Having arranged my rear, the men of the 25th were ordered to move forward in file on each side of the railway track to the point selected for our rendezvous.  The time was now 3.25 A.M., the dull light of dawning day enabling us to distinguish moving objects four hundred yards away.  A scout came back to report the presence of cavalry on the left, but in the early morning haze we could not make out whether it was friendly or enemy.  I moved my troops to the opposite side of the railway embankment and prepared to receive their charge.  I then dispatched my liaison officer, Colonel Frank, forward to discover their strength and character.  He quickly returned with the information that the cavalry was Japanese, moving into position on our extreme left.  I re-formed my men and advanced towards my position as ordered, ninety minutes behind time.  I halted and examined the ground, but saw nothing of Colonel Inagaki or any of the detachments on the spot selected for our assembly.  Standing on the line, I saw the foremost enemy armoured train about four hundred yards ahead, and their outpost giving the alarm.  No shot had so far been fired, but I gave the order to load.  At this stage an incident happened which put an end to the hitherto silent advance of the attacking army.  In the act of loading a rifle went off accidentally.  The soldier to whom it belonged was standing just behind me, and I ordered Captain Browne to examine and report.  In doing so the rifle again went off; it saved the man from punishment, but it began the battle.  There was a puff of white smoke, and an instant later a 5-inch shell burst over our heads.  The men opened out into the corn and scrub, and I dismounted while the advance continued.  Taking my servant’s rifle, I led the way.

The enemy must have anticipated our rendezvous, for the place was ploughed with shells from end to end.  The first pitched just under the centre of a peasant’s cottage, and in a moment cottage and peasant were no more.  The heavy purple pall hung on the ground, and had we been on the spot selected, this description would have been written by other hands than mine.  By the increasing light and the aid of my glasses I was able to make out the entire scheme of the advance, which was a continuous line from one mile on the left of the railway, extending to about ten miles on our right.  A space of about one hundred yards on each side of the line was unoccupied—­for the reason, as I afterwards learnt, that it was considered too exposed and dangerous for the purpose of an advance.  Unable to find anyone to direct my movements, on my own initiative I decided to fill this vacant space, so making the line continuous, and move forward with the Japanese to the attack.  Disposing my men in the shelter of the scrub on either side of the railway, I directed their movements from the centre of the track.  There was an ugly moment when a maxim situated in a cornfield began to fire point-blank at a range of one hundred yards, but a Czech outpost entrenched