 forward to the daredevil of the army this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the daredevil of the army experiences as a buzzer and dispatch rider by Austin Patrick Corcoran forward after the manner of a distinguished countryman I speak my own prologue not that I may the better explain the action of the coming piece but rather that I may tell the reason of its being I learned wrote Sir John French concerning activities round mons that General Longrezac was retreating on my right that at least three German cores were moving against our front and another German core trying to turn a left wing whereupon it was decided to fall back I learned suppose he had not learned suppose that relying on French support he had stood at mons with his seventy five thousand men and 250 guns to face a victorious army of at least two hundred thousand suppose he had defied von Kluck quite unaware that von Boulot also victorious was threatening his flank suppose it and you are supposing the annihilation of the British Army due to the failure of its motorcycle dispatch core I learned information reach me the public reads the words every day never once pausing to consider what they signify the news reached me how before the eyes of the initiated rises the picture of the dispatch rider tissue paper strapped to his finger revolver strapped to his waist scurrying at his sixty odd miles an hour over a shell shot and often enemy infested highway the motorcycle dispatch core belongs to that branch of the British service which is known as the signal section of the Royal engineers metaphorically and very happily this branch has been named the nerves of the modern army they supply the channels through which the brain of the command communicates its orders to the main body block those channels disconnect the mind from any single member immediately that member becomes paralytic so to speak unable to move or at least to make its movements articulate with those of the other members now suppose this huge body extended over a surface of some 50 miles suppose it at rest as we shall see it later in our narrative when the armies had settled down to the trench deadlock an elaborate nervous system composed of some thousand of telephone cables telegraph lines wireless aerials and the hundred other minor signaling apparatus keep all its parts in intimate intercommunication radiating over the whole line they all issue from a single point general headquarters the seat of army authority whereas the fighting most stubborn the casualties most severe the supplies most scarce the men most exhausted a quivering nerve tells the tale of the strength or weakness of each individual member and the brain issues its orders accordingly a comparatively easy matter is this maintenance of the nervous system when the armies are comparatively speaking at rest but put the great body in continuous movement as it was in the retreat from Mons or in the advance after Marne or in the swift sweep forward from the psalm or falling back again surely but slowly as it was in the great spring drive of 1918 immediately that elaborate system of cable and aerial communication collapses more or less according to the speed of the movement and the effectiveness of enemy fire individual effort of course is exerted to keep it intact but it is a shaky system at best ever on the verge of sudden collapse and yet now above all times such a system is essential if the success of the advance or retreat is to be maintained for if the body advances a foot on one section of the line while the other foot remains in its old position at once the stability of the whole body is threatened either the first foot must be withdrawn or it must receive adequate support else it will be cut off or become paralyzed information reach me writes French concerning the battle of the aim that the enemy had obtained a footing between the first and second army cause and threatened to cut off communications general Hague was hard pressed and had no reserve in hand I placed a cavalry division at his disposal part of which he used skillfully to prolong and secure the left flank of the guards brigade some heavy fighting ensued which resulted in the enemy being driven back that information reached him through a dispatch rider for when an army is in motion or under a fierce barrage or artillery fire only individual effort will maintain communications and that is supplied mainly by the motorcycle dispatch corps deliver your dispatch at all costs these are the instructions issued to the cyclist if he fails through no fault of his own there are men to take his place five to a brigade nine to a division there is always an adequate reserve in hand if he does not return in a stated time another sets out automatically to cover the same ground that he traveled if he does return it is with evidence that he has accomplished his task there are three little dockets to every message one the rider leaves at his own headquarters to show he has been sent with the dispatch one he delivers and a third signed by the commander to whom he has been sent he carries back with him to prove that his duty was duly done they take no chances of failure in this service death capture accidents any may overtake him on his road but none may deter or terrify him the daredevil that is the name he earned in the early days of the war when general French credited him with the salvation of the British forces and so I introduce him to you reader the daredevil with his co-adjutor equally daring the buzzer the men who supply the nerves and to use your American slang much of the nerve of the modern fighting army and of forward section one of the daredevil of the army experiences as a buzzer and dispatch rider by Austin Patrick Kokorin this Librivox recording is in the public domain chapter one the author starts for Berlin on a motorcycle and finds himself presently on the man part one we are awaiting our turn to get aboard the Biscay which is lying at her birth in Southampton it is seven in the evening and we have been riding all day covering the hundred odd miles between Chatham and the sea our trip has left us dusty and damp with sweat and our reception is not tending to relieve our discomfort lined up beside us some 2,000 Tommy's are scanning us with the frank criticism of their kind our bikes obviously provoke their amusement and we ourselves their half tolerant contempt occasionally a fragment of their conversation floats towards us indicative of their general attitude of mind the yellow then blokes anyway knobby one regular remarks to another quantify on bikes be they gone replies knobby with his air of superior wisdom they ain't going to war he's going to arise rise me I look at their uniforms and then evidently for the first time he looks at them closely himself and surprise replaces the disgust in his tone gold or mighty if they ain't two up going to ride over the Kaiser sunny he puts the question impertinently to the man nearest him for answer he receives a silent scowl and almost voluntarily we all stiffened to attention only to be reminded somewhat sharply of our own rawness after all we are but amateurs at his professional game only a week ago it is still but August the 17th we were civilians with no thought of entering the servers now though we wear the king's own coat and two corporal stripes adorn our sleeves we can scarcely claim the title of soldiers rigid and severe we are striving to hide our discouragement under an air of indifference when suddenly the voice of the sergeant major comes booming across the dock now will you gentlemen a pause on the appellation emphasizes its intended sarcasm kindly try to get those bikes of yours aboard instantly a shout goes up from the assembled regiment the sergeant major has excellent lungs and amid general jeering we approach the gangplank rotten blighters I hear a mutter in front of me so we the first civilians to take part in the great war leave England for France and the front at 730 after much shouting and shrill screeching of whistles we finally get underway my motorcycle stowed safely in the afterwell deck I seek a quiet corner outside the Marconi cabin on the hurricane deck and squatting on a coil of rope settle myself to think it is my first time in 10 days to indulge in such exercise all around