“I wasn’t cold, Jimmy, honest. Think I’ll turn over and _cushay_ a while. We ’ain’t slept in forty-eight hours now. There won’t be anything to _monjay_ tonight; stuff got in too late for supper. Goin’ to give us some coffee and stuff ’round nine o’clock.” “Well, we’ll both crawl in and knock out some sleep,” said Jimmy, and they got under their thin dirt-spattered blankets and fell into sound slumber with no effort. Three hours later Jimmy and O. D. were throttled out of their sleep by the banging of incoming shells and the quaking of earth that shivered and shook as the shells ripped great smoking holes in its sides. Between the bangs and the crashes they caught the piping of the whistle that called them to the pits. Twenty seconds later Sergeant Dick Dennis, chief of Jimmy’s gun section, sang out to the executive officer, “Third section in order, sir.” “Battery—On basic deflection—Right, One—Three—Zero—F. A. shell—I. A. L. fuse—Charge double zero—Site zero—One hundred rounds—At my command—Elevation five, six three,” shouted the executive officer. There was grim silence in the gun-pits. A shell came tearing over and hit fifty yards from the first piece. Fragments and stones pattered down through the trees. “F—I—R—E!” was the command. Four flashes illuminated the night shadows and four guns loosened their brass tongues of thunder. The ground rocked. The air quivered. The pieces bayed and roared on like mad, fire-spitting animals. Joining their voices in the savage symphony of death that filled the woods they crowded that particular part of the world with an infernal clamor. Down in the cozy mire of their gun-pit Jimmy McGee and his gang worked hands over fists to keep Betsy roaring. Almost ten months on the line had made them indifferent to enemy fire, especially if they were fighting back, so they labored on while the Hun missiles came tearing overhead, spilling their contents of death dangerously near. O. D., working directly behind Jimmy, marveled at his pal’s coolness in adjusting sights and elevations, unconscious of the fact that he was almost as cool in his own work as Jimmy. An explosion more terrific than any previous one shook the entire vicinity of the battery position. After the crash of bursting steel and iron had ended agonized cries were torn from the throats of suffering men. Piteous pleadings for aid filled the flame-shot night. Above the groans that were racked by pain a voice called out, “First piece out of order, sir.” A fit of coughing followed the report.