ent 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.

We were called fairly late.[10] George and I rode into Pontoise and
"scrounged" for eggs and bread. These we took to a small and smelly
cottage. The old woman of the cottage boiled our eggs and gave us
coffee. It was a luxurious breakfast. I was looking forward to a slack
lazy day in the sun, for we were told that we had for the moment
outdistanced the gentle Germans. But my turn came round horribly soon,
and I was sent off to Compiegne with a message for G.H.Q., and orders to
find our particularly elusive Div. Train. It was a gorgeous ride along a
magnificent road, through the great forest, and I did the twenty odd
miles in forty odd minutes.

G.H.Q. was installed in the Palace. Everybody seemed very clean and
lordly, and for a moment I was ashamed of my dirty, ragged, unshorn
self. Then I realised that I was "from the Front"--a magic phrase to
conjure with for those behind the line--and swaggered through long
corridors.

After delivering my message I went searching for the Div. Train. First,
I looked round the town for it, then I had wind of it at the station,
but at the station it had departed an hour or so before. I returned to
G.H.Q., but there they knew nothing. I tried every road leading out of
the town. Finally, having no map, and consequently being unable to make
a really thorough search, I had a drink, and started off back.

When I returned I found everybody was getting ready to move, so I packed
up. This time the motor-cyclists rode in advance of the column. About
two miles out I found that the others had dropped behind out of sight. I
went on into Carlepont, and made myself useful to the Billeting Officer.
The others arrived later. It seems there had been a rumour of Uhlans on
the road, and they had come along fearfully.

The troops marched in, singing and cheering. It was unbelievable what
half a day's rest had done for them. Of course you must remember that we
all firmly believed, except in our moments of deepest despondency,
first, that we could have held the Germans at Mons and Le Cateau if the
French had not "deserted" us, and s