me is a buzz of conversation I can hear the clank of an occasional mess tin as some well seasoned regular proceeds to make himself at home looking about I see some dozen of his kind coats open at the collar about unloosened sprawling on benches or on the floor and the sight of them makes me horribly homesick you're a hot-headed idiot I decide to myself always rushing to the rescue before you know the house is a fire and I heartily wish myself back in the cool grove of Corrientes for it was at Barcelona that the first mutterings of the storm found me Austria and Serbia on the brink of war the Balkans did not interest me Russia coming to the rescue I got a letter from home there was chance of our being caught in the whirlwind hot on the heels of this came the news that Germany was mobilizing and France preparing for her own defense I crossed to England just in time to hear the first cry for volunteers then it seemed to come as the answer to a prayer if there was any form of adventure which life had still to offer me I did not know it at the time I had hunted in the heart of Africa had ranched in Bolivia had sailed twice around the earth and seen all its civilizations but still I was only 26 and not yet surfited with air and tree what next war the greatest of all adventures I had not thought to find it in my time it was in such spirit that I joined the army no band played me into a recruiting office no call of patriotism stirred my heart or conscience I know I am only confessing my own sins but on my head be they just one consideration gave me pause for a moment again I reveal my lack of grace I know something of discipline in the Navy I surmised it might be similar in the army and I had no desire to experience its tedium to get to France without the dull preliminary drilling of a camp that was my only object and when the special call came for university men to form a core of motorcycle dispatch riders I fought my way to the recruiting office like the rest it was quick work I passed the doctor proved myself competent to handle a bike went to Chatham to get my equipment and now here I am rigged out in his majesty's regimentals jeered at by his soldiers looked a scant sat by his officers a bloomin civilian button in on a soldier's business lonely old chap I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up into a pair of gray scotch eyes my name's Grant he holds out his hand I take it and so meet my best friend a Dundee lawyer about my own age he has joined for more serious considerations something of a student he saw a crisis was coming something of a sportsman he wanted to be in the thick of it so he handed his business over to a locum tenons a man too old to serve and hurried up to London to join for a while we talk on general topics then on that nearest our hearts can we undisciplined hastily picked man really stand the shock of a battle is a soldier's business just a matter of nerve or does it require training the pals that be have frankly acknowledged they are trying an experiment in thus choosing us the military men have scoffed at their confidence are we to set a precedent in favor of individual initiative or are we merely to be horrible examples it is ten o'clock before we realize that it is time we have food but where to get it our equipment does not include it just a tick says grant and leaves me for a moment to return with a package of sandwiches that he had carefully stowed away into the toolbag of his machine those finished we knows round in search for more secluded corners we want to sleep and we have not yet learned to do it gregariously finally we decided in favor of one of the boats that has been turned in down we throw ourselves on the cover thinking heaven we have learned to rough it that ride has ensured us against the risks of insomnia dawn wakes us to a raucous sound of snoring and a distant vision of the French coast on which Harvard stands out a black dot on the dim gray line it is grant who rouses me to full consciousness come on let's look for a wash I follow him sleepily we trudge the ship over thoroughly upper deck lower deck middle deck all the other decks but no sign of water can we see nor do we meet others bent on a light quest we have decided that bathing is a luxury not allowed to soldiers and are proceeding to return to our nook when a sudden turn brings us up sharply against a spruce shining major whom we learn to be the second in command of the battalion on board we have saluted in our self-conscious rookie fashion and are passing when he holds us with a raised hand we stop and are thus ensnared into our first lesson in the nice etiquette of the army corporal yes sir grant is the spokesman what are all you people with bikes doing a board grant informs him we are the motorcycle dispatch corps dispatch riders why I had no idea there were so many in the British army how long have you two been in five days sir the major whistles then looks us quizzically over five days and you're going straight into the fun rather risky hey we shrug our shoulders and he turns to go when Grant brings him up abruptly with a query did he know where we could manage to get a wash the enormity of the crime in a corporals thus addressing a major on matters of personal cleanliness hardly comes home to us even after his lecture we are rather hot under the collar when he finishes his harangue though he delivers it with all possible consideration but his next move more than makes up for the humiliation for he takes us to his own room for a regular wash he was a thoroughly decent sort that major by the time we have finished everyone is awake and the ship is tying up alongside the wharf all around is a din calculated to deaf and tender ears the clang of accoutrements being adjusted mests tins rifles bayonets and then the mad cheering of the people on the dock half the civilian population of France or so it seems to me must have had word that lay on the lay were arriving they have gathered there with flags food tobacco though it pleases us still their excitement makes us sheepish what a fearfully demonstrative people they are we haven't yet realized the imminence of their peril and their sense of safety in being backed by the British fleet it is an hour before the biscuit has disgorged her men and cargo a young officer meets us on the dock and lines us up away on the right telling us to await further orders meantime our critics the Tommy's have drawn up in company formation soon they are ready for their road where it leads heaven only knows just as they receive the order quick March there comes an Irish voice bellowing from the bridge of the boat we are leaving behind so long Mike a man in the ranks looks back and waves so long Tim it's a long way to tip a rary he shouts instantly a laugh goes up from the troop and a rollicking voice starts the song it's a long way to tip a rary soon the whole company has taken it up and so for the first time of many hundred in France I see our men swing off to battle to the air of the popular tune a strange sense of desolation sweeps over me as I watch them go somehow their jaunty air of recklessness brings home to me for the first time the grim reality of the enterprise I am embarked on I glance at the men beside me lined up so quietly with their bikes perhaps I am only seeing through the haze of my own feelings but they too strike me as strangely silent and subdued but we get no time to indulge our desolation for no sooner has the dock cleared of the Tommy's than our officer presents himself again you will ride to Ruan and report there to the transportation officer who will direct you to your different sections his voice is very formal at first then changes abruptly to a more cheery note off with you he orders then as I am proceeding to mount I happen to be at the head of the line he hands me an envelope to be delivered to the transportation officer I learned later that it contained a note identifying us we are halfway across the dock when a happy thought strikes him cafe to your right as you go out he hollers we hear him we would have heard if we had been miles off we make for it with all the haste of the really hungry and as I eat my omelettes and drink my cafe au lait I had my first opportunity to size up on mass the men who are henceforth to be my companions an English