We had fought fiercely, and had not spared the Germans—no one could have any mercy on them who saw the proofs, as we had seen them, of their barbarities. When we advanced into Coulommiers we saw the bodies of two little girls who had been murdered and mutilated in a shocking manner. There were in that locality alone scores of such atrocities committed by the brutes who came from the land of “culture” and are being driven back to it.
I had a fair innings at the Marne, and saw a good deal of the beginning of the fight which started the Germans on the run. I had two days and nights of it; then I was bowled out by a piece of shell which struck me on the thigh and went off with a piece of flesh. I felt as if a brick had hit me, and when I saw the blood I thought it was all up with me. The doctor told me that this might easily have happened if the wound had been a little deeper. He was Lieutenant Huggin, of the Royal Army Medical Corps, a kind and brave gentleman, who was soon afterwards killed while doing his duty under fire. He was mentioned in despatches, with other officers who did so much. I remember one of them, a field officer of the Coldstreamers, during a very hot fight standing with his hands in his pockets watching to see how things were going, and saying, “Men, this is beautiful! We shall soon be on the other side of the river.”
And we soon were—though to cross the Marne meant that we had at one time to fight waist deep in its waters.
The Battle of the Marne was hard, long work, following a long and terrible retreat; but it was a glorious victory. We had many privations, but also many compensations, and we were always cheerful, and very often singing. “Tipperary” was an easy first.
We often saw Sir John French and General Joffre, and I can tell you that when our own great field-marshal appeared it was as good as a victory for us, for we fairly worship him. Sir John is a thorough gentleman, and the friend of every soldier. He used to come into the trenches with his hands in his pockets and take no more notice of the German shells and bullets which were bursting and flying about than if they were peas shot by little boys.
One morning Sir John came round the trenches, and said, as usual, “Is everything all right, men?”
“Well, sir,” he was told, “we want a drop of water, please.” And we did want it, badly, because the weather was so fearfully hot, and we were almost boiled in our uniforms and heavy kits.
“Certainly; I’ll see to that at once,” replied the field-marshal. He immediately turned round, called to some men of the transport who were at hand, and told them to bring us some water at once.
General Joffre, too, was a great favourite. He speaks English well. Once when he came into the