“Our line was now extended across the sunken road and beyond the corner of the wood to our right. Darkness was coming on. Airplanes were hovering overhead, and shortly afterward our shells began to form a barrage in front. The Germans had evidently rallied, for we could see a long line of them coming up on our right, evidently from the direction of Leuze Wood. Our machine guns opened fire. The counter-attack was hung up, but the Germans must have dug themselves in for the night, for in the morning they gave us a good deal of trouble. [Illustration: _Photo by Fairchild, New York._ Lieutenant George H. Pendleton With two other officers and twenty men he was sent by the Belgian command to get information about the enemy. In a fight with a German patrol he was wounded, but returned to headquarters with the desired information. He is a great-grandson of Francis Scott Key.] After the counter-attack had subsided, I was ordered to take my men and join up with the rest of the battalion on our right. There we spent the night in a trench. We must have been facing south. It was a miserable night we passed, for we were all very cold and thirsty. We had to keep digging. When morning broke it was very misty. We expected to be relieved at two in the morning, but the relief did not come till noon. Never shall I forget those hours of suspense. We were all hungry. The only food we could get was German black bread, which we picked up all over the place; also German tinned sausages and bully-beef. We had to lift up some of the dead to get at these things. Some of them had water bottles full of cold coffee, which we drank. “We all craved a smoke. Fortunately, the German haversacks were pretty well stocked with cigarettes and cigars. I got a handful of cigars off a dead German, and smoked them all morning. Also a tin of cigarettes. His chocolates also came in handy. Poor devil, he must have been a cheery soul when living, for he had a photograph of himself in his pocket, in a group with his wife and two children, and the picture made him look a jolly old sport. And here he was dead, with both legs missing! The trench (between ours and the wood) was stacked with dead. It was full of débris—bombs, shovels, and what not—and torn books, magazines, and newspapers. I came across a copy of Schiller’s ‘Wallenstein.’ FORGETTING ENMITY