Several of us got separated from our company at St. Quintin. After tramping about twelve miles we reached a farmhouse. The farmer gave us two chickens, a piece of bacon, and some potatoes, and we were just sitting down to a meal after a long fast when a body of Uhlans came round the corner. We hadn’t even time to reach our rifles. They rode straight at us, and one knocked me over. As I got up he turned his horse back and, taking his foot from his stirrup, kicked me in the mouth, displacing all my teeth. After I was taken prisoner I was kicked all over the body. Just as they were marching us off a patrol of British cavalry came on the scene. The Uhlans did not attempt to meet them, but immediately rode off. We were greatly relieved at the turn of events, but I was so badly injured by the Germans that I was sent to hospital: _Private Goulder_. A “Sensational Feeling” There came a terrible sensational feeling over me. I shall never forget it. I knew it was the smartest man wins. Off we started at the trot and I was gradually getting confidence, and by the time the charge sounded I felt as if I didn’t care. Consequently the “devil-may-care” crowd won easily. Then we had to rally and ride down on them again, as they were about twice our strength, but it was an easier job than the first one, as they were more or less dumbfounded at our madness. Well, at the end of the second run there wasn’t one left standing. Oh, I saw one fellow get up and lurch and over he toppled again: _Corpl. Leather, 2nd Dragoon Guards_. “Silence Those Guns!” Quite the worst sight I saw was when a big mass of French infantry were advancing to clear the front of our position, where the Germans had been gathering in strength. They were coming along at the double, carrying everything before them, when, without the slightest warning, German batteries posted under the shelter of a wood opened fire upon them with a deadly shower of shrapnel and machine-gun bullets. The long advancing line seemed to contract like a frog does when you stick a pin in it, and it isn’t any exaggeration to say that you could hear the shells cutting through their closely packed ranks just like the scythe cuts through the grass. The men went down by the hundred until they opened in extended order. Then they made a rush for the position where the guns were, and though they were galled by a heavy infantry fire, and were attacked by both infantry and cavalry at nearly every step of the way, they ultimately fought their way along and silenced those guns: _A Lance-Corporal of the Royal Irish Fusiliers_. Playing at Soldiers!