The battery was in action, but had temporarily ceased firing, and the detachments were lying by the guns. A big grey "Sunbeam" drew up on a road to the flank of the battery, and a couple of red-tabbed Staff officers jumped out, walked up to the nearest gun, and started to chat with one of the gunners. After a few remarks about how well the battery had been doing, they asked some questions about casualties, positions of neighbouring batteries, the infantry near them, and the usual facts which the Staff come to inquire about. The major had been watching from the far flank, and, as the Staff officers turned to get into their car, he remarked to the sergeant-major: "I don't quite like the look of those two officers; there's something wrong about them." And he had a look through his glasses. Some distance along the road there was marching down a company of R.E.'s. "Call up those sappers (by flag) and tell them to hold up that car." The sergeant-major repeated the message to the flag-wagger. "Stop grey car--suspicious." The R.E. sergeant ran up to the subaltern in charge: "Battery signals 'stop grey car.'" "Well, stop it, then," replied the subaltern irritably. So the grey car was stopped, very much to the annoyance of two Staff officers who were in a great hurry to get back to G.H.Q. "Very sorry, sir," said the subaltern, "but it's a telegraph message from that battery. The O.C. has probably got something special to send to G.H.Q." And the car was escorted back again. The O.C. had "something special to send" in the shape of a couple of German officers, very carefully disguised as British. A drum-head court-martial was held at Corps H.Q., and as the Germans in question were hopelessly compromised by the very full notes which they had managed to collect from various units about the Force, the case was clear. "Guilty. To be shot at dawn." They were plucky fellows, but--well, a spy is a spy, and that's all about it. Less than a week before the country folk had watched with delight and relief the passing of mighty transport columns of British, had welcomed and cheered the men forward, proud and confident in the anticipation of early victory. Now imagine their feelings, their alarm, at the sight of British regiments, war-worn, weary and battered, trailing back as fast as they could move. Of what use was it to tell them that this was only a strategical retirement? Panic spreads quickly, and once the hint of calamity is given it is impossible to check the alarm. But even then it was some little time before the stolid peasants of Northern France could grasp the meaning of what they saw, and I remember well how the inhabitants of a certain little village crowded out to watch the extraordinary (to them) behaviour of a regiment which was in the extreme rear of the retiring First Corps.