Every soldier engaged in this stupendous undertaking had his work cut out for him and everyone knew this for a man’s size job. Therefore, each Yank went at the task as it deserved, do or die being virtually every fighter’s motto. Throughout the long, bent line made up of the four combat divisions of infantry and their machine-gun battalion that now advanced toward the densely wooded hills, backed by brigades of artillery, there was one simultaneous forward movement with the two other army corps stretching eastward between the Aire and the Meuse Rivers. And there was one common purpose: to rout the Huns, destroy them or drive them back the way they had come. Never before in the history of wars had there been a clearer understanding among all ranks as to what was expected of the army at large and just what this forward movement was meant to accomplish. For the glory of America, for the honor of the corps, the division, the regiment, the battalion, the company, the platoon; for the sake of justice and humanity and for the joy of smashing a foe that had not played fair according to the accepted rules of warfare, the determination that led this force ahead could not have been excelled. And therein individual bravery and heroism enacted a very large and notable part in the victory over foes numerically almost as strong and having the great advantage of position. As the line swept up the hill, Lieutenant Whitcomb noted the various expressions on the faces of those about him. Many of the boys were very serious and quiet, some positively grim because fully aware of what they must shortly encounter and were for the moment only shielded from by the terrain. Others seemed unchanged from their habitual cheerfulness, even bantering their fellows, and a little bunch of evident cronies started up a rollicking song, but in subdued voices. Herbert heard one man near him call to another: “A Frog who talked United States told me that the Heinies are a bad bunch up here!” “These here Frogs know mostly what’s what!” was the reply. Herbert knew that “Frog” meant Frenchman; it was the common term used among the Americans, inspired, no doubt, by the idea that batrachians are a favorite dish with the French, though they cannot be blamed for their choice. “A sky-shooter gave me the dope that the Jerries are just inside the woods,” another man said. “Reckon we’re goin’ to get it right sudden when we top the rise.” “There’s goin’ to be some Limburgers short if I kin see ’em first!” said another, laughing. One prediction proved true, in part at least; the line topped the rise--and got it. The barrage and preliminary artillery fire had done little in this case; bullets, or even high-powered shells could not penetrate far nor do much damage within the dense forest. But it was very different with the enemy among the trees and rocks; they could see out from these natural shelters well enough to choose clear spaces for shooting.