In Luck!
We were guarding a road where it was expected they would retreat; and they did. The first lot that came along was a Maxim limber. I accounted for the driver about 400 yards away, off the left shoulder, and someone else accounted for his mate, but still the horses came galloping along towards our ranks, so I thought I would try my arm at stopping them. I did, and got well repaid, for I took them into a farm close by, lifted the German wounded off, and went through his kit. I found a clean change of washing—badly needed, for we had not had a change since we left Chelsea—and something more: a bottle of champagne, three loaves of bread, six pots of jam, and a rabbit; so you can bet I backed a winner: Private J. Stearn.