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444 “Where is Captain Brace, Lieutenant?”

“He and both our first lieutenants were killed, Colonel. Back in that hole. A shell fell on them not five minutes after you were talking to them.”

“That’s bad. Any other damage?”

“Yes, sir. There was a cook wagon struck at the same time; the first one coming along Julius Caesar’s new road. The driver was killed, and we had to shoot the horses. Captain Owens, he near got scalded with the stew.”

The Colonel called in the officers one after another and discussed their positions with them.

“Wheeler,” he said when Claude’s turn came, “you know your map? You’ve noticed that sharp loop in the front trench, in H 2;—the Boar’s Head, I believe they call it. It’s a sort of spear point that reaches out toward the enemy, and it will be a hot place to hold. If I put your company in there, do you think you can do the Battalion credit in case of a counter attack?”

Claude said he thought so.

“It’s the nastiest bit of the line to hold, and you can tell your men I pay them a compliment when I put them there.”

“All right, sir. They’ll appreciate it.”

The Colonel bit off the end of a fresh cigar. “They’d better, by thunder! If they give way and let the Hun bombers in, it will let down the whole line. I’ll give you two teams of Georgia machine guns to put in that point they call the Boar’s Snout. When the Missourians come up tomorrow, they’ll go in to support you, but until then you’ll have to take care of the loop yourselves. I’ve got an awful lot of trench to hold, and I can’t spare you any more men.”

The Texas men whom the Battalion came up to relieve had