lt so badly
before. The withdrawal from the actual scene of battle seemed to leave a
gulf in his inside that positively yawned. It was not only the apparent
uselessness of trying to stem the German tide that depressed him. There
was something more than that. He felt like a man who wakes after a
heavy, drug-induced slumber. The sudden cessation of the intense
excitement of battles leaves the brain empty and weary. At such moments
the hopelessness of the whole thing appalled and depressed him. The
uncertainty of the future hurt him. Nor was he alone in this state of
mind. Not a voice was raised to break the throbbing monotony of the
march. Heads were bent low.

On they went. Night came down upon them and seemed to crush the spirit
out of them. As they emerged from the wood, the moon rose and flooded
the broad plain with weird, phosphorescent light. They struggled on,
swaying with sleep, past the ghostly outlines of poplars and hayricks,
past quiet, deserted cottages and empty stables. There was something
almost unearthly about that march in the moonlight. The accumulated
fatigue of a long and hot day, the want of food and the repressing
influence of a summer night, all these things joined in producing a
state of mental listlessness that destroyed the impression of reality
which things have in the daytime. They were drifting down a slow-moving
stream; the scenery glided by, but the sensation was by no means
pleasant. The brain was constantly at war with the lazy feet, striving
to keep them from stumbling and the eyelids from closing. Sound was
peculiarly muffled, as if darkness repressed and shut it in. The brain
was not commanding the limbs with the instantaneous co-ordination of the
daytime. The sensation that this produced--it is very difficult to give
any definite idea of it--was an impression of physical and mental
incompetence and uncertainty. And all the time every ounce of the body
was crying out to the mind to let it lie down and rest.

That night many men were lost.

* * * * *

It was not until ten o'clock that they arrived at a village where they
found the "cookers" and regimental transport. The Subaltern could not
help admiring the skill which was constantly being shown by the Staff
not only in the strategical dispositions of the retreat, but in
comparatively minute details such as this. The Brigade transport had
been guided and collected to a spot where it could safely be of