Reaching the place I met the General, who said, in a jocular way, when I had explained my mission:

"Have you come to me to-day by chance, or have you heard something?"

This remark, "Had I heard something?" confirmed my opinion that something _was_ going to happen. Without more ado, the General told me the bombardment would take place on the morrow, somewhere about 5.30 a.m.

"In that case," I said, "it will be quite impossible to obtain any photographs. Anyway," I added, "if you will permit me, sir, I will sleep in the front line trenches to-night, and so be ready for anything that may happen. I could choose a good spot for my machine this afternoon."

"Well," he replied, "it's a hot corner," and going to the section maps he told me our front line was only forty-five yards away from the Bosche. "You will, of course, take the risk, but, honestly speaking, I don't expect to see you back again."

This was anything but cheerful, but being used to tight corners I did not mind the risk, so long as I got some good films.

The General then gave me a letter of introduction to another general, who, he said, would give me all the a.s.sistance he could. Armed with this doc.u.ment, I started out in company of a staff officer, who was to guide me to the Brigade headquarters. Arriving there (it was the most advanced point to which cars were allowed to go), I obtained two orderlies, gave one my aeroscope the other the tripod, and strapping another upon my back, we started off on a two-mile walk over a small hill, and through communication trenches to the section.

At a point which boasted the name of "Cooker Farm," which consisted of a few dug-outs, well below ground level, and about five by six feet high inside by seven feet square, I interviewed two officers, who 'phoned to the front line, telling them of my arrival. They wished me all good luck on my venture, and gave me an extra relay of men to get me to the front.

A considerable amount of sh.e.l.ling was going on overhead, but none, fortunately, came in my immediate neighbourhood. The nearest was about fifty yards away.

From our front line trenches the Bosche lines were only forty-five yards away, therefore dangers were to be antic.i.p.ated from German snipers. A great many of our men had actually been shot through the loophole of plates. I immediately reported myself to the officer in charge, who was resting in a dug-out, built in the parapet. He was pleased to see me, and promised me every a.s.sistance. I told him I wished to choose a point of vantage from which I could film the attack. Placing my apparatus in the comparative safety of the dug-out, I accompanied him outside.

Rifle-fire was continuous; sh.e.l.ls from our 60-pounders and 4.2's were thundering past overhead, and on either side "Minnies" (German bombs) were falling and exploding with terrific force, smashing our parapets and dug-outs as if they had been the thinnest of matchwood.

Fortunately for us these interesting novelties could be seen coming. Men are always on the look-out for "Minnies," and when one has been fired from the Bosche it rises to a height of about five hundred feet, and then with a sudden curve descends. At that point it is almost possible to calculate the exact whereabouts of its fall. Everyone watches it; the s.p.a.ce is quickly cleared, and it falls and explodes harmlessly.

Sometimes the explosion throws the earth up to a height of nearly 150 feet.

While I was deciding upon the exact point of the parapet upon which I would place the camera, a sudden cry of "Minnie" was heard. Looking up, I saw it was almost overhead, and with a quick rush and a dive I disappeared into a dug-out. I had barely got my head into it before "Minnie" fell and blew the mud in all directions, covering my back plentifully, but fortunately doing no other damage.

Eventually I decided upon the position, and looking through my periscope saw the German trenches stretching away on the right for a distance of half a mile, as the ground dipped into a miniature valley. From this point I could get an excellent film, and if the Germans returned our fire I could revolve the camera and obtain the resulting explosions in our lines.

The farm-house where I spent the night was about nine hundred yards behind the firing track. All that now remained of a once prosperous group of farm buildings were the battered walls, but with the aid of a plentiful supply of sandbags and corrugated iron the cellars were made comparatively comfortable.

By the time I reached there it was quite dark, but by carefully feeling my way with the aid of a stick I stumbled down the five steps into the cellar, and received a warm welcome from Captain ----, who introduced me to his brother officers. They all seemed astounded at my mission, never imagining that a moving picture man would come into the front battle line to take pictures.

The place was about ten feet square; the roof was a lean-to, and was supported in the centre by three tree-trunks. Four wooden frames, upon which was stretched some wire-netting, served as bedsteads; in a corner stood a bucket-fire, the fumes and smoke going up an improvised chimney of petrol tins. In the centre was a rough table. One corner of it was kept up by a couple of boxes; other boxes served as chairs.

