Now we must hurry north to Antwerp and see what happened after the tragic fall of that great fortress. In the last chapter of Volume II., page 313, I told you that a British Naval Brigade, numbering about 8,000 men in all, was sent to the assistance of the beleaguered city. It arrived too late to save the fortress, but its energies were not wasted. The defence of the city was prolonged for a few priceless days while the troops from the Aisne were being hurried up to the new theatre of war. The Belgian troops began to retreat from Antwerp on the evening of 6th October. Covered by cavalry, armoured motor cars, and cyclist corps, they moved out towards Ghent and Ostend, while a strong show of resistance was kept up by other Belgian troops and the British contingent in the trenches to the south of the city. Next day came the terrible flight of the civil population, and late that night, amidst scenes of indescribable confusion, the remainder of the Belgian troops and most of the British left the forts and trenches, cut the pontoon bridge over the Scheldt behind them, and hurried westwards, beating off attacks on their rear. Unfortunately, as you will remember, three battalions of the British Naval Brigade did not receive orders to retire until the road westwards was blocked by the enemy. Some 2,500 of them either passed into Holland, where they had to remain, or were captured by the Germans. It is said that 18,000 Belgians suffered the same fate. The following extract from the diary of a petty officer who served with the Naval Brigade gives you some idea of the experiences of the British contingent:-- "_October 8._--What a night last night! Shells coming in like one o'clock. Man on my side got a bit in his leg, but says he can shoot just as well on one leg. Belgian artilleryman reports that he and two others are all that are left of our covering fort. We seem to have nothing to do but wait for the end. These trenches would be all right against savages, but against their huge artillery, like so much dust. These shells come with a whiz like an express train, and then--crash! The spirits of our troop are top hole. No one the slightest bit excited--just smoking or yarning and dodging shells; but it's just rotten not coming alongside them. Here she comes--dip, crash! Saved again. Another 'non-stop' for Antwerp![26] When they shorten the range for us--well, cheer oh! Officer just given us the bird for laughing. 'Grin at each other, but don't speak, chapsies. In case I don't see you again, all my best love.'