A private of the 12th Lancers gives the following account of a ride for life. He does not tell us where the incident took place, but it may have been at Bourg.
"We had," he says, "to cross a river and canal by means of pontoon bridges, as the permanent iron ones were blown away by the enemy. Half of the brigade got safely across, when the enemy started shelling the bridges with six big guns. The half that had not yet come over returned to safety; not so we. We were trapped in the town, and had to take shelter as best we could along the street. It was about the worst experience one could have gone through. To see those sixty-pound shells hit houses twenty and thirty yards away, and explode in the centre of troops, was awful.
"One shell burst in a garden ten yards from where I was standing, but luckily there was a heavy wall between. I was knocked flat by the shock of the explosion; and soon the place became too hot to hold us, as it was in flames. Then the ride through death took place. One by one we had to retire at full gallop across a pontoon with six big guns trained on it, and two or three explosions taking place every half-minute. I was next man after the colonel to cross, so I set my horse to it, murmured a prayer, and won through. What a cheer from the chaps when we got back to safety! They had given us up for lost; but, thank God! we came across with but few casualties, although it seemed impossible."
Let me now tell you how the youngest soldier of the 127th French regiment of infantry won the military medal, which is the French equivalent to our Victoria Cross. His name was Léon Lemaire, and he was twenty years of age. During the Battle of the Aisne it was necessary to send a message to the captain of one of the companies in an advanced trench. Lemaire was chosen for the purpose. He had no sooner shown himself on the level ground, ready to run forward on his errand, than the Germans, whose trenches were at short range, fired volleys at him. First, a bullet passed through his greatcoat; then his cap was struck; his haversack and water-bottle were riddled with shots; and a hole was bored through the scabbard of his bayonet. Through this hurricane of fire Lemaire advanced with great coolness, and actually reached the trench without a wound! Some days later his regiment was paraded in his honour at a place behind the firing line. His general pinned the little silver medal for valour on his breast, embraced him, and placed him by his side, where he remained while the whole regiment, with colours flying, and the band playing the "Marseillaise," marched past him and saluted. Thus does the French army honour its heroes.