Towards four in the afternoon we commenced again to retire, and had no sooner reached the next village before the enemy began to shell us. Again we were lucky in getting off with no damage and no casualty. All this was all very well, but it did not suit the men. This running away from the enemy could not be stood at any price, and the constant cry was: "Why don't we stand and fight them? What are we afraid of? If you bring us here to fight, let's fight—otherwise put us all on a boat and dump us down in England."
On several occasions we passed food-supplies left on the roadside—left for the Germans: whole cheeses, tins of mustard, one of which I carried for four days, but, on getting nothing to eat with it, I threw it away.
We would arrive outside a village, allotted for billets, perhaps about 7.30 p.m., and, after having marched the whole of the day, we were not allowed to enter the village until eleven or twelve o'clock at night to make ourselves comfy. The reason, I believe, was that it might be shelled by the enemy. No one was allowed to touch a thing—not even fruit—or he would be punished for looting; yet we knew very well that, perhaps on the morrow, the Germans would secure it all.
Various bulletins were issued during that Retirement, I suppose to cheer up the troops. One I remember contained the report of a German who had been taken prisoner, and who had upon him a diary, which—according to the bulletin—declared that the German Army was starving. Another, a very strong rumour, went the rounds, to the effect that we were doing a strategical retirement for the purpose of drawing the main body of the German Army into France, whilst the Russians came in on the East. Two days after that, a report was out that the Russians were marching on Berlin, and were within a few days' march of the capital itself. Imagine our feelings, our delight. Remember, we were absolutely cut off from all outside news. What were we to think? Most of us expected that the war would be over in a very short time.
After the first five days, we were given a day's halt. The whole of the day before we had been marching until three in the morning, and were told on this day's rest that we had done so well, out-pacing the enemy and outwitting them so successfully, that we should no doubt be able to rest for the next three days. On that day they paid us out, giving each man five francs, which, however, were of no earthly use to us, as we were all brigaded in a large field, and there was not a shop for miles. Our three-days' rest, however, did not materialize: we were off again next morning, with the enemy hot on our heels, having overtaken us by motors. So we had to continue our weary task sooner than we had anticipated.
We were all fairly quiet on the country roads, but as soon as we came to any large towns or villages we would always knock out the strains of "Tipperary." Another good point in Tommy's character manifested itself—no matter how many miles he had covered during the day, during which he would be grumbling the whole of the time, he would, immediately on striking camp, walk if necessary for miles looking for a hay or straw stack on which to find something soft and clean to lie upon.
One turning point on that Retirement was a small town, by name Bernay, I believe, in the Champagne. There we arrived on a Saturday at midday; the afternoon was spent in resting. A few days before we had struck off south from Meaux, and we heard that we were to defend Paris. During the afternoon before we arrived at Bernay, we had passed an encampment of refugees numbering many thousands, and just outside Bernay were many more. I was on outpost duty that night; and a suspicious individual came up to me whilst I was on sentry. I, of course, inquired his business; but, as he could not understand my language, he took no notice. As I could not leave my post, I told another man who was off duty at the time to bring him in. This fellow went out with his rifle, but, although he was one of the fastest runners in my regiment, he could not overtake the stranger, who got away. He may have been only a refugee having a look round, or, on the other hand, he may have been a spy.
That day we finished our retirement from Mons: it was the sixth of September, 1914.