Josh could hardly contain himself. He jumped up and down “like a flea,” as Hanky Panky afterwards explained it in his peculiar fashion. Indeed, to hear Josh letting out shrieks and cries one would have imagined the whole battle of the Marne ford had been staged for his particular benefit, and that he was enjoying the lively scene with all his heart.
Now some of the Frenchmen were crawling up the bank. They found shelter, such as it was, and immediately began to make good use of their guns, aiming so as to cut down those who were rattling the quick-firing weapons not far away.
More and more came up out of the depths, some of them wounded it was true, but with undiminished ardor hurrying on. With the climax of their ambition at hand and an opportunity for a fight at close quarters with the hated enemy granted to them, why should they mind such a small thing as a bullet in the shoulder, or it might be a leg that dragged as they walked?
The fire and enthusiasm that filled their hearts prevented them from falling out of the line. Some in fact would not know they had been injured until it was all over but the cheering, and a weakness began to overcome them, with the excitement on which they had been living having passed away.
Josh was waving his hat wildly now. Despite the noise and confusion he shouted out his views. In so doing he gave the “escape valve” something to do, and likely enough worked no harm.
“And to think it’s all owing to the work of that one brave fellow!” was the burden of his outcries.
“I’m taking off my hat to him right now. I salute him, living or dead! His family will be proud of him when they learn what a grand thing he really did. Talk to me about the Cross of the Legion of Honor; why, that man ought to be made a general–if he lives!”
The Germans had by no means given up, even when they realized that after all the French had won the passage of the ford. They had been given the task of defending the crossing with their lives, and showed the customary German disregard for death in staying after all was lost.
But more and more French were getting over now. They came from every quarter, all filled with ardor and a desire to get in the fight over there. The guns too were being brought closer to the river, so that the retreating Germans might be shelled warmly as they left the scene of their stubborn combat.
How they splashed across that shallow place in the stream Rod would never forget. Some, getting off the main ford, found themselves in water breast-high; others actually had to swim for it, holding their guns above their heads so that they might not get wet and refuse to continue the good work of chasing off the Germans.