I wandered on in the direction of our line. Near a junction of by-roads I heard some funny remarks pa.s.sed by ration parties trying to find the way to their sections. To pick one's way in the dark over strange ground littered with debris is not an easy task. The exact language I heard would hardly bear repeating.

One party had evidently b.u.mped into another. "D---- and ---- who are you? Cawn't yer see, mate, I'm taking up company rations? Blimy, but 'ow the 'ell I am going to find the way--blowed if I know. Do you know where ---- Company is? I'm taking up sandbags. Lost me ---- way. 'Ave yer pa.s.sed a dead 'orse? I knowed I pa.s.sed it coming up. Good night, mate."

Both men went off into the darkness, swearing like troopers. Another man came up. He was whistling a homely song, but it came to an abrupt conclusion, for he evidently stumbled over some obstacle. Compliments began to fly, and he told the Bosche in plain language what he thought of him for leaving it there. His remarks were too pointed for expression in cold print.

The next to come along was an engineering officer. He could faintly discern me in the darkness.

"Hullo," he said. "Are you the ----?"

"No," I replied. "I'm sorry I can't help you. I haven't the least idea where they are. What's wrong?"

"I have to run out some wires to-night, but bothered if I know where they are. Missed my way near the wood. Some silly a.s.s sent me wrong."

"Well," I said, "most of the troops I have seen have gone in that direction," pointing the way. He disappeared.

Apparently he was held up a minute or two later by some one else, for in the distance I heard a voice, "Do you know where ---- Company is, sir?"

"No, I don't," in a rather irritated tone. "I can't find my own blooming way."

This sort of thing went on for over an hour; first one then another.

Whether all of them eventually found their various points Heaven only knows!

I had wandered so far, owing to my interest in other people, that I had some difficulty in retracing my steps to the dug-out. Eventually I arrive there about one o'clock. I had been given up for lost.

I told ---- of my experiences.

"That kind of thing happens practically every night. They manage to find their way somehow. Come along; let's turn in. Look out for your head as you crawl through. Don't mind the rats. Cover your head well up. They won't touch your face then."

I crawled in on to my bed. Then I noticed a peculiar and decidedly unpleasant smell.

"Have you got any corpses here?" I asked him.

"Yes, I believe so," he said. "You see the other entrance has been blown in. It's the other end of your bed, and I believe some Bosches were buried in the debris. Never mind, stick it; they won't bite."

"Pleasant dreams," I mumbled as I drew my blanket well around my face; in a few minutes the presence of dead Bosche ceased to trouble me. I slept.

CHAPTER XVIII

FILMING AT POZIeRES AND CONTALMAISON

Looking for "Thrills"--And How I Got Them--I Pa.s.s Through "Sausage Valley," on the Way to Pozieres--You _May_ and you _Might_--What a Tommy Found in a German Dug-out--How Fritz Got "Some of His Own" Back--Taking Pictures in What Was Once Pozieres--"Proofs Ready To-morrow."

Things, from my point of view, were slackening down. Plenty of preparatory action was taking place, and here and there small local engagements, but the fact that they were local made it very difficult for me to get to hear of them. None of the Corps Commanders knew exactly when or where the nibble would develop, or, if they did know, they were naturally chary of giving me the information. On occasions too when I did know I had not sufficient time to make my arrangements, I had to be content with scenes which unfolded themselves after the action had taken place.

This was getting rather monotonous. The aftermath of one attack was to all intents and purposes an exact replica of the previous one, except that the surroundings were different. There was the return of the attackers; the bringing in of prisoners, the wounded, the dead; and to vary these scenes to make my pictures generally interesting required a lot of thought and a careful choice of view point.

In the course of the "push," which began in July, there were hundreds, I might almost say thousands, of incidents that to the eye were of enthralling interest, but to have filmed them with the idea of conveying that interest on the screen would have been so much wasted effort. Even the kinematograph has its limitations.

Over my head all the time, like a huge sword, hung the thought of British public opinion, and the opinion of neutral countries. They would accept nothing unless there was great excitement in it; unless the pictures contained such "thrills" as they had never seen before, and had never dreamed possible. Once I had secured that thrill I could then--and only then--take the preparatory scenes, depicting the ordinary life and action of the men and the organisation which are necessary to run the war. Such scenes--interesting as they undoubtedly are--without that "thrill" would have fallen flat, would have been of no use, from the exhibition point of view, and I had always to bear that fact in mind.

