untry, and it is probable
that every man died, because at such a time the Germans are not in
the habit of giving quarter. When the main German advance came
down the valley the French artillery on the heights raked them with a
terrific fire in which they suffered heavy losses, the forefront of the
column being mowed down. But under this storm of fire they
proceeded with incredible coolness to their pontoon bridges across
the river, and although hundreds of men died on the banks they
succeeded in their endeavour while their guns searched the hills with
shells and forced the French gunners to retire from their positions.
The occupation of Charleville was a German victory, but it was also a
German graveyard.

After this historic episode in what had been an unending battle, the
main body of the French troops withdrew before the Germans, who
were now pouring down the valley, and retired to new ground.

5

Meanwhile, on the western side of the battle line, the French army
was holding a crescent from Abbeville, round the south of Amiens,
and the situation was not a happy one in view of the rapid advance of
the enemy under General Von Kluck, before whom the British troops
were already in continual battle.

I shall not soon forget a dreadful night near Amiens, when I saw
beaten and broken men coming back from the firing lines, and the
death-carts passing down the roads. The whole day had been
exciting and unnerving. The roads along which I had passed were
filled with soldiers marching towards an enemy which was rapidly
drawing close upon them, for whom they seemed but ill-prepared--
and by civilians stampeding with wild rumours that the Uhlans were
close upon them.

They were not very far wrong. At Picquigny, they were less than four
miles distant--a small patrol of outposts belonging to the squadrons
which were sweeping out in a fan through the northern towns and
villages of France.

As I passed, French Territorials were hastily digging trenches close to
the railway line. Reports came from stations further along that the line
might be cut at any moment. A train crowded with French and Belgian
fugitives had come to a dead halt. The children were playing on the
banks--with that divine carelessness and innocence which made
one's heart ache for them in this beastly business of war--and their
fathers and mothers, whose worldly goods had been packed into
baskets and brown paper parcels--the poor relics of all that had bee