Two stretcher-bearers, in answer to my call, came and fetched my unfortunate colleague to our relief station.
"My back is broken," he said, with a moan.
I tried to reassure him, and he then told me that, on hearing the shouts, the three officers, less prudent than we had been, rushed to the door of their house. Their outline, standing out in the framework of the door, made an excellent target and they had all three fallen, hit by the horde as it rushed forwards. We wondered what would happen next and what had become of our Staff, which had its Headquarters in one of the neighbouring houses. What had happened to our brave Colonel Jacques, to Captain Philippron, and to their comrades? I rushed to the house where they were installed, and rapped. The door was promptly opened, but several revolvers were all I saw, and they were pointed at my head.
"Doctor van der Ghinst!" I shouted.
At the sound of my voice, the Brownings were lowered. In spite of the darkness, I recognised Colonel Jacques.
"What is the meaning of this joke, Colonel?" I asked.
"Yes, yes," answered the voice of our Chief, "the African." "The Boches have got through. You cannot stay here; we must have a reinforcement."
"Where is it to be found?"
"There is a Battalion at Caeskerke. The question is who will go and take the information?"