Most of the next ten days remain in my mind as a nightmare. The weather was exceedingly hot, the long roads with stone sets stretching as far as eye could see were very wearisome, and the men were utterly exhausted. On the third day out we took prisoner a German mounted man, with two others, one of whom got away, and a second was shot.
On one occasion, just before entering a wood, one of our aeroplanes came down near us, and the pilot ran promptly to the General. After a few words, our direction was entirely changed. Had it not been for that aeroplane we should certainly have been ambushed.
We marched in Brigades, each day the lead being taken in turns, the last Regiment finding rearguard; and the same thing happened by Divisions, three Brigades to a Division, and each Brigade taking its turn to lead. The Provost Marshal and Military Police went on in front to inform the civilian population of towns and villages to clear out as quickly as possible, and to publish notices of the enemy's advance.
The hardest time of all was when one's particular regiment found rearguard: then we often had to march back for a few miles along the way we had come, dig trenches, hold the enemy the whole of the day, and then at night continue the march until we picked up the main body again. Oftentimes on reaching the main body it was found that they were just ready to start again, so the rearguard would be obliged to continue their march without intermission.
It was a couple of days out of Mons and during a rearguard action that the Munster Fusiliers received a good drubbing, but not until after they had held the enemy at bay for several hours. My regiment was that evening doing rearguard to our own Brigade when some of the Munsters retired through us. One poor fellow going through told us how his chum had had his jaw blown away by a piece of shell, and the Germans on reaching the Munsters' trenches had killed all the wounded with the very entrenching tools they had been using. We expected to see them coming in force that night, but after waiting until dusk, we retired on the main body. Unfortunately we did not get clear away without casualties. An unlucky affair occurred in this way: we had, the day before, passed through Soissons, and I remember it was at this village that we caught up with the main body. On entering the village we had to cross a bridge with a river beneath, and the Northampton Regiment was guarding it while the Engineers stood by ready to blow it up when we were all over. My regiment was the last to cross, and we had already done so with the exception of one platoon, and were told to stand in the centre of the village, when some one gave the word that we were all over; and accordingly the Engineers blew up the bridge. No sooner had that happened than this platoon came marching down the road. Of course the Northamptons mistook them in the dark for the Germans, and opened rapid fire upon them. I was afterwards told by a chum who was in that platoon that a body of Uhlans came galloping down the road not five minutes afterwards; and he, with one or two others who had survived the Northamptons' fire, were taken prisoners. (This particular man fell ill, so they put him into hospital, and when we fought the Battle of the Marne we retook him; he was sent home, and after a month or two convalescent leave he rejoined us.) Naturally the Officer in charge of the Uhlans was very wild when he found the bridge had been blown up, as it was eight miles to the next crossing.
Most of our men had thrown away all their heavy kit, such as top-coats, etc., and the Germans of course made good use of them, some of them putting the clothes on.
At one place at which we were billeted five of these Germans stopped in the house next to a barn where a platoon of the Connaughts[1] were. Just before daybreak these Germans gave the alarm, and, as the Connaughts rushed out of their billets to the alarm post, the enemy were awaiting them with machine guns. This I got from a man who on the following night laid himself down to sleep on the pavement where I was doing sentry-go. Poor fellow, he had on no hat or jacket, neither had he any rifle or equipment. He had been following us all day, and had had nothing to eat. So I took him into the room of the house which we were then using as a Guard Room, and the N.C.O. in charge took him before an Officer. His story was proved to be correct, so he was allowed to stay with the Company for the night; but what became of him after I know not.
Next morning my regiment was finding rearguard, so we marched through the town to an old disused mill. Going through that, and crossing a field, we came to a swiftly running stream, which we waded across through water up to our armpits. On the other side we had a very steep bank to climb, and up which we had to drive two pack animals. One of these, after climbing up a part of the way, fell down and simply rolled over and over till he reached the bottom. We had to shoot the wretched animal, owing to a damaged fetlock. On gaining the summit, we set off in skirmishing order over a mile of open country, going through wheat-fields, trampling the ripe wheat underfoot as we went, until we struck a main road which ran parallel with the one we had travelled the day before. Just off this we dug the usual one-man trench, and remained there all day long. The only sight we had of the enemy was a patrol of cavalry too far off to be within range.