Our task was to dig a communication trench, already taped out, from the point where the line of resistance entered the Bois Gerard back over the brow of the hill. The first platoon was in plain view of the enemy’s observation balloon, the other three were just behind the rise. We posted sentinels, and set to work, absolutely out in the open, no cover save a few shell holes. For ten minutes we dug. Then it came. A whistle, scream and slam, just over the hill; another; then a fierce, deadly whir, right in our ears. We hit the dirt, and a second later Lt. Dunn called to me “Captain, there’s a man killed here and I don’t know how many wounded.” For an instant of horror the company gazed at the spot. I sent Sgt. Hill to the first aid pillbox for stretchers, put the others to work again, and hastened up to see the situation. The shell had landed just between the 1st and 2nd platoons. Lt. Schuyler was already having the wounded carried into the edge of the woods near by, and had the rest of the 1st platoon take cover there. Poor O’Hara was lying dead right by the shell hole. It had burst nearly underneath him, and a fragment of shell had torn its way through his temple and right out through his steel helmet. His brains were oozing out through the hole. Seeing that nothing could be done for him, I went over to the woods. Lester Farry, our mechanic, as fine a man as ever walked, was sitting up between Lt. Schuyler and Sgt. Reid, with a big hole in the side of his head. He never uttered a word of complaint; just sat still while they bandaged it; and the stretchers came up and took him off. He died in hospital six days later. Curcio had a great hole in the upper part of his leg. Donohue had an ugly bit of shell in his back, and Bogucki, Fielding, and Hauber were wounded, but less seriously. This was a nasty introduction to shell fire, because the whole company saw the thing happen. Their behaviour, however, was excellent. Doggedly the men continued at the work, and soon we had enough cover to at least be in while the shells burst near by. Our gallant friend, the Engineer Lieutenant, had promptly vanished, and I never saw him again. I withdrew the first and second platoons behind the hill, and we kept on the job until 6 P. M., as ordered. At about 5:30, A Co. came along over the hill, and the Heinies sped them on their way with a few gas shells, which made them scamper. As we turned in our shovels at the dump, every man mustered up a grin as he passed by; and though it had been one hell of a party, the old morale was still on deck.