But the French were using their rifles, too, and at intervals the deep thundering chant of the Marseillaise swept through their ranks.

In spite of shell, shrapnel and bullets, in spite of everything, the French army in the center was advancing and John believed that the armies on the other parts of the line were advancing, too.
The bullets struck around them, and then among them.

One aide fell from his cycle, and lay dead in the road, two more were wounded, but two hundred thousand men, their artillery blazing death over their heads, went on straight at the mouths of a thousand cannon.
Companies and regiments were swept away, but there was no check.

Nor did the other French armies, the huge links in the chain, stop.

A feeling of victory had swept along the whole gigantic battle front.