THE SLAUGHTER BEFORE METZ.

Auckland Star, Volume I, Issue 267, 17 November 1870, Page 2

THE SLAUGHTER BEFORE METZ.

Herr Wnchenhausen, a correspondent of the Cologne Zdt.ung, in describing his explorations of the battle fields of Metz, after picturing the frightful scenes which these human shambles presented immediately after each engagement, breaks into sudden apostrophe— " When will the war have an end, this horrible necessity detested by all peoples, and yet exercised by all, execrated by every statesman, yet avoided by none ? Not the morality preached from the school of the Cathedral, in the chancel of the church, will rlo away with this butchery of thousands. War is outliving itself, making itself impossible. It has grown into a monster, for whose ravening appetite one no longer knows where to gather sustenance. Already are our weapons well-nigh marie perfect for the art of annihilation ; there is scarcely aught left to be desired, and yet beyond doubt, they will undergo further important ameliorations at the close of the present ;var. Already our grenades, shrapnels, mitrailleuses, and Znndnadel guns, devaur so much flesh that it has become scarcely within the power of the greatest empires to carry on a war longer than four week* without completely exhausting pach oth.-r. What will happen if further improvements are affected, and by greater quickness of manoeuvre war exacts at least a third more human life than it already consumes; The courage of our soldiers rises high above all praise. We have seen 'hem storm the most unassailable positions of the enemy with the coolest contempt of death ; in the early days they pronounced it a tough piece of work ; but gradu lly as day by day they were called on to perform similar impossibilities, the conviction grew up that each fight is an almost certain death, and ihut nt such a price only could victory be bought. And now, whenever two brother office's meet, the salute is, ' What! you still alive ?' And the half of them, sometimes more, remain after each of these bloody storm fights on the field. The soldiers no longer speak of it as a gun-fire ; they describe it as a hurricane of hail, driving right in their faces, to come out of which with a whole skin is a singular good fortune. The infantry advance to the storm, and are encouutered with chassepot and mitrailleuse bullets, which, from the nature of the ground, mostly strike the head or hands. The cavalry charge the foe, and are met by rain of bullets such as a mouse could scarce escape, much less a horse and rider. The enemy's batteries are posted so far apart, and fire at such long distances, that they can hardly recognise their own troops, and these are plentifully provided in their rear with mitrailleuses, while in front our cavalry are greeted by the volleys of their adversaries; and if, out of such a fight, the regiments emerge battalions, the battalions companies, how long can a war last before it has decimated the whole nation ? War will become impossible—it is already so, in fact; but the on? now begun must be carried on to an end, and that a good one. Our men storm position after position, beat the enemy again and again ; but look at our battalions as they go into action, and again in spite of all victories, come out of it, and then tell us what nation can enter upon war and victory without decimating itself. The chassepot, wide ranging and in its line of flight no way so defective as men believe, is perfectly adapted for a " keep your distance" implement. Yesterday some of our storming companies hardly saw a Frenchman, while they were being covered with a hail-storm of bullets, la the open field this is all very well; both sides can play this game, but with what losses our brave fellows must pay in storming hill positions one after another the above narratives declare, which make this a machinery war, where, for example, the hostile bullet organ-playing of the mitrailleuse begins, the high notes of whose clatter predominate in the orchestra of the fights. Only fancy, if in the next war both adversaries plant themselves facing each other, and grind away their organs. Will that be called a war, or simply a butchery ?"