It effectually prevented French reinforcements from coming up to the first line.
His automatic pistol ready, Dick Prescott found elbow-room on the fire step.

Cautiously he looked over the parapet.
For a moment he could see nothing, save that German shell-fire had blown the barbed wire defenses to pieces, clearing the way for the German invaders to reach them.
In the near distance Dick made out the shadowy figures of the men in the first wave of the German assault.
Rifle-fire began to roll out from the French soldiers.

From somewhere at the rear, perhaps from emplacements in or near the French support trenches, the steady drumming of machine-gun fire began.

The air was filled with death.
Dick Prescott's blood thrilled with the realization that he was at earnest grip with the Boches!.