“Twelve o’clock!” he muttered.  “It seems as if this single battle had been going on for days!”

He made his way slowly back to General Petain.

Chester, his message delivered, also had taken account of the French position on the right.  There the fighting had been particularly severe, and the newly won positions presented ghastly spectacles.  Chester shuddered: 

“And this is war!” he said.

He made his way back to headquarters and rejoined Hal.

“Wonder if we shall try for the second line defenses to-day?” Hal said to his chum.

“I don’t know; but I wouldn’t be surprised to hear the order at any minute now.  Look at the masses of reinforcements being rushed forward.  Surely, they are not being sent there just to hold the trenches.  No; I believe that to-day General Petain hopes to carry at least the second and third line of trenches on our whole front.”

And, as it transpired, Chester was right.

At four o’clock in the afternoon the French had established themselves firmly in the German second line trenches, although at great cost.  Dense masses of reinforcements were immediately rushed forward.  To Hal and Chester this signified that there was still to be another effort that day.

And at five o’clock in the evening the effort was made.

Under a sun that beat down with terrific force, despite the lateness of the hour, the French infantry again advanced to the attack.  Flushed with two victories earlier in the day, they went forward confidently and with eagerness and enthusiasm.  Cheers broke out along the whole line as they advanced.  Farther back, a band—­many bands—­played “The Marseillaise.”

The German troops, twice driven back before the victorious French, nevertheless stood firm in their trenches.  They had learned a dear lesson at the hands of their enemy this day; and while they realized fully that they were getting the worst of the battle, they still stuck bravely to their task.

Terrible as it was, it was an awe-inspiring sight that Hal and Chester, far back with General Petain and staff, witnessed through their glasses that late afternoon.

In dense masses the French hurled themselves against the German trenches; and in great masses they were hurled back again—­those of them who did not lie upon the ground.  Time after time the French charged what appeared to be impregnable trenches.  Then, on their fifth effort, they reached their goal and surged into the trenches.

Immediately all was confusion there.  An unguarded moment meant a man’s death.  Struggling as they were, it was, at times, almost impossible to tell friend from foe.  But the troops distinguished somehow, and for what seemed ages they battled there, hand-to-hand.

German reinforcements rushed up in a valiant effort to save the day.  General Petain threw out supports for his own infantry.  All these surged into the trenches and added their quota to the terrible din.