As we understand it--no one really knows anything except the
orders given out--it is not intended that the Germans shall cross the
Marne here. But who knows? Anyway, if I move on, each division of the
Expeditionary Force that retreats to this hill will know that you are
here. If it is necessary, later, for you to leave, you will be notified
and precautions taken for your safety. You are not afraid?"
I could only tell him, "Not yet," but I could not help adding, "Of
course I am not so stupid as to suppose for a moment that you English
have retreated here to amuse yourselves, or that you have dragged your
artillery up the hill behind me just to exercise your horses or to give
your gunners a pretty promenade."
He threw back his head and laughed aloud for the first time, and I felt
better.
"Precautions do not always mean a battle, you know"; and as he rose to
his feet he called my attention to a hole in his coat, saying, "It was a
miracle that I came through Saint-Quentin with a whole skin. The
bullets simply rained about me. It was pouring--I had on a
mackintosh--which made me conspicuous as an officer, if my height had
not exposed me.
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