Rough as it was, it was like heaven compared with other places at which I have stayed. By the light of two candles, placed in biscuit tins, we sat round, and chatted upon kinematograph and other topics until 11.30 p.m. The Colonel of another regiment then came in to arrange about the positions of the relieving battalions which were coming in on the following day. He also arranged for his sniping expert and men to accompany the patrolling parties, which were going out at midnight in "No Man's Land" to mend mines and spot German loop-holes.

A message came through by 'phone from Brigade headquarters that the time of attack was 5.45 a.m. I could have jumped for joy; if only the sky was clear, there would be enough light for my work. The news was received in quite a matter-of-fact way by the others present, and after sending out carrying parties for extra ammunition for bomb guns, they all turned in to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours' sleep, with the exception of the officer on duty.

At twelve o'clock I turned in. Rolling myself in a blanket and using my trench-coat and boots as a pillow, I lay and listened to the continual crack of rifle-fire, and the thud of bullets striking and burying themselves in the sandbags of our shelter. Now and then I dozed, and presently I fell asleep. I suddenly awakened with a start. What caused it I know not; everything seemed unnaturally quiet; with the exception of an isolated sniper, the greatest war in history might have been thousands of miles away. I lit a cigarette, and was slowly puffing it (time, 4.15 a.m.), when a tremendous m.u.f.fled roar rent the air; the earth seemed to quake. I expected the roof of our shelter to collapse every minute. The shock brought my other companions tumbling out.

"Something" was happening.

The rumble had barely subsided, when it seemed as if all the guns in France had opened rapid battery fire at the same moment. Sh.e.l.ls poured over our heads towards the German positions in hundreds. The shrieking and earsplitting explosives were terrific, from the sharp bark of the 4.2 to the heavy rumble and rush of the 9-inch "How." The Germans, surprised in their sleep, seemed absolutely demoralised. They were blazing away in all directions, firing in the most wild and extraordinary manner, anywhere and everywhere. Sh.e.l.ls were crashing and smashing their way into the remains of the outbuildings, and they were literally exploding all round.

Captain ---- instructed his officers to see what had happened to the ammunition party. They disappeared in the h.e.l.l of sh.e.l.l-fire as though it were quite an every-day incident. I opened the door, climbed the steps, and stood outside. The sight which met my eyes was magnificent in its grandeur. The heavens were split by shafts of lurid fire. Ma.s.ses of metal shot in all directions, leaving a trail of sparks behind them; bits of sh.e.l.l shrieked past my head and buried themselves in the walls and sandbags. One large missile fell in an open s.p.a.ce about forty feet on my left, and exploded with a deafening, ear-splitting crash. At the same moment another exploded directly in front of me. Instinctively I ducked my head. The blinding flash and frightful noise for the moment stunned me, and I could taste the exploding gas surrounding me. I stumbled down the steps into the cellar, and it was some minutes before I could see clearly again. My companions were standing there, calmly awaiting events.

The frightful din continued. It was nothing but high explosives, high explosive shrapnel, ordinary shrapnel, trench bombs, and bullets from German machine-guns. One incessant hail of metal. Who on earth could live in it? What worried me most was that there was not sufficient light to film the scene; but, thank Heaven, it was gradually getting lighter.

It was now 5 a.m. The sh.e.l.ling continued with increasing intensity. I got my apparatus together, and with two men decided to make my way to the position in the front line.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WITH MY AEROSCOPE CAMERA AFTER FILMING THE BATTLE OF ST.

ELOI]

Shouldering my camera I led the way, followed by the men at a distance of twenty yards. Several times on the journey shrapnel b.a.l.l.s and splinters buried themselves in the mud close by. When I reached the firing trench all our men were standing to arms, with grim faces, awaiting their orders. I fixed up the tripod so that the top of it came level with our parapet, and fastened the camera upon it. It topped the parapet of our firing trench (the Germans only forty-five yards away), and to break the alignment I placed sandbags on either side of it.

In this position I stood on my camera case, and started to film the Battle of St. Eloi.

Our sh.e.l.ls were dropping in all directions, smashing the German parapets to pulp and blowing their dug-outs sky-high. The explosions looked gorgeous against the ever-increasing light in the sky. Looking through my view-finder, I revolved first on one section then on the other; from a close view of 6-inch sh.e.l.ls and "Minnies" bursting to the more distant view of our 9.2. Then looking right down the line, I filmed the clouds of smoke drifting from the heavy (woolly bears) or high shrapnel, then back again. Sh.e.l.ls--sh.e.l.ls--sh.e.l.ls--bursting ma.s.ses of molten metal, every explosion momentarily shaking the earth.

