advancing over open fields without a vestige of shade.

Under cover of their guns the Germans fled across the Petit Morin in
such confusion that they did not even hold the very defensible heights
to the north of the river. We followed on their heels through St Ouen
and up the hill behind the village. Three of us went on ahead and sat
for two hours in a trench with borrowed rifles waiting for the Germans
to come out of a wood. But it began to rain very hard, and the Germans
came on the other side and were taken by the Cyclists.

It was just getting dark when we rendezvoused at the cross-roads of
Charnesseuil. The village was battered by our guns, but the villagers
did not mind a scrap and welcomed us with screams of joy. The local inn
was reopened with cheers, and in spite of the fact that there were two
dead horses, very evil-smelling, just outside, we had drinks all round.

We were interrupted by laughter and cheers. We rushed out to see the
quaintest procession coming from the west into Charnesseuil. Seventy odd
immense Prussian Guards were humbly pushing in the bicycles of forty of
our Divisional Cyclists, who were dancing round them in delight. They
had captured a hundred and fifty of them, but our guns had shelled them,
luckily without doing much damage to the Cyclists, so loading up the
prisoners with all their kit and equipment, and making them lead their
captors' bicycles, the Cyclists brought them in triumph for the
inspection of the Staff. It was a great moment.

I was very tired, and, careless of who passed, stretched myself at the
side of the road for a sleep. I was wakened an hour later, and we all
went along together to the chateau. There we slept in the hall before
the contented faces of some fine French pictures--or the majority of