How well the officers managed their men when they were sore and disappointed at the order to retreat after the battle of Mons! A General told the South Staffordshire Regiment that they were doing splendidly, but that they must retreat or they would be surrounded. They were all so unwilling to yield ground that one of them, expressing impatience, made a comment he would never have thought of doing in peace time. The General only smiled. At St. Quentin Sir John French, "smiling all over his face," explained to the troops the meaning of the repeated retirements. Up to this the men had almost to be pulled back by their officers, but after the explanation they fell in cheerfully with that most hated thing--a strategic movement to the rear. The men were pleased by Sir John and his staff going among them to see their life in the trenches, and whether they were being properly looked after. "He has no 'side,' and is just as ready to smile on the ordinary private as on the highest officer. He stops when he has time to have a chat for the sake of finding out what we think of it all, and whether we are properly looked after." The spirit which animates our officers, and the men through them, is shown by words written by Captain Norman Leslie a short time before he was killed: "Try and not worry too much about the war units. Individuals cannot count. Remember we are writing a new page of history. Future generations cannot be allowed to read of the decline of the British Empire and attribute it to us. We live our little lives and die, and to some are given the choice of proving themselves men, and to others no chance comes. Whatever our individual faults, virtues, or qualities may be, it matters not; but when we are up against big things let us forget individuals and let us act as one great British unit, united and fearless. Some will live and many will die, but count not the loss. It is better far to go out with honour than survive with shame." CHAPTER IV Boys of the Bulldog Breed A bugler only sixteen years of age was, on returning from the war, being taken to the Royal Herbert Hospital at Woolwich. One of the soldiers said to the people who were looking on, "He is a little hero, and deserves a dozen medals. He did not leave off sounding his bugle until his left arm was blown off with a shell and he had four bullet wounds in him."