ctly. At the moment it was of the
utmost importance to get a despatch through to the 15th. The Skipper
offered to take it, but the General refused his offer.

A second despatch rider was carefully studying his map. It seemed to him
absolutely inconceivable that Uhlans should be at the place where the
first despatch rider had seen them. They must either have ridden right
round our left flank and left rear, or else broken through the line. So
he offered boldly to take the despatch.

He rode by a slightly roundabout road, and reached the 15th in safety.
On his way back he saw a troop of North Irish Horse. In the meantime the
Divisional Headquarters had left Crepy in great state, the men with
rifles in front, and taken refuge on a hill south-east of the town. On
his return the despatch rider was praised mightily for his work, but to
this day he believes the Uhlans were North Irish Horse and the bullets
"overs"[11]--to this day the first despatch rider contradicts him.

The Division got away from Crepy with the greatest success. The 13th
slaughtered those foolish Huns that tried to charge up the hill in the
face of rifle, machine-gun, and a considerable shell fire. The Duke of
Wellington's laid a pretty little ambush and hooked a car containing the
general and staff of the 1st Cavalry Division. The prisoners were
remorsefully shot, as it would have been impossible to bring them away
under the heavy fire.

We jogged on to Nanteuil, all of us very pleased with ourselves,
particularly the Duke of Wellington's, who were loaded with spoils, and
a billeting officer who, running slap into some Uhlans, had been fired
at all the way from 50 yards' range to 600 and hadn't been hit.

I obtained leave to give a straggler a lift of a couple of miles. He was
embarrassingly grateful. The last few miles was weary work for the men.
Remember they had marched or fought, or more often both, every day since
our quiet night at Landrecies. The road, too, was the very roughest
_pave_, though I remember well a little forest of bracken and pines we
went through. Being "a would-be literary bloke," I murmured "Scottish";
being tired I forgot it from the moment after I saw it until now.

There was no rest at Nanteuil. I took the Artillery Staff Captain round
the brigades on my carrier, and did not get back until 10. A bit of hot
stew and a post-card from home cheered me. I managed a couple of hours'
sleep.

We turned out about 3, the morning of S