Although this repulse of the British army at every point was a decided victory for the German gunners, Field Marshal von Heeringen had been impressed by two things:  the courage of the British attacking army, and the destructiveness of the French artillery on the south bank of the river.  The German commander withdrew all his men from the advanced trenches on between the ridge and the river, keeping, however, strongly intrenched detachments of riflemen at all commanding points with powerful artillery as their support.

Sunday night was a veritable pandemonium of destruction and tumult.  All night long, without cessation, the batteries of both sides, knowing exactly their opponents’ range, fired perpetually.  All night long searchlight bombs were thrown.  All night long, golden and red and yellow streams of flame or the sudden jagged flash of an explosion lit up the black smoke of burning buildings and fields in the valley, or showed the white puff-like low clouds of the bursting shrapnel.  Not for an instant did the roar diminish, not for a second was the kindly veil of night left unrent by a fissure of vengeful flame.  Yet, all night long, as ceaselessly as the great guns poured out their angry fury, so did men pour out their indomitable will, and in that hell light of battle flame engineers labored to construct bridges, small bodies of troops moved forward to join their comrades in the trenches who had been able to make a footing the day before, and all night long, those ghastly yet merciful accompaniments of a battle field—­the ambulance corps—­carried on their work of relief.  The searchlights swept up and down the valley, like great eyes that watched to give direction to the venom of war.

At three o’clock in the morning of Monday, September 14, 1914, two regiments were sent to capture a sugar factory strongly held by the enemy.  That sugar factory became a maelstrom.  Three more regiments had to be brought up and finally the guards, and even thus heavily overpowered, the Germans successfully defended it until noon.  They sold their lives dearly—­those defenders.  That sugar factory stood on that Monday as did Hogoumont at Waterloo.  It delayed the advance of the entire First Corps, but at four o’clock in the afternoon, Sir Douglas Haig ordered a general advance.  The last afternoon and evening scored a distinct success for the English arms, and when at last it grew absolutely too dark to see, that corps held a position stretching from Troton to La Cour de Soupir.  Its chief importance, however, was that it gave the Allies a strongly intrenched position on the plateau itself.

It was of this day’s fighting that, almost a month later, Sir John French was able to say in his official dispatches: 

“The action of the First Corps on this day under the direction and command of Sir Douglas Haig was of so skillful, bold, and decisive a character that he gained positions which alone have enabled me to maintain my position for more than three weeks of very severe fighting on the north bank of the river.”