rder 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. It was level open
country; twice again the guns roared, five rounds in all, and all
movement ceased. The engagement had lasted less than five minutes
and of those two thousand splendid horsemen not one escaped. The
French artillerists picked up the wounded and sent them back to
Rheims to receive nursing and care, and then hurried on to the
action whither they were bound when surprised by the Hussars.

The infantry of the Germans and of the French were now coming to
hand grips. A battalion of Zouaves was creeping round to attack
the advancing column in the rear. The German commander at Nogent
l'Abbesse learned from his air scouts what was happening. He saw
the peril of the advancing column, that it was almost surrounded,
and, he threw further columns into the fray, to cover the retreat.
The sortie on the railway had now become impossible. General Foch
had moved too quickly. But, even so, the peril was great, for the
German force was almost cut off. It meant the loss of 15,000 men
and artillery, or it meant the sacrifice of some one corps to cover
the retreat. The latter course was chosen.

Three thousand of the Guards Corps, the flower of the Prussian
Army, were sent like a catapult at the gap in the French line,
immediately in front of Rheims. Five times they charged, and with
such heroic daring and such penetrative energy that General Foch
did not dare break from his position. As they came up for the fifth
assault, a wild cheer of admiration broke out along the French line.
But the rifles spoke steadily, none the less for that. After the
fifth assault, barely a hundred men were left, nearly all wounded.
They reversed rifles, a sign of surrender, and in all honor they
were received by General Foch, who conducted them to