On, on they went, with the wind whipping their faces! On, still on, to the red ruin wrought by the explosion of the mine.
For the first fifty yards the going was easy except for the craters and shell holes into which some of the boys slid and tumbled. The enemy had been so numbed and paralyzed by the overwhelming explosion that they seemed to be unable to make any resistance.
But the officers knew, and the men as well, that this was only the lull before the storm. Their enemy was desperate and resourceful, and though the cleverness of the American engineers had carried through the mine operation without detection, it was certain that the foe would rally.
Fifty yards from the first-line trench—forty—thirty—and then the
German guns spoke.
A long line of flame flared up crimson in the pallid dawn.
"Down, men, down!" shouted their officers, and the Yankee lads threw themselves flat on the ground while a leaden hail swept furiously over them.
"Are you hurt, Bart?" cried Frank anxiously, as he heard a sharp exclamation from his comrade.
"Not by a bullet," growled Bart. "Took some of the skin off my knee though when I went down."
A second time the murderous fire came hurtling over them, but the officers noted with satisfaction that the enemy were shooting high.
"They haven't got the range yet," observed Billy.