the limit of my range, and then go up the
trench and place the gun in a spot that would cover a point from which
a counter-attack might be expected. These were my orders, and I was
given five men to help manage the gun. The Stokes gun will fire one
hundred twelve-pound shells in three minutes, if no time is lost with
misfires. It takes two men to work the gun and one to hand up
ammunition. I sent three men down the trench to be ready in case of
need and the other two helped me. Exactly on the dot the artillery and
our gun opened up, and for five minutes there was just the banging and
flashing of explosives all around. The Germans opened up their
artillery and attacked at the same minute that our boys went over--and
it was a real hell. Of course I couldn't see what was going on--around
us there was nothing but explosions and smoke. My three spare men were
hit, but so far we had escaped. Some Germans were behind us, having
worked their way around from the left, but we didn't know it. Finally
one of the boys said, "Just five more shells, Bobby," so I said, "All
right, we'll save them, come along, and we'll pick out a new place for
our gun." So, away we stumbled up the trench, half blinded by smoke
and the concussion of the exploding shells. As we went on in the
trench leading to the German lines I began to wonder what had
happened--dead Germans were lying in heaps--but we kept on, thinking
that our attacking party were away ahead, when all at once we ran into
a bunch of "square-heads." They were on the outside of the trench as
well as the inside, and then started the damnedest scrap I was ever in.
Two of the boys were armed with rifle and bayonet, and I had a
revolver. We shot those Fritzies just as fast as they stood up, and
then they lay down and threw hand grenades at us. How we killed all
those in the trench I don't know, things are hazy in my mind. Faces
came and went, and it's like a horrible dream. The old fellow beside
me gave a yell and dropped, hit in the back by a piece of one of the
exploding grenades. I was out of ammunition and I flung my revolver at
the nearest Fritzie, and thinks I, "It's all up now, and I don't care a
d---- anyway." I tried to drag the old man into a dugout and I got him
on the stairs, but he looked so bad that I laid him down and started
cutting away at his tunic to find the wound. The Germans that were
left started firing bombs at me, but they went over my head and dow