poet commemorating the early deeds of the dispatch rider named him perhaps appropriately the dare devil a less enthusiastic gentleman describing him since has called him a glorified messenger boy as a matter of fact he may be either one or both according to the character of the fighting in trench warfare he is more liable to be the latter but there were no trenches when we went to France the duty of a dispatch rider as everyone knows is to carry confidential messages of urgent importance from one staff officer to another they may be from a general to a general they may be merely from a colonel to a captain always they are from one commissioned man to another which is the reason why he wears a corporal stripes according to the regulations of the British army no man in the ranks may approach such an officer of his own accord unless accompanied by a non-com and non-coms or non-commissioned officers are naturally of too much importance to be spared as permanent escorts were it not for this detail of army etiquette the dispatch rider would be no more than a mere private as to the method of performing his duty there is no definite rule when we received our instructions in London they were practically summed up in the following sentence deliver your dispatch as quickly as you can and then return to your own section the hell and the when we were informed would be matters for our own discretion and much discretion we needed at times suppose a dispatch rider meets with an accident on the road and his bike is put entirely out of commission unseen and unsuspected shell craters explosions that fling both man and machine off the road are everyday occurrences in this job even if the man escapes unhurt he can't foot the distance always if the matter is urgent and there are miles to go a special provision allows him the privilege of commandeering on such occasions any vehicle that may come his way whether it be horse or car and whoever be the occupant but there was a man once who after tramping a couple of miles could find no conveyance except that occupied by a general he had courage however so he turned the general out but oh what a tirade he brought on his own head afterwards he received a declaration for his audacity when the general who fortunately had a sense of humor had had time to recover his dignity and his temper but I should hate to have been in his shoes there were scores of us of course who ordered officers out of their saddles and diverted army service corps trucks out of their destined route and the curses that accompanied us on our journeys were not always pleasant to hear if our instructor had substituted the word diplomacy for discretion he would have been somewhat nearer the mark again there is always the danger when the armies are on the move and not engaged as they were later on station re-destruction of coming full tilt into a straggling enemy troop if you fall into the hands of the enemy said our mentor destroy your dispatch at all costs otherwise they may divert it to their own staff officers and then what a coup for the hostile strategists the usual method in such a case was to eat it or rather to swallow a toll the authorities careful as usual of our digestions as a rule wrote it on slim tissue paper that would almost melt in the mouth occasionally we had sufficient time to burn it but not often occasionally too after destroying it as a precaution we escaped to meet this emergency which was also foreseen we had orders to memorize our message always before starting so that in case of necessity we could deliver it by word of mouth this rule in its turn led to further complications the enemy knew that we had our dispatchers learned by heart if they caught us and failed to find papers on our persons immediately such a cross questioning began as might well confuse even a seasoned criminal usually this was met by a closed mouth which no threat of death would serve to open this in turn was met with a new ruse before very thorough detective work had eliminated the menace it was no unusual thing to meet men wearing our uniform and speaking our language but serving on the staff of his Imperial Majesty of Germany and not on that of King George they would have been very glad to induce us to part amicably with our information it was to circumvent such gentlemen that our last order was issued the dispatch must be delivered in person to the officer to whom it is addressed that was all a unique simplicity marked our entire training I decided when they dismiss me in London that it would take a fool to fail and comparing my job with that of a private on the line I felt that the war office has no high respect for my intelligence consequently as I looked round me that morning in the Harvard cafe at the men selected for the cycle core I was astonished at the lavish hand that would waste such material on such crude and casual work out of the 20 assembled round me not more than two had failed to graduate from either Oxford or Cambridge and they were professional men of high standing in their own line far above the type that might be deemed suitable for a competent regular yet it was not so much trained intelligence that marked them as a group as a native ability a certain keenness a quality of initiative that would all go well for their readiness to meet an emergency physically to they were far above the average about three of them fell short of a full six feet a few would top that height by a few inches all of them had proved their power to handle a gun with ease and shown an intimate knowledge of the moods and mechanism of motorcycles which facts in themselves constituted a guarantee that they had lived rather largely in the open if further evidence was needed it was supplied by their appetites who lived on and what an ultra omelette someone asked madame in his best nigga French he had already consumed two of those substantial concoctions me monsieur madame a plump pleasing person throws up her hands in horror then remembering the instincts of her trade runs off and is back with it in a few moments we are kept waiting by him I learn later that his name is pool but not even our outspoken impatience could induce him to hurry by the time he has finished however we have mapped out our roots and by nine o'clock we are well on our way to ruin it is a glorious morning as we skim along the Ruda National at full throttle our spirits rise to the point of exuberance pool comes in for most of our surplus mental energy though he weighs about 250 pounds he is riding a two and a quarter horsepower Douglas Lawrence a rather decent chap offers to change suggesting that the giant will never make the journey safe on his small machine indignant who offers to race him to ruin for 10 shillings probably it was our desire to keep even with the contestants that brought us into that town in record time we arrived there about noon it is another hour before we can find the transportation officer finally we locate him at a rest camp it seems we are to be split up into sections along the various parts of the line pool Lawrence Grant and I are to be attached to the second cavalry brigade what luck we have chummed up already the next lap of our journey is to end at Amiens where we will be directed straight to the fighting line with luck we will be in the thick of it in another day it is August the 25th 1914 the contemptible British expeditionary force in France underfield Marshal Sir John French is falling back before the numerically overwhelming German army from the beway more burge positions the second core under Sir Horace Smith Dorian is retreating with orderly haste on the Lakatu-Lanrissi's line they're rear protected by a troop of cavalry and in a little farmhouse outside the former town we are endeavoring to keep open communications in a temporary signal office which leaves much to be desired it is a dark dirty hovel one wonders that the family's reluctance to leave it but our haste gives us no leisure to make a choice in a remote corner of the kitchen the telephone operator has set up his switch on a wooden pedestal labeled jam all along the wall where still hang the cooking utensils I range the telegraphers busily clicking their morse keys if visible evidence is needed of the urgency of their tasks it may be gathered from the positions of