War the Creator by Gelett Burgess

It was more than a rout, it was a panic. Into the wood the shells followed them-there seemed to be no escape. Every moment they expected to see the uhlans charging them down. Dodging this way, that way, deafened, shouting over here-over there-the shells dropping to right, to left, as if from the clouds, the men, breathless, exhausted, poured out upon a road, to stagger back almost run over by a clattering battery of guns galloping, too late, galloping toward the firing line. They stopped to pant, and rest; and then ran on.

In half an hour they were out of the range of the German artillery, and they halted exhausted, shamefaced, sick with terror and despair. The officers, too heartbroken even to swear at them, reformed their men with difficulty, and, herding them like frightened sheep, fell back in something like order till they came upon a line of trenches that had been occupied by the Germans.