The five guns erupted as one. The muzzle flashes pushed at the darkness and lit up the entire camp as if it were day for a split second. The earth shuddered under the guns' collective recoil. The crews reloaded the guns as the first salvo of shells exploded in quick white flashes. Hoxa stood between the 2nd and 3rd guns and held his riding crop high in the air, signaling to hold. A dull flash followed by a low rumble came from the west side of the valley behind them. First company's shells sounded like whistling tea kettles as they crossed overhead. Another volley came from the east flank a second later.

"They're in the game with us boys. Fire!" he shouted and swept the crop down like a race starter.

The rain intensified with each barrage as though the shells were ripping holes in the bottom of the sky.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" shouted the captain at the end of each loading cycle.

Shells rained down mercilessly from three sides on the French camp. The sky lit up time and time again as if the whole south end of the valley were exploding.

The munitions handlers, loaders and breech operators danced a frenzied ballet as they fed the ever hungry guns. Each time a loader shoved a round into the gun the operator slammed the breech closed, missing the man's hand by a fraction of an inch.

The cold driving rain screamed and sizzled on the hot gun barrels like sausages on a griddle. It was the kind of rain that drives creatures underground and demands submission. Multiple flashes of lightning exploded fiercely over their heads, belittling the petty rumblings of men.

Oblivious to the elements, Hoxa continued to bark orders. "Fire! Reload! One degree up! Fire! Reload! Fire!"

Vasili grabbed the smoking spent shell casings as fast as they were ejected onto the churned up mud behind the gun. His wet cotton gloves provided just enough protection to hold the casings for the second it took to throw them onto the growing pile down by the river. The five guns fired a salvo every ten seconds, just far enough apart for Vasili and the other handlers to pass the heavy rounds to the loaders and start the whole process again.

"Fire! Reload! Fire!" The shelling, the lightning, and the rain intensified as the night wore on. Vasili threw the hot casings over his shoulder one after another ignoring the weather as best he could until, between salvos, he heard the splash of a shell casing as it hit the water.

'The water,' he thought, handing another shell to the loader. He grabbed another casing and threw it back behind him, watching this time. The shell splashed just before a bolt of lightning crashed to the left of #1 gun, lighting up the area behind the camp. The shallow swift moving Cherna had swollen into a raging torrent. The brown silty water moved like a giant undulating snake between the tops of the river banks. Vasili stood dumbfounded through two more close flashes and watched as the river seemed to rise before his very eyes.