Since I still thought the 312th Inf. might be far out to our left front, and depending on us to cover their ultimate withdrawal, we decided that B Co. should hold on where we were, while D Co. would string scattered Cossack posts along their old line until relief or further orders came up. The morning wore on; still no news from our left flank. I kept on the move up and down the line, assuming a confidence that I did not feel; for of course if the enemy advanced in any force we were done for. Still we had our orders, and there was nothing for it but to put up the best scrap we could. Some things were funny, even then. I remember the company barber, that sterling son of Italy, after a Boche sniper put a bullet past each ear. He wriggled back from his unpleasant position on the crest of the ridge, and retaliated by holding up his rifle at arm’s length over his head, pointed northeast, and executing rapid fire, pulling the trigger with his thumb, while he regarded my approach with the complacence of conscious ingenuity. I think the Boche must have laughed too; for the branches of a tree across the field began to shake, and a bullet brought a gray body tumbling down from branch to branch. We had some food--hard bread, corned willy and goldfish--but very little water. It was pitiful to see the wounded, who wouldn’t take any from the others, because they were going back when the stretcher bearers got around to them. Levy and his detail worked like Trojans, but it was a long trip, and every time they returned there was a fresh batch of wounded to be carried. There was one man--I wish I could remember his name, but though every event stands out clearly in my mind, I cannot remember the names connected with them. He was sitting with his back against a tree, wounded by a shell in the legs and stomach. When I asked him if I could do anything for him, he said “If I could have a little water.” I gave him my canteen, which had a couple of swallows left in it. He shook it, and grinned and shook his head. “Not your last, Cap’n.” I told him that Levy had just brought up a can, and hurried off to the left, where the firing was getting heavy. When I passed that way again, the man was dead. And the water was still in my canteen, and he had screwed the stopper back on; so he must have thought I was lying about Levy. Three o’clock came, and shortly after a platoon from A Co. under Lt. Bigler came up to reinforce us. They were posted on our left flank to hold the ravine up which the enemy had been trying to advance and flank our position. I couldn’t understand why the Germans in front of D Co. had not come in on our right flank yet.