The park was, however, actually lost for nearly a week. They had vanished as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed them. They were eventually heard of by the merest accident, when a sergeant came in to one of the towns on the line of retreat to get provisions. But even then they could not be found, for the sergeant had gone again without leaving his address. So for days Staff officers scoured the country in swift cars, and thus the park was eventually run to earth. No one was more surprised than the C.O. to hear that he had been lost. They had not seen a single German, and they had had such a jolly time, thank you, seeing the pretty country.
But to tell of half the curious or amusing incidents I should need a volume many times the size of this one. Things happened every day any one of which would provide a newspaper with a column of excellent "copy." At the time one thought little about them, for everybody was too busy looking after his job and himself. There was, for instance, the Adventure of the Flat-Nosed Bullet, the Adventure of the Man with the Crooked Ear, the Adventure of the Field Cashier and the Pay Chest, the Adventure of the Blood-stained Putty Knife, the Adventure of the Perishing Cat, and many another.
The great question on the morning of Friday, September 4th, was: "Are we going right back to the Seine, with our left on Paris?" You picture the Force, tired enough but in most excellent fettle, growing hourly more impatient, longing with all their hearts to turn and have a go at the enemy who had caused them all that trouble and discomfort.
"Give a guess," I asked two of my sergeants that day, "how long we have been out here?"
They thought for a few minutes. "Six weeks," they said; "perhaps seven."
And, you see, it was only a fortnight after all. But they would not believe it until a calendar was produced. Unconsciously everyone reckoned each night as another day, for nights and days were alike so far as work was concerned. I think that remark was more telling than pages of descriptive writing.
The days during those final stages were almost tropical in their heat, which told very severely on men and horses. The nights were chill and wet. So altogether one had one's work cut out in mothering the men. Cases of bowel complaints were very common, and one has to be so careful to prevent serious developments. The lads really need looking after like children, bless them! Aromatic chalk-powder with opium (5-grain tablets) I found an excellent remedy, and cured dozens of cases. So there is a little tip for other officers. Calomel is useful, too, and I saved much agony from bad wounds by doses of opium (1-grain tablets), but this must not be given in cases of stomach wounds—most to be dreaded of any. Aspirin, also, is, of course, invaluable. Certainly no officer should be without a small medicine-case, and it is the one thing they never seem to think of when getting kit together. A trivial lapse, this, into egotism, I am afraid. I hope it will be excused for the sake of the hints offered.
In the evening of September 4th orders came to continue the retirement still farther. The Second Corps marched through most of the night towards the River Seine, the First Corps conforming to the movement on the east. The 6th French Army was coming up well on our left, and thus the western end of the Franco-British line was gradually swinging round and up between Paris and the right flank of the Germans, who were now definitely moving east-south-east. You must remember, though, that these facts were only apparent at the time to a handful of officers of the Headquarters Staff; everyone else was still in the dark. But how thrilling those hours must have been to an airman observing from above, and who knew the facts.
On the 5th (Saturday), at noon, one battery found itself halted in a field by the 12-kilometre stone from Paris, and the men were confident that "la ville lumière" was their next stop. There was an undercurrent of excitement, for another couple of thousand men had joined up to the corps as reinforcements. It was a definite halt and a rest, the first they had had since Mons, and they were making the most of it.
Just about 6 P.M. the major came into the lines with a paper in his hand. There was something in his walk, something about him—the men jumped up as he approached. "Paris?"—the major shook his head. "Not—not—is it advance, sir?" The major nodded. "We are going to advance," he said.