German high explosives and shrapnel were raking the city, but
the young Americans under fire for the first time coolly placed
their guns in position on the south bank of the river. They saw
heavy shells strike the railroad station and they saw it burn.
They saw houses fall like packs of cards, and I have the word of
a Frenchman, who was present, that they were "cool like American
cucumbers."
During the night the Germans gradually filtered into the outskirts
on the north side of the town. Roughly speaking, the American
guns were so placed between the houses and in the gardens as to
enfilade the approaches to the bridges and the streets on the
opposite sides. All remained on the south bank of the river with
the exception of a Lieutenant, (John T. Bissell,) a youthful
Pittsburgher, who was one of West Point's latest graduates.
The Lieutenant with a dozen men and two guns was ordered to cross
the river to prevent the enemy's advance along forked roads which
merge to the right of the northern approach to the iron bridge.
For convenience sake it is permissible to say that A Company was
charged with holding the left part of the town on the south bank
and the approaches to the larger bridges, while B Company's guns
swept the opposite approaches to the iron bridge, and, therefore,
held the right portion of the town.
Several hundred yards separated the two companies. The enemy's
shelling was intensified during the night, but no Germans were
yet in sight. The machine guns were quiet, although A Company's
commander, O. F. Houghton of Portland, Me., was forced to abandon
the headquarters he had chosen in a house on the bank of the
river and change the position of some guns because of the enemy's
precise fire.
It was a waiting game for Company A's guns. In the meantime
Company B, at about 5 A. M., in broad daylight, saw two columns
of the enemy of twelve men each, advancing across an open field
toward the river to the right of their position. The Germans
carried light machine guns and were blissfully ignorant that our
men were here. One American gun swung its shy little nose around
toward the Germans and waited. Behind it was an unpoetic youth
named Must of Columbia, S. C., a Sergeant, who waited until he
saw the whites of their eyes, and then let them have it, as he
explained today.