their wood binds instead of depending at the usual angle from their lower lips they now stick jointly behind their ears removed from the rest at a position near the window the subaltern a mere boy on whom responsibility has thrust age sits anxiously pouring over his maps and charts which tell of the positions of the lines and cables that an enemy shell may at any moment cut exhausted men on whose faces is a four days growth of beard already matted with summer sweat and summer dust heavy-eyed with sleeplessness hollow-eyed with strain they work with the dogged intensity of desperation line down on the road to Canberra the man has to scream to drown the gun roar with a curse alignment sets out on his job last two dispatch riders not yet returned sir this message is meant as a reminder the subaltern looks up pauses a moment as if to consider those dispatch riders had left around five o'clock it is now 530 and Landry sees his butt five miles away they should be back unless some disaster has overtaken them with sudden decision the subaltern puts his head through the neighbouring window and shouts in the general direction of the barn next to dispatch riders at the sound of his voice four men spring to their feet they had been lying full length in the dirty yard a somewhat cooler spot on this hot August evening than their quarters the cowhouse they are the remaining four of the six dispatch riders who go to form this motorcycle section let us present them before they are separated by the impending journey a couple of weeks ago a casual glance might have sized them up as gentlemen now even a close scrutiny might have measured them as tramps true they are clad in the uniform of the British Army but it is so covered with dirt as to have lost even its nondescript hue the coat which a regimental tailor button smartly to the throat is thrown open to admit the sultry air and a cap which a kind quartermaster places so trimly on the head has been replaced by a large handkerchief the colour of which is somewhat shady only the belts at the waist from which depend business like revolvers and the maps slung securely over the shoulders betray their fitness for the part they are to play of which their bikes much cleaner looking objects than their owners give further convincing evidence who are they well there is grant of the grey scotch eyes he from whose mouth hangs the Dunn pipe and there is Hudson the Belfast architect now rivaling the grimeus of his brick layers and there is Harrison the cantab undergraduate whose people were so decent about his age a scrupulous father might have held him back a couple of years lastly there is myself a different person from that particular young man whom a short time ago we found looking so eagerly for a wash two weeks on the line have taught us the unimportance of such trifles as cleanliness what's a dirty neck more or less with death staring you in the face life itself is the possession that we have now learned to prize and war the great romantic adventure has developed into a wild scurry to dodge the bursting of a shell Hudson and Harrison are next on the list but Grant and I accompany them to the farmhouse door in case the Subbleton might care to choose us for this crisis Harrison has only arrived the day before but it's his turn and it seems he has to take it you know what to do that's right swallow it if they get you remember there are stray ullands about and pool and Lawrence may have been caught now for the directions go together to the crossroads those with the crucifix then take separate routes to the town one of you may get through if the two don't a pleasant prospect the Subbleton looks at Harrison as he presents it as if expecting some protest from the new recruit but none comes and the young star their age and station but for an accident is suddenly moved to put out a hand good luck he gives each a grip in turn before they double out of the room better strap the thing on your forefinger old chap advises Hudson with the wisdom gleaned in a week he is referring to the precious tissue paper handier to your mouth that way it takes them but two minutes to memorize the message and then they mount and are off on the darkening dangerous road soon the crest of a hill hides them and left alone we lie down again among our new accomplishments is a facility for sleeping anywhere but before slumber could come to soothe us we hear voices nearby and we listen some straggling Tommy's are talking and we are the subject under discussion not so bad for bloom and civvies says one at propo of our departed friends we feel that we have accomplished much in these two weeks end of section one section two of the daredevil of the army experiences as a buzzer and dispatch rider by Austin Patrick Cacoran this LibriVox recording is in the public domain chapter one the author starts for Berlin on a motorcycle and finds himself presently on the man part two 10 30 the guns are booming with ever near a menace utterly preventing our attempt at sleep we are hourly expecting the order to move Hudson who is back after what seemed undue delay reports a tough fight going on in landrassy we are holding a narrow street with a few machine guns on which the Germans continue to advance with their usual unlimited supply of gun meat it will be dead meat piled high before morning if we can only manage to hold out but where's Harrison no sign of him yet either in landrassy or on the road home and pool pool had delivered his dispatch so much Hudson had learned on his arrival but of Lawrence no sign had been seen we are discussing the probabilities of capture or collapse with a callousness that would have seen brutal two weeks ago but which we have acquired with apparent ease of late when they're suddenly looms up out of the darkness of the road a motorbike carrying a strange object behind soon a voice proclaims the rider as pool but what is the uncouth burden he is bearing flash or fish dead or alive it answers both questions by jumping to the earth when the bike comes to a jarring halt it is the Subbleton who has come out to take the air for a moment who announces its identity by an ironical question being shrimping Lawrence he asks politely only then do we recognize our chum a shapeless mass of slimy mud which clings to his clothes his hands his hair his face he looks for all the world like some prehistoric animal that has just risen from its oozy layer rotten duck pond he spits and shakes himself as he tries to talk been floundering about in it for hours dived into it head first trying to take a nasty corner at full speed the damn bike drove me down deeper it came right on top of me must be a couple of miles of the stuff down under the water he was the first of us to get really intimate with the squelchy qualities of northern French soil even when I got my head above water I couldn't get my feet the more I tried the more entangled they seem to become might as well have tried to walk with leaden shoes on how long it would have taken him to extricate himself alone is a question I leave to the imagination it was pool who finally rescued him after he had been struggling for what seemed ours even then it took strategy on the part of the two as indeed it had taken foresight on pools part he had delayed for some time in landrassy waiting for Lawrence to turn up they had taken different routes on setting out on the off chance that an accident had happened pool had changed his road on the way home hence the rescue and now as Lawrence retires to the farm pump we notice that his saviour looks rather white-faced and nervous anything wrong ask Grant oh nothing much had a narrow squeak with some ullands he seems entirely indisposed to go into detail at the moment so we open him a tin of bully and fetch him some water to help him in recovering his aplomb if we thought thus to elicit the story we were mistaken for even under the inspiration of a full stomach and a lit pipe he refuses to satisfy our curiosity we might never have heard what really happened if a strange chance had not given us an inkling of the story and forced him to confess to being a hero it was about half an hour later that a troop of our cavalry could be seen galloping over the hill as they approached we could see they were escorting some ullands whom they had hemmed in from