In place of the young lieutenant not yet out
of his 'teens, they found a grizzled veteran who matched them with
methods as thorough-going as their own, but who preferred to control his
men by love rather than fear.
"Your French soldiers are brave," said one German officer contemptuously,
"but as for discipline--bah! Our legions will brush you aside."
"Our men may not have the machine-like discipline that you affect," was
the French officer's reply. "But we replace it with something far
better--a love of country that will cause us to sacrifice the last drop
of blood."
"But your great Generals--where are they?" asked the other.
"They will make themselves felt in due time. At their head stands one
who is yet to fight his first great battle--yet I advise you not to
arouse him!"
The world knows the rest of the story of that mighty invasion--how the
black, invading line curved onward and inward until it threw its shadow
upon Paris. Then when the final blow was about to be struck--the
coup-de-grace as the Germans firmly believed--up from the South came the
army of Joffre. It had retreated and retreated, until the moment for its
counter-blow.
Now with the precision of a sledge-hammer it struck, and struck
again--until the surprised enemy turned and fell back.
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