d had the Hun made
a stand. The Normans scampered wildly into the one narrow road in the
stop-at-nothing rush that came naturally to them; some slipped down the
fields with Lewis-guns, and Fritz aware that his left flank was falling
back before the grim counter-attack of the 88th, retired with abrupt
haste. The Lewis-guns (a machine gun firing 700, or slightly over, shots
a minute--in theory, 500 in actual practice) in the fields found that
the German retreating line was by force of circumstance brought into
that most-deadly fire, enfilade (e.g., firing across a line from a point
of vantage at the flank). The guns opened without warning on the three
waves, more or less in mass due to the involuntary retreat. No more
adequate simile can convey the picture of the fast-falling figures than
that of grass beneath the scythe. Five minutes, perhaps ten, and it was
over. Bodies lay thick everywhere, and upon this area of wounded and
dying shells were casting square feet of flesh yards into the air.

German 'planes, viewing this massacre from above, swept down in swift
retribution, and flying low turned their machine-guns upon the
unprotected Normans. An aeroplane travels at anything from eighty to one
hundred miles an hour, and this very speed restricted a lengthy
concentration on any one spot, but many a Norman fell forward on his
face, a dozen leaden bullets in his skull and chest.

Duquemin, conscious and moaning piteously in agony, was lying crosswise
over his rifle, one leg smeared with blood, and the other reclining
grotesquely against the hedge twenty yards away. Doubled up on a hedge
top, rifle still levelled at the foe, a figure lay and upon its
shoulders a ghastly mess of brains and blood crushed flat in the steel
helmet. Duval stumbled blindly towards the dressing station, the flesh
gleaming red down one side of his face and an eye almost protruding. Le
Lievre limped away in the direction of Marcoing and walked for five
hours before succour came his way. Tich was lying face earthwards near
the Crucifix, a rifle shot in the very centre of his head. Rob, quiet,
gentle-natured Rob, fell forward against the semi-trench.

"I--I've got in--the head," he said weakly "I--I'm going, go--." He
collapsed ... life ebbed away and he was still.

BUT THE NORMANS HELD RUES VERTES.

The Germans launched a heavy offensive, for the retaking, wave after
wave, line after line, moving ponderously forward. The Norman rifles and
machin