No sooner was that sent than there came more demands, and there was nothing to send. Wagons and lorries had trundled off at once to rail-head, but it would be hours before they could get back. Thus, on the very first day, the overwhelming nature of the situation pulled at and snapped the slender threads of communication. The threads were soon mended, but, as will be seen later, they never got properly into working order until the Marne. Nor did those columns altogether escape disaster even at the very outset of the fighting. One, out towards the flank, was attacked and practically destroyed by raiding cavalry, for they do not work with escorts. In one column, about 10.0 P.M., the alarm was given by an imaginative A.S.C. subaltern. What the men were to fight with is not clear, for only about 25 per cent. of the detachment had ever handled a rifle, and no ammunition was issued. "It's Germans crawling through that field," said the subaltern. "I saw their electric-torch flashes." The men stood to, peering into the darkness, and feeling certain that their last hour had come. A farmer came slowly out of the field-gate and begged two of the men to come and help him round up his cows. So the detachment turned in again, cursing heartily. But soon the A.S.C. bus drivers were "doing their bit" under fire as gallantly as everybody else. How and when you shall hear in another chapter. 6.0 P.M.--The enemy have concentrated their fire upon the town of Mons and it has become untenable. Only six hours, six little hours since the Belgian townsfolk had come peacefully home from Mass to their Sunday _déjeuner_, proud and hopeful in the presence of their British allies. And now their houses, their town, a heap of smoking ruins. In those short hours how many women have seen their children crushed by falling walls or blown to atoms by bursting shells? How many children are left helpless and alone in the world, with no mother or father to take them by the hand and guide them from the hell of destruction? Is there no thought for them, you who have been following the fortunes of the day for the British? Many have escaped, with such few household treasures as they can carry in perambulators and little handcarts. They, at least, have some hope of life. These may struggle on for a little while--to faint or die of hunger and exhaustion by the roadside. The strongest may get through. For the rest, their lives are sacrificed to make a German holiday. They die, but in their death the battalions of these innocents have joined the mighty, mysterious army of souls who shall haunt the German people until Germany ceases to be. _C'est l'armée de ceux qui sont morts_ _En maudissant les Allemands,_ _Et dont les invincibles renforts_ _Vengeront le sang innocent._[1]