Consciousness came to the men, yet with it came also amazing cheerfulness even in the midst of the horror. But it was the cheerfulness not of high spirits but of determination, and of pity. They had fought through the day against an enemy which, even to men who did not understand, was in overwhelming strength; and yet they had been able to hold their ground. It was the cheerfulness which, at a word from their officers, would have taken them straight at the enemy's throat. And pity, if it is to be helpful and sincere, must have behind it a gaiety of heart. No man in the world is more tender to helpless or dumb creatures than the British soldier or sailor; no man more cheerful. And no man in the Force but felt his heart wrung by the infinite pathos of the folk of Mons and round it. History will never record how many soldiers lost their lives that day in succouring the people who had put such trust in their presence. And how many won such a distinction as no king can bestow--the love and gratitude of little children? One man, at least, I knew (I never learned his name) who, at the tears of two tiny mites, clambered into the ruins of a burning outhouse, then being shelled, to fetch something they wanted, he could not understand what. He found a terror-stricken cat and brought it out safely. No, not pussy, something else as well. Back he went again, and after a little search discovered on the floor in a corner a wicker cage, in it a blackbird. Yes, that was it. And, oh, the joy of the girl mite at finding it still alive! "Well, you see, sir," he said afterwards, "I've got two kiddies the image of them. And it was no trouble, anyway." About 2 A.M. (the 24th) orders to begin retiring were issued from G.H.Q. Some four hours before a few of the units--those north of the canal--had begun to fall back; and so the beginning of the move was made. As the last of these crossed the bridges the detonator fuses were fired and the bridges blown up. For the rest, the men crouched ever in their places, bayonets fixed, rifles always ready--waiting, waiting. [1] 'Tis the army of those who in dying Have cursed the German flood-- And whose growing invincible forces Will avenge all innocent blood.--EMILE CAMMAERTS. CHAPTER VIII THE RETREAT BEGINS _The poor condemned English, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently, and inly ruminate The morning's danger._ To follow now the fortunes of the British Force you must imagine it, if you will, divided, like Caesar's Gaul, into three parts. There is the First Corps, which still holds its position, save that extreme right by Binche; there is the Second Corps, which has begun at 3 A.M. to retire to a new position; and there is the Cavalry, Allenby's Division and the remainder of Chetwode's Brigade, which turns up whereever it is most needed to lend a helping hand.