the road was lined with machine-gun positions, many with the Boche machine gunners lying dead where they had fallen. One truck had been the scene of a desperate struggle between its Hun drivers who lay in grotesque positions both in the truck and underneath it, and the victorious Americans. As our advance was so rapid into the enemy's country, the Battery was assigned a guard of eight men from F Company of the 101st Infantry. German prisoners by hundreds kept streaming past, a great many carrying other wounded Huns in stretchers on their shoulders. One group of Huns had loaded an old French buggy with their wounded, and were dragging it along the road into captivity. At one place we saw a Boche tank, heavy and square and awkward, which had been caught under our artillery fire and smashed.

                The Regiment pushed forward to within a half-mile of Hattonchatel where the guns went into position under camouflage nets in a field, ready to fire at a word from the pursuing Infantry, while the horses, limbers, caissons and wagons were parked in the woods not far away. We were on a sort of hog-back ridge, of which Hattonchatel formed the nose. Below us in three directions lay the plain of the Woevre; the north and northeast were alight with burning villages whose smoke stained the whole sky; to the southeast was our old enemy, Montsec, seen from a new angle. It gave us a feeling of pleasure to see this old hill which had dominated us in the Toul sector, now so harmless in our hands. There was a rumor that a battalion of Boches was cut off in the caves

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