And shoot they did. As the Americans went over the first little hilltop across the nearly level ground towards the woods beyond, the streaks of flame in the misty atmosphere and the rat-tat-tat-tr-r-r of machine guns became incessant. The enemy also was on to his job, had his work well planned and it was now being well executed. Did an order to charge on the double-quick come along the American line? Or was it rather a common understanding born of the impulse to get at an enemy that was capable of doing so much damage unless quickly overcome? At any rate, the men broke into a run, with no attempt at drill about it; every one for himself and yet with the common notion to work with his fellows, to support and be supported by them. Herbert’s men, being still a little in advance, seemed to draw more of the enemy’s fire than they otherwise might have done. At one moment there was the full complement of men, a little separated from their company comrades, charging toward the enemy positions; in the next sixty seconds there was not two-thirds of this number dashing on, and in another minute, by which time they had gained the wood, less than half of their original number were in action. It will be remembered that Lieutenant Herbert Whitcomb had been in several charges when serving in the trenches; a half dozen times he had “gone over the top.” In one desperate and successful effort to regain lost ground and then to forge ahead over a hotly contested field he had seen his men go down; in holding a shell hole gun pit, in springing a mine, in finally victoriously sweeping back the Germans when they were driven from Montdidier where he had been gassed, he had witnessed many bloody encounters, missed many a brave comrade. But here was a new and more terrible experience. The Americans had forced the fighting into the open, and yet again and again they were compelled to meet the foe within well prepared and hidden defenses; therefore, the offensive Yanks must suffer terribly before the Huns could be dislodged. The boys in khaki knew only that before them, somewhere from among the trees, the enemy was pouring a deadly machine-gun and rifle fire, sweeping the open ground with a hail of bullets in which it seemed impossible for even a blade of grass or a grasshopper to exist. The miracle was that some of the boys got through untouched, or were but slightly hurt. Those who had nicked rifle stocks, cut clothing, hats knocked off, accouterments punctured and even skin scratches were perhaps more common than those entirely unscathed. Yet through they did go; and in the midst of the sheltering trees at last, where now the Yanks, too, were in a measure protected and where almost immediately a form of Indian fighting began, the Americans still advancing and stalking the enemy from ambush, in like manner to the German defense.