the despatch rider. At three I
awoke to much shouting and anxious hullabaloo. The intelligence officer
was rousing us hurriedly--"All motor-cyclists turn out. Pack up kit.
Seven wanted at once in the Signal Office."

This meant, firstly, that Divisional Headquarters were to move at once,
in a hurry, and by night; secondly, that the same despatch was to be
sent simultaneously to every unit in the Division. I asked somebody to
get my kit together, and rushed upstairs to the Signal Office. There on
the table I saw the fateful wire.

"Germans entrenched south side of Conde bridge and are believed to be
crossing in large numbers." I was given a copy of this message to take
to the 15th Brigade, then at St Marguerite. Away on the road at full
speed I thought out what this meant. The enemy had broken through our
line--opposite Conde there were no reserves--advance parties of the
Germans might even now be approaching headquarters--large numbers would
cut us off from the Division on our right and would isolate the brigade
to which I was going; it would mean another Le Cateau.

I tore along to Venizel, and slowing down at the bridge shouted the news
to the officer in charge--full speed across the plain to Bucy, and
caring nothing for the sentries' shouts, on to St Marguerite. I dashed
into the general's bedroom and aroused him. Almost before I had arrived
the general and his brigade-major--both in pyjamas--were issuing
commands and writing messages. Sleepy and amazed orderlies were sent out
at the double. Battalion commanders and the C.R.E. were summoned.

I started back for D.H.Q. with an acknowledgment, and rattling through
the village came out upon the plain.

Over Conde bridge an ochreous, heavy dawn broke sullenly. There was no
noise of firing to tell me that the men of our right brigade were making
a desperate resistance to a fierce advance. A mile from Serches I passed
a field-ambulance loaded up for instant flight; the men were standing
about in little groups talking together, as if without orders. At
Headquarters I found that a despatch rider had been sent hot-foot to
summon two despatch riders, who that night were with the corps, and
others to every unit. Everybody carried the same command--load up and be
ready to move at a moment's notice.

Orders to move were never sent. Our two ghastly sentinels still held the
bridge. It was a SCARE.

The tale that we heard at the time was the tale of a little German
firing--