I will make a humble attempt to relate the Battle of the Marne as it was fought by the 1st Division. Our worst day--the one on which we did the most fighting--was the tenth of September. On the morning of that day we marched off particularly early, and we must have done close on ten miles, as we were halted for rest on two occasions. On breasting a hill about two miles from the last halt, we were again called to the halt, and the Artillery, brought up from behind, opened out on each side of the road and the crest of the hill. The word was then passed down the ranks that a large German convoy was expected to leave this village, and that we were to capture it. Every one was in high spirits, as food had been none too plentiful, and we were all looking forward to the capture of this convoy in the hopes of recompense. The North Lancashires were the second regiment, with the 2nd Royal Sussex leading, they and the King's Royal Rifles taking the left of the road, and the North Lancashires and Northamptons taking the right. We then commenced to advance in Artillery formation, three hundred paces distant and fifty paces interval: this we did until reaching the bottom of the hill and to the right of the village half a mile away. In this village, by name Preiz, were the Germans, and running out the other side, but up the hill, was the German convoy retiring, the village itself being in a basin. On reaching the bottom of the hill, we had to cross a stream: once on the other side we opened out in extended order, our idea being to skirt the village and come up with the Germans going over the other crest. Unfortunately it was a wet morning, and the men had taken the advantage of putting their oil-sheets round their shoulders to keep them dry, the oil-sheets when wet being of a similar colour to the German uniform. In the distance our gunners bombarded us, mistaking us for the retiring enemy; and we had no sooner come into view of our gunners than they let go. However, we plodded on, going up in short rushes by platoons. We had with us at the time a new man who had volunteered for the front at the outbreak of war, offering to enlist provided the authorities despatched him straight out. This they had done, sending him to the particular platoon to which I belonged. To our sorrow, he happened to be the end man, and should have given the word when the other platoon had halted and got down, to enable us to advance. That first platoon, having got down, opened fire, and instead of our advancing under cover of that fire, that man failed to give the word. I was second man, and, after lying still with our heads stuck into the ground for ten minutes, I asked him if the other platoon had stopped--to which he replied: "I do not know, as I cannot see them." So I gave the order to advance. Consequently as soon as we got up we were met with a heavy fire from the enemy, losing at once one or two men. On crossing a narrow track of road near the crest of the hill we were