" The carnage was in full swing; it was hell let loose. Not
content with killing, they mutilated each other's corpses, bit off noses,
gouged out eyes, and thrust stones in the mouths of the dead; burnt and
hacked and slashed each other till sunrise; no element of bestiality was
lacking. The wounded crawled away to die in caves, or were carried to
nomad camps. The number of the dead was never ascertained; Dufresnoy says
"about a hundred," which is probably below the mark, as an eye-witness saw
three railway trucks loaded with the slain. To this day they find
mouldering human remains, relics of that battle, hidden away in crevices
of the rocks.
Although, once roused, the Tripolitans fought like demons, they were
worsted--the others were too numerous. They had a brief moment of revenge,
however; for during their retreat, on Monday morning, they encountered two
young Khabyle boys who had been on absence and were now returning to work
at the mines, blissfully ignorant of what was going on. These unfortunate
lads were literally torn to shreds.
I confess that, as a spectacle, I should have preferred that night's
engagement to anything in modern warfare.
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