Not a shot now, but cold steel... Suddenly the charge
ceased its bugle-notes. They sounded instead the call to the flag. Au
drapeau! Our flag was captured! Instinctively we ceased fire,
thunderstruck. Then very loud and strong the Marseillaise rang out
above the music of the bugles, calling Au drapeau again and again."
"We saw the awful melee, the struggle to the death with that song
above all the shouting and the shrieks... You who imagine you know
La Marseillaise because you have heard it played at prize
distributions must acknowledge your error. In order to know it you
must have heard it as I have tried to tell you, when blood is flowing
and the flag of France is in danger."
To this soldier it is an intolerable thought that he should hear the
hymn of victory sung at a "prize distribution," or in a music-hall
scented with the perfume of women. But even in a music-hall in Paris,
or in a third-rate cabaret in a provincial town, the song may be heard
with all its magic. I heard it one night in such a place, where the song
was greater than the singer. French poilus were in the hall, crippled or
convalescent, after their day of battle, and with their women around
them they stood at attention while the national hymn was sung.
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