Meantime, he hurried
his advance to Auberive, captured the village, though after another
hour's delay, caused by the resistance of the cavalry, who retreated
to St. Hilaire.
Meantime, at St. Hilaire, the surprise charge of the Death's Head
Hussars was launched. It was scarcely a question of minutes, it
was rather a matter of seconds. But the French artillery knew their
light fieldpieces as thoroughly as the Germans were masters of
the heavy guns. In less than two minutes the artillery teams were
unharnessed, the guns were in position and the gunners took their
places when the Hussars were so near the voices of their leaders
could be heard. Thirty seconds earlier, and the Hussars would have
been in among the guns and made a notable capture. There was just
time enough for a man to breathe twice, when the order came to
fire. The Hussars were at less than a hundred yards' range. As the
shrapnel burst, the front squadrons seemed to stumble and fall.
The ranks were so near that the change from living human beings
into mangled pieces of flesh and rags could clearly be seen. More
than one veteran gunner felt squeamish at the sight. But the rear
squadrons, though their horses' hoofs were squelching in the blood
of their comrades of a moment before, never blenched or faltered
but swept on at a thundering gallop. Again the guns spoke, and
again. That was all. Amid the vines, here and there a writhing
figure could be seen, or a wounded horse endeavoring to rise, and
here and there a straggler striving to escape.
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