, October 23rd, 1918, just one year to the day after the event. That
shot surely started something.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FIRST AMERICAN SECTOR

It was in the Luneville sector, described in the preceding chapter, that
the first American fighting men faced the Germans on the western front.
It was there that the enemy captured its first American prisoners in a
small midnight raid; it was there that we captured some prisoners of
theirs, and inflicted our first German casualties; it was there that the
first American fighting man laid down his life on the western front.

In spite of these facts, however, the occupation of those front line
posts in that sector constituted nothing more than a post-graduate
course in training under the capable direction of French instructors who
advised our officers and men in everything they did.

At the conclusion of the course, which extended over a number of weeks,
the American forces engaged in it were withdrawn from the line and
retired for a well-earned rest period and for reorganisation purposes in
areas back of the line. There they renewed equipment and prepared for
the occupation of the first all-American sector on the western front.

That sector was located in Lorraine some distance to the east of the
Luneville front. It was north and slightly west of the city of Toul. It
was on the east side of the St. Mihiel salient, then occupied by the
Germans.

The sector occupied a position in what the French called the
Pont-a-Mousson front. Our men were to occupy an eight-mile section of
the front line trenches extending from a point west of the town of
Flirey, to a point west of the ruins of the town of Seicheprey. The
position was not far from the French stronghold of Verdun to the
northwest or the German stronghold of Metz to the northeast, and was
equidistant from both.

That line changed from French blue to American khaki on the night of
January 21st. The sector became American at midnight. I watched the men
as they marched into the line. In small squads they proceeded silently
up the road toward the north, from which direction a raw wind brought
occasional sounds resembling the falling of steel plates on the wooden
floor of a long corridor.

A half moon doubly ringed by mist, made the hazy night look grey. At
intervals, phantom flashes flushed the sky. The mud of the roadway
formed a colourless paste that made marching not unlike skating on a
platter of glue.

This was