"With that up got the colonel. 'Rangers of Connaught,' says he, 'the eyes of all Ireland are on you to-day, and I know you never could disgrace the ould country by allowing Germans to beat you while you have arms in your hands and hearts in your breasts. Up, then, and at them, and if you don't give them the soundest thrashing they ever got, you needn't look me in the face again in this world or the next.'
"And we went for them with just what you would know of a prayer to the Mother of our Lord to be merciful to the loved ones at home if we should fall in the fight. We charged through and through them, until they broke and ran like frightened hares in terror of hounds.
"After that taste of the fighting quality of the Rangers they never troubled us any more that day."
While our worn and wearied men were sleeping the death-like sleep of exhaustion, Sir John French spent some of the most anxious hours of his life. He had intended that the retreat should be continued before dawn, and that Smith-Dorrien's corps, with Allenby's cavalry, should hold back the enemy on the left while Haig's corps on the right pushed southwards. Now he knew that this was impossible. Before daybreak he learnt that the enemy was preparing to throw the bulk of his strength against Smith-Dorrien; some three hundred thousand Germans were moving up to encircle his little force, while six or seven hundred guns were being brought into position against it. Sir John had no supports to send to his left, and he had earnestly besought the commander of a French cavalry corps on his right to come to his aid. Alas! the horses of this corps were worn out, and the general was unable to move. Smith-Dorrien's corps must depend on itself, and stand or fall by its own exertions. If it fell, nothing could save the British army from destruction or surrender. The left of the Allies would be gone, and the retreating French would be at the mercy of hordes of Germans. The prospect was enough to make the bravest man tremble.
