job!"

He was leading his men, not driving them on as do the Germans,
and nobly the four Brothers and their fellows followed the gallant
lieutenant.

On they rushed--ever onward. About them swept the leaden hail of
death. Shoulder to shoulder, firing from the hip, rushed the four
Khaki Boys. And even in that terrible din of battle they spared a
thought for the gallant comrade who would have been with him if he
could.

With wild yells the Sammies swept over the first line of German
trenches. The Boches had deserted them in the face of a withering
rifle and machine-gun fire.

"Come on! Come on!" yelled the lieutenant again and again. "They're
laying down a perfect barrage for us! The Huns can't get through to
attack us!"

This was true, to a certain extent. Supported by the big guns in the
rear, the 509th Infantry was rushing onward. Before them, and ever
moving forward, was a never-ending curtain of fire--a hail of lead and
steel.

As this curtain advanced, caused by the continual but slow elevation
of the muzzles of the big guns, the infantry followed. And this fire
kept the German support from coming to save the lines that were under
attack.