On the left of L and in the middle of the line, Company I held the field and suffered even greater losses; but they too kept working steadily forward and no man went back whose duty it was to stay. Lieutenant H. H. Smith was killed on the last slope, urging his men forward. Sergeant Frank McMorrow and William Lyle, Paddy Flynn, and Hugh McFadden kept the platoon going. Lieutenant Cortlandt Johnson, like Captain Ryan, kept moving all along the line unmindful of danger, until he was badly wounded. His platoon was in good hands. Sergeant Charles Connolly took command and kept them advancing till death called him from the fray. Across his body fell Tommy Brennan, his closest friend—“In death not divided.” Sergeant Billy McLaughlin, a thorough soldier, took command but five minutes later he, too, was killed as he led the advance shouting, “Let’s go and get ’em, men!” Otto Ernst and John O’Rourke were killed at the very top of the hill, but Lenihan and Vail, Adikes and Lynch, still held the survivors together until they, too, were wounded. John J. Maddock, a veteran of the Regular Army, was badly hit while trying to save Corporal Beckwith. Here, too, fell Lieutenant Beach, killed by shrapnel while shooting an automatic. Along side him lay in a row like harvest sheaves, Matt O’Brien, William Corbett, Roger Minogue, Patrick McCarthy, Patrick McKeon, Floyd Baker, Louis Bloodgood and James Powell. Sergeant Charlie Cooper escaped severely wounded and Dan Mullin led what was left of the platoon. It was at the top of the hill that the Captain was wounded, a bullet going through his left side. Before he fell he had looked the situation over. The forward lines were now able to see clearly the whole field. In front the terrain stretched over perfectly level ground for five hundred yards to the edge of the forest of Nesles where one could detect the prepared emplacements and regularly wired positions. It was useless to advance in that direction; not a man could ever cross that stretch alive. To the right a company of the Alabamas had come up, but they, too, had been swept to pieces by the German fire and no more managed to reach the top. To the left, across the valley, our second battalion had begun to work its way up the opposite slope towards Seringes. Their fire could be detected as they wormed their way forward. Looking back down the hill the sight was discouraging. The ground was littered with the bodies of the brave, and the slopes of the Ourcq were dotted with the wounded, helping one another to the dressing station across the river in Villers sur Fere.