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Updated: June 2, 2025
The light tanks were scurrying along the single village street. Horsemen raced here and there. A pig squealed. There was a shot. The tanks emerged from the other side. They went crawling swiftly toward the south. But they did not turn aside where the villagers had. They headed along the way Coburn had driven to Ardea. Infantrymen appeared, marching into the village. An advance party, rifles ready.
Four thousand German troops, engaged in the work of burying the dead as fast as they fell, had been unable to clear the field of even their own dead after eight days, while the field was strewn with the bodies of French infantrymen, in their far-to-be-seen red-and-blue uniforms, swarthy-faced Turcos, colonials, Alpine riflemen and bearded territorials. There came a lull in the fighting.
"And now we have seen thirty infantrymen on one horse for the first time in our lives!" cried the grenadier who had shot the mare, the one solitary joke that sustained the Frenchmen's reputation for wit. Before long the poor fellows huddled themselves up in their clothes, and lay down on planks of timber, on anything but the bare snow, and slept heedless of the morrow.
An escort of eleven colored infantrymen, led by a sergeant, apparently deserted by the Major, fought well, but was driven away after five of the soldiers had been wounded. Thirteen bandits were understood to have been implicated. Eight individuals were arrested. There was trial at Tucson, where Wham and the soldiers were notably poor witnesses and where the defendants were acquitted.
McGee knew little enough about the American infantrymen, but he did know that "for tricks that are vain" Bret Harte's famous heathen Chinee had nothing on the average soldier of the line, be he American, English, French or a black man from Senegal. Cautiously he felt out a clear space, spread his coat over the rough timbers and was soon sound asleep.
This is outrageous! Half the men have dispersed." "Where are you off to?... Where?..." he shouted to three infantrymen without muskets who, holding up the skirts of their overcoats, were slipping past him into the Bazaar passage. "Stop, you rascals!" "But how are you going to stop them?" replied another officer. "There is no getting them together.
And God with us!" "God with us!" as Partow had said, over and over The saying had come to be repeated by hard-headed, agnostic staff-officers, who believed that the deity had no relation to the efficiency of gun-fire. The Brown infantrymen even were beginning to mutter it in the midst of action.
This was so evident to Lieutenant Blake that he speedily burst into a laugh, the first that had been heard, and when two or three heads popped out from behind their printed screens to inquire into the cause of his mirth, that light-hearted gentleman was seen sprawling his long legs apart and gazing out of the window after the groups of infantrymen.
Peering back out of the body of the chariot now and then, she saw a little. The Romans were charging this way and that, forcing their passage down the street, barred no longer by a mere mob, but by Achillas's infantrymen, who were hastening into action. The chariot horses were wounded, some seriously; she was sure of that.
They stood to their piece to the bitter end. Two of them were killed beside it, another was severely wounded, a fourth, refusing to run, took refuge under the gun, and miraculously escaped death. But the gallant example of the artillerymen in their front did not hearten the infantrymen of the leading square. The panic spread among them, and they broke and fled. Fortunately they were not pursued.
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