k along the roads in this
uproar of traffic, and word came that a further retreat was happening
and that the enemy had broken through again...

Amiens seemed threatened on the morning when, to the north, Albert was
held by a mixed crowd of Scottish and English troops, too thin, as I
could see when I passed through them, to fight any big action, with an
enemy advancing rapidly from Courcellette and outflanking our line by
Montauban and Fricourt. I saw our men marching hastily in retreat to
escape that tightening net, and while the southern side of Amiens was
held by a crowd of stragglers with cyclist battalions, clerks
from headquarters staffs, and dismounted cavalry, commanded by
Brigadier-General Carey, sent down hurriedly to link them together and
stop a widening gap until the French could get to our relief on the
right and until the Australians had come down from Flanders. There was
nothing on that day to prevent the Germans breaking through to Amiens
except the courage of exhausted boys thinly strung out, and the lagging
footsteps of the Germans themselves, who had suffered heavy losses
all the way and were spent for a while by their progress over the wild
ground of the old fighting-fields. Their heavy guns were far behind,
unable to keep pace with the storm troops, and the enemy was relying
entirely on machine-guns and a few field-guns, but most of our guns were
also out of action, captured or falling back to new lines, and upon the
speed with which the enemy could mass his men for a new assault depended
the safety of Amiens and the road to Abbeville and the coast. If he
could hurl fresh divisions of men against our line on that last night of
March, or bring up strong forces of cavalry, or armored cars, our line
would break and Amiens would be lost, and all our work would be in
jeopardy. That was certain. It was visible. It could not be concealed by
any camouflage of hope or courage.

It was after a day on the Somme battlefields, passing through our
retiring troops, that I sat down, with other war correspondents and
several officers, to a dinner in the old Hotel du Rhin in Amiens. It
was a dismal meal, in a room where there had been much laughter and,
throughout the battles of the Somme, in 1916, a coming and going of
generals and staffs and officers of all grades, cheery and high-spirited
at these little tables where there were good wine and not bad food, and
putting away from their minds for the time being the t