rtillery was useless, for
we were coming to grips. Line after line, they broke into the field,
lances set. The horses were stretching out low over the turf--over the
turf where a moment later they were to kick out the last of their breath,
pinning under them many a rider to whom we were paying the debt of the
Munster Fusiliers.

A bugle sounded.----Those that were left of the Uhlans galloped off. The
little machine guns had done their work.

Our attention was then attracted to a heavy fire, directed from some
unknown quarter upon a near-by field in which was confined a large herd of
light brown cattle, their colour identical with that of our khaki
uniforms. The animals were milling about madly; a dozen of them already
were down and others were falling each moment. Here was one of the humours
of war. We laughed, believing that the Germans were firing upon the dying
beasts, mistaking them for us--"The Ladies from Hell," as they called us.

The Scots Greys, which regiment had come up at this critical moment to
occupy the high ground on our right flank about six hundred yards away,
through the fierceness of their enfilading fire, managed to keep the enemy
at a standstill and so allowed the Black Watch to retreat to safety.

We owed our lives to kind fate in bringing the Scots Greys to our timely
aid, and to them all honour! But for them we should have met the fate of
the Munster Fusiliers.

Crawling on their bellies, some of our men went out and brought in those
of the Black Watch who were lying wounded. The others we left, for their
own men would be there presently. For us, it was retreat again. After
traversing ditches, ravines and barbed-wire fences, we finally assembled
on the road. The artillery was beginning to pound once more. We had to
trudge on, watching for the next attack, planting one bleeding foot before
another, with nobody knew how many days of forced marching before
us--marching (so we thought) to let the Russians get to Berlin. I don't
think anything else would have induced us to resume our retreat after the
brush with the Uhlans.

At evening we found ourselves at the village of Oise about six miles from
the abovementioned scene. As we arrived at the bridge over the River Oise,
the engineers who were on the other side, and who had fused the bridge,
shouted to us to keep back, but our colonel gave us the order to double.
We had cleared the bridge by about only two hundred yards, when it blew up
into at