.

Once we watched the hills beyond Marivales smoking under the heavy shelling of artillery and naval gunfire, as the Infantry enlarged their beachhead. Again, on our own Island, we saw the bursts of mortar shells, the white smoke of phosphorous grenades, or the dark black cloud of dust and dynamite which follows a demolition job.

On the slopes of Malinta we could sometimes see little specks crawling to the summit,  these were our men on patrol. We could see the staring black holes of the tunnels in the cliff-wall, like veritable dragon's dens. Artificial earthquakes, set off by our engineers, were succeeding in piling debris in the mouths of these great portals; and on one occasion we hurried to our vantage point because an engineer officer had tipped us off that the "face of Malinta Hill will be lifted this morning." It was lifted, as we watched it , when avalanches of rock and debris, veiled in the smoke and dust of the charges, poured over its cliffs. But when the smoke cleared, the great precipice stood as before, too huge for our mightiest demolitions to alter. From the lookout we could see the parade ground where our artillery was stationed, and we could look in the other direction at the ridges two miles away, beyond Malinta, where their shrapnel shells were bursting.