We woke very early (September 1st) to the noise of guns.  The Germans were attacking vigorously, having brought up several brigades of Jaegers by motor-bus.  The 15th was on our left, the 13th was holding the hill above Bethancourt, and the 14th was scrapping away on the right.  The guns were ours, as the Germans didn’t appear to have any with them.  I did a couple of messages out to the 15th.  The second time I came back with the news that their left flank was being turned.

A little later one of our despatch riders rode in hurriedly.  He reported that, while he was riding along the road to the 15th, he had been shot at by Uhlans whom he had seen distinctly.  At the moment it was of the utmost importance to get a despatch through to the 15th.  The Skipper offered to take it, but the General refused his offer.

A second despatch rider was carefully studying his map.  It seemed to him absolutely inconceivable that Uhlans should be at the place where the first despatch rider had seen them.  They must either have ridden right round our left flank and left rear, or else broken through the line.  So he offered boldly to take the despatch.

He rode by a slightly roundabout road, and reached the 15th in safety.  On his way back he saw a troop of North Irish Horse.  In the meantime the Divisional Headquarters had left Crepy in great state, the men with rifles in front, and taken refuge on a hill south-east of the town.  On his return the despatch rider was praised mightily for his work, but to this day he believes the Uhlans were North Irish Horse and the bullets “overs"[11]—­to this day the first despatch rider contradicts him.

The Division got away from Crepy with the greatest success.  The 13th slaughtered those foolish Huns that tried to charge up the hill in the face of rifle, machine-gun, and a considerable shell fire.  The Duke of Wellington’s laid a pretty little ambush and hooked a car containing the general and staff of the 1st Cavalry Division.  The prisoners were remorsefully shot, as it would have been impossible to bring them away under the heavy fire.

We jogged on to Nanteuil, all of us very pleased with ourselves, particularly the Duke of Wellington’s, who were loaded with spoils, and a billeting officer who, running slap into some Uhlans, had been fired at all the way from 50 yards’ range to 600 and hadn’t been hit.

I obtained leave to give a straggler a lift of a couple of miles.  He was embarrassingly grateful.  The last few miles was weary work for the men.  Remember they had marched or fought, or more often both, every day since our quiet night at Landrecies.  The road, too, was the very roughest pave, though I remember well a little forest of bracken and pines we went through.  Being “a would-be literary bloke,” I murmured “Scottish”; being tired I forgot it from the moment after I saw it until now.

There was no rest at Nanteuil.  I took the Artillery Staff Captain round the brigades on my carrier, and did not get back until 10.  A bit of hot stew and a post-card from home cheered me.  I managed a couple of hours’ sleep.