him to them. He
turned to the nearest American officer, saluted and reported, "Ready for
duty."
What he had done was to him but a part of the work to be done that day.
But York was assigned to the command of his prisoners, to carry them
back to a detention camp. The officers were held by the P. C.--for an
examination and grilling on the plans of the enemy.
Whenever they could the private soldiers among the prisoners gathered
close to York, now looking to him for their personal safety.
On the way to the detention camp the column was shelled by German guns
from one of the hilltops. York maneuvered them and put them in double
quick time until they were out of range.
Late in the afternoon, back of the three hills that face Hill No. 223,
the "All America" Division "cut" the Decauville Railroad that supplied a
salient to the north that the Germans were striving desperately to hold.
As they swept on to their objective they found the hill to the left of
the valley, that turns a shoulder toward No. 223--which the people of
France have named "York's Hill"--cleared of Germans, and on its crest,
silent and unmanned machine guns.
Americans returned and buried on the hillside--beside a thicket, near a
shack that had been the German officer's headquarters--six American
soldiers. They placed wooden crosses to mark the graves and on the top
of the crosses swung the helmets the soldiers had worn.
Out from the forest came the story of what York had done. The men in the
trenches along the entire front were told of it. Not only in the United
States, but in Great Britain, France and Italy, it electrified the
public. From the meager details the press was able to carry, for the
entire Entente firing-line was ablaze and a surrender was being forced
upon Germany, and York's division was out in the Argonne still fighting
its way ahead, the people could but wonder how one man was able to
silence a battalion of machine guns and bring in so many prisoners.
Major-General George B. Duncan, commander of the Eighty-Second Division,
and officers of York's regiment knew that history had been made upon
that hillside. By personal visits of the regiment's officers to the
scene, by measurements, by official count of the silent guns and the
silent dead, by affidavits from those who were with York, the record of
his achievement was verified.
Major-General C. P. Summerall, before the officers of York's regiment,
said to him:
"Your division
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