As we approached the buildings the report of the musketry became more
distinct from the roar of cannon, and we could better see the flash of
the guns from the windows, and the great black roof above in the smoke,
and the road blocked up with stones.
We went along by a hedge, behind which crackled the fire of our
skirmishers, for the first brigade of Alix's division had not quitted
the orchards; and on seeing us filing along the road, they commenced to
shout, "Vive l'Empereur."
The whole fire of the German musketry was then turned on us, when
Marshal Ney drew his sword and shouted in a voice which reached every
ear, "Forward!"
He disappeared in the smoke with two or three officers, and we all
started on a run, our cartridge-boxes dangling about our hips, and our
muskets at the "ready."
Far to the rear they were beating the charge; we did not see the
marshal again till we reached a shed which separated the garden from
the road, when we discovered him on horseback before the main entrance.
It appeared that they had already tried to force the door, as there was
a heap of dead men, timbers, paving stones, and rubbish piled up before
it, reaching to the middle of the road. The shot poured from every
opening in the building, and the air was heavy with the smell of the
powder.
"Break that in," shouted the marshal. Fifteen or twenty of us dropped
our muskets, and seizing beams we drove them against the door with such
force, that it cracked and echoed back the blows like thunder. You
would have thought it would drop at every stroke; we could see through
the planks the paving stones heaped as high as the top inside. It was
full of holes, and when it fell it might have crushed us, but fury had
rendered us blind to danger. We no longer had any resemblance to men,
some had lost their shakos, others had their clothes nearly torn off;
the blood ran from their fingers and down their sides, and at every
discharge of musketry the shot from the hill struck the paving stones,
pounding them to dust around us.
I looked about me, but I could not see either Buche or Zebede or any
others of our company, the marshal had disappeared also. Our rage
redoubled; and as the timbers went back and forth, we grew furious to
find that the door would not come down, when suddenly we heard shouts
of "Vive l'Empereur" from the court, accompanied with a most horrible
uproar. Every one knew that our troops had gained an entrance into the
enclosure. We dropped the timbers, and seizing our guns we sprang
through the breaches into the garden to find where the others had
entered. It was in the rear of the house through a door opening into
the barn. We rushed through one after the other like a pack of wolves.
The interior of this old structure, with its lofts full of hay and
straw, and its stables covered with thatch, looked like a bloody nest
which had been attacked by a sparrow-hawk.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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