I was sent on to fill up with petrol wherever I could find it.  I was forced to ride on for about four miles to some cross-roads.  There I found a staff-car that had some petrol to spare.  It was now very hot, so I had a bit of a sleep on the dusty grass by the side of the road, then sat up to watch lazily the 2nd Corps pass.

The troops were quite cheerful and on the whole marching well.  There were a large number of stragglers, but the majority of them were not men who had fallen out, but men who had become separated from their battalions at Le Cateau.  A good many were badly footsore.  These were being crowded into lorries and cars.

There was one solitary desolate figure.  He was evidently a reservist, a feeble little man of about forty, with three days’ growth on his chin.  He was very, very tired, but was struggling along with an unconquerable spirit.  I gave him a little bit of chocolate I had; but he wouldn’t stop to eat it.  “I can’t stop.  If I does, I shall never get there.”  So he chewed it, half-choking, as he stumbled along.  I went a few paces after him.  Then Captain Dillon came up, stopped us, and put the poor fellow in a staff-car and sent him along a few miles in solitary grandeur, more nervous than comfortable.

Eventually the company came along and I joined.  Two miles farther we came to a biggish town with white houses that simply glared with heat.[9] My water-bottle was empty, so I humbly approached a good lady who was doling out cider and water at her cottage door.  It did taste good!  A little farther on I gave up my bicycle to Spuggy, who was riding in the cable-cart.

We jolted along at about two miles an hour.  For some time two spies under escort walked beside the limber.  Unlike most spies they looked their part.  One was tall and thin and handsome.  The other was short and fat and ugly.  The fear of death was on their faces, and the jeers of our men died in their mouths.  They were marched along for two days until a Court could be convened.  Then they were shot.

Just before Noyon we turned off to the left and halted for half an hour at Landrimont, a little village full of big trees.  We had omelettes and coffee at the inn, then basked in the sun and smoked.  Noyon was unattractive.  The people did not seem to care what happened to anybody.  Perhaps we thought that, because we were very tired.  Outside Noyon I dozed, then went off to sleep.

When I awoke it was quite dark, and the column had halted.  The order came for all except the drivers to dismount and proceed on foot.  The bridge ahead was considered unsafe, so waggons went across singly.

I walked on into the village, Pontoise.  There were no lights, and the main street was illuminated only by the lanterns of officers seeking their billets.  An A.S.C. officer gave me a lift.  Our H.Q. were right the other end of the town in the Chateau of the wee hamlet called La Pommeraye.  I found them, stumbled into a loft, and dropped down for a sleep.