ers. With my lips I made the words
"Don't fire" to my runners, and then covered him, in case he saw us.
He went by. Realizing that we might have something of a time of it
getting through, I motioned the runners to my side, read the messages
to them in whispers and had them repeat. Then scooping out a little
hole in the sodden leaves under my chin, I buried the messages, with
several others from my map case, in fine pieces. Next I impressed upon
them that our mission was not to fight unless forced to it, but to get
back to the regiment, all of us, if possible; one, certainly.
Consequently we would separate when it became necessary.

Half an hour's traveling brought us to a broad clearing, cleaving the
forest as far as I could see, on a true north-south line. Our
direction was south, and the trail down the center of the clearing
meant real progress, although I knew trails to be dangerous. We were
not long upon it, when suddenly, out of a side trail, two German
officers appeared, fifty yards ahead.

The one in advance shouted something with "Kamerad" in it. But at the
same time he was leveling his pistol at me, and I needed no interpreter.

We darted off the trail behind a bush at its edge. The boches fired
into the bush as they came. We stretched out and waited. In front of
me a bough ran low and parallel to the ground; upon it I rested my
pistol, directing it upon the trail through the thin leaves underneath.

Presently Herr Offizier came creeping along, bent to the waist and
peering through the bush. We looked squarely into each other's eyes as
we fired, less than ten feet separating us. Being settled and ready
for him, my gun had about a second the better of his. I aimed at his
mouth, allowing for the rise of the bullet from the "kick." As he
fired I actually felt the concussion against my face, we were so close;
then a hot, sharp pain in my right forearm, as if some one had suddenly
pushed a white-hot knife blade along under the elbow when I hadn't been
looking.

Munson and Herschowitz fired too, and there seemed to be shots from the
second boche. My own particular duelist dropped back limp after my
first shot, although I got off four in quick succession.

Now we made for the thick of the woods. My resolution was to stick to
them though they should be thick as fish glue. Under good cover Munson
dressed my wound. My fingers had begun stiffening up a bit, and I
worked them to keep the trigger fin