"Come on! Come on!" yelled Jimmy.

"Up and at 'em! Up and at 'em!" snapped Roger.

"Wow! This is going to be some fight!" exulted Bob.

It was fast growing light, and the disappearing darkness was further
illuminated by the flashes from hundreds of guns. Lines of khaki-clad
Sammies were pouring from the American trenches now, in a mad rush for
the Hun positions.

"Well, we're together yet, anyhow," mused Jimmy, as, looking back, he
saw Bob, the Polish lad, and Franz coming on with a rush.

"Yes, we're together--yet," added Roger. They both had been firing
madly at the distant gray lines of German soldiers in front of them.
They had to yell into each other's ears to be heard above the din.

Suddenly the very earth seemed to drop away from under their feet.
They felt the shock of rushing air. A big, high-explosive shell had
dropped near them.

"That's bad!" shouted Jimmy, as the concussion died away. He looked
behind him and saw, with horror, Iggy, the Polish Brother, literally
being blown back through the air. Whether this was the effect of the
big shell that had exploded, or whether it was caused by a smaller one
going off a moment later, Jimmy could not tell. But he saw Iggy
hurtling through the air, and the face of the Polish lad was covered
with blood, as he himself had said it had been in his dream.