The Young Franc Tireurs, and Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War. Henty George Alfred
they had received was correct; and that the Uhlans, about two hundred strong, had entered Blamont that afternoon, and had laid a requisition of twenty thousand francs upon the inhabitants, besides a considerable amount of stores of all sorts.
At three o'clock they were roused and found, to their great pleasure, that the rain had ceased. Guided by one of the villagers, they made their way down to a point where the wood approached quite close to the road, at a narrow point of the valley. Here Major Tempe posted his men along in the wood. Several coils of wire had been brought with them; and these were now stretched tightly from tree to tree, at a distance of about eighteen inches from the ground. Some forty yards farther back, young trees were felled and branches cut; and these were laid with the bushy parts towards the road, wires being twisted here and there among them, so as to form abattis perfectly impenetrable for horsemen, and difficult in the extreme for infantry. All worked hard and, by eight o'clock in the morning, everything was in readiness.
A small party had been left upon the high ground near Halloville, and one of them had brought down news every half hour. Soon after daybreak, a party of Uhlans had been seen to leave Blamont, and to visit Barbas and Harboise–two villages in the flat of Blamont–and then to retire, driving some cattle and sheep before them. At ten o'clock the rest of the men from Halloville came down, with the news that the Uhlans–about two hundred strong–had just left Blamont, and were coming down the valley.
Each man now took the station allotted to him: thirty men behind the trees, next to the road; the main body being stationed behind the abattis, each man having previously settled upon a spot where he could fire through the leaves, which entirely concealed them from view from the road. Number one company was placed to the right and, consequently, near to Blamont. Ralph and Percy were both in the front line, behind the trees.
Not a shot was to be fired, on any consideration, until Major Tempe gave the word. The men behind the trees were all ordered to lie down among the low undergrowth and brushwood. The line extended nearly a hundred yards. The waterproofs, blankets, and all other impediments had been left behind at Halloville, so that the men had the free use of their arms. The rifles were loaded, the pouches shifted round so as to be ready at hand and–orders having been given that not a word should be spoken, even in a whisper–a perfect silence reigned over the spot.
Ralph and Percy were near to each other. They had exchanged a hearty grip of the hand, before lying down; and now lay, with beating hearts and hands firmly grasping their rifles, in readiness for the signal.
The time was not very long–only a few minutes–but it seemed to them an age before they heard the tramp of horses. Nearer and nearer they came, and now they could hear the jingling of accouterments First, through their leafy screen, they could see two Uhlans pass at a walk; scanning keenly the woods, and looking for possible danger. The bushes were thick, and they noticed nothing, and kept on at the same pace. It is probable, indeed, that they really anticipated no possibility of an attack, as the Dijon franc tireurs were the first who appeared upon the scene of action; and the Prussians were, consequently, in entire ignorance of the vicinity of any armed body of the enemy and, at worst, apprehended a stray shot from a straggler from one of the French armies, hidden in the woods.
In another minute or two four more Uhlans passed; and after the same interval came the main body, escorting a number of cattle and sheep. The greater portion had passed the spot where the boys were lying, and were opposite the whole line of franc tireurs, when the silence of the wood was broken by Major Tempe's shout:
"Now!"
Before the Uhlans had time to rein in their horses, or to ask each other what was the meaning of the cry, the flash of thirty rifles broke from the trees, and several men fell from their horses. There was a momentary panic, followed by a hurried discharge of carbines at the invisible foe.
The captain of the Uhlans–a handsome young officer, with light mustache and beard–shouted to his men:
"Steady, they are only a handful. Form line, charge!"
Quickly as the maneuver was executed, the franc tireurs had time to fire again; and then–in accordance with their orders–retreated, and joined their comrades by passages left in the abattis, on purpose. In another instant the Uhlans charged but, as quickly, the direst confusion reigned, where before had been a regular line. The wire had served its purpose. Horses and men went down on the top of each other, and thirty rifles again fumed their deadly hail into the confused mass.
The second line of Uhlans–who had not charged–returned the fire of their invisible enemies and, although they could not see them, several of the balls took effect. Nothing could be cooler than the officers of the Uhlans, and their voice and example steadied their men. Under cover of the fire of their comrades the men, in part, extricated themselves and their horses, and drew back behind the wood. Orders were then given for all to dismount and, leaving their horses to be held by parties of their comrades–four horses to one man–the rest advanced on foot against their apparently greatly inferior foe, keeping up a heavy fire with their carbines. This was what the commandant of the franc tireurs had hoped for, and expected.
The wire had been broken down by the weight of the horses; and the Prussians advanced, opposed only by a feeble return to their heavy fire, until within five paces of the leafy wall. Then the fire from a hundred rifles flashed out upon them.
The effect was terrible, and a cry of surprise and rage burst from those who had escaped its effect. It was evident that they had fallen into an ambush. The captain–wild with rage and mortification, at the fault he had committed–rushed forward; and his men gallantly seconded his efforts. In vain, however, did they try to separate the interlaced boughs while, as they struggled, the shots from the enemy flashed out thick and fast. In another moment the young captain threw up his arms and fell, shot through the heart. The officer next in command ordered a retreat, the horses were regained and, amidst a continuous fire from the franc tireurs, the diminished troop galloped back towards Blamont.
The franc tireurs now quitted their leafy fortress. A small party was at once sent forward up the valley, to give notice if the Uhlans showed any signs of returning. A strong body set to work to drive in the scattered animals–which were galloping wildly about the valley–while the rest collected the dead and wounded.
Of the franc tireurs eight were killed, fourteen wounded. Of the Uhlans forty-seven were killed, and nineteen wounded remained on the ground. Their large number of killed, in proportion to the wounded, was accounted for by the fact that the firing was so close that, in many cases, the coats of the dead men were actually singed by the explosion; while the slightly wounded men had been able to regain their horses, and escape.
The first impulse of the young Barclays, when the fire ceased, was to turn round and to embrace each other with delight–on finding that they had each escaped without a scratch–and then to shake hands heartily with their cousins, whose fortune had been equally good. There was no time for words, however; for Major Tempe's order came, sharp and decisive:
"You the Barclays, you also the Duburgs, sling your arms, and go assist to drive in the cattle. Quick, lose no time.
"You have done well. I am content with you, my boys."
With a flush of pleasure, the boys started off to carry out the orders; which had been given, by their commander, with the kind thought of sparing the lads the terrible sight of the battle ground.
The short but desperate conflict through which they had passed seemed, to the young Barclays, almost like a dream. In the excitement of loading and firing, in the tumult and the rattle, they had scarcely had time even to give a thought to the danger.
Fear is seldom felt by the soldier when engaged in close conflict. The time when his nerves are most tried is while waiting inactive, at a distance, exposed to a heavy shell fire; or while advancing to an attack, under a storm of musketry and artillery. In a hand-to-hand conflict, he has no time to think. His nerves are strung up to so high a pitch that he no longer thinks of danger, or death. His whole thoughts are given to loading and firing.
Any thought that the boys had given to danger was not for themselves, but for each other; and Ralph–though his own position was unsheltered–had once or twice spoken, to Percy, to keep his body better sheltered by the trees behind