very startled and recoiled into the ditch. I must have looked
alarming--a gaunt, dirty, unshaven figure towering above my motor-cycle,
without hat, bespattered with mud, and eyes bright and weary for want of
sleep. How I hated the French! I hated them because, as I then thought,
they had deserted us at Mons and again at Le Cateau; I hated them
because they had the privilege of seeing the British Army in confused
retreat; I hated them because their roads were very nearly as bad as the
roads of the Belgians. So, wet, miserable, and angry, I came into Saint
Quentin just as the sun was beginning to shine a little.




CHAPTER V.

THE GREAT RETREAT


On the morning of the 27th we draggled into Saint Quentin. I found the
others gorged with coffee and cakes provided by a kindly Staff-Officer.
I imitated them and looked around. Troops of all arms were passing
through very wearily. The people stood about, listless and sullen.
Everywhere proclamations were posted beseeching the inhabitants to bring
in all weapons they might possess. We found the Signal Company, and rode
ahead of it out of the town to some fields above a village called
Castres. There we unharnessed and took refuge from the gathering storm
under a half-demolished haystack. The Germans didn't agree to our
remaining for more than fifty minutes. Orders came for us to harness up
and move on. I was left behind with the H.Q.S., which had collected
itself, and was sent a few minutes later to 2nd Corps H.Q. at Ham, a