all sides passing the signal office the sergeant caught sight of our subaltern and immediately gave the order to halt then riding over he saluted and explained that he had found the Huns prowling along the road leading from the southeast to Landressy now he would hand them over to the officer's charge they dismounted preparatory to being led off to an inner room for the customary formality of being questioned as they did so one of them caught sight of Poole and nudging the other he was heard to say in quite audible tones there he is but Poole very busy for the moment with his carburetor either did not hear or made a fine pretense of not doing so five minutes later however the sergeant's head appeared in the doorway calling for the reticent hero he departed to return with a half happy half sheepish grin what's the matter nothing some rot these Huns are talking but our curiosity was not to be stilled with such an excuse by dint of probing both him and the more eloquent sergeant we got the whole story by degrees here it is it is one of our reasons for being proud of Poole he had reached the crossroads on his way from Landressy shoot to the right that was a turn for home his bike took the curve at a dangerous angle and as he once more swept into the level he raised his head to scan the new road Lawrence was the object he was looking for but what he saw at a distance of not more than a hundred yards was six Ullins seated on their fine mounts there was no time to turn the speed of his bike decided that and there was little time to think not more indeed than a few seconds would he surrender that might ensure his life but the idea of a German prison did not entice him in quick succession these thoughts shot through his mind each second making a decision more difficult as it brought him nearer his enemy he was making about 60 miles an hour I'll chance rushing them he decided finally and banging open the throttle of his machine he sent his speed up another five miles 40 yards from them he could see them fingering their carbines 35 yards he could see one of them probably a sergeant shouting an order to the others 30 yards they were stretching and a line across the road letting go one hand he drew his revolver 25 yards he could see the two center Ullins taking steady aim at his head with the sudden jerk he drew himself erect in his saddle and then suddenly let his body fall along the top of his tank at the same time letting go his revolver he heard their bullets whizz by him he had spoiled their aim and he saw one man topple over hit square on the chest and the horse of the second rear and come down with a crash into the two Ullins on the left of the road five yards from them he could see they were in hopeless confusion and as he shot through the broken line exultantly pull a verse it was the greatest thrill of his life he sent two more bullets point blank at the men on the right and tore past a dark streak on the dusty highway crouched over his handlebars muscles taught nerves quivering he strained his ears for any sounds that might indicate pursuit they came he could hear the pounding of horses hooves on the hard road galloping like mad he commented to himself but it would take some centaur to catch up with his bike whizz another bullet shot past his ear he crouched still lower on his saddle and then the gods were kind there came another crossroads how he thanked heaven for these winding french highways and the hedges that would hide him on either side out of sight he was safe a horse can't rival a motorbike so he came home with a whole but quivering skin of course it was the horses that did the trick he explains amiably the bike and the shooting upset their nerves so they pranced round a bit and spoiled the blighters aim i'll buy a horse when i go home and pet him to death off again the inexhaustible hun is determined to keep us moving our orders are to fall back in the general direction of san quentin la faire cable wagons dash out to reel in as much as possible with the wire they had laid just a day or two before the operators are busy picking up their field buzzers and telephones a merciful and ingenious government has reduced the weight of their pack to about three pounds soon they are all piled into the wagons and we get off a rather miserable train somewhere ahead of us is the brigade commander with his staff somewhere in the rear of us is the retreating infantry all night and the next day we keep on the move wither we don't know but it is somewhere southwest it is scorchingly hot and the roads are thick with dust which stifles our nostrils and thickens our tongues we pass through villages where our coming is the sign for increased panic stupefied women surrounded with wailing children are piling their household goods onto trucks and carts they block our way but their misery hardly moves us at all at times we come to a crowd whose patriotism is greater than their panic they greet us with the mossy airs an urchin or two already knows tipper airy they offer us drinks tobacco and food all they ask is news we have none save that our enemy is retreating we give it and the women set up a great la la ring damn their infernal racket grant grails at times we are too tired to string our nerves up to the pitch of proper sympathy soon i find myself journeying alone about four in the afternoon we had halted for rest but i was no sooner off my bike than the signal officer came and handed me a message for the guards brigade he had no idea where they were somewhere in france he declared jocklessly i imagine they're off to the right as the germans hadn't caught up with us there was no danger of my capture so he didn't think it necessary to send two of us i took the road he indicated and wondered about for what seemed ours finally an army service core truck loomed up in the distance the guards someone said they were entrenching around a true he pronounced it x troops but we found it on the map it was off in another direction luckily however it was on the rude a national so i found it without much delay my message was to a brigade major i was unconscious of my general aspect until i met his eye i knew i was dirty unwashed unshaven i'd had no sleep in three days so my lids felt as if weighted with lead my mind had ceased to work so numb was my brain with fatigue only now for the first time was i conscious of my condition but as he handed me my receipts he put a hand on my shoulder i'm proud of you fellows he declared in his hearty tone our soldiers are magnificent but then this is their business you have no traditions to keep up i flushed with pride under my dust and he patted me on the back when one is fatigued one is foolishly susceptible to flattery pretty fag day he inquired next here take a sip of this he took out a glass flask from his pocket i'm afraid sip would not describe my drink as i handed the flask back a humorous smile twisted the corners of his mouth irish oh he glanced at the flask nothing like the drop of the crater to put the heart in a man these nasty times he gave me a slap on the back before i mounted my bike and i went off whistling on my way i was glad i had been chosen for that trip i got back to my starting place only to find they had moved again it was an hour later before i caught up with the rear of the brigade camping in the neighborhood of veneral where a halt had been called for the night we got a cowhouse for a bedroom but straw covered the dirt and we were content with the mere fact that we had some arse to sleep that night stands out in my memory an oasis in the patch desert the oasis fell from heaven rain it came in torrents to welcome it we walked out throwing open our collars and the fronts of our shirts to let it fall on our withered skin what a tonic it was we were invigorated men again our gratitude however faded next morning when we had to set out on our road perhaps you have ridden a motorcycle over slippery surfaces and you know what the slime does to the wheels but try to imagine yourself keeping the bike correct on the slithery tops of cobblestones not those smooth flat stones you find in england or america but those round uneven beautifully curved cobbles standing anywhere from four to six inches out of the earth with which they paved the village streets in france by noon my wrists had