The Admiral then played his last and trump card, and a battalion of the Legion, which till now had formed part of the reserve, rushed at the breach with the band playing and colours flying. These troops advanced at the _pas de charge_, and were met by a terrible fire; many fell, but they were not to be denied. In a few minutes the first ranks reached the edge of the ditch, and leaping down on to the slope of _débris_, formed by the stones and earth detached by the cannonade, they scrambled up to the breach, tore away the bamboo palisade, rushed, or were pushed, through it, and gained the crest. The Legionaries suffered fearful loss; and it is to be feared that, excited by this and the cruel murder of their wounded comrades, they gave little mercy to those who opposed them. Among the first to gain a footing in the place were a subaltern bearer of the colours, and big Mertens. The first was immediately shot dead, whereupon the sapper seized the flag, and, rushing to the ramparts, stood on them in view of the whole army. Waving the bullet-torn, powder-stained tricolour above his head, he shouted: "Vive la Belgique! Vive la Légion!" There was something grimly comical, but truly typical, in the conduct of this mercenary, who, forgetting the country for which he was fighting, and after just risking death a hundred times, coupled in his shout of triumph the name of his motherland and that of the corps to which he belonged. Mertens received the _médaille militaire_ for his bravery; and it is reported that Admiral Courbet, when complimenting him on the courage he had shown, said: "And you would have had the Legion of Honour had you cried, 'Vive la France!'" This last, however, is probably a soldier's yarn. With September came the manoeuvres which were held in the south of the province of Oran, and along the Morocco frontier towards the Tuat and the Figuig oases. My battalion went by train as far as Mecheria, where the column was concentrated. From this point we proceeded afoot to Ain-Sefra, and thence south, along the caravan routes into the desert. It was terribly hard work marching through the sand under the scorching African sun, laden as we were with all our kit. South of Ain-Sefra there is little or no vegetation, save at an occasional oasis. The landscape consists of stretches of sand hillocks, with here and there patches of mimosa and Alfa grass, the monotony being broken only at rare intervals by the brown tents of an Arab encampment. Fuel was so scarce that it was necessary to burn dry camel dung for cooking purposes. We had been out about ten days when I fell ill with typhoid fever, and was sent back to Sidi-bel-Abbes. The convoy of sick, of which I was a unit, travelled part of the way by camel or mule _cacolet_, and the remainder by rail.