"By Jove!" said one, "you are welcome. Have a drink. Here's a cigarette."

"Here you are," said another, "have a match. Now tell us all the news from home. My word, we haven't heard a blessed thing for days. Have you really come to photograph 'The Day'?"

"Yes," I replied. "But I have come this afternoon to look round, and to film the 'strafe' at Beaumont Hamel. You know the trenches round here: where can I see the village to the best advantage?"

"Well," said one, "there are several places, but Bosche is 'hating' us rather this afternoon, and the firing trench is anything but healthy.

He's been properly dosing us with 'whizz-bangs,' but you know he _will_ have his bit of fun. You see, when Fritz starts we let off a few 'flying pigs' in return, which undoubtedly disturbs his peace of mind."

"By my map, a spot called 'Lanwick Street' seems likely," I said. "It's bang opposite the village, and they are putting the 15-inch on the eastern corner. If you will be good enough to guide me, I will have a look now; it will take me some time to fix up my camera in reasonable safety."

"You won't find much safety there," he replied. "We have practically to rebuild the parapet every night, but only for a few more days, thank Heaven! Anyway, come along."

We proceeded by way of "King Street" to "Lanwick Street," and several times we had to fall flat in the trench bottom to escape being hit by sh.e.l.ls. They seemed at times to burst almost overhead. The "whizz-bangs"

which Fritz puts over are rather little beggars; you have no time to dodge them. They come with a "phut" and a bang that for sheer speed knocks spots off a flash of lightning. One only thinks to duck when the beastly thing has gone off.

"Lanwick Street" was the usual sort of trench. At one end was an artillery observation officer, correcting the range of his guns.

"Go easy, won't you?" he said to me. "Bosche has an idea we use this corner for something rather important. If he sees your camera we shall certainly receive his attention. For Heaven's sake, keep your head down."

"Right-o!" I said. "Lend me your periscope; I will have a look at the ground first through that."

I looked on the village, or rather the late site of it. It was absolutely flattened out, with the exception of a few remaining stumps of trees, which used to be a beautiful wood, near which the village nestled.

"That's been done by our guns in five days; some mess, eh?"

"My word, yes. Now about this afternoon's bombardment; they are working on the left-hand corner."

I chose a spot for working and fixing up my tripod, and waited until 4.30 p.m.

In the meantime, with the aid of a stick, I gradually pushed away several sandbags which interfered with my view on the parapet. To do this it was necessary to raise myself head and shoulders above the top and, with one arm pushed forward, I worked the bags clear. I felt much better when that job was done.

"You're lucky," said the A.O. "I had one of my periscopes. .h.i.t clean by a bullet this morning. Fritz must be having a nap, or he would have had you for a cert."

"Anyway," I replied, "it gives me a comparatively clear view now."

Time was drawing near. I prepared my camera by clothing it in an old piece of sacking, and gently raising it on to the tripod I screwed it tight. Then gradually raising my head to the view-finder, I covered the section which was going to be "strafed," and wrapping my hand in a khaki handkerchief, waited.

Our guns were simply pouring sh.e.l.ls on the Bosche. The first of the 15-inch came over and exploded with a deafening roar. The sight was stupefying.

I began to expose my film, swinging the camera first on one side then the other. Sh.e.l.l after sh.e.l.l came roaring over; one dropped on the remaining walls of a chateau, and when the smoke had cleared there was absolutely nothing left. How in the world anything could live in such a maelstrom of explosive it is difficult to conceive.

I continued to expose my film at intervals until about 6 o'clock, and twice I had to s.n.a.t.c.h my camera down hastily and take shelter, for the "whizz-bangs" came smashing too close for safety.

I was just taking down my camera when several sh.e.l.ls exploded in the trenches about fifteen yards behind us. Then a man came running into our traverse: "Shure, sor," he said, "and it's gas-sh.e.l.ls the dirty swine are sending over. My eyes seem to be burning out." His eyes were undoubtedly bad. Tears were pouring down his cheeks, and he was trying to ease the pain by binding his handkerchief over them. Then I smelt the gas, and having had a previous dose at Vernilles, and not wishing for further acquaintance with it, I bade my man rush as quickly as possible back to "The White City."

I got back to H.Q. dug-out just in time for tea. I told the officers present of my success in filming the "strafe," and I learned that it was the first time Fritz had put tear-sh.e.l.ls over them. "We must certainly prepare our goggles," they said.

"Have you seen 'Jacob's Ladder'?" enquired one of the officers.

