Adventures of a Despatch Rider

we scoffed-that instead of further retreating either beyond or into the fortifications of Paris, there was a possibility of an advance. The Germans, we were told, had at last been outflanked. Joffre

yards behind two motor-cyclists. Suddenly he saw them stop abruptly and put up their hands. He fled. A little farther on he came to a village and asked for coffee. He heard that Uhlans had been there a fe

It was the first time we had been tw

ollection we offered each other our bacon, and one at the end of breakfast said he had had enough. The Staff was almost giggling, and a batt

ad placed ten dripping victims in the French gendarme captain's car. Then George and I went in pursuit of a turkey for the Skipper. It w

biscuits and George scrounged some butter. A job to the 3rd Division on our right and another in pursuit of an errant officer, and then a sweaty and exiguous lunch-it was a sweltering noon-seated on a blistering pavement. Soon after lunch three of us were sent on to Mor

shady log to eat it, and smoke a delectable pipe. In a quarter of an hour M

ans in the forest who had been left behind by our advance. The grey figure was stalked, unconscious of his danger. Pollers had a shot with his revolver, luckily witho

n the first flush of victory. They had had a bit of a scrap with Uhlans, and were proudly displaying to

ed up his bicycle, the stee

ht I thought out plots for at least four stories. It would have been three, but I lost my way, and was only put right by striking a wandering convoy. I was in search of the Division Train. I looked for it at Tournan and at Villeneuve and right through the forest, but couldn't find it. I

ugh the forest. He rode with a loaded revolver in one hand, and was only saved from shoo

ught they were dead donkeys. The smell was a little different-more acrid and unpleasant. We told him that ther

e, and Orr went off to Paris for new bicycles, and w

just off the road. We arrived there about twelve: the Germans had departed at six, leaving behind them a souvenir in the dead body of a fellow from the East Lancs. crumpled in a ditch. He had been shot while eating. It was my first corpse. I am afraid I was not over

drunk. French proclamations were scribbled over with coarse, heavy jests. The women were almost hysterical with relieved anxiety. The men were still sullen, and, though the

had outstripped the advance-guard by m

n who had overslept himself

e. On my return my engine suddenly produced an unearthly metalli

he people crowded into the streets and cheered us. T

elcomed us in charming terms. Two fat old women rushed up to us and besought us to allow them t

not be very comfortable tied with pink ribbons to my carrier. She gravely assented, sat on my knee, told me

ws, and with feelings about as fine as those of a motor-bus. She was one of them, and she was the f

they did all know. Then the old harridan chanted the wrongs which the Germans had wrought until, when she had worked the crowd and herself up to a heat of furious excitement, she lowered her voice, suddenly lowered her tone. In a grating whisper she narrated, in more detail than I cared t

s had left a rifle or two and some of our messages which they had intercepted. The girl hesitated a moment, and then follo

road. The Division was marching past in the very best of spirits. We, who were very tired, endeavoured

tions of how he died. He crashed into a German barricade, and we discovered him the next morning with his

minutes after my return the Fat Boy rode in, greatly excited. He had gone out along the Aulnoy road with a message, and round a corner had run into a patrol of Uhla

icycle-our spare, a Rudge-burnt out its clutch, and we left it in exchange for some pears

the signal-office by the roadside. There I exchanged my old bike for a new one which had been discovered in a cottage. Nothing was wrong with my ancient grid except a buckled back

orin and second the line La Ferté to the hills north of Méry, so that their main body might get back across the Marne and continue northward the

ously to prevent th

and grasp thes

Morin debouching so as to

rs run in deep ravines, hemmed in b

rne remained-one large one at La

arre in force. They were in moderate force on the south bank of t

w glory may be force

ff wanted to know at once, and, although a despatch rider had already been sent west to ride up the road from the south, it was thought th

him and, looking round, said in a loud voice, "Here is Jones!" (it is obviously impolitic for me to give even his nickname, if I wish to tell the truth). The despatch ride

nd rode "all out" until he came to the firing line just south-west of the farm to the north of Chevrie. Major Buckle came out of his ditch to see what w

he despatch rider with him into his ditch, the despatch rider had to stand there too, horribly frightened. The Major s

ou're under mac

e point by that road, and it seemed best to get back at once. He absolutely streaked along back to D.H.Q., stopping on t

