It was quite light now; a beautiful September morning. Schuyler and I gained the top of the ridge together. The woods ended there, giving way to a little open plateau, about 250 meters across, with woods on the other side again. I verified the position on my map, and ordered Schuyler to post his men along the ridge under cover of the trees and underbrush, while I did the same further to the left, where men from the 4th platoon were coming up the slope in groups of two and three as they got through the wire.
I had not gone twenty paces when Sgt. Reid came running after me and said “Lieut. Schuyler’s been hit, Captain.” I answered mechanically “All right; bring him behind the ridge, take charge of the platoon and post the men as they come up.”
Rifle bullets were beginning to snap overhead, coming apparently from the woods across the field, which was held in some force by the enemy, as we soon realized. Our only chance of meeting a counter-attack was to build up a firing line to sweep the plateau in front, and as fast as men from the 4th platoon came up I posted them to command our front and left flank.
Slim Price, in a German’s black fur coat that came about to his hips, came stalking up the hill with his Chauchat, and disappeared over the crest, subsiding in a little clump of bushes out on the left of the plateau. He was telling the world that he was a “fighting —— of a ——.” A moment later I heard the rattle of his gun as he spotted a Heinie machine gun squad advancing down the gully on our left. I guess Slim was right, at that.
The C. O., 4th Plt., came up by this time. He was badly shaken, but I put him in charge of the left flank until the 2nd platoon should arrive, and went back to the right.
They had brought Lt. Schuyler a little way down the slope, and laid him down until a stretcher came up. A shell had burst right beside him, between him and Reid. He was still breathing, but very heavily, and was quite unconscious; his eyes were nearly closed. I bound up his head as best I could with his first aid packet, but my heart sank—the concussion had been near the base of the skull. Oddly enough, he was not at all disfigured; but it had been a terrible blow, and only his magnificent vitality was keeping him breathing. That was a bitter moment, with my best officer and best friend in the outfit dying, the company shattered; and not a German had I seen.
Sgt. Levy came up with a couple of stretchers and the news that both the Medical Detachment men attached to the company were killed. Hoping against hope I had him put Roy on the first stretcher, and they bore him away to the rear, though the shells were still bursting behind us. It was no use; that gallant spirit breathed its last before they had gone a kilometer. The bearers wanted to take him on to the surgeon anyhow, but there were many others desperately wounded, and stretchers were pitifully few.
In the meantime I had sent out patrols to the flanks to try and get in touch with D Co. and the 312th Inf. A patrol of 6 men from D Co. came in on our right, but they were separated from their outfit and didn’t know what had happened. Brisk machine gun firing to our right rear made us fear things were not going well there.
On our left, a party of the Boche under an officer had advanced down the ravine toward the end of our ridge, and had driven in our advanced riflemen; but had been checked, largely by the doughty Price from his clump of bushes. Three runners sent to the left to find the 2nd platoon did not return, and I feared the latter had lost its direction and was in trouble.
During a temporary lull, I strolled out to the left, map in hand, and crossing the ravine started up the next ridge to find them. About a hundred yards ahead I caught a glimpse of a man walking through the trees, and thought I recognized one of our runners. I shouted “Hey.” He turned around. I asked “What platoon are you in?” Then I noticed how nicely his helmet came down around his neck. He unlimbered a rifle that looked about eight feet long, and cracked a bullet past my ear. I reached for my .45, remembered my last target score with that weapon, and promptly betook myself off to our own ridge.