BUGLES called Captain Lowden’s company together on the night of the 5th for the purpose of re-forming, a practice pretty regularly followed throughout the army when engaged in continual fighting and advancing, it being desirable to keep tabs on losses, to reorganize and to fill gaps among officers and men.

Four lieutenants in this company so far had been killed or wounded; it was to replace the last one that Don Richards had been pressed into immediate service. Lowden had been hit in the shoulder, disabling his left arm, but after a brief treatment while still on his feet he had kept on with his men, carefully directing the re-furnishing of supplies, the ambulance work, and, where possible, keeping their efforts lined up with and not encroaching upon the work of other units on either side.

Placed in command of a platoon, Don’s heart beat fast with the joy of the responsibility and the honor of it. Though a mere boy, he was in every way a manly fellow; older than his age, to use a paradox; much younger than he looked to be. So full of stirring incidents had been his experiences in France, as spy catcher and Red Cross driver during the period of America’s participation in the Great War that he might now as well be called a seasoned veteran as anyone thrice his age.

“Now then, gentlemen, our duty lies ahead, as before,” Captain Lowden was saying, as the several officers together curled up on the ground for a few hours of sleep, with two-thirds of the men about them already lost in slumber. Their leader continued: “We can plan no particular action, as you know, but just take what comes. The only order now, just received, is to vary the general direction of attack to about three degrees east of north, or as a sailor would box it, north, northeast by north, and not to exceed one-half mile per hour until further orders, unless there is evidence of a larger part of the line’s making greater progress. This is done to keep separate units from getting so far ahead as to become cut off from immediate support, as has occurred.

“Whitcomb, you take the right center of the advance; I shall proceed with the left center; Jones and Morley will work off to my left and Richards to the right of Whitcomb. Every little while it will be the duty of each officer to get in touch with his nearest comrades, thus to know where we all are, and after three hours, if possible, despatch a messenger to me with a brief report. I am doing the same with the captains of the other companies and reporting to the colonel, who, in turn, sends back word of agreement or other orders by the returning messenger. In this manner we aim to co-ordinate our efforts.

“Now then, fellows, go to sleep and good luck tomorrow morning! Good-night.”

Almost with the first streaks of dawn, when it was hardly light enough to see what one was doing, the men were preparing breakfast, carrying portions to those on watch, and the portable field kitchen was soon emptied of its supplies, though soon to be replenished. Most of the men stuffed a little for lunch and a nibble between times into duffle bag or pockets, often adding a bit also in case of accident.

An hour before sun-up they were roughly formed and advancing, depending upon the scouts ahead to apprize them of the nearest enemy positions and after that finding these as the advance continued.

Herbert and Don had a few minutes together before the advance began.

“Pills says that Judson will come round all right in a few weeks, Don.”

“I’m glad of that; I like that fellow. How about Wilson?”

“Oh, he’ll be back with us in a few days; he’s keen to get another whack at the Heinies.”

“And Gill?”

“That’s a funny thing,” Herbert declared. “He simply didn’t know how badly he was hurt; some kind of a nerve shock and yet he kept his wits about him. Clear case of grit, will power, though he had to be invalided home. Didn’t want to go, either, but the captain and I made it clear to him that he had done more than his share of reducing the Hun army and that poor Jennings was more then avenged. Say, Don, if an army could be made up of such chaps as Gill it wouldn’t take more than ten thousand of them to lick the whole German army.”

“He didn’t seem to know what fear is and he got positive sport and satisfaction out of killing Huns. Odd, isn’t it, considering the really good heart in the fellow, as shown toward his friends? I expect, Herb, there are a good many such as he in this man’s army.”

“Right, there are. I’m glad Gill didn’t get his quietus. He asked for you; then when the ambulance had to go before you came over he insisted that as soon as we get back from Berlin and across the pond again you and I must go see him. I guess we’ll have to accept his invitation, Don, and have a coon hunt.”

“Let us hope we may do so. It’ll be some fun to hear him relate his experiences; to live over what he went through back there on the hill and before. Well, Herb, is it nearly time to start out now?”

“About. I feel good and rested; don’t you? And I want to get back into the scrap. We’re going right on and make a clean-up, Don.”

“We sure are! Got to carry out orders,” Don agreed.

First Lieutenant Whitcomb became more positive:

“The main thing now is driving the Huns out of these jungles and we surely are on to that game. By another week we’ll have them herded into Grand Pre and then we’ll chase them into Sedan and after that we’ll cut their supplies off and break up their army. You’ll see how it’ll turn out, though it means many a hard scrap yet.”

We know now how true Herbert’s words proved. That program was commonly accepted throughout the Army, from the C. and C. to the sutlers. What befell our two young fighting officers over this bitterly contested ground and from the Argonne drive to the morning when the armistice became effective must be left to a further account of the part the boys from Brighton Academy played in the Great War.