swollen to an unbelievable size from the effort of my task i knew now why the foreseeing authorities had chosen strong men for the dispatch corps we were all but exhausted when we reached san quentin our stay in the quaint old town however was destined to be short the germans were coming on pretty fast behind us we could hear the guns thundering out their terrific threat there was nothing to do but keep moving the sun had come out again so we jogged along in our dull damp misery halting now by the roadside to eat such food as we had or pulling up at a stream to bathe our heads in the cool water a trip to a neighboring town broke the monotony for us riders cable communications were out of the question for the present with the huns close on our heels it was up to the dispatch corps now to keep the small body of the british army articulate Lafayre it is saturday at least so they tell us we have time for a shave and a wash with a fairly decent hot meal as meals go we sleep in houses tonight and come out in a square in the morning to catch a glimpse of the torb overhead it is no more than 2,500 feet up instantly the tommy's straggling round start a perfect fuselard with their rifles and succeed in doing more damage to themselves than to the boss not to be outdone i whip out my revolver and take a pot shot in woolly west fashion ah don't err im sunny says a sarcastic voice at my side in my excitement i had forgotten the limited paths of my webly by noon we are off again a downpour catches us on the road but we plod on rather sick and disgruntled so it goes for the whole week always the same order to keep moving always the same accompaniment to our journey the grim den in the distance always the same question in our minds are we ever to be allowed to face them corsie le chateau some dozen villagers filiers cotteret we tramp through them all i touch soison and a few more on my side trips in them i pick up such food as i get at an estamine sleep rest they are precious things these times we get them by snatchers at longer and longer intervals and so we approach paris and the man but that name means nothing to us yet at last it is september but we hardly know the date so confused is our sense of time and so unimportant has it become we receive the order to halt somewhere on our right we learn is the town of cortacon held by the fifth core of the french army somewhere on our left is the british army and the town of coulomiers we the second cavalry brigade wedge between the two are the link that binds the great chain this time our signal station is set up in an open field in one corner by a green hedge squat the telegraph clocks and the telephone operators setting up their instruments as best they may at some distance on the grass is our group of dispatch riders taking a snooze whenever we get a chance it comes rarely there is great demand for our services these days two messages an hour that is our average in two days i cover some 600 miles in my flying trips from one part of the line to another two messages an hour day and night there is to be no let up for the present we have forgotten that the dark should bring sleep that the morning should bring breakfast and the noon lunch food we have come to regard as a gift straight from the gods it drops on us like the manner from heaven descending on us through the agency of an army service core truck we eat it when we get it if we have the time france was being saved in those days but how were we to know that my first day was made memorable by a trip to the french lines i had never before met our allied fighters the officer i wanted was absent so a french dispatch rider was deputed to take me to the man i sought the dispatch must be delivered in person a slim little lithe figure on an equally slim bike which he rode german fashion with arms aloft on high handlebars and feet sticking up in the air he skimmed along in front of me a dainty butterfly leading a cart horse uphill i lost sight of him downhill i swept by him i was instructed to keep close behind him but it was altogether too hard a job we passed through a village the name of which i never learned and my eye was held by the sight of a squat resplendent officer shining with a profusion of gold lace i asked his name joffrey the man who was then saving france and he was strolling at leisure through the street my second day was made memorable by an incident that held my interest they were making history round me but what was that to me my attention was still occupied with comparative trifles and yet perhaps this man whose story i am going to tell contributed more than he or i knew to the victory on the man at least it was such as he who made it possible i had delivered a dispatch to another british brigade when i happened to run into hodder he was sitting in the signal station wounded it was a bystander who told me the tale he had been riding helpful leather near a wood when a german sniper caught him on the foot a fine shot when the target was a dispatch rider over keeled hodder and his bike coming to earth with a terrible third it stunned him for a moment when he recovered his sensors he knew there was no chance for him to mount that bike again but he couldn't walk with his foot in that condition still there was the dispatch it must get through at all costs down he went on all fours there were three miles to his goal he crawled into the wood which was plentifully scattered with urlands luckily they were not looking to find a rider among the underbrush it took him hours to get through but he did it his clothes were in ribbons his face all scarred and his foot but that is better left to the imagination he delivered his dispatch he got the distinguished conduct medal but that was some time afterwards when the great scrap was all over at the end of the second day we received the order to advance lord how that order stirred our hearts move forward it was the first time since we landed in France we looked eagerly at one another half afraid to surmise the truth had we really driven the blighters back had we actually stemmed the flood that was inundating France with fire and slaughter bit by bit the news filtered to us in confidential whispers the tide had been turned on the man but it was fully three days before we partakers in the victory knew what our efforts had helped to do Paris had been saved now for the rest of France our task had only just begun end of section two section three of the daredevil of the army experiences as a buzzer and dispatch rider by austin patrick corcoran this LibriVox recording is in the public domain chapter two the author assists at a victory and abandons his bike for better things part one we have beaten them on the man we have beaten them on the iron we have fraternized with them at Christmas during a 24 hour truce and found them human in the matter of souvenirs their officers have assured us that we have not a chance in a thousand quite politely of course but with absolute conviction by march where to be flying with the first eastern winds well we've kept them sitting all winter in their trenches why steep in french and flounders mud meantime of course we've been sitting in it ourselves with occasional relief in the shape of a run to london the motorcycle dispatch corps having earned the particular praise of field marshal sir john french is unusually lucky in the matter of these reliefs besides fresh men have been coming out in droves a fact which combined with the general quiet along the line makes it comparatively easy for the old men to get leave of absence i get seven days home lord how they loved us in those days in london private cars meet us at the charring cross station pretty girls hurl flowers at our heads crowds of cheering excited men and women block our autos and impede our egress from the station but we don't mind we sit in the tonnows grinning amiably a little embarrassed if the truth must be told by this somewhat novel role of returned hero not that we dislike it you know far from that but we don't feel ourselves big enough for the shoes at the end of the seven days so crowded that they fly by on wings i go back and find strange changes on the line it is now shortly after christmas the cavalry of no use in this stationary warfare has been dismounted much to its shagrin now its