"How those doctors and orderlies worked! That day at the cross-roads near Pisseloup, I saw some of the best work done that has ever been accomplished in the field, and none seemed to realise that they were doing anything out of the ordinary."
When night fell, Rev. D.P. Winnifrith and Rev. O.S. Watkins did work similar to that which other chaplains were doing elsewhere on the field. We have their record, but must wait for that of the others. What a picture it is upon which we gaze! Aye, and not only at night, but next day following the advancing British troops.
Here and there is a wounded soldier who has lain for hours in the rain. Their sufferings must have been horrible. And here and there, nay, all around, the dead. They buried them in fields, in gardens, in orchards and vineyards, sometimes singly, sometimes in twos and threes—in one grave two officers and eighteen men. But we draw a curtain over the scene. It will soon become a monotony of horrors. Let us hasten on.
The Marne won, the next line of battle was the Aisne.
Here I pause to relate a little incident variously reported in the papers. I give it as it came to me first, judging that the first report is probably the most correct. It dates from some of the fierce fighting near the banks of the Aisne.
A village was temporarily evacuated by the British under the pressure of German troops. In the hurried retreat six or eight British soldiers were left behind. They took shelter in a cottage, knowing that the Germans were close upon them. There was a hasty council of war. One of them was the "bad lad" of the regiment—a drunken ne'er-do-well. He had his own solution of the problem.
Said he, "I have never been any good. I never shall be any good. Let me go and I will try to save you lads. The Germans are upon us. I can hear them in the street. I will rush out of the house and down the street. They will see me and they will fire. They will never suppose that one would run and not the others. They will not trouble to search, and you will be saved."
His comrades protested and said they would all die together. But there was no time to argue. In a moment he was out of the house and down the street. Shots rang out and the "bad lad" of the regiment fell, pierced by many bullets. It was as he said. The Germans passed the house, and for a moment the rest of that little company were saved.
But the British had received reinforcements. They advanced to the attack again and the village was cleared of Germans. Then the little company came out of their hiding-place, reverently lifted the body of the dead hero who had died for them, and carried it to the rear. They dug a grave and buried him. Over the grave they placed a rough wooden cross, and wrote upon it—"He saved others, himself he would not save."
They hoped, they said, they were not guilty of blasphemy in altering and using the historic words, and we, as we quote them, are quite certain they were not.