The British forces under Sir John French were
on the left centre, supporting the heavy thrust forward of the German
right wing.
On Saturday afternoon fighting was resumed along the whole line.
The German vanguard had by this time been supported by fresh
army corps, which had been brought from Belgium. At least a million
men were on the move, pressing upon the allied forces with a ferocity
of attack which has never been equalled. Their cavalry swept across
a great tract of country, squadron by squadron, like the mounted
hordes of Attila, but armed with the deadly weapons of modern
warfare. Their artillery was in enormous numbers, and their columns
advanced under the cover of it, not like an army but rather like a
moving nation. It did not move, however, with equal pressure at all
parts of the line. It formed itself into a battering ram with a pointed
end, and this point was thrust at the heart of the English wing with its
base at St. Quentin, and advanced divisions at Peronne and Ham. It
was impossible to resist this onslaught. If the British forces had stood
against it they would have been crushed and broken. Our gunners
were magnificent, and shelled the advancing German columns so
that the dead lay heaped up along the way which was leading down
to Paris, But, as one of them told me, "It made no manner of
difference.
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