> Now safe from any French counterattacks, Lottum's depleted
> command, together with Orkney's two fresh British battalions
> finally burst into the southern tip of the Wood of Sars, pouring
> over the entrenchments and finally coming to grips with their
> adversaries using the bayonet and clubbed musket. The fighting
> here must have been terrible, as thousands of men yelled, cursed,
> screamed, gouged, kicked and tore at each other within no more
> than 600 square meters of woodland. Those that could still re-load
> in the crush, fired without heeding the drill-book regulations,
> but just banged off shot after shot as fast as they could. The
> officers who had managed to survive the initial attacks also took
> part in this hand-to-hand struggle, slashing to right and left
> with their swords, or taking up a musket and fighting like a
> private soldier, although their gaudy uniforms, decorated with
> silver and gold lace marked them out as special targets. This
> woodland fighting must have been quite exceptional for its time,
> and one can only guess at what it must have entailed -the stifling
> clouds of smoke that only gradually drifted up into the treetops;
> musket balls coming in from all sides, sending leaves and twigs
> cascading down to the ground as in an autumn storm; flying wood
> splinters piercing eyes and flesh and turning men frantic among
> the welter of death and destruction that surrounded them, while
> flocks of birds wheeled overhead in perplexed agitation. ...
> Having made sure that no more suicidal attacks would occur, and
> that the role of the left wing was to only contain the French,
> Marlborough and Eugene rode back to the centre to await news of
> the combat in the Wood of Sars. It was now 11.30 am, and the smoke
> and noise were still indicative of the continuing violence near at
> hand, where close to thirty thousand Allied infantry pressed
> forward against four or five thousand French defenders, trampling
> friend and foe alike underfoot. Many became crazed killing
> machines, 'Sir Richard Temple's regiment lost more men that day
> than any other single British battalion. They performed prodigies;
> but their high spirits took a savage form. "They hewed in pieces"
> wrote a German observer, "all they found before them…even the dead
> when their fury found no more living to devour."' The French put
> up a gallant resistance, which caused the allies to pay for every
> inch of ground with their blood, but even as they withdrew it
> would appear that other obstructions had been made ready to
> confront their antagonist after the first line of entrenchments
> and breastworks had been breeched. Corporal Matthew Bishop of the
> 8th Regiment of Foot has left us a tantalizing glimpse of how the
> French had fortified even the interior of the woods. ...
> The battle died down at just after 3.00 p.m. with no pursuit
> forthcoming from the Allies, who were close to exhaustion after
> seven hours of bitter fighting. Many sank down on the spot, others
> looked for water, while some took to looting the bodies, which
> were plentiful. The whole field was covered in dead and wounded
> men and horses. In front of the French entrenchments along their
> right wing the bodies of the Dutch, Swiss and Scottish lay four or
> five deep, with small hope of survival for any of the wounded that
> might lie below the dead weight crush of the corpses. Before the
> re-entrant where the 20 gun French battery had been concealed, the
> mutilated remains of the Dutch battalions of general Dohna lay in
> ghastly windrows. Severed arms legs and heads lay among blackened
> torsos which were strewn in all directions, the whole expanse of
> ground, some 1000 meters wide by 100 meters in depth from the Wood
> of Tiry to the Wood of Lanieres being one vast carpet of pain and
> death.
>
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