Within a large room, like an inn parlor, two Huns were working the machine-gun and a third met them with leveled rifle. Before Clem could fire one of his men threw his weapon like a Zulu his spear and the bayonet transfixed the Hun, who sank with a gasp. The other marines were upon the two gunners before they had time even to shout “Kamerad!” Freeing their bayonet points all three turned to leave the building when a lone marine jumped in, shouting:
“Gun nest on the roof!”
“Get ’em!” shouted Clem, who was dimly aware that the man was Martin, of his own squad.
They found a stairway. Dashing up this and along a hall, they climbed another flight where they saw a ladder leading to an open trap door.
“I can fix ’em!” cried the remaining grenade man who had a rifle also. He handed the weapon to Clem, ran up the ladder, lighted his fuse and tossed it out on the roof. The explosion brought down plaster within and filled the place with dust; Clem saw the body of a man fall past the window. The grenade man was knocked off the ladder by his own bomb, but he landed on his feet. The four men dashed down to the street, and as they ran along, a Hun from behind a broken wall hurled a grenade at them. Clem leaped to dodge it and two of his men ducked and fell flat, but poor Martin, looking away, caught the full force of the explosion at his feet. They saw him lifted up, twisted about and fall in a broken heap, his clothing half torn from his body. They knew their friend’s death had been instantaneous. Clem was pushed back as by a great wind. The two other men were rolled over and over. One of them looked up from where he lay and saw the Hun grinning at them. He jumped up and leveled his gun, but the Hun dodged back and they only had a glimpse of him lighting another grenade. With all the speed at his command Clem made for the wall, and with a leap cleared it. He came down on the fellow with both feet, at the same time stabbing downward with his bayonet. He felt the mass beneath his feet quiver and sink inert. Then Stapley started to climb back over the wall and found himself pushed back by his other two men who followed him over. Seven Germans coming along the street, had seen the three marines and started toward them, firing. The three Americans gave them such a warm reception that two of the Huns dropped in their tracks and the other five turned and fled.
“After ’em, boys!” shouted Clem, and the three chased along a narrow street to the eastern edge of the town where the Germans turned a corner and came face to face with a full platoon of Americans who took them prisoner.
The lieutenant in charge of this unit took great pleasure in the sight of five Germans being pursued by three Americans. As the little squad came up, he asked Clem to report action and casualties.
“Orders now are to report southwest of the village. Battalion will reform. Fall in with us.”
Clem was glad of this. Though such fighting was intoxicating while it lasted, it was sickening business after all. He had had enough of it. He was glad he had done his duty—glad the town had been won and if there were enough men left to hold the place, but a rest wouldn’t go badly. Still, if there was to be more of such work, he was ready.