Orders to move were never sent.  Our two ghastly sentinels still held the bridge.  It was a SCARE.

The tale that we heard at the time was the tale of a little German firing—­a lost patrol of ours, returning by an unauthorised road, mistaken in the mist for Germans—­a verbal message that had gone wrong.  As for the lieutenant who—­it was said—­first started the hare, his name was burnt with blasphemy for days and days.  The only men who came out of it well were some of our cyclists, who, having made their nightly patrol up to the bridge, returned just before dawn to D.H.Q. and found the Division trying to make out that it had not been badly frightened.

I did not hear what really happened at the bridge that night until I published my paper, “The Battle of the Aisne,” in the May ‘Blackwood.’  Here is the story as I had it from the officer principally concerned:—­

Conde bridge was under our control by shell-fire alone, so that we were obliged to patrol its unpleasant neighbourhood by night.  For this purpose an “officer’s patrol” was organised (in addition to the “standing patrol” provided by the Cyclists) and supplied every night by different battalions.  So many conflicting reports were received nightly about the bridge that the officer who told me the story was appointed Brigade Patrolling Officer.

He established himself in a certain wood, and on the night in question worked right up beyond Conde bridge—­until he found a burning house about 200 yards beyond the bridge on the south side of it.  In the flare of the house he was surprised to discover Germans entrenched in an old drain on the British side of the river.  He had unknowingly passed this body of the enemy.

He heard, too, a continuous stream of Germans in the transport marching through the woods towards the bridge.  Working his way back, he reported the matter personally to the Brigadier of the 13th, who sent the famous message to the Division.

It appears that the Germans had come down to fill their water-carts that night, and to guard against a surprise attack had pushed forward two platoons across the bridge into the drain.  Unfortunately one of our patrols disobeyed its orders that night and patrolled a forbidden stretch of road.  The officer shot two of these men in the dark.

Three days later the outpost company on Vesle bridge of the Aisne was surrounded, and, later still, Conde bridge passed out of our artillery control, and was finally crossed by the Germans.

I have written of this famous scare of Conde bridge in detail, not because it was characteristic, but because it was exceptional.  It is the only scare we ever had in our Division, and amongst those who were on the Aisne, and are still with the Division, it has become a phrase for encouragement—­“Only another Conde.”