Corporal after corporal accounted for his squad. There were no laggers or deserters in that heroic band. The time had come, and the Khaki Boys were ready.
"Squads right—March!"
By rows of fours the soldier boys turned, then in the growing darkness they swung off, rifles on their shoulders, stepping alertly, and with the rhythm that long training had given them. On every face shone the quiet determination to do well. Every man was imbued with the resolve to give good account of himself. The Khaki Boys were out to "do and dare" for the honor of Uncle Sam and his Allies.
[CHAPTER XI]
IN THE FIRE TRENCH
Shortly before midnight, the columns of marching Khaki Boys reached a village that lay practically in ruins. Passing through one neglected street after another, the company leading was halted just at the turning of a street by an English major, astride a mettlesome horse.
"Who is in command of this company?" came the sharp query.
"Captain Reynolds, sir."