Some things were funny, even then. I remember the company barber, that sterling son of Italy, after a Boche sniper put a bullet past each ear. He wriggled back from his unpleasant position on the crest of the ridge, and retaliated by holding up his rifle at arm’s length over his head, pointed northeast, and executing rapid fire, pulling the trigger with his thumb, while he regarded my approach with the complacence of conscious ingenuity. I think the Boche must have laughed too; for the branches of a tree across the field began to shake, and a bullet brought a gray body tumbling down from branch to branch.
We had some food—hard bread, corned willy and goldfish—but very little water. It was pitiful to see the wounded, who wouldn’t take any from the others, because they were going back when the stretcher bearers got around to them. Levy and his detail worked like Trojans, but it was a long trip, and every time they returned there was a fresh batch of wounded to be carried.
There was one man—I wish I could remember his name, but though every event stands out clearly in my mind, I cannot remember the names connected with them. He was sitting with his back against a tree, wounded by a shell in the legs and stomach. When I asked him if I could do anything for him, he said “If I could have a little water.” I gave him my canteen, which had a couple of swallows left in it. He shook it, and grinned and shook his head. “Not your last, Cap’n.” I told him that Levy had just brought up a can, and hurried off to the left, where the firing was getting heavy. When I passed that way again, the man was dead. And the water was still in my canteen, and he had screwed the stopper back on; so he must have thought I was lying about Levy.
Three o’clock came, and shortly after a platoon from A Co. under Lt. Bigler came up to reinforce us. They were posted on our left flank to hold the ravine up which the enemy had been trying to advance and flank our position. I couldn’t understand why the Germans in front of D Co. had not come in on our right flank yet.
At 3:30 a patrol of two officers and six men came up the road on the left, and as they drew near I recognized Capt. Gray, of the 312th Inf., who I knew commanded their outpost line. His news was not encouraging. His company had received no orders to advance; they were still on their old line to our left rear. We arranged that he should run a line of Cossack posts along the road up to join us, so that we would have at least a continuous line of outguards on the brigade front. On the way over the ridge from his right flank post, his patrol had had several skirmishes with German outposts or patrols; so the enemy was apparently venturing back to the positions where our patrol had flushed them earlier in the day.
Just after he left—about 5.30—Lt. Col. Budd came up with several men. I was certainly glad to see him, and even more glad to see Levy with a can of water, which he doled out, a swallow to each man. Col. Budd looked over the situation, and decided that we should hold the ridge until nightfall, when we would be relieved. While he was there, three German snipers managed to get into a rifle pit on the plateau about a hundred yards in front of us, and made things very hot on the right flank. Sgt. Lehy took our last two rifle grenades, and dropped the second one plumb into the pit, which discouraged those three for the day.
Col. Budd departed to arrange for sending up water, ammunition and the relief.
At 5:30 the enemy’s artillery started in on us again, sweeping the top of the ridge with shell and shrapnel, and dropping time shells into the ravine behind it. For twenty minutes he poured in a heavy barrage, while we hugged the ground and gripped our rifles. If this meant a counter-attack in force we were up against it, because our ammunition was running low; but if we could beat them off once more we might hold out until night brought the relief.
But this time the enemy was starting the real thing. He knew the ground like a book, of course; and I must say that his attack was ably planned and bravely executed. While his artillery shelled us, machine guns worked around behind both our flanks. At 5:50 men from D Co’s outguards came running in and reported that the enemy had advanced in force, broken their skeleton line, and was coming in on our right flank with machine guns. Even while they spoke, the “Tap-tap-tap” of the machine gun broke out on the right to confirm them, and our Chauchats spat back in answer.
In those woods, it was merely a question of who could throw enough lead to keep the other fellow’s head down; and at this game our Chauchats had the chance of the proverbial snowball. With Sgts. Reid, Lehy, Fahey and Levy, the right flank, which had been disorganized and driven in with the D Co. outposts, was re-formed, and a firing line built up at right angles to our front to face our new foes. The enemy in front was pouring in a hot fire; we could not encircle the enemy machine guns to the right because of that belt of wire behind us. Meanwhile those same machine guns were enfilading our main line along the ridge.