We marched to Bavai without further incident, entering the town soon after dark. Here was all the confusion of retreat. Heavy motor-waggons, some French transport, staff officers' cars with blinding headlights, and vehicles of every description obstructed our progress through the town. I remember seeing a London taxi, one of the W.G.'s, loaded with ammunition-boxes.
A mile outside the town we turned into an orchard and bivouacked for the night, first dining on strong tea and a ration biscuit.
There was vigour and cheerfulness in the warm sunrise, and the battalion quickened its step and recovered its usual cheery spirit as we left the woods and entered the open country, marching down a narrow macadamised road, avoiding the horrors of the paved Route National. Later on in the morning, one of the first duels between a British and a German aeroplane took place right over the road. The Taube, at about 4000 feet, was then following our march, having not yet observed, as we had, 7000 to 8000 feet up among the clouds, a tiny speck, gradually growing bigger. Then the Taube took alarm and turned at full speed for the German lines. The speck, now seen to be a British aeroplane, dropped straight down to within a few hundred feet of the German machine, which was circling and dodging at various angles, striving in vain to escape. A puff of smoke from the British machine sent the enemy crashing to the ground.
Along the dusty road, marching in the hot sun with no knowledge of our destination or reason for such incessant toil, halting for short minutes, enough to ease the pack and rest the rifle and then on again, until the alternate marching and halting becomes the whole occupation not only of the body but of the mind—the eye finds no charm in pleasant countryside, and the mind gathers few pictures; the endless road, the choking dust, the unvaried pace in the hot sun.
On again through paved country towns where the hard stones are hot to weary feet, down to peaceful villages in fresh green valleys and up the long steep slope on the far side and again on, now across open country, now through the shade of green woods. Here by the village pond a pedestrian might well sit a while and smoke his pipe, watching the children paddle in the brown water under the shade of ancient trees. Often a glimpse through open doors showed cool tiled kitchens with peasants at the midday meal. Many shops in the village street were closed, with the reason therefor chalked across the shutters, "Fermé pour cause de Mobilisation." At the Mairie, and sometimes at street corners, large yellow posters, still fresh and clean, called reservists to arms in the name of La République.
We found many such towns and villages, with groups of men and women outside the numerous estaminets, offering bottles of beer and wine, or cigarettes; others with large buckets of wine and water. Glasses of wine and water were quickly seized, emptied in a few steps, handed back to some spectator farther down the line, and passed back again to the wine buckets.
There had been some thunder early in the afternoon, and overhead the storm-clouds were lowering.
Another long weary climb along the straight dusty road to reach a large open plateau, where an advance-guard of the 4th Division was entrenching, for during all that day of our long march the 4th Division was detraining, and part of this force took up a position north of Solesmes.
Large drops of rain were falling as we reached the crest of the hill, and soon a smart shower cleaned the road of dust, giving a new coolness to the air and a new vigour to the weary column.
After the long lonely road it was heartening to see the British troops, a mere handful of men, making ready against the vast armies of Germany, whose advance-guard were now hard on our heels.