The English guns tried in vain to answer them: they
were wholly overmatched. Gun after gun was dismounted, horses and men
destroyed; but as soon as the leading column of the guards reached the
point when their own guns had to cease fire, the English artillery
opened again, and terrible was the havoc they made in the dense
columns. Still the guard pressed on until they reached the top of the
crest; and then the British guards leaped to their feet and poured in
a tremendous volley at close quarters, fell on the flank of the
column, broke it, and hurled it down the hill.
The guards were recalled and prepared to oppose the second column, but
their aid was not needed; the Fifty-second threw themselves upon its
flank, the Seventy-first and Ninety-fifth swept its head with their
volleys, and as the column broke and retired the Duke of Wellington
gave the orders the men had been longing for since the fight began.
The squares broke into lines, and the British, cheering wildly,
descended the crest. The French retreat became a rout, cavalry and
infantry fell upon them, the artillery plied them with their fire, the
Prussians poured down upon their flank. By eight o'clock the splendid
army of Napoleon was a mass of disorganized fugitives.
For ten hours the battle had raged. To the men in the squares it
seemed a lifetime.
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