At this time--about 8 A. M.--a German plane appeared, coming at us with a rush, low over the treetops, almost head on. We could see the aviator looking over the side of the car. He spotted someone moving, and flew low along our line, firing his machine gun, but more as a signal than at us particularly, I think. We cracked away at him, but had no luck. With superb nerve he flew slowly the length of our line, returned, and then banked lazily and disappeared toward his own lines. Ten minutes later shells were bursting about us with devilish precision, and machine gun squads pushed up on either flank, until stopped by our Chauchats. They were still somewhat leery of us, though, possibly suspecting a trap, and the attack was not pressed home. The German snipers in the woods across the little plateau in front were reinforced by machine guns, and both sides greeted every shaking bush or exposed head with a vicious crackle of bullets. Corporal Apicelli’s squad, lying out in the advanced posts where they had been stationed by Schuyler and Reid, were especially exposed, Apicelli and two other men being killed during the morning. At least one of the enemy was using dumdum bullets, as I saw one of our men shot in the hip, and where the bullet came out you could have put your fist in the hole. Levy and Winemiller were set to cutting two lanes in the wire behind us, so that we would not be hopelessly in a cul-de-sac. At about 9 A. M. Lt. Wolcott of D Co. appeared with his platoon, reduced to some 20 men. He was out of touch with the rest of his company, and did not know how it had fared. He was posted on our right flank, and sent out a patrol to get in contact with D Co. The firing died down to incessant sniping, and I set about completing my situation report for the Major, having given up hope for the present of establishing contact on the flanks. As I was finishing, Lt. Drake came up with a squad of the battalion scouts, among them the honest face of our own Sgt. DeGrote. I explained the situation, and gave him the report to take back. I shall never forget “Ducky’s” eyes, sick with seeing horrors, as he turned to go. As he disappeared, a tall figure came striding along from the right--Capt. Fleischmann, with dark circles under his eyes, blackened and stained from head to foot with blood and powder. We greeted each other as risen from the dead, and compared notes. He had run into the enemy in force strongly established in concrete pillboxes and machine gun posts; and while scattered groups of his company had won through to the company objective, they were unable to hold it without machine guns against the enemy’s enfilading fire. The remnant had retired to their old line of outguards, after suffering heavy losses.