Colonel Allen, Captain Parker, and I had luncheon at the Grand Hotel. Hall arrived with the machine at two o’clock. He had packed into it, or tied to it, an immense stock of canned goods, biscuits, and bread, an incredible amount of gasoline, with a heavy overcoat and small satchel for each one of us, until the car looked more like a commissariat wagon than a touring car. We were bidden God-speed by Major Henry, Captain Barker, and Lieut. Hunnicutt and by Frederick Palmer and Richard Harding Davis, when just before half-past two we shot out from the porte-cochère into the rain, prepared if necessary to stay away a week.
We ran rapidly to Lagny along an unobstructed route, where only a few days ago Hall and I had continually been held up by the barriers and troops of the defensive zone. We had then not been permitted to travel half a mile without being halted. Today what a change! We saw no troops at all in this defensive zone and with a thrill we thus realized that the battle must be going favorably for the Allies.
Between the Porte de Vincennes and Lagny our papers were examined only once, by a solitary sentry on the bridge at Bry-sur-Marne. It is evident that the Germans have either been beaten back or have chosen to retire from the neighborhood. From Lagny we passed rapidly to Villeneuve-le-Comte, which was now totally devoid of troops. At Crécy we came upon the first signs of war. Here we saw a big park of British reserve ammunition. All along the roads were the remains of a German field telephone line, which had doubtless been constructed about the time Hall and I had been in Villeneuve on Sunday.
All day the rain continued to pour in torrents.
Our machine rolled over the brow of a hilltop and below us in a hollow we saw the little village of Rebais. The road straight before us gently sloped down to the hamlet, passing through it as its principal street. Yesterday there had been heavy fighting in and around the town; French troops had entered it and advanced through it under heavy fire. There were great black holes in the roofs and walls and the ground was littered with bits of glass and slate. The village lay very still and motionless in the pelting rain. We glanced up each of its lanes as we glided by, and in each the bodies of numerous dead French soldiers lay sodden in the mud, with their red legs sticking out in attitudes of ludicrous ghastliness. A line of ammunition wagons half a mile long was parked at the side of the village street and the horses were picketed in long lines in the adjacent gardens and fields.
On the right there was a level mowed field along the edge of which the teamsters were huddled over campfires, cooking. Beginning a few yards behind them the field was strewn with dead soldiers lying monstrously conspicuous on the bare ground. On the far side of the field half a mile away was a jumble of houses, trees, and fences, and here German infantry supported by two batteries had the day before taken up a position. A battalion of the 17th French Line Regiment had charged across the flat field into their teeth. We were told that in this charge they had lost fifty per cent. of their men but had gone on undaunted, and had “got home” à la bayonette, capturing the position and a number of prisoners.