members are squatting in the mud along with the hitherto despised infantry lord what a fall was there our section which you remember had been attached to the second cavalry corps has been split up and scattered along the line i lose my friend grant we were assigned two different units but at least he is within calling distance whenever there is time to call i am with a brigade attached to the fourth corps and grant and adjoining one two miles away but things are not what they were excitement has given place to nwe each day is like another endlessly boring with its uneventful routine war has degenerated into a dull drab affair an unromantic contest mainly with the elements the element of mud putting up the best fight and so we come through the winter a disgruntled disagreeable crowd lazy too and inclined to cavill at all orders if they won't let us fight then why the devil can't we go home that is in general our attitude of mind comes a rumor shortly at which we all sit up the russians are doing great things these days it is now well into the spring one of our trench oracles opines that we are going to help them there is vague talk of a push a poke in the ribs so to speak which will remind old fritz that we are still alive and keep his attention from wandering too exclusively to the east the blighter must not get the habit of feeling at home in france or flanders immediately such a change is noticeable along the line as must have gladdened the heart of the high command our step is sureer our heads a little higher and we work with a new and eager will after all sitting in mud is no incitement to deeds of daring the mere thought of a move bucks us up for three days now we have been preparing for the event not that the paths that be have gained to take us into their confidence they are far to a loop for that but they can't hide the evidences all round morning noon and night we are riding with our messages all of them marked priority which means that they admit of no delay and all along the roads leading to and from nerve chapel there is unceasing motion endless processions that block our paths and impede our progress ammunition trains convoys army service car wagons they are all moving up carrying supplies for men and guns in our efforts to pass them we occasionally find ourselves lying in the ditch as a result of overestimating the width of the french roads and lord what weather we are having the heavens disapproving of our preparations do their best to hinder them and harm us they simply open and let the water pour down on our heads we slip and slither all over the roads and our wrists ache with the effort of keeping our machines erect but somehow we manage in spite of it all never in the early dark days before the man have we been as busy as we are now all through the night of March the 9th and the following morning I carry dispatch after dispatch to an artillery commander an army service corps officer a battalion commander over and over again when finally day dawns and hell breaks loose it is to find me with 20 hours sleep in arrears about seven o'clock or a little earlier the thunder is loosed the guns which for days have kept up a constant crackle now burst into a deafening roar as I scurry along the roads shells were over my head thank heaven I am not at the busy end of their range 730 the curtain lifts then is lowered farther back a signal that the infantry has gone over I am detailed to take a message to the 21st Brigade one of the first to advance in the fight there is electricity in the air today the electricity of excitement it quivers along my spine it stings my fagged brain my mind is clear with the horrible clarity that is often the result of lack of sleep I spin along and am suddenly made aware of the fact that not all the shells are coming from our side not 20 yards in front of me I see a great bertha burst clop it goes square in the middle of the road I have plenty of time to stop and plenty of room to swerve my hands make a motion as if to turn the handlebars but my eyes are riveted to that hole in the road a grim fountain is playing there spewing up sprays of mud clay smoke stones and pieces of shell they fascinate me turn your bike says my brain but my eyes are glued to the spot like the lady driver who is so anxious for the safety of a lamppost I can't leave that crater out of my sight presently I am conscious that we are meeting head first I go into it but I land on top of my bike have all the blamed falls I say angrily to myself one would think you never saw a shell burst before I pick up my machine it is unhurt I climb out furious with myself and quite unable to explain the phenomenon why should any sensible man ride straight into a hole I mount again it must have been half an hour later that I noticed a certain awkwardness in one of the fingers of my left hand I had broken or sprained it in the crash I get back to my section and hear the glad news we're advancing the reinforcements are going up everything is working like a clock but the Boschers by no means beaten off again on a message the burthers are still busy one falls in a field adjoining the road on which I ride another worse over my head with a scream like an eagles along the way I come on evidences of their work here is a horse's trunk from which the head and legs have been severed there a man's corpse almost cut in two but I am not at all shaken by such sights what's the matter with me I should be terrified by all the rules of this game I remember legends of brave men who not only felt but confessed their fears where is the panic that the novelists promise me why should I be losing all the thrills here am I skimming swiftly over a shell ridden road cheeks ruddy that should be ashen hand steady that should be shaking vision clear that should be clouded brain functioning that should be fuddled is my calm an abnormal calm a calm key to a higher pitch perhaps than that with which we conduct our daily affairs or is it a callous calm bread of familiarity with horrors too often seen is nature so adjustable that she can become contemptuous even of death itself you may be killed by the next corner I tell myself earnestly but my knees refuse to quake and then I come to the next corner and suddenly my equanimity is lost for there by the roadside I see a rider lying on his face a broken bike by his side there is something familiar about that recumbent form I dismount turn it over and recognize my friend Grant so the rotters have got him grant of the gray scotch eyes the best chum man ever had got him and disfigured him half his face is bashed in my calm deserts me on the spot now I know why a brother joins to avenge a brother and a father to take toll for a son why am I not in the trenches with a bayonet in my hand I despise myself now for a mere messenger good old grant and I must leave him who would never leave me lying dead by the roadside to be picked up another casualty like the thousand others whom I myself have passed so callously at times the chances of war how many times I have said the words offered them with a shrug of the shoulder as consolation on the death of a friend a new pity a deeper sympathy sweeps over me as I mount reluctantly they had never taken a friend of mine before oddly enough it's never occurred to me that they might soon take me it is afternoon now the dim sun is going down I am sent on a double message that takes me through the town first I am to report to the Lahore division whose signal office I am told is in a cellar next to the 25th brigade poor nerve chapel already its homes are in ruins hardly a stone is standing on a stone instead they are lying all over the streets I have to zigzag to get through after much meandering and many inquiries I meet only Indians on my way and their English is as fluent as my Hindustani I spot the blue and white flag that marks the signal service I deliver my dispatch and start off again I have been told that the brigade is trying to force the passage of a bridge somewhere to the northwest of the Bois de Beers I find them facing a fury of machine gun fire and depart glad to be alive but my mind is still busy with its memories of Grant I forget myself my machine my surroundings I ride along mechanically I must unconsciously have been riding slowly when I am suddenly hailed by a