The glare of the holocaust seemed to shrivel and grow
pale in the impassive light of the sun.
Running across the fields with the haste of desperation were shrieking
women and children. The animals had escaped from the stables, and driven
forth by the flames were racing wildly across the country. The cow and
the work horse were dragging their halters broken by their flight. Their
flanks were smoking and smelt of burnt hair. The pigs, the sheep and the
chickens were all tearing along mingled with the cats and the dogs. All
the domestic animals were returning to a brute existence, fleeing
from civilized man. Shots were heard and hellish ha-ha's. The soldiers
outside of the village were making themselves merry in this hunt for
fugitives. Their guns were aimed at beasts and were hitting people.
Desnoyers saw men, many men, men everywhere. They were like gray ants,
marching in endless files towards the South, coming out from the woods,
filling the roads, crossing the fields. The green of vegetation was
disappearing under their tread; the dust was rising in spirals behind
the dull roll of the cannons and the measured trot of thousands of
horses. On the roadside several battalions had halted, with their
accompaniment of vehicles and draw horses. They were resting before
renewing their march. He knew this army. He had seen it in Berlin on
parade, and yet it seemed to have changed its former appearance.
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