"Now I have French soldiers enough on this
side of the river. Forward!"
Forward they went, at a double-quick, directly at the French. The
cannon boomed, the musketry rattled; but the rain soon silenced the
latter.
"Boys," shouted Major von Othegraven to his battalion of the
Brandenburg regiment, "if we cannot shoot them, we can club them!"
And amid loud cheers the soldiers turned their muskets, and struck
their enemies with the butts. A terrible hand-to-hand struggle
ensued--howls of pain, dreadful abuse and imprecations burst from
both sides; but at length they ceased on this part of the field: the
Brandenburg soldiers had killed a whole French battalion with the
stocks of their muskets! [Footnote: Beitzke, vol. ii., p. 204.]
The battle raged on amid the terrible storm beating on the
combatants. The wind blew violently, and the rain descended in
torrents. The men sank ankle-deep in the softened soil, but
"Forward!" sounded the battle-cry, and the soldiers left their shoes
in the mud, rushing in their socks or bare-footed on the enemy, who
fought with lion-hearted courage, here receding and there advancing.
"Father Blucher, we are doing well to-day!" shouted the soldiers to
their chieftain, galloping up to the infantry.
"Yes, we are doing well," cried Blucher; "but wait, boys--we shall
do still better!"
At this moment the artillery boomed from the other side.
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