k ways, throwing a grenade here and there to
indicate that the attack was a strong one, and also firing my revolver.
On hearing the firing behind them the Germans in the advanced trenches
apparently considered that they had been cut off from the rear, and I
understand that practically all of them ran across to our lines and
surrendered. Indeed I was almost run down by three of them.

I was almost entirely out of breath when I reached our trenches, and had
I not had the presence of mind to shout "Kamerad," which I had heard was
the customary thing, I dare say I should have been shot.

I remember that as I reached the trenches a soldier called out: "Damned
if the whole German Army isn't surrendering!"

I then fell into the trench and was immediately caught in a very rude
manner. When I insisted that he let me go the man who had captured me
only yelled when I spoke, and dropped his gun.

"Hey!" he called. "Fellows! Come here! The boches have taken to fighting
their women."

"Don't be a fool!" I snapped. "We've taken V----, and I must see the
commanding officer at once."

"You don't happen to have it in your pocket, lady, have you?" he said.
He then turned a light on me and said: "Holy mackerel! It's Miss Lizzie!
What's this about V----?"

"Miss Carberry has taken V----," I said.

"I believe you," was all he said; and we started for headquarters.

I recall distinctly the scene in the general's headquarters when we got
there. The general was sitting, and both Charlie Sands and Mr. Burton
were there, looking worried and unhappy. At first they did not see me,
and I was too much out of breath to speak.

"I have already told you both that I cannot be responsible for three
erratic spinsters. They are undoubtedly prisoners if they returned to
V----."

"Prisoners!" said Charlie Sands. "If they were prisoners would they be
signaling from the church tower for help?"

"I have already heard that story. It's ridiculous. Do you mean to tell
me that with that town full of Germans those women have held the church
tower since last night?"

Mr. Burton drew a piece of paper from his pocket.

"From eight o'clock to nine," he said, "the signal was 'Help,' repeated
at frequent intervals; shortly after nine there was an attempt at a
connected message. Allowing for corrections and for the fact that the
light was growing dim, as though from an overused battery, the message
runs: 'Help. Bring a ladder. They have cut the----' I am so