CHAPTER V

THE BEGINNING OF THE RETREAT

It was from this point that the great “Retreat from Mons” really began.  The road in front of the Battalion was hit by one or two shells.  Apparently it was being “searched,” and so the Battalion was hastily moved into the open fields, assuming what is known as “Artillery Formation,” i.e. small collections of troops, moving on the same objective, with “irregular distances and depths.”  By this means many lives must have been saved.  After about a mile of very hurried marching, through turnip fields and stubble, the road was again reached, and the Battalion was apparently out of the enemy’s range.

The heat was beginning to be intense.  The men had marched for the last three days almost incessantly, and without sufficient sleep.  Sunday night in the firing-line had been full of excitement of battle, and all Monday morning had been spent at digging trenches.  Imagine the state of the men!  Dirty from digging, with a four days’ growth of beard, bathed in sweat, eyes half closed with want of sleep, “packs” missing, lurching with the drunken torpor of fatigue, their own mothers would not have known them!  There was no time to rest and sleep, when rest and sleep were the most desirable things on earth.  Those men assuredly knew all the agonies of a temptation to sell for a few moments’ sleep their liberty and lives.

During a halt the Subaltern threw himself so heavily in a cabbage patch, that his revolver became unhitched from his belt, and when the halt was over he lurched to his feet and on, without noticing its loss.  Careless?  Perhaps, but one of his men lost his rifle and never noticed it, because he was carrying a spade!

There was, however, one consolation.  The Germans had for the time been shaken off; although the noise of battle could still be heard uncomfortably near on the left.  But if one waits long enough, the hottest sun must go to rest, and drag its horrible day with it.  About six o’clock the Battalion at last came up with its “Cookers” and transport.  Glory of glories, rest had at last been achieved!  Never had bacon been so welcome, never tea so desirable, so stimulating, so wonderful.

The Quartermaster-Sergeant had some terrifying tales for the Company Mess about disasters on less fortunate parts of the line; but there was no time to go into the matter, for the Battalion was ordered to parade immediately.  This was the last straw!  The men had been looking forward to, and longing for a good sleep that night.  Every aching limb of their bodies cried out for rest, and here they were going to be put on outpost duty for yet another night.  Imagine their state of mind!  Is there a word to cope with the situation?  Assuredly not, though great efforts were made!  Darkness fell so swiftly that the Officers had scarcely time to “site” the position of their trenches.  Then the weary business of entrenching began again.  Have you ever heard the tinkering, tapping, thudding sounds made by entrenching implements or spades?  None of the men who heard it that night will ever forget it.  It will give them a memory of energy, promoted by the desire for safety, clogged by heat and fatigue.