rre Laserre, described
this retreat in the words, "Their bodies were retreating, but not
their souls!" This is proven by the arrival on the fifth of September
of Joffre's immortal order, "The hour has come to hold our positions
at any cost, and to fight rather than retreat.... No longer must we
look at the enemy over our shoulders; the time has come to employ all
our efforts in attacking and defeating him."... That evening, when
they heard their leader's appeal, the hearts of the men bounded in
response. The next morning, at dawn, their bodies leaped up and hurled
themselves on the enemy. Therein lay the miracle of the Marne!

Finally, at the very hour when the fighting spirit of the French Army
had never been higher, the fighting spirit of the German Army had
never been lower. It was low because the physical strength of the
Germans was low, worn out, and broken by the shameful orgies, the
disgraceful drinking which had reduced these men to the level of
swine. It was low because the German fighting men had been led to
believe that they would have to fight no longer, that the great effort
was ended, that there was no French Army to put a stop to their
pillaging and burning. "Tomorrow we enter Paris, we are going to the
Moulin Rouge," von Kluck's soldiers said in their jargon to the
inhabitants of Compiegne. "Tomorrow we will burn Bar-le-Duc,
Poincare's home town," the Crown Prince's soldiers said. What sort of
resistance could such men oppose to Joffre's soldiers? Their spirit,
granting that they had ever had any, was broken beforehand. And that
is another thing that will explain the outcome of the Battle of the
Marne.

* * * * *

What Paris knew very quickly, very completely and very surely were the
details of frightful looting and of the first atrocities perpetrated
by the Germans, who demonstrated a premeditated intention to destroy,
defile and wipe out everything in their path. And Paris was doubtless
the first city in France to comprehend the significance of this war,
which is a war of civilization against barbarism, a sacred war in
which the forces of humanity raise a rampart of human breasts against
the violent reappearance of primitive savagery.

Those of us who had a hand in some part of the Battle of the Marne
were not slow to comprehend who the enemy was we were fighting and why
we had to fight him to the death.

Among the many things that will be always engraved on the tab