No information reached me except that the enemy was bombarding the Forts violently. As a matter of fact, my position at the Wandre bridge constituted a second line of defence, for, at a certain distance in front of us, fortress troops occupied the ground between the Pontisse Fort and the Meuse. I had not much faith in the value of these soldiers, as they belonged to our former recruiting system. They had left their regiments years ago and had only been under arms again four days. My estimation turned out to be true. At midnight, a sustained firing was suddenly heard in front of us and, very soon after, the fortress troops endeavoured to reach the town by the roads I was defending. I rushed forward to meet them and ordered them to return to their position, threatening to shoot those who disobeyed. They started back, but the darkness prevented my seeing whether they really returned to their posts, or whether they slipped round on our left flank. Towards one o'clock, my sentinels fired and, immediately, the bonfires were lighted. An intense firing then took place, principally from the Herstal-Vivegnis road. The German musketry and machine-guns replied. A few minutes later, the firing was less intense and was heard farther away. The enemy had been obliged to retreat, but, before long returned in greater force, by parallel streets. Once more our firing compelled them to retreat. They then rushed into the gardens, passed through the houses and advanced along the street which cuts the Herstal-Vivegnis road perpendicularly. This street was simply swept from one end to the other by our soldiers, hidden in the houses skirting the right of the square. After suffering frightful losses, the Germans were obliged to escape and take shelter in the gardens. Fresh troops appeared and attempted to force the passage. The attacks continued uninterruptedly. Mingled with the sound of the orders, of the shouts and cries of "Forward!" could be heard the firing of the guns and the dull thud of bodies falling to the ground. Whole groups of German foot-soldiers were lying in the streets, at equal distances, their hands clenching the butt end of their guns, guarding their ranks even in death. They lay there, showing their breasts, torn open by the balls, and their hideous wounds. Blood trickled over the footpaths and over the roads, there was blood on the fronts of the houses, blood everywhere. Huge flames from the bonfires lighted up this scene of carnage. The flames danced, jumped, mingled with each other in golden wreaths, throwing long shadows which seemed to be climbing and running along the walls....