The Germans suddenly started throwing "Minnies" over, so revolving my camera, I filmed them bursting over our men. The casualties were very slight. For fully an hour I stood there filming this wonderful scene, and throughout all the inferno, neither I nor my machine was touched. A fragment of shrapnel touched my tripod, taking a small piece out of the leg. That was all!

Shortly after seven o'clock the attack subsided, and as my film had all been used up, I packed and returned to my shelter.

What a "scoop" this was. It was the first film that had actually been taken of a British attack. What a record. The thing itself had pa.s.sed.

It had gone; yet I had recorded it in my little 7- by 6-inch box, and when this terrible devastating war was over, and men had returned once again to their homes, business men to their offices, ploughmen to their ploughs, they would be able to congregate in a room and view all over again the fearful sh.e.l.ls bursting, killing and maiming on that winter's morning of March 27th, 1916.

CHAPTER VIII

A NIGHT ATTACK--AND A NARROW ESCAPE

A Very Lively Experience--Choosing a Position for the Camera Under Fire--I Get a Taste of Gas--Witness a Night Attack by the Germans--Surprise an Officer by My Appearance in the Trenches--And Have One of the Narrowest Escapes--But Fortunately Get Out with Nothing Worse than a Couple of Bullets Through My Cap.

The weather was very fine when I left G.H.Q., but on reaching ----, to interview Colonel ---- in reference to the mining section, rain fell heavily. I arrived soon after midday, and went to the Intelligence Department to report; the C.O. telephoned to the C. of M. for an appointment. It was made for nine o'clock that night. Having plenty of time at my disposal, I returned to ----, and pa.s.sed a few hours with some friends. In the evening I returned for my appointment at the hour named. The Colonel was exceedingly interested in my project, and was willing to do anything to help me. He gave me a letter of introduction to the Corps Commander of the ---- Army, Brigadier-General ----; also one to Captain ----, C.O. of the ---- Mining Section. I was to proceed to General ---- first, and obtain the permission.

At eight o'clock the following morning I rushed off to the Company H.Q.

I met the General leaving his chateau. Having read my letter of introduction, he promptly gave his consent. I was to report to Major ----, at H.Q., saying it was quite all right. Thanking the General, I hastened to H.Q., and showing his letter and delivering his message, I was given a note to Captain ----, asking him to give me every a.s.sistance. Before leaving, the Major wished me success, and asked me whether I was prepared to wait until a "blow" came off?

"Yes, sir," I replied, "for five or six days in the trenches, if necessary."

The Colonel had made arrangements with several Companies that they were to report immediately to ----th Company when they were going to "blow,"

in order to give me time to go immediately to the spot and film it.

Leaving the Company H.Q., I proceeded to ----, and duly presented the Captain's letter.

"You have the Corps' permission," said the Colonel; "it will now be necessary to obtain the Divisional C.O. permit."

This I eventually obtained. Now if by any chance a "blow" took place opposite either of the other Companies, it would be necessary to obtain their permission, as they were in another Division. Therefore, calling upon a major of that Division, I secured the final permit.

Next morning I left for the front line trenches. Reaching ----, which was smashed out of all recognition, we drew up under cover of some ruined walls. Sh.e.l.ls were falling and bursting among the ruins, but these diversions were of such ordinary, everyday occurrence that hardly any notice was taken of them. If they missed--well, they were gone. If they hit--well, it was war!

The Miners, gathering near the "Birdcage" (a spot which derives its name from a peculiar iron cage erection at the corner of the road), formed up, and proceeded for about three hundred yards to the beginning of "Quarry Ally," the ammunition trench leading to their particular part of the front line. They filed in one by one; I filmed them meanwhile.

The journey of thirteen hundred yards to the front line was quite an ordinary walk. It was interesting to note the different tones of the heavy and light sh.e.l.ls as they flew overhead, from the dull rush of a 9.2 to the shriek of the 18-pounder. I reached a Company dug-out. It was certainly one of the best I have ever seen. Going down three steps, then turning sharply at right angles, I disappeared through a four-foot opening; down more steps to a depth of ten feet, then straight for three paces. At the end was the main gallery, about twenty-five feet long, five feet in width, and five feet six inches high. Half of it was used for the telephone operator, and sleeping accommodation for the orderlies, the other half was used as officers' quarters. Several officers were busy discussing plans when I arrived. The conversation might sound strange and callous to an ordinary listener.

"Well, what's the news? How's Brother Bosche?"

"Bosche reported quite near," was the reply. "Our shaft is practically finished, and ready for charging. This morning you could distinctly hear Bosche speaking. His gallery was getting nearer to ours. I told the Sergeant to work only when Bosche was doing so."