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Updated: June 28, 2025
"Yes, dear." "Then Chanzy is coming back from Oran. I know you dread it. We shall talk of nothing but Abd-el-Kader and Spahis and Turcos, and how we lost our Kabyle tobacco at Bou-Youb." She had heard all about it, too; she knew every étape of the 48th of the Line from the camp at Sathonay to Sidi-Bel-Abbès, and from Daya to Djebel-Mikaidon.
Some regiments of the 7th corps, more particularly those that had been stationed about Floing, had left the field in tolerably good order, but in the Fond de Givonne there was no longer either organization or command; the troops were a pushing, struggling mob, composed of debris from regiments of every description, zouaves, turcos, chasseurs, infantry of the line, most of them without arms, their uniforms soiled and torn, with grimy hands, blackened faces, bloodshot eyes starting from their sockets and lips swollen and distorted from their yells of fear or rage.
They thought at first that it was a bunch of Turcos or of Germans wanting to surrender. They opened fire, and the man with the white disk turned and started running back and they saw that the other side of the disk bore the ominous black cross. He was a marker for their artillery. He did not run far. Marshall had a rifle and bayonet and knew how to use them.
Half an hour after the arrival of the British wounded, a party of thirty Turcos wounded in the battle of Guise came in and were in turn accorded an ovation. According to one of the men, they fought for nine days and nights without a break, but were gratified in the end by beating back the enemy. With one voice they declared that they are impatient to get back again into the fighting line.
With a pass from the French commandant at Calais, I got on board one of these trains down at the railroad yards at dawn. This lot were Turcos, under the command of a white-haired veteran of African campaigns. An utter change of atmosphere from the freight shed! Perhaps it is only the wounded who have time to think.
Charles Mansfeld had been left behind with a reserved force, stationed on the Meuse; Ottavio Gonzaga commanded in front, Ernest Mansfeld brought up the rear; while in the centre rode Don John himself, attended by the Prince of Parma. Over his head streamed the crucifix-emblazoned banner, with its memorable inscription In hoc signo vici Turcos, in hoc Haereticos vincam.
Hayes declared: "The battle front these days is far different from what it used to be. There are few men to be seen, and practically no guns. All are concealed. Shrapnel flies through the air and bursts. That is the scene most of the time. In the hand-to-hand fighting bayonets are used much by the French, while the Turcos use knives." "Shall you go back?" Col. Hayes was asked.
A company of infantry was guarding about six hundred prisoners, who with folded arms and lowering faces were standing among the ruins. They were of all ages, grades, and uniforms, boys of fifteen and old men, general officers covered with gold lace, and beggars in rags: Avengers of Flourens, Children of Père Duchêne, Chasseurs and Zouaves, Lascars, Turcos, and Hussars.
They were but fifteen hundred or so in all a single squadron of Chasseurs, two battalions of Zouaves, half a corps of Tirailleurs, and some Turcos; only a branch of the main body, and without artillery.
Through their lines ran the frightened and disorganized Turcos, groaning and shrieking in agony and fright.
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