“For four days previous to Monday, September 7,” he said, “we were engaged in clearing out the German ‘boches’ from all the villages on the left bank of the Ourcq, which they had occupied in order to protect the flank of their right wing.”

“Unfortunately for us the English heavy artillery, which would have smashed the beggars to bits, had not yet come up to help us, although we expected them with some anxiety, as the big business events began as soon as we drove the outposts back to their main lines.”

“However, we were quite equal to the preliminary task, and heartened by the news of the ammunition convoy which had been turned into a very pretty firework display by ‘Soixante-dix Pau.’  My Zouaves—­as you see I belong to the First Division, which has a reputation to keep up—­n’est-ce pas?—­were in splendid form.”

“They were just like athletes who want to be first off the mark, or rather perhaps I should say like bloodhounds on the scent.”

“Still, just to encourage them a little, don’t you know, I pulled out my revolver, showed it to my little ones, and said very gently that the first man who hesitated to advance under the fire of the German guns would be a dead man before he took a step to the rear. (In every regiment there are one or two men who want encouraging in this way.) Of course, they all laughed at me.  They wanted to get near those German guns, and nearer still to the gunners.  That was before they knew the exact meaning of shell-fire.  Well, they did good things, those Zouaves of mine.  But it wasn’t pleasant work.  We fought from village to village, very close fighting, so that sometimes we could look into our enemy’s eyes.  The Moroccans were with us, the native troops, unlike my boys who are Frenchmen, and they were like demons with their bayonet work.”

“Several of the villages were set on fire by the Germans before they retired from them, and soon great columns of smoke with pillars of flame and clouds of flying sparks rose up into the blue sky, and made a picture of hell there.  For really it was hell on earth.

“Our gunners were shelling the Germans from pillar to post, as it were, and strewing the ground with their dead.  It was across and among these dead bodies that we infantry had to charge.  They lay about in heaps, masses of bleeding flesh.  It made me sick, even in the excitement of it all.”

“The enemy’s quickfirers were marvellous.  I am bound to say we did not get it all our own way.  They always manoeuvre them in the same style, and very clever it is.  First of all they mask them with infantry.  Then when the French charge they reveal them and put us to the test under the most withering fire.  It is almost impossible to stand against it, and in this case we had to retire after each rush for about 250 metres.”

“Then quick as lightning the Germans got their mitrailleuses across the ground which we had yielded to them, and waited for us to come on again; when they repeated the same operation.”