How I Filmed the War Part 18

"Look here, sergeant," I said, "if that bally thing happens again I'm off."

"The blessed thing has never been so bad before, sir. Let's have one more try."

Still another detonator was put in. I began turning the handle of my camera. This time it was successful.

"That's all I want," I said. "I'm off. Hand me up my camera. And with due respect to your gun," I said to the T.M. officer, "you might cease fire until I am about fifty yards away. I don't mind risking Brother Fritz's 'strafe,' but I do object to the possibility of being scattered to the four winds of heaven by our own sh.e.l.ls." And with a laugh and good wishes, I left him.

"I say," he called out, "come into my dug-out to-night, will you? It's just in front of Fifth Avenue. I shall be there in about half an hour; I have got to give Fritz a few more souvenirs to go on with. There is a little more wire left over there, and the C.O. wants it all 'strafed'

away. Do come, won't you? So long. See you later. Keep your head down."

"Right-o!" I said, with a laugh. "Physician, heal thyself. A little higher, and you might as well be sitting on the parapet." He turned round sharply, then dropped on his knees.

"Strafe that bally parapet. I forgot all about it. Fire!" he yelled, and I laughed at the pleasure he was getting out of blowing up Fritz.

I scrambled and slithered back into the recognised trench again, and on my way back filmed the H.T.M., or "Flying Pig," in action. By this time it was getting rather dull, so going to a dug-out, I dropped my apparatus, and had another final look at the position from which I was going to film the great attack in the morning.

CHAPTER XIII

THE DAWN OF JULY FIRST

A Firework Display Heralds the Arrival of "The Day"--How the Boys Spent Their Last Few Hours in the Trenches--Rats as Bedfellows--I Make an Early Start--And Get Through a Mine-shaft into "No Man's Land"--The Great Event Draws Near--Anxious Moments--The Men Fix Bayonets--And Wait the Word of Command to "Go Over the Top."

Darkness came, and with it a host of star-sh.e.l.ls, or Verey lights, which were shot up high in the air from both the German and our own trenches.

They looked for all the world like a huge firework display at the Crystal Palace.

Rain had ceased. The heavens were studded with countless millions of stars. "Great prospects for to-morrow," said one. "I hope it's fine, for the sake of the boys. They are as keen as mustard to go over the top."

As we talked, batch after batch of men came gliding by in their full kit, smoking and chatting. While I was standing there hundreds must have pa.s.sed me in that narrow trench, quietly going to their allotted positions. Now and again sharp orders were given by their officers.

"How's your section, sergeant? Are you fitted up?"

"Yes, sir," came a voice from the blackness.

"Now, lads, come along: get through as quickly as possible. Post your sentries at once, and be sharp."

It was not long before little red fires were gleaming out of the dug-out entrances, and crowds of men were crouching round, heating their canteens of water, some frying pieces of meat, others heating soup, and all the time laughing and carrying on a most animated conversation. From other groups came the subdued humming of favourite songs. Some were cursing and swearing, but with such a bluntness that, if I may say so, it seemed to take all the profanity from the words.

And these men knew they were going "over the top" in the morning. The day which they had dreamed of was about to materialise. They knew that many would not be alive to-morrow night, yet I never saw a sad face nor heard a word of complaint. My feeling whilst watching these men in the glow of the firelight was almost indescribable. I was filled with awe at their behaviour. I reverenced them more than I had ever done before; and I felt like going down on my knees and thanking G.o.d I was an Englishman.

No words of mine can fitly describe this wonderful scene. And all the time more men, and still more men, were pouring into the trenches, and munitions of all descriptions were being served out.

The bursting German sh.e.l.ls, and the shrieks overhead of the missiles from our own guns, were for the moment forgotten in the immensity of the sights around me. I turned and groped the way back to my shelter and, as I did so, our fire increased in intensity. This was the prelude to the greatest attack ever made in the history of the world, and ere the sun set on the morrow many of these heroes--the Lancas.h.i.+re Fusiliers, Royal Fusiliers, Middles.e.x, etc.--would be lying dead on the field of battle, their lives sacrificed that civilisation might live.

At last I found a friend, and sitting down to our box-table we had a meal together. Afterwards I wandered out, and entered several other dug-outs, where friends were resting. They all seemed anxious for the morning to come. I met the mining officer.

"I say; let me check my watch by yours," I said. "As the mine is going up at 7.20 I shall want to start my machine about half a minute beforehand."

"Right-o!" he said. We then checked watches.

I bade him good night, and also the others, and the best of luck.

"Same to you," they cried in general chorus. "I hope to heavens you get through with it, and show them all at home in England how the boys fight. They will then realise what war really means. Good night, old man."

