"'Quite right, sir,' was the ready response. 'Didn't know it was a hospital water-cart,' and without a murmur they went thirsty along their way."
Soon the retreat was renewed and steadily they marched to the rear until St. Quentin was reached, where they got their first wash and actually eight hours' sleep. Then on again—back, back, always back. The River Aisne was passed, soon to be regained and made memorable by a brilliant fight. But now it was all retreat. Day after day, night after night they trekked. The days were tropical, the nights arctic. Often it was too cold to sleep, though sleep was needed badly.
At last, on Saturday, September 5, they reached Tournan, south of Paris, and were informed that the retreat was over, and that they would ere long turn to attack the foe who had so ruthlessly followed them.
The men were not down-hearted even through that awful march. Down-hearted? No! They were always asking when they could get "a bit of their own back." Their one desire was to turn and face their enemy. This was a retreat, not a defeat. The men were ragged, bearded, footsore, unkempt, but were unconquered and unconquerable. The spirit of their country burned in them and blazed through their eyes, and when the message of Sir John French came thanking them for their magnificent courage and promising them a share in the rounding up, they cheered until they could cheer no longer.
When Sir John French published his first list of names for honourable mention, the names of seven chaplains were "mentioned in Despatches." And among the seven the name of the Rev. Owen Spencer Watkins was mentioned twice.
No Parade services—they were out of the question,—hardly any short unofficial services such as we grew accustomed to during the South African War. Just a hearty handshake, a "God bless you," a whispered text, or a hearty word of cheer, but the ministry to the wounded always, and wherever possible the burial of the dead. No more is possible in such a retreat. But the Christian soldier is cheered by the sight of his chaplain. His "494" is never forgotten, and as he passes along the lines of the wounded they look up and call him blessed.
Thank God, the Cross is always where there is suffering and death, and never is it needed more than on the stricken field, or in such a retreat as "The Retreat from Mons."
