"Remember these were not fighting men who carried arms, and they could take no cover, for they had the stretcher to carry with its suffering load. I never admired the Royal Army Medical Corps as I did that day on the hills above Pisseloup and Montreuil. "'Next squad!' I would shout, and without the slightest hesitation or sign of fear they would take their stretchers and climb the hill. Now Major Richards was in the road dressing the wounds of those brought in, and working with equal bravery and almost a surgeon's skill, good Sergeant-Major Spowage laboured at his side. Later they were joined by Lieutenant Tasker, R.A.M.C, and still the wounded streamed down the hills above. "How those doctors and orderlies worked! That day at the cross-roads near Pisseloup, I saw some of the best work done that has ever been accomplished in the field, and none seemed to realise that they were doing anything out of the ordinary." When night fell, Rev. D.P. Winnifrith and Rev. O.S. Watkins did work similar to that which other chaplains were doing elsewhere on the field. We have their record, but must wait for that of the others. What a picture it is upon which we gaze! Aye, and not only at night, but next day following the advancing British troops. Here and there is a wounded soldier who has lain for hours in the rain. Their sufferings must have been horrible. And here and there, nay, all around, the dead. They buried them in fields, in gardens, in orchards and vineyards, sometimes singly, sometimes in twos and threes--in one grave two officers and eighteen men. But we draw a curtain over the scene. It will soon become a monotony of horrors. Let us hasten on. The Marne won, the next line of battle was the Aisne. Here I pause to relate a little incident variously reported in the papers. I give it as it came to me first, judging that the first report is probably the most correct. It dates from some of the fierce fighting near the banks of the Aisne. A village was temporarily evacuated by the British under the pressure of German troops. In the hurried retreat six or eight British soldiers were left behind. They took shelter in a cottage, knowing that the Germans were close upon them. There was a hasty council of war. One of them was the "bad lad" of the regiment--a drunken ne'er-do-well. He had his own solution of the problem. Said he, "I have never been any good. I never shall be any good. Let me go and I will try to save you lads. The Germans are upon us. I can hear them in the street. I will rush out of the house and down the street. They will see me and they will fire. They will never suppose that one would run and not the others. They will not trouble to search, and you will be saved."