In a few minutes flags of the allies were flying from housetops, and the church bells were ringing out the war.  It was over.

AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR

The last morning on the fighting lines was busy wherever American troops were placed, from the Moselle to Sedan.  All the batteries kept their guns going, and the Germans replied in kind.  The American heavy guns fired their parting salvo at 11:00 o’clock, less two or three seconds.  To this final crack the Germans tossed a few over, just after 11:00.  There was a strong American infantry advance, northeast of Verdun, in the direction of Ornes, beginning at nine o’clock, after lively artillery preparation.  The German artillery responded feebly, but the machine gun resistance was stubborn.  Nevertheless, the Americans made progress.  The Americans had received orders to hold the positions reached by 11:00 o’clock, and at those points they began to dig in, marking the advance positions of the American line when hostilities ceased.

Then the individual groups unfurled the Stars and Stripes, shook hands and cheered.  Soon afterwards they were preparing for luncheon.  All the boys were hungry, as they had breakfasted early in anticipation of what they considered the greatest day in American history.

THE ALL PULL TOGETHER SHOT

There was a regular celebration at Pepper hill, north of Verdun, where a battery of Rhode Island artillery rigged a twenty-foot rope to the lanyard of a .155 cannon, and every man in the company, from the captain to the cook, laid hold of it and waited.  At the tick of eleven o’clock they gave that rope one mighty yank, all together, and the gun roared out the last shot of the war.

—­The Last Yank of the Yanks.

AT THE END OF THE WORLD WAR

The great drama is ended.  For the first time in four years the sound of giant cannon cannot be heard anywhere along the long line from the channel to the Adriatic; the deadly rattle of machine guns is stilled.  No gas fumes poison the winter air.  No clouds of burning cities darken the sun.  Better than all, no life blood flows; the fighting men rest in their lines, the bayonet is sheathed, the bullet sleeps harmless in its clip.

This at last is peace.  In the great cities, the towns and hamlets of Europe and America, a vast wave of emotion inundates the hearts of men; in the allied lands there is exultation; in Germany there is at least relief, and perhaps the dawning of a new hope.