. Moral: Be called away by some pressing engagement before the captain c

shed on with tremendous dash towards Jouarre, and we learnt from an aeroplane which dropped a message on the hill at Doué that the general situatio

s little water. We had been advancing ov

e river. We followed on their heels through St Ouen and up the hill behind the village. Three of us went on ahead and sat for two hours in a trench with borro

s, but the villagers did not mind a scrap and welcomed us with screams of joy. The local inn was reopened with cheers

of forty of our Divisional Cyclists, who were dancing round them in delight. They had captured a hundred and fifty of them, but our guns had shelled them, luckily without doing much damage to the Cyclis

s wakened an hour later, and we all went along together to the chateau. There we slept in the hall before

omposed the advance-guard. Scouts had reported that Saacy had been evacuated

n, the S.O., told me that a battery of ours in position on the common to the south of the farm would open fire in a few

ans opened fire, not at our guns but at a couple of companies of the M

ve the situation I proposed breakfast. King and I had half a loaf of Saacy bread and half a pot of jam I always carried about with me. The rest went to the men. Our breakfast was nearly spoilt by the Manchesters, who, after t

up against the wall, had been quite moderately safe. The shelling slackened off, so

e General and his staff, fuming, half-way up the hill. The German guns co

take a message to 2nd Corps at Saacy. On my return I

B runs on high ground, and at B there is a corresponding gap, the road being open completely for roughly 200 yards. A convoy of German lorries was passing with an escort of infantry, and the

r. The guns picked off a few, completely demolishing two lorries, then with a

lery in column of route on an exceedingly steep and narrow road. Guns firing in the open can be seen. If

e of hours, knowing that I should have little sleep that night. At dusk we bivouacked in the ga

ral, put up his eyeglass and drawled, "I say, General, I've found that battery. I shall now deal with it." He did. In five minutes it was silenced, and the 14th attacked u

s a b

ep between the showers with a despatch to 2nd Corps at Saacy and anot

et-and, finding four free square feet in the S.O., had an hour's troubled sleep before I was w

e top of the hill, telling him he might advance. The Germans, it appeared, had retired during the night. Returning

coarse vegetation. The valley itself seemed enclosed by unpleasant hills from joy or light. Soldiers lined the road-some were dead, contorted, or just stretched out peacefully; some were wounded, and they moaned as I passed al

t. It was littered with their equipment. And in front

a house that our artillery had fired was still burning. The chalked billeting marks of the Germans were still on the doors of the cottages. I had a desp

the sun

k with two German prisoners-R.A.M.C. The

r essen nichts: immer

ed on past the column, waiting for a moment to watch some infantry draw a large wood, and arrived with the cavalry at Gandeln, a rakish old to

alry and horse artillery were harassing them for all they were worth, and whenever

ound without a vestige of cover for two and a half miles into Chézy. On th

These were hastily looted. Men piled themselves with helmets, greatcoats, food, saddlery, until we looked a crowd of dishevelled bandits. The German wounded watched-they lay scattered in a cornfield, like

lace into the sand. Their heads and necks had been forced back into their carcasses, and on top of this mash were the splin

ainst the yellow of the descending sun. It furiously stank. Each time I passed it I held my nose, and I was then pretty well used to smells. The last I saw of it-it lay grotesquely on its back with four stiff legs st

e, and made ourselves very comfortable for the night with some fresh straw that we piled all over us. The roads were for th

the head of the column, and inquiring with care whether our cavalry was comfortably ahead, came to the village of Noroy-sur-Ourcq. We "scrounged" for food and found an inn. At first our host, a fat well-to-do old

y had not maltreated any one. Their horses were dropping with fatigue-that we knew-and their officers kept tell

osite side was a dead German. Quite a number of men broke their ranks to look curiously at him-anything to break the tedious, deadening monotony o

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

ther unnecessary "tackle," to lighten

eggs for break

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 ver

age totally deserted. It came on to pour, but there was a shrine handy. There I stopped until I was pulled out

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 Cir

of a haystack, then we borrowed some glasses and watched bodies of Germans on the hills the other side of the

tremendous cannonade. On the hills opposite little points of flame showed that the Germans were replyi

of the Aisn

Ciry for the night. At the inn we found many drinks-particularly some wonderful cherry brandy-and a friendly motor-cyclist who told us of a billet that an officer was probably going to leave. We went there. Our host was an old soldier, so,

ad been riding all day and often all night. But those were heroic days, and now as I write this in our comfortable slack winter quarters, I must confess-I would give anyt