"In the British Expeditionary Force there is an English soldier, a member of a cyclist corps, who is proud to wear upon his breast the 'médaille militaire' of the French Army.
"The story of the stirring incident has been told to me by Henri Roger, a young soldier of the Fifth Infantry who saw it from the trenches and who is now lying wounded in hospital here.
"During one of the engagements last week on the River Aisne, the Fifth was holding an intrenched position and was faced in the distance by a strong force of the enemy. To the right and left of the opposing forces were large clumps of trees, in one of which a force of English troops had taken up a position, a fact regarding which the Germans were unaware. In the other wood, it was soon discovered, lay a considerable body of German infantry with several machine gun sections.
Cyclist Wins Decoration.
"A road ran beside the wood in which the enemy lay hidden, and along it a force of French infantry was seen to be advancing. How were they to be saved from the ambush into which they were marching? That was the problem, and it was a difficult one.
"Every time the French troops in the trenches endeavored to signal to their oncoming comrades hidden German sharpshooters picked off the signalers. Soon the position seemed to be almost desperate; every moment the intrenched French soldiers expected to hear the hideous swish of the Maxims mowing down their unsuspecting comrades.
"Suddenly, however, something happened which attracted the attention of the French and German trenches. From the wood where the English lay hidden a cyclist dashed—the English, too, had seen the danger, and a cyclist had been ordered to carry a message of warning to the advancing French column, several hundreds strong.
"The cyclist bent low in his saddle and darted forward; he had not gone a hundred yards before he fell, killed by a well-aimed German bullet. A minute later another cyclist appeared, only, in a second or two, to share his comrade's fate.
"Then a third—the thing had to be done! The bullets whizzed round him, but on he went over the fire-swept zone. The Frenchmen held their breath as they watched the gallant cyclist speeding toward the French column; puffs of smoke from the wood where the Germans were showed that the sharpshooters were redoubling their efforts. But the cyclist held on and soon passed beyond some high ground where he was sheltered from the Germans, but could still be seen by the intrenched French.