Before Jimmy and his pal was the pivot upon which the German defenses in the Argonne depended. Upon that cemented pivot was hinged the hopes of the German High Command. If the pivot was forced the entire line of defenses that swung back and forth like a red, intangible thing in the depth of the Argonne woods would be swept away by the intrepid American troops. The Prussian militarists had rushed some of their finest divisions in front of Verdun to stay the advance of American soldiers who had been ordered to unhinge the pivotal defense at all costs. It mattered not that companies and battalions were cut to pieces and mowed down by the hidden machine-gun fire of the Germans who held the high ground and were securely intrenched. The order was to force the pivot. Jimmy’s division had been ordered to unhinge it. For three weeks he and his comrades had advanced yard by yard, each yard calling for the sacrifice of many brave men. After the third day in the lines beyond Verdun Jimmy had looked for his friend Neil, to learn that an ugly shell wound had sent him to the hospital. An entire new gun crew was manning the first piece, as every man had been killed or wounded when a German two-hundred-and-twenty made a direct hit on the howitzer. The Boches had been using gas with deadly effect. Ten men that he knew very well had been caught by the poisonous fumes and were evacuated to a hospital. Death had come pretty close to both Jimmy and O. D., but by some law of destiny they had come through unscratched. “We might try to get back now, O. D.” Jimmy raised himself cautiously and scanned their surroundings. A shell whistled, almost in his ear. He ducked down again. “That drink of water may cost us a lot before we get back. Gee! but I was thirsty. No water in three days. It’ll be three more before we can pull this stunt again. Think them damn Heinies have got us under observation. Stuff’s comin’ mighty close. They’re breakin’ right over by that hill.” He pointed to a hill not a hundred yards away. It was perforated by shell hits and blue smoke was rising from a dozen places where shells had lately exploded. “Dick said we were goin’ to fire again, _toot sweet_, so we’ll have to make a dive for it. You follow me, O. D.” Jimmy squirmed out of the slimy hole and crawled away in the direction of his position. O. D. followed behind at about ten yards’ interval. The condition of O. D.’s clothing made him look like a tramp. His wrap puttees were mud-soaked and ripped in many places. His breeches were as dirty as Jimmy’s had ever been. He had the front written all over him. The _guerre_ had stamped its trade-mark upon O. D. After fifteen minutes of snakelike progress Jimmy and O. D. reached the position. There wasn’t a soul to be seen. Everybody and everything lived below the surface in those terrible days and nights beyond Verdun.