There were many other little incidents, some that I saw myself, and others that I heard coming down on the hospital train. One of our fellows took two prisoners only armed with a lighted candle. This happened after we had been occupying Fritz's front line several hours. Leaving his rifle at the top, he went down into one of Fritz's saps "looking for souvenirs, I guess." Well, he lit his candle and there in the corner were two great hulking fellows. I guess they were more scared than he was. Up went their hands with the same old cry: "Not me, Mister, Mercy, Kamerad." We had a laugh afterwards for the guy who brought them up, looked as if he had been scared stiff. I'll bet he never goes down a strange sap again unarmed. Later on they caught another five in one of the other saps. There were dozens of little incidents like this. So far so good--but the worst had yet to come. We had captured three villages and the famous hill. When I say there had been five previous attempts to get the hill alone, for he had occupied it for two and a half years, you will see that it was some accomplishment. They put over ten counter-attacks. I didn't count them. I was too interested and busy with other things to bother about counting anything. They came over in the old massed formation style. It seems a crazy style to me, for their losses must have been enormous. Every time they came over they got smashed, and were glad to beat it back, or at least as many of them as were able to. That continued practically all day. III--ON AN ADVANCE POST As soon as it was dark, I was detailed along with a bunch of other fellows to go out as reinforcements to our left flank. My friend Jones, another fellow and I, were put on an advanced bombing post. Every once in a while they would attempt to come over on us. It kept us pretty busy, and also kept us from getting sleepy. In the early morning one of Fritz's planes came flying over us. One of our fellows couldn't resist the temptation of drawing a bead on him, although it's against all orders for us to fire on aircraft. The chances of hitting him are about a thousand to one. Well, the "son of a gun" made a dive and swooped over us with his machine gun. I don't think he got anybody, but he came so low that some of our guns got him. He dropped like a stone. I was almost sorry to see it, for I am still a sport and that guy certainly had got grit. Well, these little events kept happening all day long. Then at four o'clock in the afternoon my friend Jones got hit. It was during one of his attacks--he got inquisitive, took a peek over the parapet, and got it in the cheek. Two hours later I got hit--this was the second time I had been hit. The first was so slight I didn't leave the line, but this time I had just had about as much as I cared for. So I got first aid and waited until things had quieted down a little, and then made my way to a dugout to wait until it got dark.