had been on outpost duty with nothing but a biscuit and a half apiece.
They broke their ranks to snatch at some meat that had been dumped by
the roadside, and gnawed it furiously as they marched along until the
blood ran down from their chins on to their jackets.

I shall never forget how our General saw a batch of Gordons and K.O.S.B.
stragglers trudging listlessly along the road. He halted them. Some
more came up until there was about a company in all, and with one piper.
He made them form fours, put the piper at the head of them. "Now, lads,
follow the piper, and remember Scotland"; and they all started off as
pleased as Punch with the tired piper playing like a hero.

Oving or the Fat Boy volunteered to take a message to a body of cavalry
that was covering our rear. He found them, and then, being mapless (maps
were very scarce in those days), he lost his way. There was no sun, so
he rode in what he thought was the right direction, until suddenly he
discovered that he was two kilometres from Saint Quentin. As the Germans
were officially reported to be five miles south of the town he turned
back and fled into the darkness. He slept that night at a cottage, and
picked up the Division in the morning.

I was sent on to fill up with petrol wherever I could find it. I was
forced to ride on for about four miles to some cross-roads. There I
found a staff-car that had some petrol to spare. It was now very hot, so
I had a bit of a sleep on the dusty grass by the side of the road, then
sat up to watch lazily the 2nd Corps pass.

The troops were quite cheerful and on the whole marching well. There
were a large number of stragglers, but the majority of them were not
men who had fallen out, but men who had become separated from their