The short sharp whistle of bullets even
began to mingle with the peculiar shrill wailing sound of the sugarloaf
shot, and on the plateau beyond, slender lines of infantry, diverging
very far apart, could be seen moving swiftly onward. They ran forward,
flung themselves down, there was a succession of sudden flashes, little
clouds of white smoke rose, a confusing medley of sharp, rattling
reports followed, contrasting disagreeably with the deep, rolling
thunder of the artillery; then the men were on their feet again,
rushing on, no longer in a perfectly straight line, some in advance,
others a little behind, with their faces turned towards the sun,
beneath whose rays the red breeches flamed in a vivid, bloody hue, and
buttons, bayonets, all polished bits of metal alternately flashed and
vanished.
The force of artillery was too weak to risk an advance. The colonel
who commanded the batteries ordered some shrapnels to be thrown among
the advancing lines of French infantry, and was about to move his
cannon a little farther back, when an aide dashed up from the right and
reported that he had ridden on in advance of the 38th brigade of
infantry, one regiment was close behind him, the other was marching as
rapidly as possible, and would soon arrive.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139