efforts were made to repair the line, but well-directed rifle and light
machine-gun fire made this impracticable. Another well-placed shell
dropped just under the gunners' quarters on the front train, and
instantly the car was enveloped in flames. In turn the fire spread to
the gun-carriage, which had become untenable from rifle-fire. This
proved a complete catastrophe for the enemy, who from positions on our
extreme left and centre had a full view of the slaughter around the
doomed trains. Their nerves were completely shattered, their fire became
spasmodic and erratic, and then among the trees on a hill to the left
appeared a white flag.

That flag was too late. The Japanese cavalry shot out in file as a
straight extension of our left. Having come parallel with the farthest
group of resistance, they right turned, and instantly swept up the slope
in a beautiful line and forward over all resistance, white flag and
all. They took no prisoners.

My men were only "B one-ers," and the pace was beginning to tell; still
they were leading, owing to the fact that our advance was along the
railway and the usual tracks at the side, while the Japanese had to
contend with the marshes and woods farther away. I therefore ordered a
rally, and advanced only with such troops as could be reasonably
expected to keep the line. This party numbered about sixty, and included
Captain Clark, the Padre (Captain Roberts), Lieutenant Buckley, my Czech
interpreter (Vladimir), Regimental Sergt.-Major Gordon, Sergeant Webb
(who, I am sorry to say, died a few days later at Spascoe), Colonel
Frank (my liaison officer), and rank and file. With this party we
advanced within fifty yards of part of the burning train, amid a shower
of debris from the exploding shells stored in its magazine. The second
train looked quite deserted, and therefore, beyond examining the