ine of a flat
tableland in the left distance which we knew to be that part of the
heights of Meuse for whose commanding ridge there have been so many
violent contests between the close-locked lines in the forest of
Apremont. More to the centre of the picture, stood Mont Sec, detached
from the range and pushing its summit up through the lowland mist like
the dorsal fin of a porpoise in a calm sea. On the right the lowland
extended to indistinct distances, where it blended with the horizon.

In all that expanse of quiet night, there was not a single flicker of
light, and at that time not a sound to indicate that unmentionable
numbers of our men were facing one another in parallel ditches across
the silent moor.

"See that clump of trees way out there?" said the lieutenant, directing
our vision with his arm. "Now then, hold your hand at arm's length in
front of you, straight along a line from your eyes along the left edge
of your hand to that clump of trees. Now then, look right along the
right edge of your hand and you will be looking at Richecourt. The Boche
hold it. We go in on the right of that to-night."

We looked as per instructions and saw nothing. As far as we were
concerned Richecourt was a daylight view, but these owls of the lookout
knew its location as well as they knew the streets of their native towns
back in New England. We returned to the colonel's command post, where
cots were provided, and we turned in for a few hours' sleep on the
promise of being called in time.

It was 2 A. M. when we were summoned to command post for the colonel's
explanation of the night's plans. The regimental commander, smoking a
long pipe with a curved stem, sat in front of a map on which he
conducted the exposition.

"Here," he said, placing his finger on a section of the line marking the
American trenches, "is the point of departure. That's the jumping off
place. These X marks running between the lines is the enemy wire, and
here, and here, and here are where we blow it up. We reach the German
trenches at these points and clean up. Then the men follow the enemy
communicating trenches, penetrate three hundred metres to the east edge
of Richecourt, and return.

"Zero hour is 2:30. It's now 2:10. Our raiders have left their trenches
already. They are out in No Man's Land now. The engineers are with them
carrying explosives for the wire. There are stretcher bearers in the
party to bring back our wounded and also signal men r