"At last it was five minutes of three. The 'death ladders' were put in place, so the men could scale the parapet, and at exactly three o'clock the whistles blew a mighty blast. Up the boys went like monkeys over a garden wall. The curtain fire was thrust forward. Through the lanes they went. Across No Man's Land they rushed, and men were falling all about. At this moment some of the Germans made a kind of countercharge, and a few got very near our trenches. One big German was almost falling into our trench on top of me, when I heard him yell at me. I could not tell what he said, but as his mouth opened in yelling, amazement and fear gripped me, for, like the shiny tongue of a snake, there stuck out of his mouth a long, glistening object. I thought he was making faces at me. But only a second elapsed, until his yell merged into a fiendish shriek and he pitched toward me. One of our men had jammed his bayonet through the big Boche from behind, and it had come out of his mouth. It was the last of him. I know our boys got there. But it sure is hell. But--it--is glorious!" I then realized that he was weakening and when I asked him if he was badly hurt he answered, "No--not bad--I reckon--only--'goin' West.'" As the poor fellow spoke these last words his breath was coming hard. Life was slowly ebbing out and as I stood with his hand clasped in mine he passed over the Great Divide. In solemn reflection I stood beside him for a moment. Yes, it was glorious, in a way, yet for my part it sickened me. I had had enough. I was fed up with the war and I longed for rest. CHAPTER XXXIX JEAN AND "FRENCHIE" That rest was to come ere long--but not immediately. I had seen the tragedy and horror of modern warfare but I was still to undergo another heart-tearing ordeal. The boys of a certain company were as handsome a lot as ever donned a uniform. But some of the best of them were marked men. Two of these fellows whom I had come to consider as pals, got theirs a few days later. The name of one was Jean, and I couldn't pronounce the other, so I used to call him "Frenchie." They were both fine, strapping lads, larger than the average Frenchman and had the pep of young Americans. Jean was twenty-one and "Frenchie" I suppose about twenty-five. We used to have great times together trying to understand each other and laughing over my mistakes in speaking French. Some of them were worth laughing at, too. On occasions I would sit and swap yarns with them or would yield to their requests to tell them all about the United States. We struck up an intimacy which was unusual, and it got so that we sought each other's company whenever possible. The boys used to ask me all kinds of questions about New York and wanted to know how far out Pike's Peak was from the metropolis. I had to laugh at their conception of American geography as much as they did at my conception of their language. Many a pleasant hour we enjoyed together.