With his rifle destroyed in the fight and without shoes, he immediately began to load magazines for Jackson's BAR and pass ready clips for my M1. With his feet in one of our sleeping bags, he did a great job, whoever he was. Grenades exploded around our position but by the grace of the Almighty we got not a scratch. Fox held.

At this point we had no idea how many positions fell but as the pitch of battle died down, we could see over our right shoulder, white clad figures moving around in a group chattering excitedly among the trees. We knew Lt. Dunne's platoon should be at our back just over the hill. The enemy was in a position to get between us and that could not be allowed.