ttery wagon. After a day of frequent rain and little rest, the battery
drove through Toul that night and camped next day in the Bois de la
Reine, near Sanzey. Here we stayed for four days, moving up into
position for the attack September 10.

Amid spasmodic showers, the firing battery started forward at 5:30 p. m.
Brakes, mogul springs and trace chains had all been wrapped, to muffle
their clatter. Our position, a short distance past Mandres, was within a
thousand yards of the enemy's lines. The road from which we turned into
an open field was being shelled, and the fire increased after we pulled
into position, at about 10:30. Shell splinters cut ropes and a stake of
the Third Section camouflage. A fragment struck Baker in the knee,
making a bad wound. His leg was stiffening, but he was lifted to a
limber seat, and rode there back to the aid station.

The crowded roads on the way up, teeming with supply trains, batteries
of artillery, machine-gun carts and caissons of ammunition, gave
evidence of what thorough and powerful preparations the American army
had made for driving the enemy from the St. Mihiel salient. The roads
themselves, very vital to an advancing army, had been put in excellent
condition, and guide posts and marks were on every hand to expedite and
facilitate traffic. Infantry was billeted in the towns as close to the
line as they could be kept concealed, and came up in long lines when
night fell September 11. By that time each section had dug its trail pit
and shelter trenches, improvised some sort of a platform for the gun
wheels, and cleaned and greased all its ammunition.

As darkness came on, rain began to fall. It became a heavy downpour
later, and in a couple of hours the trail pits and trenches were a foot
deep with water and mud. At 11 o'clock came the command through the
dark, "Chiefs of sections, report!" Huddled at the entrance of the
captain's tent, the sergeants received the data for the firing that was
to prepare for and accompany the attack to take place next morning.

At the same time the rattle and clank something like that of a steam
roller told us of tanks coming up for the attack. We could see their
clumsy silhouettes against the sky, as they crossed in front along the
crest. The rain had ceased, and the sky was clearing. Long, dark lines
resolved themselves into files of infantry winding their way up and over
the crest ahead, into the trenches beyond.

At 1 a. m. began the prelimi