Finally, when forced back to the Marne, after three days of incessant fighting--pounded by the French guns, broken by the fury of the French infantry, ripped by slashing onslaughts of the French horse--the Germans still made effort after effort to recover and to re-form. Of the struggle on the Marne, Mr. William Maxwell says:-- I was fortunate enough to meet a non-commissioned officer who watched from an eminence the critical phase of the battle which routed the German centre. This is the substance of his story, which has since been corroborated by officers of my acquaintance. The enemy had been driven back fighting for three days, until they came to the river. There they made a desperate stand. Masses of them appeared on the flat and in the undulations of the ground--they seemed like the sands on the sea shore for numbers. They came on in masses and kept up a terrible fire from rifle and machine-gun. But our infantry were not to be denied; they advanced in short rushes and in open order, while shells rained down upon the enemy, and rifles opened great gaps in their ranks. "I began," said the sergeant, "to count the dead, but I soon found that impossible. Suddenly I heard a great shout, and turning to my left I saw a sight that made my heart stand still. Our cavalry were charging down on the enemy's cavalry." In the bright sunshine their lances and sabres looked like a shower of falling stars. There was an avalanche of men and horses and cold steel. Huge gaps were torn in the enemy's ranks--and the whole thing was over in a few minutes. The German horsemen seemed to vanish into the earth. Stubborn courage, however, was of no avail. In a brief six days that mighty host had been reduced to a military ruin. They had advanced in the confidence that they were irresistible. Down the valley of the Oise, over the highlands of Champagne they had streamed, in endless columns of men and guns. The earth had shaken beneath the rumble of their artillery and trembled under the hoofs of their horsemen; every road had re-echoed the united tread of their battalions; every horizon had bristled with the flash of their bayonets and sabres; every town and village had felt their arrogance as they "requisitioned" its foodstuffs, consumed its wines, slept in its beds, laid hands on whatever they fancied, and summoned mayors and officials before them to learn their will, and collect their "fines." On the substance of this country of the Marne they had revelled, imagining that the world was theirs.