But it was not easy going after the first rush, for the Germans had awakened to the importance of the pending battle and they were now sending over a counter-barrage. With a roar that matched the opening chorus of the American guns, those of the Boche sent out their missiles of death. And many of the shrapnel bullets, or pieces of exploding shells, found their marks. The ground was strewn with dead and dying, for the German barrage was meeting with and passing through that of the Americans. Yet the advance never stopped. Company after company of khaki-clad youths and men rushed from the trenches and started across that vale of death. They advanced in battle formation--not too close together--for that offered too good a target for the machine-guns, and though many nests had been wiped out, many still remained. Suddenly the awful ear-rending chorus on the American side died away as if by magic. The silence was almost as appalling as had been the terrific noise, for it portended more. "Come, on!" cried the officers to their men. "Come on! Wipe out the Huns!" And the men followed them to victory or death. Jimmy found himself yelling and firing his rifle as rapidly as he could pull the trigger. For a moment the five Brothers, all together, seemed to be in comparative safety. But then bullets began to sing about their heads like angry wasps. "Come on! Come on!" cried Jimmy, and no one faltered. Suddenly, from a little mound of earth in front of the five, there came a sound as of some one tearing stiff cloth, or beating a drum more rapidly than one was ever beaten before. The Khaki Boys knew what it meant--a machine-gun nest. Instinctively they dropped to earth, and the bullets flew over their heads. If they found living targets farther on the lads did not turn to see. "We've got to wipe that out!" cried Jimmy. "We're with you!" shouted Bob. Franz, looking forward from between two little hummocks of earth, suddenly fired his rifle. "There goes one Hun!" he exulted. "And I got a second!" exclaimed Roger. They were both good shots and each had gotten his enemy. "Come on--rush 'em!" yelled Jimmy, jumping up. Bob attempted to pull his chum back, for it was almost certain death to stand up in front of a machine-gun emplacement. But it was too late. Jimmy had taken his chance, and he lived through it. For a brief instant there was no firing from where the machine-gun was hidden and this was Jimmy's opportunity and that of his chums. With wild yells they leaped up and followed his lead. A moment later they were fighting fiercely with half a dozen Germans who composed what was left of the automatic gun squad. The weapon appeared to be jammed, for one of the Huns was frantically working at the firing mechanism. And it was this same jamming, as was learned later, that, undoubtedly, saved the lives of Jimmy and his chums.