Terrible as it was, it was an awe-inspiring sight that Hal and Chester, far back with General Petain and staff, witnessed through their glasses that late afternoon.
In dense masses the French hurled themselves against the German trenches; and in great masses they were hurled back again—those of them who did not lie upon the ground. Time after time the French charged what appeared to be impregnable trenches. Then, on their fifth effort, they reached their goal and surged into the trenches.
Immediately all was confusion there. An unguarded moment meant a man's death. Struggling as they were, it was, at times, almost impossible to tell friend from foe. But the troops distinguished somehow, and for what seemed ages they battled there, hand-to-hand.
German reinforcements rushed up in a valiant effort to save the day. General Petain threw out supports for his own infantry. All these surged into the trenches and added their quota to the terrible din.
Several times the German cavalry charged, their riders dismounting when they reached the struggling mass of humanity and plunging into the fray with sabres and revolvers. But each time they were beaten off.
Gradually the French cleared the trenches. The Germans gave slowly at first; then more swiftly. The French pursued them with loud cries. The enemy broke and fled.
Again German reinforcements rushed to the attack. The French met them in the open, beyond the third line German trenches. The fighting was something terrible; but flushed with victory as they were, there could be but one ending.
A German bugle sounded a recall; and at almost the same moment the evening sun settled beyond the distant eastern hills.
The French had won the day!
Hal and Chester looked at each other. Then, even as the entire French staff broke into a loud cheer, the two lads grasped hands.