e officers for the
comfort of the men. It was early fall and the nights were cool.

"Captain," said the Major, "how are your men dressed?"

"There is no complaint, sir."

"Do they still have their summer underwear?"

"Yes, sir."

"It is getting too cold for that. I will see that a new issue is
granted."

All stood to salute as we took our departure. When again on our way
the conversation of the back seat showed that the interest of these
officers in their men was genuine. For example:

"Harry, those boys do not have any overcoats. Nothing but raincoats
for these cold nights. Whose fault is that? Can't you get some
action?"

"They must have them immediately. I will so report to the Issue
Department."

Many times our car came to a sudden stop as a stentorian "Halt!"
pierced the darkness and our second chauffeur went forward to give the
countersign. One weak-voiced guard failed to make himself heard until
our car was almost past. Major Hazlett was instantly aroused:

"What is the matter with your voice?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Then shout it out. If this happens again I'll have you
court-martialed."

"Yes, sir!" And with a salute we proceeded.

Our last mile with the car was over shell-torn roads and past guards
who dared to pass no man without full proof of his identity. Many
German spies had been caught recently. Through the ruined village of
Heberviller we passed to the old chateau. Here we left the car with
the chauffeurs, and having been armed we started with two guides for
the trenches. Every gun emplacement was inspected to see if orders had
been faithfully carried out--and woe betide the man who failed. The
Major's intimate and technical knowledge of every detail in
machine-gun fighting, won the admiration of the men.

For three hours we walked "duck-boards"[1] through a maze of
connecting trenches, stealthily and silently following our guides and
stopping "dead" when a star shell burst near us. We had secret hopes
of taking prisoner some of the "Heinies" whom we could almost hear
breathing out there in No Man's Land.

As we talked with the men in Petty Post No. 10, the German 77's were
feeling for some vulnerable point just back of our line. We could see
the flash of the gun and hear that peculiar, fascinating "whine" as
it passed over our heads, and finally its mocking challenge as it
found its target. One of the men who was off guard, lay curled up in a
shell hole beside the trench, sleeping pe