I have spent many sleepless nights wondering how and where I was to obtain that magnetic thrill, that minute incident, probably only ten per cent of which would carry the remaining ninety per cent to success. One that would positively satisfy the public.

I had been filming a lot of stuff lately, but when I looked through my list, excellent as the scenes were--many of which I would probably never be able to get again--they struck me as lacking "thrill." That was what I required. So I set out to get it.

The Australians had just captured Pozieres, and hearing that the Bosche were continually "strafing" it I decided to make for that quarter with the object of getting a good bombardment. If possible, I would also get into the village itself where there ought to be some very good pictures, for the capture had only taken place two days previously.

Pozieres then it should be. Leaving my base early in the morning I made my way through Becourt Wood and beyond, up "Sausage Valley"--why that name I don't know. The whole area was crowded with men of the Australian division.

As there was no road I took my car over the gra.s.s, or rather all that was left of it. The place was covered with sh.e.l.l-holes. Driving between, and more often than not into them, was rather a tiresome job, but it saved several miles of tramping with heavy stuff. "Sausage Valley"

during this period was anything but healthy. I was warned about it as I left an Australian battery where I had stayed to make a few enquiries. A major told me the place was "strafed" every day, and I soon found that this was so when I arrived. Several "crumps" fell in the wood behind me, and two on the hill-side among some horses, killing several. If I saw one dead horse I must have seen dozens; they were all over the place.

But everyone was much too busy to bury them at the moment. The stench was decidedly unpleasant, and the flies buzzed around in swarms. I soon had a couple of cigarettes alight. What a boon they were at times.

After much dodging and twisting I halted the car close to a forward dressing station. While I was there several sh.e.l.ls dropped unpleasantly near, and I could not restrain my admiration for the medical staff who tended the wounded, quite oblivious of the dangers by which they were surrounded in so exposed a position. I obtained several very interesting scenes of the wounded arriving.

I waited awhile to watch the Bosche sh.e.l.ling before going over the ridge to Pozieres. I could then tell the sections he "strafed" most. I would be able to avoid them as much as possible. I watched for fully an hour; the variation in his target was barely perceptible. On one or two occasions he "swept" the ridge. I decided to make a start after the next dose.

Strapping the camera on my back, my man taking the tripod, we started off. There was a light railway running towards Contalmaison. I followed this until I got near the spot brother Fritz was aiming at, hugging a trench at the side of a by-road. The bank was lined with funk-holes, which came in very useful during the journey, and I had to seek their shelter several times, but the nearest sh.e.l.l fell at a junction between that road and a communication trench. Just this side lay a very much dead horse. The sh.e.l.l came over. Down I went flat on my stomach. My man dived into a hole. The sh.e.l.l exploded, and the next thing I remember was a feeling as if a ton of bricks had fallen on top of me. I managed to struggle up and make quickly for the trench, my man following; and you may be quite sure I took care that I was well out of line of the next before I eased up. Beyond a few scratches on the camera-case and a torn coat, I was quite sound.

I was told of a Hun battery of 77 mm. guns on the left-hand side of the valley leading to Pozieres, so I decided to make for that spot. I enquired of a man as to the whereabouts of them.

"Well, sir," he said, "you may come to them if you keep straight on, but I shouldn't advise you to do so as you have to cross the open. Bosche has a pretty sharp eye on anyone there; he knows the lay of the battery and he just plasters it. You _might_ get round at 'Dead Man's Corner,'

on the Contalmaison Road. It's pretty bad there, but I think it's the best place to try, and once you are round the corner you _may_ be all right."

"Well, which way do I take?"

"Down this way, then turn to your left at the corner; the battery is about two hundred yards along on the hill-side."

"But, man alive," I said, "they're strafing it like blazes. Look!"

They were, too, and 8-inch sh.e.l.ls were dropping wholesale.

"No, I think I will take the risk and run over the open. Are there any dug-outs at the battery?"

"Yes, sir, jolly good ones; forty feet deep; regular beauties. Evidently made up their minds to stay the winter. Electric light, libraries, and beds with real spring mattresses. My, sir, but they were comfortable.

And what do you think I found there, sir?"

"Heaven knows," I replied.

"Well, sir, several ladies' fringe nets and hair-pins."

"The devil you did. Well, Fritz knows how to make himself cosy."

With that remark we parted, Tommy having a broad grin on his face.