were ready; he was about to lead them to the heights
of grim Rembercourt, one of the most prized and fought for positions
along our front!

These brave boys of the Second Battalion, going, many of them, to their
death, needed us. Good Chaplain LeMay of the Battalion would need
assistance; moreover the 55th Infantry would be in that attack, and
they, at that time, had no Catholic Chaplain. Many needed Sacramental
Confession; all needed God's blessing. At once, I decided to cancel the
two Masses I had planned, and accompany them.

In column of squads the troops moved down the valley. As we were but
eight hundred marching against a strongly held hill, every approach to
which fairly bristled with machine gun nests, success depended primarily
on the element of surprise. We were prepared to pay something for that
hill, but if we could rush it, the cost would be minimum.

The alert enemy had thrust forward tentacles of listening posts deep
into our neighborhood, and, if a chance star shell revealed us, he would
lay down a deadly barrage.

We were favored indeed by a blanket of chill fog, that hung over the
valley, but our going in the slimy, sticky clay was labored and slow.

Dawn found us in the shelter of a hill near the old mill north of
Jolney. This old stone building overhung the river, and stood at the
eastern end of the bridge. Later that day it was occupied by General
Wahl, commanding the 13th Brigade, and used as his Headquarters. At this
point the column was halted; and Colonel Lewis, Major Black, I, and two
privates walked forward about five hundred yards around the foot of the
hill to reconnoitre. The railroad leading to Metz paralleled this
valley; and, but a few yards ahead, half a dozen box cars, hit by our
shells, were burning.

The river at this point is about one hundred yards wide and at no place
over five feet deep. It is spanned by a stone bridge sharply arched,
built for heavy strain.

Our objective lay on the opposite shore, a hill, some three hundred feet
high, covered with scrub oak and cedar. This hill, which commanded the
village of Rembercourt and the entire valley, had been firmly held and
desperately defended by the enemy even against Pershing's September
attack. Ours was now the coveted honor of wresting it from his grasp,
once and for all.

Two courses lay open to our crossing, one, to use the bridge, the other
to wade the river. The Colonel discouraged the use of the bridge, as the
fo