A pioneer unit was rushed ahead with orders to conduct its own campaign and choose its own front, only so that contact was established with the enemy, and to this unit was attached a certain little group of Salvation Army people. Three lassies, doing their best to keep pace with their own people, reached a battered little town about four o’clock in the morning, after a hard, exciting ride. The supply train had already put up the tent for them, and they were ordered to unfold their cots and get to sleep as soon as possible. But instead of obeying orders these indomitable girls set to work making doughnuts and before nine o’clock in the morning they had made and were serving two thousand doughnuts, with the accompanying hot chocolate. The shells were whistling overhead, and the doughboys dropped into nearby shell holes when they heard them coming, but the lassies paid no heed and made doughnuts all the morning, under constant bombardment. Bouconville was a little village between Raulecourt and the trenches. In it there was left no civilian nor any whole house. Nothing but shot-down houses, dugouts and camouflages, Y.M.C.A., Salvation Army and enlisted men. Dead Man’s Curve was between Mandres and Beaumont. The enemy’s eye was always upon it and had its range. Before the St. Mihiel drive one could go to Bouconville or Raulecourt only at night. As soon as it was dark the supply outfits on the trucks would be lined up awaiting the word from the Military Police to go. Everyone had to travel a hundred yards apart. Only three men would be allowed to go at once, so dangerous was the trip. Out of the night would come a voice: “Halt! Who goes there? Advance and give the countersign.” Every man was regarded as an enemy and spy until he was proven otherwise. And the countersign had to be given mighty quick, too. So the men were warned when they were sent out to be ready with the countersign and not to hesitate, for some had been slow to respond and had been promptly shot. The ride through the night in the dark without lights, without sound, over rough, shell-plowed roads had plenty of excitement. Bouconville for seven months could never be entered by day. The dugout wall of the hut was filled with sandbags to keep it up. It was at Bouconville, in the Salvation Army hut, that the raids on the enemy were organized, the men were gathered together and instructed, and trench knives given out; and here was where they weeded out any who were afraid they might sneeze or cough and so give warning to the enemy. Not until after the St. Mihiel drive when Montsec was behind the line instead of in front did they dare enter Bouconville by day.