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 Hotel 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.

He was filled with an unreasoning rage.  He did not hate any one of the Germans who were fighting on the other side of Chastel, but the anger that seized him when he found Julie missing was still heavy upon him.  Before, whenever he had fired at an enemy he had usually felt a secret hope that the bullet would miss, but now he prayed that every one would hit.  Bougainville pulled him down.  “Not too fast!  Not too fast!” he said.  “You’re worth more alive than dead.  We’ll soon drive them from Chastel anyhow.  The seventy-fives are doing the work.”

Bougainville had read the story of the battle aright.  The great seventy-five-millimeter guns were too much for the German force.  As the houses of Chastel were swept away the enemy on the other side was left exposed, and the Germans, despite their courage and energy, were cut down fast.  Aid for the French was coming continually.  New regiments rushed up the snowy slopes.  John heard a shout behind him, and Captain Colton and the Strangers coming from afar rushed into the battle.  As they were about to swing past John joined Wharton and Carstairs.

“We thought you were gone forever this time,” shouted Carstairs.  “There seems to be a special Providence for you Yankees!”

“It’s skill, not luck, that counts!” exclaimed Wharton.

John joined them, and Bougainville, taking command of the whole battle, directed the charge upon the town.  The spirits of the French were at the highest, and shouting tremendously they soon passed through Chastel and drove the enemy beyond it, headlong into the forest.  Having superior numbers now, a better knowledge of the ground and led by a man of genius like Bougainville, they soon broke up the German force, capturing a part of it, while the rest fleeing eastward, burst through the French trenches, and, after further heavy losses, succeeded in getting back to the main German army.

The pursuit was carried on some time by the French cavalry which had appeared as the last charge was made, but Bougainville, with the clear note of trumpets, recalled the infantry.  He was satisfied with the victory that had been won in Chastel, and he did not wish to exhaust his troops with vain rushes in the deep snow.