For some weeks there had been a season of peacefulness between the lines. The weather had become warmer and more springlike, with occasionally a sunny day. Then there came a change. We had become accustomed to trench duties and not a little tired at its sameness. It was while I was on this duty that the change came. I, with others, was on detail at a listening post one night, and while intently listening, young Kepler said in a whisper: “Did you hear that, Sergeant?” “I heard a growl,” I whispered, “as though some one was speaking.” “I think they are going to attack, somewhere,” he said. “There, did you hear that?” “No, what is it?” “Some one giving orders,” he replied. “I can’t hear distinctly, but I am sure it means an attack.” We sent back word to the trenches, and they in turn sent back word to the commandant in his dugout, that there was an unusual stir on the German front opposite us; though we could tell nothing more definite at that time. It was not long before we learned the meaning of what we had heard at the listening post. A tremendous explosion of artillery, about two o’clock, broke the stillness of the damp gray morning. Gas shells came whistling over us. We put on our gas masks, and were thankful that the shells were mostly going over us instead of striking near. Our heads with these masks looked queer, and laughter-provoking. “This means an attack,” was passed down the lines. “I don’t think they know any more about it than we do,” some one growled. “It’s meself,” said Pat Quinn, “that wishes it would come along dacently soon, if it’s coming.” This expressed the feeling often felt among soldiers,--to know the worst and have it over with quickly. “They fire all along the line,” said our lieutenant, “so that we can not tell where the real attack is coming.” The continuous whistling of gas shells and the sickening fumes that partially reached us, the explosions over and near us, and our answers in like kind made it even then seem like a hell on earth. Then the enemy seemed to get a more perfect aim, and their shells swept away our wire barricades clean to the ground, as though they were cobwebs, until not even a post was left standing. Our men, cowered under the earth embankments, waiting, waiting, with high-strung, impatient and nervous suspense, until, at last, they were warned that the attack was at hand. Then our artillery quickened in sharp explosions, while the _rat, tat, tat_ of the machine-guns, like a stick being drawn over a slat fence, filled the air with a demoniac clamor impossible to describe. The air was full of hoarsely shrieking shells and shot that made the air vibrate, and the ground rock, as though the demons themselves had broken loose! Then the nerves that were shaken stiffened, and we were ready for the attack.