The sort of creaky, shuffling sound their boots made as they trotted into the open road came across the river like the wailing of lost souls, converged toward the bridge and was heard by these young Americans, who strained their eyes across the river to get what machine-gun men call "the target." But it was in pitch darkness, and there was only the sound to tell them there were plenty of "targets." Every little black devil of a machine gun tore loose with hellfire. The Americans behind them, who saw their first glimpse of war about thirty hours before, fed in bullets as fast as human hands could work. And the bullets caught their "targets" on the opposite side. The "target" came on again and again, but nothing could live in that leaden hail. The enemy waves melted in the darkness. Now come the even more thrilling experiences of the little band of Americans under Lieutenant Bissell who had been cut off and surrounded by the enemy across the river. Even experienced soldiers could not be blamed if they had surrendered there. At the beginning of the German mass attack a few French colonial soldiers, also cut off by the blown-up bridge, made the Lieutenant understand that then it was every man for himself. The north bank was becoming a seething mass of Germans. All other forces had retired across the river. Bullets were registering on every foot of the space approaching the bridges. The Germans chant to keep up the courage of the advancing masses. They sometimes yell to disconcert their enemies. With this ghostly chanting drawing nearer to the Lieutenant and his men and the weird yells of the Germans occasionally splitting the night, there was no thought of surrender. Their orders were to retreat by the main bridge, and orders were orders. SERIOUS PREDICAMENT Picking up both guns, each man carrying his allotted piece in manoeuvres, the party of thirteen started along the river for the main bridge. Reaching the vicinity of the approach, they discovered their plight. The enemy was almost upon them. Still carrying their guns, they jumped down, taking cover under the stone parapets at the river's edge. Thus they worked their way down to the iron bridge, though the Germans on the very parapet above were marching into a hail of American machine guns from the south bank. B Company did not know that a detachment had not escaped. The German attack remained at its height, and the enemy, despite its losses, kept sweeping toward the iron bridge. Bissell and his men attempted to cross under their own fire. Three were immediately wounded. They retired, picking up their wounded.