Adventures of a Despatch Rider eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 172 pages of information about Adventures of a Despatch Rider.

The Company came up, and we found that in Chouy the Germans had overlooked a telephone—­great news for the cable detachment.  After a glance at the church, a gorgeous bit of Gothic that we had shelled, we pushed on in the rain to Billy-sur-Ourcq.  I was just looking after a convenient loft when I was sent back to Chouy to find the Captain’s watch.  A storm was raging down the valley.  The road at any time was covered with tired foot sloggers.  I had to curse them, for they wouldn’t get out of the way.  Soon I warmed and cursed them crudely and glibly in four languages.  On my return I found some looted boiled eggs and captured German Goulasch hot for me.  I fed and turned in.

This day my kit was left behind with other unnecessary “tackle,” to lighten the horses’ load.  I wish I had known it.

The remaining eggs for breakfast—­delicious.

Huggie and I were sent off just before dawn on a message that took us to St Remy, a fine church, and Hartennes, where we were given hot tea by that great man, Sergeant Croucher of the Divisional Cyclists.  I rode back to Rozet St Albin, a pleasant name, along a road punctuated with dead and very evil-smelling horses.  Except for the smell it was a good run of about ten miles.  I picked up the Division again on the sandy road above Chacrise.

Sick of column riding I turned off the main road up a steep hill into Ambrief, a desolate black-and-white village totally deserted.  It came on to pour, but there was a shrine handy.  There I stopped until I was pulled out by an ancient captain of cuirassiers, who had never seen an Englishman before and wanted to hear all about us.

On into Acy, where I decided to head off the Division at Ciry, instead of crossing the Aisne and riding straight to Vailly, our proposed H.Q. for that night.  The decision saved my life, or at least my liberty.  I rode to Sermoise, a bright little village where the people were actually making bread.  At the station there was a solitary cavalry man.  In Ciry itself there was no one.  Half-way up the Ciry hill, a sort of dry watercourse, I ran into some cavalry and learnt that the Germans were holding the Aisne in unexpected strength.  I had all but ridden round and in front of our own cavalry outposts.

Two miles farther back I found Huggie and one of our brigades.  We had a bit of bully and biscuit under cover of a haystack, then we borrowed some glasses and watched bodies of Germans on the hills the other side of the Aisne.  It was raining very fast.  There was no decent cover, so we sat on the leeward side of a mound of sand.

When we awoke the sun was setting gorgeously.  Away to the west in the direction of Soissons there was a tremendous cannonade.  On the hills opposite little points of flame showed that the Germans were replying.  On our right some infantry were slowly advancing in extended order through a dripping turnip-field.

The Battle of the Aisne had begun.

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Adventures of a Despatch Rider from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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