"Him is done," announced Ignace Pulinski solemnly, as he slipped the letter he had just finished writing into an envelope. "So I never come back, will poor my mothar this have an' keep always, remember me." "Oh, can the croak, Iggy," ordered Jimmy Blaise, looking up from his writing. "We're coming back, every last one of us. I've got a hunch that this won't be our last stab at the Boches." "That's as good as a safe conduct pass through the shindig," declared Bob emphatically. "I've a lot of respect for those hunches of yours since Schnitz came back." Gathered in a corner of a front-line dugout, the five Brothers were conducting a writing-bee which, in spite of Jimmy's "hunch," might be the last for part, if not all, of them. Four o'clock the next morning was to be zero hour for them. The long-expected ordeal was at hand. The 509th men were soon to know how it felt to go Over the Top. It was now a few minutes past ten o'clock in the evening. Just after dark the order had come. Two days had elapsed since their return from rest billets to the trenches. They had returned to front-line duty on the morning following a furious bombardment of the Boche trenches by American batteries, which had ended in a Sammy raiding party Over the Top. The raid had been a great success so far as the capture of guns and prisoners was concerned. Many Sammies had been sacrificed, however. As a result the resting detachments had come back to replace their lost comrades. During those two days, Fritz had been having his own troubles. Night and day the Americans had kept up a harrying rifle and machine-gun fire. Hordes of Allied aeroplanes had sailed boldly over the German lines, dropping bombs on the reinforcements and supplies which the Boches were engaged in bringing up to their own lines. Fierce indeed had been the aerial fights. Many an intrepid pilot on both sides had gone crashing down to death. Undaunted, the Allies continued to send fresh relays of airmen out to carry on this most hazardous work. Now, while the iron was hot, it had been determined to strike another blow. Thus it was that Jimmy Blaise and his bunkies were writing their home letters, preparatory to taking part in the raid to be made just before dawn. For almost two weeks they had been jogging along a smooth, peaceful stretch of the famous Glory Road. Now they would soon strike rough hiking. On the evening following the rescue of Franz Schnitzel by Jimmy Blaise and Voissard, the two bunkies had returned to billets. Voissard had accompanied them and taken part in the joyful little celebration that marked the restoration of Schnitzel to his Brothers.