My orders were for every man to go forward, protecting himself by the ground, when he could, and fight with all the fight that was in him! The sun was up when I gave the order, “Forward!” The men answered with a cheer, and rushed in quick time to a place about twenty yards from us to the front. Every man was ordered to reserve his fire until he could make sure of downing an enemy, or for dangerous emergencies--which, heaven knows, were more likely to occur than not. Then we made another rush, relying upon our courage and our bayonets to drive out the foe. We were successful at first in rolling up Fritz’s flank, by our audacious and unexpected tactics. I gave the order for the line again to go forward at a jump and, as Sam sometimes expressed it, for every man to “holler his head off,” hoping by this means to shake the nerve of the enemy and, at the same time, let our main force know that we were fighting, and guess that we were in need of help. For personal defence I had my revolver and an old German cavalry sword which I had picked up, and though without great confidence in the outcome, I could see no other way than, as Hen. Goodwin said, “to get a good run for my money.” My men, without exception, fought like wildcats and, if noise counted, the Boche must have thought that there was an army of us, and those new guns must have helped them think so. Hen. Goodwin had one of them, Sam and Sutherland one and I have forgotten who had the others. We were in the midst of the fracas, when we heard a long, wild heartening cheer from our lines. That encouraged us. We were then sheltering ourselves as best we could, picking off the enemy at every chance, hoping to hold them back until rescue came. The new guns were _great_, and were worked to the utmost by the men who had them. We were trying to make a cautious fight; but the enemy would not let us. They outnumbered us three to one. But we didn’t mind that so much as we did that they could better protect themselves than we could, and attack, while we found it hard to get at them over the rough intervening ground. Such was our situation when we heard the bugle from our lines sounding the retreat. We were losing men fast it is true; and it was not likely to be a winning fight if we got no help. But I could see no good in retreating, when I could save more men by fighting. And I had no stomach for running away from the rascally Huns, so long as I _could_ fight. The advantage was with the enemy both in superior numbers and in knowing the ground. It was plain, then, that we _must_ fight or--do worse. I gave a little talk to the men, during a momentary lull. “It is going to be some fight, men! And possibly we may get the worst of it. But it will be better for our pride and our skins to fight it out, than to turn tail. So let us trust to luck and our American grit and possible help, to lick them before they get us. Now fight like devils!”