e. I could hear their
horses clattering up the street. Across the way Nadine stood weeping. A
few women with glazed, resigned eyes, stood listlessly round her.
Behind me, I heard the first shell crash dully into the far end of the
town. It seemed to me I could not just go off. So I went across to
Nadine and muttered "Nous reviendrons, Mademoiselle." But she would not
look at me, so I jumped on my bicycle, and with a last glance round at
the wrecked, deserted station, I rode off, shouting to encourage more
myself than the others, "Ca va bien."

I caught up the General, and passed him to ride on ahead of the Signal
Company. Never before had I so wished my engine to turn more slowly. It
seemed a shame that we motor-cyclists should head the retreat of our
little column. I could not understand how the men could laugh and joke.
It was blasphemous. They ought to be cursing with angry faces,--at the
least, to be grave and sorrowful.

I was told that Divisional Headquarters would be established at
Villers-Pol, a little country village about ten miles west of Bavai and
eight miles south-east of Valenciennes. I rode to St Waast, a few miles
out of Bavai, and, finding there a cavalry colonel (of the 2nd Life
Guards, I think), gave him all the news. I hurried on to Jenlain,
thinking I might be of some use to the troops on our right flank, but
Jenlain was peaceful and empty. So I cut across low rolling downs to
Villers-Pol. There was nobody there when I arrived. The sun was shining
very brightly. Old women were sleeping at the doors; children were
playing lazily on the road. Soon one or two motor-cyclists dribbled in,
and about an hour later a section of the Signal Company arrived after a
risky dash along country lanes. They outspanned, and we, as always, made
for the inn.

There was a mother in the big room. She was a handsome little woman of
about twenty-four. Her husband was at the war. She asked me why we had
come to Villers-Pol. I said we were retreating a little--pour attaquer
le mieux--un mouvement strategique. She wept bitterly and loudly, "Ah,
my baby, what will they do to us? They will kill you, and they will
ill-treat me so that never again shall I be able to look my husband in
the eyes--his brave eyes; but now perhaps they are closed in death!"
There was an older, harsh-featured woman who rated the mother for her
silliness, and, while we ate our omelette, the room was filled with the
clamour of them until a dog outside