[ WP ] In an alternate universe , gunpowder was never invented . What does warfare look like ?

( not set in modern times; it's WWI-era ) 
 
 We could hear the clanking sound of the German Panzers approaching long before we could hear them. Drums and battlecries echoed over the rolling hills of Ypres, and plumes of smoke drifted into the sky beyond the tree line. This was the most unsettling part: the waiting. Knowing that they were coming for you. I tried to light up a cigarette to calm my nerves, but my hands were shaking so hard that I could barely hold the lighter. 
 
 Armored figures, clad all in black metal, stomped out of the mists and through the grass toward our trenches. Horns claxoned and men rushed to and fro in the trenches. I gripped the trigger of my repeating crossbow while my partner loaded stacks of bolts into the ammo compartment. `` Loose!'' my officer shouted through the radio. A serene calm came over me; it was like going into a trance where my mind was disconnected from my body. I squeezed the trigger and pumped the handle, pouring thick black arrows into the German lines as quickly as I could. I saw some of them stagger and fall as the bolts pierced even their heavy steel armor. Others just shrugged it off and kept approaching. The oil inside the arrows erupted in flames upon impact, spreading over the German soldiers. From behind, the massive trebuchets lobbed containers of mustard gas into the air, sending them crashing through the approaching masses in puffs of yellow smoke, mingling with the morning mist. In the trenches, the men donned their gas masks; I nodded to my partner and we stopped firing long enough to put on our own. Screams drifted across the field as the Germans choked to death. 
 
 The armored division had reached the front lines. Many were tangled in nets and barbed wire, and they were quickly dispatched by a well-aimed crossbow bolt. About 60 meters down, a group of Panzers had broken through, drawing their short, stout swords and carving their way down the trench. The men were wielding their electric flails, bringing them down on the thick metal armor and frying the Germans inside. Others used large wooden punting poles with wide prongs on the end to push the soldiers back. The sounds of crackling sparks and the smell of burning flesh permeated the battlefield, even back to my pillbox. 
 
 Above, a massive Zeppelin blotted out the sun, proudly flying the French Tricolor. Wires dangled from the belly of the beast, and the electric current running through them made my hair stand on end, even meters away. It flew slowly over the battlefield, back and forth like a comb, electrocuting large swaths of Germans. A hail of arrows and ballista bolts pierced the wooden shields on the blimp's underside, but did not penetrate deep enough to puncture the air pockets. 
 
 My compatriots and I cheered and continued firing as the Germans began to retreat back into the forest. The artillery continued to lob poison cannisters after them, but they were out of crossbow range. Finally, the fields were still, littered with the armored corpses. But the wounded from both sides continued to moan and cry in pain. Above, the Zeppelin speakers played `` La Marseillaise'' in triumph. But in the back of our minds, we knew that the Germans would be back, and that the war would never end. War... is hell.
