Now the battle was in full swing, the noise was deafening; the whole can only be realised by one who has himself passed through a similar experience—I cannot describe it. ... The casualties were pouring in upon us now, and the worst cases still lay in the trenches, from which they could not be moved until the fire slackened, or darkness came. The injured men told of brave and dogged fighting in the trenches, of an opposing host that seemed without number, of casualties so numerous that they seemed to us an exaggeration, and later of trenches that were being enfiladed by German shrapnel. Evidently the French, who, we understood, were on our flank, had been late in arriving, or else they had retreated, leaving our flank exposed. By this time other batteries were taking up their positions in our vicinity, and it soon became evident that the position was becoming impossible for a dressing station. But how to move? that was the question; for we had far more wounded than it was possible to carry in our ambulance wagons. So we sorted out all who were able to hop, or walk, or be helped along by comrades, and they were told that they must walk to Busigny as best they could. Meanwhile the operating tents were being pulled down and packed upon the wagons, and as the last were being loaded shell was bursting over our camp. To me was delegated the task of shepherding the wounded who were walking, and seeing them safe to Busigny railway station, where it was hoped they would get a train to take them down country. I never want such a task again. Up and down that road I galloped, urging one poor fellow to hop faster, expostulating with another who, seated by the roadside, declared he could go no further, and that to fall into the hands of the Germans would be no worse than the agony he endured as he walked. At last I came across a farmer’s cart, and taking the law into my own hands, commandeered it, and made the man come back with me and pick up all who could walk no more. Time and again there would be a burst of shrapnel in the road, but as far as I could see nobody was injured. Just off the road the cavalry were at work doing their best to guard our flank as we retreated—for now I learned we were in full retreat—and amongst them the casualties were heavy. Such as we could reach we carried with us. At last, to my infinite relief, Busigny was reached, and I was relieved of my charge. At Le Cateau the 5th Division lost probably more heavily than any other portion of the British Forces. It was entirely due to the splendid generalship of Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien that we had not to record a great disaster; ever since then we had been in retreat, but it was not a beaten or even a seriously discouraged army. Fighting on this day is described by some who were present at the battle. The following related to the Royal Dublin Fusiliers:—