In the far distance we saw a cloud rise as though from the earth. It was a
greeny-red color, and increased in volume as it rolled forward. It was like
a mist rising, and yet it hugged the ground, rose five or six feet, and
penetrated to every crevice and dip in the ground.

We could not tell what it was. Suddenly from out the mist we men in
reserves saw movement. Coming toward us, running as though Hell as it
really was had been let loose behind them, were the black troops from
Northern Africa. Poor devils, I do not blame them. It was enough to make
any man run. They were simple-minded fellows. They were there to fight for
France, but their minds could not grasp the significance of the enemy
against whom they were pitted. The gas rolled on and they fled. Their
officers vainly tried to stem the flying tide of them. Their heels barely
seemed to touch the ground. As they ran they covered their faces, noses and
eyes with their hands, and through blackened lips, sometimes cracked and
bleeding, they gasped, "Allemands! Allemands!"

Some of our own French-speaking officers stopped the few running men they
could make hear, and begged of them to reform their lines and go back to
the attack. But they were maddened as only a simple race can be frenzied by
fear, and paid no heed.

It is in times like this, in moments of dire emergency, that the officer of
true worth stands out, the real leader of men. There were a dozen incidents
to prove this in the next few hurried, desperate moments. None can be more
soul-stirring than the quick thought, quick action and foresight displayed
by our own captain. He did not know what this smoke rushing toward our
lines could be. He had no idea more definite than any of us in the ranks.
But he had that quick brain that acts automatically in an emergency and