The famous seventy-five-millimeter gun was again proving itself the most terrible of mobile field weapons.

As walls fell, pyramids of fire shot up in many places, casting a sinister glow over the snowy earth.

But above everything rose the lofty and beautiful spire of the Gothic cathedral, still untouched.
All the time the moonlight had been steadily growing more brilliant.
Save where the burning houses and the flashing of the cannon cast a red glow a veil of silver mist, which brightened rather than obscured, hung over the snow.

John distinctly saw Germans in the town and often, too, he saw them fall.
A man with a bugle was lying in the snow near Bougainville and the little colonel reached over and touched him.

John saw the soldier put the instrument to his lips, as if he would make ready, and he knew that an important movement was at hand.