to work their spell on the cannoneers, and the "racket" could not start too soon to suit them.

                About five o'clock on the afternoon of September 12, C Company of the 101st Infantry received orders to get ready with fighting equipment and go down after dark to the jumping-off trench. Their preparations were carried out with the quiet assurance of veterans to whom going over the top in a bloody battle was as commonplace as going down town on the street car to work. We artillerymen were amazed at their perfect sang-froid and indifference on the eve of what everyone expected to be the fastest American offensive of the war. They filed past the ammunition sergeant, who issued to each man his share of light and heavy hand grenades, incendiary bombs, rifle grenades, flares, Very lights, etc., which were carelessly stuffed into overcoat pockets and distributed about the person like so many green apples. The doughboys hated to swap our comfortable dugouts for the front line. They were no recruits; they were men who knew what a "big push" meant for the infantry. And these men were ready to go into St. Mihiel with all the dash, with all the tenacity that had characterized their work at Chateau Thierry. They filed away down a trench like silent shadows in the darkness.

                In the meantime the Battery had received firing orders for 1 A. M. Everything was put in shape for a long grind. Fuses were laid out ready to hand, rotating bands were greased, buckets of water were placed near-by to cool the guns, and the mechanics inspected and oiled the pieces so that everything should

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