"'Ready, gentlemen,' said the drill sergeant. 'Prepare for trench bayonet practice by half sections. You're to take these three line of trenches, lay out every boche in the lot, and then get to cover and fire six rounds at them 'ere tin 'ats. Don't waste a shot, gentlemen; every bullet a boche. Now, then, ready! Over the top and give 'em 'ell right in the stomach! Fritz likes his victuals, but not that sort. Get at 'em!'"
The men ran some ten yards and dug their bayonets savagely into dummy Germans made of sacks, which swung in the wind, and disappeared in the first trench. Their rifle butts rose and fell as they lunged desperately at the supposed foe. Then they reappeared and advanced farther, taking cover and lying spread-eagled behind a shallow trench, blazing at the cans, which fell rattling.
After some four months' training in camp, the long-looked-for tidings that American troops had taken their place beside the fighting forces of the Allies at length came from General Pershing's headquarters. On October 27, 1917, the first official announcement of war news from that source was issued in this form:
"In continuation of their training as a nucleus for instruction later, a contingent of some battalions of our first contingents, in association with veteran French battalions, are in the first-line trenches of a quiet sector on the French front. They are supported by some batteries of our artillery, in association with veteran French batteries.
"The sector remains normal. Our men have adapted themselves to actual trench conditions in the most satisfactory manner."
The "quiet sector" was occupied by helmeted infantry of the United States, without the knowledge of the enemy, by arriving at night through pouring rain and seas of mud. At six o'clock on the morning of that day, American artillery, already installed, fired the first American shot of the war at the German working party and shelled the German positions. The Germans gave shell for shell. The fusillades continued all day.
During the lull in the firing at dusk the first American machine guns appeared in a little deserted, shell-wrecked village well within hostile gun range and a few kilometers from the American trenches. The guns were hauled by Missouri mules, whose drivers were swathed in ponchos and helmeted to their eyes. The cavalcade moved in a long, silent line along a road margining a dark canal, followed by infantry rolling camp kitchens.
Other infantry followed through the cobble-paved streets. The darkness hid lines of men with packs on their backs, rifles slung on their shoulders, rain glistening on their helmets and coats, the wind whipping their coat skirts round limbs moving with machinelike precision. Only the tramp of many hobnailed boots disclosed their march through the village. They safely entered their trenches, unit by unit, and passed quickly to the places assigned them. The French welcomed them with ardor. Every American was shaken by the hand, some were hugged, and even kissed on both cheeks in the French custom. Quietness was essential, since the German trenches were not far away; but the fervor of the French troops overcame their precaution. It was too great a day for mute welcomes. The Americans had arrived!