shout I look round and see the grizzled head of an old soldier stuck out of a half ruined house move a bit faster he cries faster mate unless you want to click hardly are the words out of his mouth when he drops with a moan I turn my head almost involuntarily to see whence the shot came ping a few sparks fly out of my handlebars on the spot my investigation ceases and my chance friend is forgotten in concern of myself jamming my throttle wide open I sprint for home sending my speed up to some 60 miles an hour but I'm not quick enough with a jerk my foot is lifted from the foot rest as if by an invisible hand my map case which had been lying flat on my back switches round and strikes me in the face next there comes a sharp rap on my knee as if someone had hit me with a stick I wobble frightfully but don't lose my equilibrium neither do I relax my speed at a record rate I regain the signal office dismount and flop on the ground my leg seems as if suddenly paralyzed and I notice a patch of blood adorning my pants so a sniper has got me at last there is no pain strangely enough only a burning sensation again my natural curiosity asserts itself I look at my foot and find that my boot is minus its heel so that accounts for the sudden jerk off the foot rest but why should they have caught me on the left side when the shot came from the right this puzzles me extremely but there is only one explanation the bullet could not possibly have passed through the little space that the make of my machine leaves around the engine consequently it must have hit the ground underneath and ricocheted up to my foot but even at that it must have made some extraordinary curves another aimed at my back must have hit my map case and flipped it round in my face but what about my knee were they then firing from both sides impossible I would have noticed that but there is no one with whom to discuss the phenomena someone is already busily bundling me into an ambulance which takes me to the casualty clearing station being a light case I am sent next day to a base hospital the casualty clearing station for all the horrible suggestion of its name proved to be a place of exceeding beauty a Brent Chateau evidently belonging to people of wealth as they lifted me out of the ambulance I had a glimpse of smooth lawns and trees of magnificent stateliness it took but a few minutes to get me on an operating table only war could have brought it to such uses in times of peace clicking balls would have had my place I could see the billiard queues still standing along the wall then as they ripped off my trousers and loose the bandages I had my first sensation of pain began a search then for an elusive bullet which proved to be conspicuous by its absence to help me through the ordeal I was given a glass of milk and soda only its color told me its identity I seem to have lost my sense of taste oh you'll be all right in a few days sunny the surgeon assured me he was a splendid looking man with a mane of white hair just a flesh wound they missed your kneecap by about two millimeters he thought he was consoling me but alas poor man he was sounding the nail of my hopes my eyes had been turned towards home so they took me to bed a saddened patient who had seen heaven and tasted its joys in anticipation only to have the cup dashed from his lips instead I got a meal consisting of broth toast and an orange that failed to interest me for I had suddenly realized that for 36 hours I had had no sleep I needed no rocking that night next morning I was awakened all too soon the hour was barely 6 30 I opened my eyes to behold an orderly standing amiably near my bed bearing a basin of water how that good natured fellow irritated me with his officiousness he would insist on washing me and I would wash myself I won out and immediately justified his zeal by upsetting the water all over the bed but at any rate I had not been treated like a baby while waiting for the ambulance train to take me back of the line I had my first good look at my fellow sufferers including myself there were eight slight cases but the others God that any man should look like them disfigured is scarcely the word to apply to them grotesque gargoyles that was how they seem to me on the train I was placed in a compartment with a man who had been a member of the black watch one of his legs had been shot off his face had been skinned lord knows how and he had lost his right cheek and he suffered oh how he suffered the train bumped and rattled the whole of the way as only French trains can it bothered me who was scarcely hurt at all now it would ring a groan from that poor remnant of a man now a curse now a cry at three that afternoon he died en route we stopped while they took away his corpse his going left me sick and nauseated and lonely oh so lonely I think I would have cried with homesickness if a trained nurse had not chance to come by she stayed with me for the greater part of the journey what would soldiers do without these women but how did they stand the sights that I had seen today stand them night noon and morning as a war nurse must I'm afraid my courage would fail me as such a test of human endurance toward evening we reached La Traporé a beautiful hospital situated on the French coast its base is a cliff some 2 000 feet over the sea they told me it had been a summer hotel and a German still owned it now residents in Switzerland he was getting 400 francs a day for its use by the British government a perfect army of nurses doctors and orderlies met us they were ranged in the big broad hall then with a neatness and efficiency nothing short of miraculous they dispatched us to our different sections surgical cases here medical cases there how could they distinguish us so quickly by 10 o'clock we were in our wards small rooms of four beds each we were put to bed given hot milk and soothed to sleep could it be only yesterday that I was listening to the roar of guns was it possible that France still held such retreats as this yet I suppose we were not more than 60 miles from the actual firing line more comfortable than I had ever hoped to be outside of my home I fall asleep too lazy even to look around I wake up again to be confronted by a smiling familiar face I rub my eyes blink provoke a boyish laugh who is it none other than young Harrison there is a bandage around his head concealing a scalp wound received a few days since in the fighting round La Bassé but how had he got to La Bassé we had given him up for dead or captive on the night when he failed to return to our farm signal office from his mission to Landrasse's oh yes he has a story to tell here it is as he told it to me as you remember he and Hudson had separated at a crossroads as you remember too there were Ullands about not for him the luck of Poole who had shot his way through a bullet in his back tire decided that the first I knew of it he says was a scared of my rear wheel the ground seemed to rise up and hit me in the face and then glide away again from under me when I recovered my sensors I saw two Boschers standing over me thank the Lord I had the wit to stick my finger in my mouth and swallow the dispatch hole then ensued a colloquy between the two not a word of which Harrison could understand we really ought to know their beastly language he declares finally one turn to him went systematically through his pockets and then motioned him to walk on ahead for almost an hour he trudged along the dusty highway the Ullands on their horses bringing up the rear he was hot heart sick and aching from his fall but what bothered him was the question of where these fellows were taking him he scanned the road for landmarks that might indicate his position but none met his eye they seemed to be cutting across country skirting villages but still within easy distance of the fighting for the boom of the big guns seemed to be growing louder instead of less and he could hear the rattle of exploding shrapnel it must have been midnight he says when we came up in the rear of an infantry battalion which from the look of things was setting out on the march as they approached one of the escorts threw himself off his saddle and walked towards the officer in charge they're ensued another colloquy equally indistinguishable to Harrison then end of section three