starting off, a shell plunged into the ground by the little red factory.
As I knew it to be the first of three I waited again.

At that moment Colonel Seely's car came up, and Colonel Seely himself
got out and went forward with me to see if the road had been damaged.
For three minutes the road should have been safe, but the German machine
became human, and in a couple of minutes Colonel Seely and I returned
covered with rich red plough and with a singing in our ears. I gave the
Colonel a couple of hundred yards start, and we sprinted across into the
safe hands of Venizel.

Beyond Missy, which we intermittently occupied, our line extended along
the foot of the hills and crossed the Aisne about three-quarters of a
mile short of Condé bridge--and that brings me to a tale.

One night we were healthily asleep after a full day. I had been "next
for duty" since ten o'clock, but at two I began to doze, because between
two and five there is not often work for the despatch rider. At three I
awoke to much shouting and anxious hullabaloo. The intelligence officer
was rousing us hurriedly--"All motor-cyclists turn out. Pack up kit.
Seven wanted at once in the Signal Office."

This meant, firstly, that Divisional Headquarters were to move at once,
in a hurry, and by night; secondly, that the same despatch was to be
sent simultaneously to every unit in the Division. I asked somebody to
get my kit together, and rushed upstairs to the Signal Office. There on
the table I saw the fateful wire.

"Germans entrenched south side of Condé bridge and are believed to be
crossing in large numbers." I was given a copy of this message to take