them the steel.' We rush in, our two
bugierS, their neck veins swelling,
playing us the heart-stirring notes of
the charge. A heroic intoxication
sweils through US and we run like be-
mgs possessed into the narrow streets,
through the humming bullets.
Into houses, through gardens, past
open doorways the skirmishers throw
themselves, to come out with dripping
bayonets. No more shots-death
shrieks, groans, hoarse shouts, piteous
cries for mercy are mingled with the
crash Of falling furniture, the slam
ming Of doors, the nasty rasp of steel
on steel. And over it all the strident
notes of the charge!
From each house as it is silenced
pour our men, some of them wounded.
Hatless, coatless, without their packs
one man has discarded his blouse and
is working with his sleeves rolled up.
Trampling on the corpses that
strew the way, leaping over obstruc-
tons, we make our way up the street,
when machine gun section appears
In front of US. But before they have
time to unlimber we are upon them.
An instant of hard work with butt
and steel and it's crew is down be-
side their overturned piece. We pass
on.
Into the cross street we turn. A
few bodies are lying there; one house
is burning briskly. Spiked helmets
bob over the walls as their wearers
retreat through the gardens. A scat
tered fire Is heard on all sides. At
the end of the street, behind bar
ricade of overturned wagons and wine
barrels, some of the Germans who still
hold out open up on us. Charge bay
onet!'
I'VE rush on, when a shattered win
dow bursts open and the head OF
Lugagne, the bugler of the Third, pops
out, blowing a frantic charge. Our
comrades, making the frontal attack,
have won their way through.
Sweeping everything before them,
our comrades join US, shouting with
the joy of battle as they scale the
barricade. BY groups, rallied at haz-
ard, we search the houses. All who
show fight are finished; those who sur
render are rapidly hurried to the rear.
A. les! last there are nc living forms but
those clad in French uniforms and we
arrive at the other end of the village,
which is now completely cleaned out.
Our officers, in the dusk, rally their
men, bringing order out of the confu-
sion. Some three hundred prisoners,