Sir John French tells us that the retreat was continued far into the night of the 26th and through the 27th and 28th. The cavalry officer quoted above gives us a vivid picture of the weariness of his men and horses, and from the stories of others who took part in the retreat we learn that it was just as trying as the battle itself. The night was black dark, the rain was falling heavily, and the narrow roads were choked with guns, transport, and infantry. The men had to be shaken out of their sleep, but once on their feet they marched steadily.
[Illustration: General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, G.C.B., D.S.O.
Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien commanded the Second Army Corps during the retreat from Mons. Sir John French, in his dispatch of September 7, ascribed to him the salvation of the left wing of the British army, and described him as "a commander of rare and unusual coolness, intrepidity, and determination." Had the left wing been rolled up, the rout of the whole Allied army would probably have followed.]
"There was never a halt nor a pause, though horses dropped between the shafts, and men sat down exhausted by the roadside. A heavy gun overturned in a ditch, but it was impossible to stay and get it out; so it was rendered useless, and the disconsolate gunners trekked on. When the horses could draw their loads no longer, the loads were cast by the roadside. . . . I cannot give a connected account of that night. The overpowering desire for sleep, the weariness and ache of every fibre, and the thirst! I had forgotten to be hungry, and had got past food; but I thirsted as I have only thirsted once before, and that was in the desert near Khartum."
On moved the columns, almost at the last gasp, but still undaunted and bent on winning through. When the dreadful night was over, and dawn broke over the hills, men looked at each other and marvelled at the change wrought in their appearance by the terrible experiences which they had undergone. They were as worn and gaunt as though they were recovering from a serious illness.
Let me tell you a little story, to show the splendid self-restraint of our men even when they were suffering agonies of thirst.
"Soon after sunrise," says an officer, "we came up with two of our ambulance wagons and one of our filter water-carts. The wounded were in such a state of exhaustion with the long trek and the awful jolting of the wagons that it was decided to make some beef-tea for them, and a major rode ahead to find some farm where water could be boiled. He had hardly gone when a battalion of exhausted infantry came up, and as soon as they saw the water-carts made a dash for them. Hastily I rode up to them, and told them that there was very little water left in the carts, and that it was needed for their wounded comrades. 'I am thirsty myself,' I said, 'and I am awfully sorry for you chaps; but you see how it is--the wounded must come first.'