There was little rest for us that night.  Twice I had to run into Ham.  The road was bad and full of miscellaneous transport.  The night was dark, and a thick mist clung to the road.  Returning the second time, I was so weary that I jogged on about a couple of miles beyond my turning before I woke up sufficiently to realise where I was.

The next morning (the 28th) we were off before dawn.  So tired were we that I remember we simply swore at each other for nothing at all.  We waited, shivering in the morning cold, until the column was well on its way.

At Oleezy the Division began to find itself.  Look at the map and think for a moment what the men had done.  On the 21st they had advanced from Landrecies to Bavai, a fair day’s march on a blazing day.  On the 22nd they had marched from Bavai to the Canal.  From the morning of the 23rd to midday or later on the 24th they had fought hard.  On the afternoon and evening of the 24th they had retired to the Bavai-Saint-Waast line.  Before dawn on the morning of the 25th they had started off again and marched in column of route on another blazing day back to a position a few miles south of Le Cateau.  The battle had begun as the sun rose on the 26th, and continued until three o’clock or later in the afternoon.  They plodded through the darkness and the rain.  No proper halt was made until midday of the 27th.

The General, who had escaped, and the Staff worked with ferocious energy, as we very painfully knew.  Battalions bivouacked in the open fields round Oleezy collected the stragglers that came in and reorganised themselves.  The cavalry were between us and Saint Quentin.  We were in communication with them by despatch rider.  Trains full of French troops passed westwards over Oleezy bridge.  There were, I believe, General d’Amade’s two reserve divisions.  We had walked away from the Germans.

We rode after the column.  On the way we passed a battalion of men who 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.