The line of barrage fire had been so accurately laid down by our artillery that the Huns were not able to escape or to receive reinforcements. Taking advantage, however, of a fair wind, they launched a gas attack. Several of our men were overcome by its poisonous fumes before they could put on their gas masks, for it was unexpected. I was first aware of it by feeling slightly sickened, but the gas gong sounded and I adjusted my mask before being, as I thought, seriously affected. We were over the bridge, as I have said, with a rush; and then moving up the river began a fight for the possession of the northern part of the town. It was light when our brave men hurled themselves upon the enemy, driving them from buildings, hunting them from the cellars, shelters and dugouts. It was quick, sharp and decisive fighting. The men were on edge, crying out, “Eat ’em up. Gee! we’ll get ’em!” as the sharp report of rifles and the rat, tat, tat of the machine-guns were heard above the uproar of barrage fire in our rear, and exploding shells beyond us. The Boches, being unable to retreat or get reinforcements, hid in shell holes and cellars, or surrendered. We brought back thirty officers and men--all we could lay hands on, without remaining too long on the north side of the river. Then, obeying orders, we recrossed; the bridge was dismantled and withdrawn, and the raid was over. Several of our men had been killed, and the wounded were being sent to the hospital. As I stood watching to see if any of my old associates in the ranks were among them, Sam Jenkins rushed up to me crying out, “Have you heard the news?” “No,” I replied stiffly. “Salute your officers before addressing them.” For Sam in his excitement had forgotten to salute, and I was careful, as a man promoted from the ranks must be, that my former associates did not presume on our former relations. He saluted, and cried: “They have captured Lieutenant Nickerson!” If I had been struck by a club I could not have been more badly hit. I grew sick and staggered. “Who told you that?” I ejaculated hoarsely. “Where is he?” “Under guard out here,” he said; “I’ll show you.” I hurried forward with Sam. As I caught sight of his face I said, “Wait a minute, it may be his brother.” I watched to see if he had a disabled arm. But when I saw him put that hand to his head I knew the worst. Under guard of two of our men, there he stood with apparent unconcern, in the uniform of a captain of German infantry! “Oh, Jot!” I cried, forgetful of everything but that here stood my former friend, so dear to me, in peril and disgrace. “How could you, Jot!” I again exclaimed; all my love and sympathy recalled by his once dear face. He smiled calmly, with an expression that I had never seen on his face before, as if in reply to my call, and with his right hand brushed away his hair clotted with blood from a wound.