of the others, we flung ourselves down in a hay-field and watched the
now continuous stream of men, batteries, transport lorries, and
ambulance cars coming up the hill leading from Villequier Aumont, and
toiling past us towards Ugny. There was no doubting it now: it was a
retreat on a big scale.

All round us were rolling fields, rich of soil, and tilled and tended
with that French care and thoroughness that the war has intensified.
Even small irregular patches at road-crossings have been cultivated for
the precious grain these last two years. "The Boche will get all this,
curse him!" muttered the colonel.

Major Bullivant of B Battery came over the hill on the pet grey mare
that, in spite of three changes from one Division to another, he had
managed to keep with him all the time he had been in France. He didn't
dismount in drill-book fashion; he just fell off. It was spirit, not
physique, that was keeping him going. Unshaven, wild-eyed, dirty, he
probably didn't know it. His mind centred on nothing but the business
in hand. "My battery is coming through Villequier Aumont now, sir," he
informed the colonel. "For a few minutes I was afraid we weren't going
to get out. My damn fool of a sergeant-major, for some reason or other,
took the gun-teams back to the waggon lines this morning. Said he was
going to change them and bring fresh teams up after breakfast or
something. When Beadle came up with the teams we were under machine-gun
fire. Got one man killed and three wounded, and we have a few scratches
on the shields.... If I don't get up, sir, I shall fall fast asleep,"
he exclaimed suddenly. "Where are our new positions, sir?"

The colonel handed him his flask, and he smiled. "As a matter of fact,
sir, I've kept going on ration rum."

When the colonel and Major Bullivant went off, up rode Beadle in an
extraordinary get-up: British warm, gum-boots, and pyjamas. He had been
able to get no change since the Boche 8-inch had wiped out B Battery's
mess at the opening of the Hun bombardment on the 21st. It was an
amazing thing, but neither of us had remembered to eat anything since
breakfast until that moment. The day's excitements had caused us to
ignore time altogether, and to forget hunger. But Beadle's tired grin
brought me back to such worldly matters, and we fell to on a tin of
bully and a hunk of cheese that the signalling-sergeant discovered for
us.

"They say we've done jolly well up north," said Beadle, his mou