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 fog was even then thinning out, and, if the column were discovered, in silhouette, artillery would speedily destroy it. He therefore directed Major Black to have his troops wade the river, keeping on the sheltered side of the bridge.
Holding their guns clear of the water the men waded across in silence, keeping single file. The first man to step into that icy water was the gallant little Colonel, his blue French gas mask at "alert," his "forty-five" and precious bars of chocolate held safely above the water. I was directly behind him. A long column marching in single file through a muddy stream soon cuts a deep channel; and the last two hundred men to cross made wet work of the wading.
That our thoughts were at least partially human at that time, I now recall the following form of reasoning expressed by a Buddie near by. "I am going to get pneumonia out of this wetting; but, most likely, I'll be killed anyway in this hill attack, so I should worry!"