This ominous bank of vapor, impelled
by a northern breeze, drifted swiftly across the space which
separated the two lines. The French troops, staring over the
top of their parapet at this curious screen which ensured them
a temporary relief from fire, were observed suddenly to throw
up their hands, to clutch at their throats, and to fall to the
ground in the agonies of asphyxiation. Many lay where they had
fallen, while their comrades, absolutely helpless against this
diabolical agency, rushed madly out of the mephitic mist and
made for the rear, over-running the lines of trenches behind
them. Many of them never halted until they had reached Ypres,
while others rushed westwards and put the canal between
themselves and the enemy. The Germans, meanwhile, advanced, and
took possession of the successive lines of trenches, tenanted
only by the dead garrisons, whose blackened faces, contorted
figures, and lips fringed with the blood and foam from their
bursting lungs, showed the agonies in which they had died.
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