"No," I replied, "I shall wait until dusk. It will then be safer to move about."

We sat smoking and talking about the prospects of the "Big Push," and at last we all lapsed into silence, which was broken by the arrival of a lieutenant. The Captain looked up from his bench. "Hullo, what's up? Any news?"

"Oh, no; nothing much, sir," said he, "but H.Q. wishes me to go out for a raid to-night. They want a Bosche to talk to; there are a few things they want to know. We haven't brought one in for several nights now.

They asked me to go out again; I said, if there was one to be had my Company would bring him along."

[Ill.u.s.tration: GEOFFREY H. MALINS, O.B.E., OFFICIAL KINEMATOGRAPHER TO THE WAR OFFICE]

"Right-o!" said the Captain. "Who are you taking?"

"---- for one, and a few men--the same lot that have been across with me before. H.Q. specially want to know the actual results of the heavy 'strafe.' They are going to cease fire to-night, between twelve and one.

I want to find out where their machine guns are fixed up----" And so the conversation went on.

At that moment another officer came in, and I got him to show me round "Jacob's Ladder." We went through "King Street" again, and followed the trench until we arrived at the place. The formation of this point was extraordinary.

A stranger coming upon it for the first time would undoubtedly get a slight shock for, upon turning into a traverse, you come abruptly upon an open s.p.a.ce, as if the trench had been sliced off, leaving an opening from which you could look down upon our front line trenches, not only upon them but well in front of them.

I was on the bank of a small valley; leading down from this position were about twenty-five steps, hence the name "Jacob's Ladder." Our parapet still followed down, like the handrail of a staircase, only of course much higher.

The position from a photographic point of view was admirable, and I doubt whether on any other part of our front such a suitable point could be found. "Jove!" I said, "this is the ideal place. I will definitely decide upon it."

"If you look carefully over here you will see the Bosche line quite plainly. They are about seventy yards away, and at that point we are going to put a barrage of fire on their second line with our Stokes guns. We are going to do that from 'Sunken Road,' midway in 'No Man's Land.' Can you see it there?"

"Yes," I replied; "splendid. As soon as I have got the mine exploding, and our men going over the parapet and across 'No Man's Land,' I can immediately--if all's well--swing my camera on to the barrage and film that. This is a wonderful position."

"It rests entirely with Fritz now. If he does not crump this place you will be all right, but they are sure to plaster our front trench as soon as they see us go over."

"Well, I must risk that," I said.

And we turned and retraced our steps to the "White City," where I bade my companion good night, and returned to film the scene of the General's speech to his men the following morning.

CHAPTER XII

FILMING UNDER FIRE

The General's Speech to the Fusiliers Before Going Into Action--Filming the 15-inch Howitzers--A Miniature Earthquake--"The Day" is Postponed--Keeping Within "The Limits"--A Surprise Meeting in the Trenches--A Reminder of Other Days--I Get Into a Tight Corner--And Have An Unpleasantly Hot Experience--I Interview a Trench Mortar--Have a Lively Quarter of an Hour--And Then Get Off.

Rain, rain, rain. It was like a dull, dismal December night. Owing to the tramping of hundreds of feet up and down the trenches, they became like a quagmire. We slipped and slid, clutching to the sticky, clay walls, and floundering up to our knees in holes, and, to make matters worse, Bosche, who knew that this was the time we brought up fresh munitions, crumped the Fifth Avenue as hard as he could. One or two sh.e.l.ls crashed into the trench on the way up, and I had to pa.s.s over two working parties (by the aid of a candle-light, screened) searching for, and placing the remains of their comrades in sacks.

Good G.o.d! it's a h.e.l.lish game; and the terror of war gripped one's heartstrings that night. The momentary flash of the exploding sh.e.l.ls lighted up the faces of the men with ghastly vividness, some grinding out curses then groping blindly on. I was glad when the journey was ended, and I turned into a dug-out in the village to rest for the night.

Next morning a misty, drizzly pall still hung over everything. I wondered how in the world our men were going to attack under such conditions, and to-morrow was "The Day." I pitied them with all my heart and soul. And then I thought of myself, and my own particular job.

I couldn't possibly "take" in such disgusting weather. The result would be an absolute failure. I controlled my feelings, and hoped for the best.

The time arrived for the General's speech. Reaching the field, I found all the men mustered up. The General had just arrived. I started to film the scenes as they presented themselves to me. Jove! The speech was the most impressive that I had ever heard. I will give it as it was spoken, as near as I can. I do not think that it has been published before: