Soon afterward, the Austrian artillery opened fire again. Shells rained down on the French Army's positions, and Lamoricière was glad he hadn't sent a large force to reinforce the front. Otherwise, who knew how many men this barrage would have cost him?
French soldiers on the positions were pinned down by wave after wave of shells, unable to raise their heads. Deafening explosions sent clouds of dust billowing into the sky.
One man poked his head out, trying to make out the enemy's movements through the smoke. But the moment the smoke cleared, Allied skirmishers picked him off.
Screams, explosions, and the constant sight of comrades falling tormented the French troops at the front without pause. Most huddled behind cover, trembling, some even praying to heaven.
But none of that could save them. High-explosive shells struck the defenses and detonated with tremendous force, hurling stones, splintered wood, and mangled limbs high into the air before they crashed back down.
A blow to the hand, foot, or torso might be survivable, but a hit to the head meant death or grievous injury. The French soldiers had little time to dwell on it, though, because Austria's rocket troops had begun their assault as well.
Against Sarrebourg, now reduced to ruins, neither the conventional anti-infantry rockets nor the Heavy Siege Rockets worked very well.
But one type of rocket was completely unaffected: the Rocket Incendiary Bomb. Bombs burst above the French positions, spreading flames and burning debris across the battlefield.
Lacking even the basic knowledge and tools to fight fires, the French soldiers who caught alight soon became walking fireballs.
The stench of smoke and charred corpses filled the nostrils of every French soldier. Fear and despair turned the frontline officers' attempts to rally their men into futile gestures.
Survivors called out their