The Downfall (La Débâcle): A Story of the Horrors of WarZola, Émile
General
The Downfall (La Débâcle): A Story of the Horrors of War
Zola, Émile
Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871 -- Fiction
'Don't be in such a hurry; it does no good,' remarked Laurent. 'There!
see that one who no longer has his helmet, at the corner by the
grocer's. Aim at him carefully. Why! that's first rate; you have broken
his leg! See how he's floundering about in his blood.'
Weiss, who was rather pale, looked at the man, and muttered, 'Finish
him off.'
'Waste a bullet? Not if I know it! Far better bring down another one.'
The attacking party had observed the galling fire directed upon them
from the garret windows. Not one of their men could advance without
being hit, and accordingly they brought up some fresh troops, who
received orders to riddle the roof with bullets. The garret then became
altogether untenable. The slates were transpierced as easily as though
they had been mere sheets of paper; and, with a buzzing like that of
bees, the projectiles flew into the attic here, there, and everywhere.
At each moment the defenders were in danger of being killed.
'Let's go down,' said the captain. 'We can still hold out on the first
floor.' As he was stepping towards the ladder, however, a bullet struck
him in the groin and he fell: 'Too late! Curse it!' he muttered.
With the help of the remaining soldier, Weiss and Laurent insisted upon
carrying him down, although he told them not to waste time in attending
on him. His account was settled, he remarked, and he might just as well
kick the bucket up there as down below. However, when they had laid him
on a bed, in a room on the first floor, he became desirous of still
directing the defence.
'Fire into the lot of them--don't trouble about anything else. They
are too prudent to risk coming forward as long as your fire doesn't
slacken.'
And, indeed, the siege of the little house continued as though it
were to last for ever. A score of times it seemed upon the point of
being carried by the tempest of lead that assailed it; but through the
hurricane and the smoke it again and again appeared to view, still
standing, dented, perforated, and lacerated, but none the less vomiting
bullets from every aperture. Exasperated at losing so many men, at
being kept so long at bay by such a paltry shanty, the assailants were
fairly howling with rage, but they continued firing from a distance,
lacking the courage to rush forward and burst open the door and windows
below.
'Look out!' suddenly exclaimed the corporal; 'a shutter is falling.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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