It was a day following a tremendous battle, when the German lines had been smashed, torn apart and thrown into confusion, and when the fleeing Huns, driven from their stronghold by the masterful work of Foch and Pershing with the other Allied commanders, were endeavoring to save themselves from disaster.
"A little bit more of this, and we'll finish the job," remarked Jimmy, as he looked at his wrist watch.
"What time is it?" asked Bob.
"Nearly eleven. Why?"
"Well, I heard a rumor that the Germans had asked for a cessation of hostilities, to begin about noon, in order to get ready to sign an armistice."
"Don't you believe it!" exclaimed Franz. "The Huns won't know they're beaten until we grind their faces down in the mud! Listen to that! Talk about ceasing hostilities!"
It was the sound of heavy artillery on the American side, and the sound came nearer, like rolling thunder over the distant hills.
"Guess we're going in all right," said Jimmy, and there was a grim look on his face. "Fellows, we've had some hard fighting these last few days. A little bit more of it, and we may finish up. But——Oh, well, what's the use talking? If we live through it, we live—that's all. I wonder——"
His words were smothered in a terrific burst of fire from the guns back of them.
"Laying down a barrage!" shrilled Bob in Roger's ear. "Here's where we go over the top!"