The Duc de Grammont committed the common and deadly error of despising his enemy; believing the advancing force to be but a part of the British Army, he left his entrenchments with the object apparently, of crushing it before its main body came up, but it was in fact the main body, which he had to engage. This advance had a double effect in favour of King George; the French guns across the river, which had been making fearful play on the English ranks, had to cease fire, as the French very soon came in close proximity to their foes, and were as likely to be hit by their own gunners as the English. Therefore our men were relieved from this demoralizing flank fire. This movement of the Duc de Grammont rendered the excellent dispositions of his uncle valueless. But an untoward incident, at the very commencement, delayed for a time the fruits of this error being gathered and very nearly deprived the British Army of its royal commander; King George’s horse ran away with him in the direction of the enemy. This was a paralysing spectacle for our own men! Fortunately, however, the King succeeded in pulling him round before he got close enough for the French to grab him, and he returned in safety if not in triumph to his own lines. This incident, however, determined the brave little man to take a certain course; he got off his horse. “I vill go on my legs,” he remarked cheerfully, “dey cannot run away with me!” But the enemy’s cavalry, composed of the _élite_ of the French Army, were now advancing; the King drew his sword and placed himself at the head of his Grenadiers. Waving his sword, he cheered them on, the last King of England who led his soldiers into battle. “Now boys,” he cried, “now for the honour of England; fire and behave bravely, and the French will soon run!” All this was very fine, but the French did _not_ run, at first; they came on in a wild charge and considerably shook our infantry, so much so, that it required all the energy of the King and his son--who, with the rank of Major-General, led the left wing--to get them steady again. The father and son certainly did not spare themselves on this day; even when the Duke was wounded in the leg he refused to leave the field. No wonder that poor Frederick at home was boiling with jealousy. Maréchal Noailles from the other side of the river, where he was organizing a supporting movement, saw his nephew’s error, and hastened back to Dettingen; but he arrived too late. King George, at the head of a brigade of infantry, had swept the French from their position and cleared the road to Hanau and the much needed food and stores. The French loss in the retreat was frightfully heavy, and the French Maréchal very wisely drew off the remainder of his troops to the other side of the river, with a list of killed and wounded which totalled up to six thousand men.