On September 2, very early in the morning, the Army was once more on the move. September 1 had been a hard day, and at one time something like a general engagement was threatened on the left and left centre of the British line, the Fifth and Fourth Divisions fighting model rear-guard actions which had much to do with the inactivity of the enemy on the following day. For on September 2 the pursuit once more relaxed, and by the evening the British had reached the north bank of the Marne, and were already arranging for the crossing on the following day. Both the march and the crossing had been contemplated with considerable misgiving by the Commander-in-Chief, for on September 2 the Army was no longer retiring, as it had hitherto retired, in the direction of Paris, but, owing to the position of the bridges, had swung southeast and was now executing what was in effect almost a flank march in the face of the enemy. The crossing of the Marne was an even more delicate operation, for it involved, in circumstances of comparative immobility, the same dangerous exposure to the enemy. The enemy, however, did nothing to interrupt our operations, and was, indeed, reported by our airmen to have swung south-east also, and to be moving in the direction of Château-Thierry, towards the front of the Fifth French Army. By the night of September 3 the whole of the British troops were safely across the river and all the bridges blown up. The left of the British Army was now actually in sight of the outlying forts of Paris, and there was much excitement among all ranks as to our ultimate destination. Should we, after all, enter Paris, and sleep in the beds of _la ville lumière_? It was not to be. A position was occupied between Lagny and Signy-Signets, and on the following day, while the enemy was bridging the Marne, the British Army made the last stage of the Retreat, finishing up, in the cool of the evening, on the line Lagny-Courtagon. This was their "farthest south," and on September 5, while they rested, the great news spread through the Army that the Retreat was over, and that next day the Advance would begin. It would be difficult to exaggerate the effect of the news. For though the Army had grown outwardly fitter and more cheerful during the last seven days, the profound distaste which was felt by all ranks for the perpetual retirement poisoned every activity. Was it never to end, this Retreat? Were we retiring, then, to the Pyrenees? With such bitter questions and mock-humorous answers, they beguiled the march. When the news came it was as if a great sickness had been lifted from their minds, and for the first time, perhaps, they realized fully, as men do when they rise from sickness, how infinitely tired and weary they had been. They could scarcely believe the news; but it came from quarters not to be denied. The "favourable situation" for which General Joffre had been waiting so patiently had come at last.