It should also be recorded that on this Thursday and Friday the Force had further help from the French. General Sordêt's cavalry continued its excellent work in relieving the pressure on the left of the Second Corps.
G.H.Q. had moved from St. Quentin on the Wednesday afternoon, and taken up their abode at Noyon, a cathedral town about 30 miles farther south. Here, again, no one seemed to have the slightest inkling of impending danger, and the business of the town was being carried on as usual. The mayor certainly posted a proclamation imploring the "citoyens" to remain calm and to pay no heed to rumours, and the citoyens obeyed by wondering why M. le maire should have so put himself about as to issue such a notice.
That was on the Thursday. But on the Friday the citoyens received something of a shock. A number of British regiments marched through in broad daylight, and it was now plainly to be seen that something very serious was happening. After the first gasp of astonishment and utter incredulity, the people stood by the road in dead silence with tears of pity running down their cheeks. So long as I live I can never forget that scene, the intense drama of it, the tragedy, and the glory of achievement which shone radiantly forth.
The remnants of three gallant regiments we watched go by, and we could look no longer. There is no need to say which they were, for they were but typical of all the other regiments in the Force that day. Again there were but a poor 200 men left of each 1,000. Officers and men alike in their pitiable destitution. Barefooted, or shifts of bandages round their swollen feet; torn breeches, cut short like football knickers. Great bearded men they were, with the grime and dust of five terrible days' incessant fighting and marching upon them; but in their eyes the unquenchable light of their native pluck and steadfastness. There was no trace of defeat there, only the hungry, dazed look of men who long for a little sleep before they turn once more to crash their way into an enemy's ranks.
It is not such things as these that our people at home are told, and so I set them down. Tales of gallant deeds in the fighting-line they have now in plenty, but the great human side of this bloody war is passed over in discreet silence. England knows nothing of the meaning of modern war; she has not suffered invasion, save from the predatory attacks of aircraft. Her sons are fighting for her, and the knowledge thrills our womenfolk; but of the conditions under which they have fought, and of the appalling sufferings of tortured Belgium and France and Poland and Serbia, they are hopelessly ignorant. If but a tenth part were thoroughly realised there would be one mighty irresistible cry from the heart of the civilised world:
"Stand at nothing to finish this war at once, and it shall be the last!"
There are no such things as neutral nations. If a nation refuses to be enrolled for Civilisation, then it is fighting by the side of the obscene Horror which has plunged Europe into this carnival of blood and misery.
On the Friday afternoon some of us learned from a wounded French lancer that the German centre had been badly smashed and was actually retiring from St. Quentin, owing to a French counter-offensive; also some of our cavalry had been doing specially good work south of that town. The 3rd Cavalry Brigade broke and beat back the Prussian Guard and another cavalry regiment, and the 5th Cavalry Brigade had a similar success with other German cavalry.
In the meantime G.H.Q. had removed still farther south to Compiègne, and occupied Napoleon's magnificent palace, or a wing of it.
It had been intended to give the Force a really good rest when they reached the River Oise on the Friday night. By that time the British line (both Corps) ran along the river from La Fère to Noyon. But it was, after all, little more than five or six hours which could be spared; many of the regiments and batteries did not even get that brief respite. "Keep moving" was still the order of the day.