"Good night," I replied, and then found my way back to the shelter. I rolled myself in a blanket, and tried to sleep.

The night was very cold. I lay s.h.i.+vering in my blanket and could not get warm. The guns were continually cras.h.i.+ng out. Sh.e.l.ls were bursting just outside with appalling regularity. Suddenly they seemed to quieten down, as if by some means the Germans had got to know of our great plans and were preparing for the blow. Presently everything was comparatively quiet, except for the scurrying of countless rats, running and jumping over my body, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I expect I must have dozed off to sleep, for when I awoke day was breaking, and the din of the gun-fire was terrific. Innumerable worlds seemed to be cras.h.i.+ng together, and it sounded as if thousands of peals of thunder had concentrated themselves into one soul-terrifying roar.

An officer looked in at the entrance at that moment.

"Hullo!" he said. "Are you the 'movie-man'?"

"Yes," I said, sitting up. "What's up?"

"Well, I'm hanged; I'm glad I've found you. Do you know, I asked several Johnnies down the line if you were in the trenches and they laughed at me; asked me if I had been drinking; they thought I was pulling their leg. 'A movie man in the trenches,' they said, in tones of amazement; 'not likely!' I told them that you were here last night, and that you are here to film the attack. Well, anyway, this is what I have come for. The Colonel sent me--you know him--to see if you would film a company of our men in occupation of Sunken Road. They occupied it during the night without a single casualty, by tunnelling for about fifty yards through the parapet, under 'No Man's Land'; then sapped up and into the road. It's a fine piece of work," he said, "and would make a good picture."

"Rather," I said; "I'll come. It will be splendid from the historical point of view. Can you let me have a guide, to show me the quickest and best way?"

"Yes, I will send one of our pioneers; he will guide you," he said. "Let me know how you get on, won't you? And, if possible, when you return call in and see the Colonel. He will be frightfully bucked."

"Right-o!" I said. "By Gad! it's bally cold. My teeth won't hold still.

Push that man along, and I'll get off."

"Au revoir," he called out as he left. "See you later."

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN THE SUNKEN ROAD AT BEAUMONT HAMEL, JUST BEFORE ZERO HOUR, JULY 1ST, 1916. MY EXPERIENCES IN GETTING INTO THIS PLACE AT 6.20 A.M. REMAIN THE MOST VIVID OF ALL]

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN A TRENCH MORTAR TUNNEL, DURING THE BATTLE OF THE SOMME, AT BEAUMONT HAMEL, JULY 1ST, 1916]

The guide turned up a few minutes afterwards; he took the tripod, I the camera. I started off and entered King Street, making my way towards the firing trench. I have described in previous chapters what it was like to be under an intense bombardment. I have attempted to a.n.a.lyse my feelings when lying in the trenches with sh.e.l.ls bursting directly overhead. I have been in all sorts of places, under heavy sh.e.l.l-fire, but for intensity and nearness--nothing--absolutely nothing--compared with the frightful and demoralising nature of the sh.e.l.l-fire which I experienced during that journey.

I had only just reached King Street, when it started on that section.

Bosche was fairly plastering the whole trench, and smas.h.i.+ng down our parapets in the most methodical manner. Four men pa.s.sed me, with horrible wounds; another was being carried on the shoulders of his comrades, one arm being blown clean off, leaving flesh and remnants of cloth hanging down in a horrible manner. The sh.e.l.ls fell in front, overhead and behind us.

I bent low and rushed through traverse after traverse, halting when a sh.e.l.l burst in the trench itself round the next bend, sending a ghastly blast of flame and choking fumes full in my face. At one point I halted, hardly knowing which way to go; my guide was crouching as low as possible on the ground. The further I went, the worse it got; shrieking, splitting sh.e.l.ls seemed to envelop us. I looked back. The same. In front, another burst; the flames swept right into my face. If I had been standing up it would have killed me without a doubt. To go back was as dangerous as to advance, and to stay where I was--well, it was worse, if anything. Truth to tell, I had gone so far now that I did not like turning back; the picture of our men in Sunken Road attracted me like a magnet.

"Go on," I shouted to the guide. "We'll get through somehow. Are you game?"

"Yes, sir," said he.

We ran round the next traverse, and had to scramble over a heap of debris caused by a sh.e.l.l a few moments before.

"Look out, sir! There are some dead men here, and the parapet has practically disappeared. Get down on your stomach and crawl along."

Phut-bang! The sh.e.l.ls crashed on the parapet with the rapidity of machine-gun fire.

I went down, and crawled along over the dead bodies of some of our lads killed only a few minutes before. It couldn't be helped. Purgatory, in all its hideous shapes and forms, could not possibly be worse than this journey. It seemed years getting through that h.e.l.lish fire.