How I Filmed the War Part 8

There was nothing whole standing. The place was smashed and ground down out of all recognition. And yet, from its solitary high position upon the cross, the figure of Christ looked down upon the scene. It was absolutely untouched. It stood there--this sacred emblem of our Faith--grim and gaunt against the sky. A lonely sentinel. The scene was a sermon in itself, and mere words fail to describe the deep impression it made upon me.

CHAPTER V

FILMING THE PRINCE OF WALES

How I Made a "Hide-up"--And Secured a Fine Picture of the Prince Inspecting some Gun-pits--His Anxiety to Avoid the Camera--And His Subsequent Remarks--How a German Block-house was Blown to Smithereens--And the Way I Managed to Film it Under Fire.

To-day has certainly been most interesting, and not without excitement.

I was to film the bombardment of a concrete German block-house from the Guards' trenches at ----. Previous to starting out from ---- news came through from headquarters that the Prince of Wales was going to inspect some guns with Lord Cavan.

The staff officer who told me this knew the trouble I had previously experienced in trying to obtain good films of the Prince, and warned me to be very careful. I enquired the time of his arrival at the gun-pits.

So far as I could ascertain, it was to be at 11.30 a.m. I therefore decided to be there half an hour earlier, and make a "hide-up" for myself and camera. I was determined to succeed this time. Proceeding by way of ----, which place has suffered considerable bombardment, the church and surrounding buildings having been utterly destroyed, I stayed awhile to film the interior and exterior of the church, and so add another to the iniquitous record of the Bosche for destroying everything held sacred.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ON THE WAY TO THE "MENIN GATE" WITH AN ARTILLERY OFFICER, TO FILM OUR GUNS IN ACTION]

A short distance outside the town I came upon the gun positions, and crossing a field--or rather shall I say a mud-pond, for the mud very nearly reached my knees--I selected a point of vantage at one side of a hedge which ran at right angles to the gun-pits. There was only one path fit to traverse, and getting hold of an officer, I asked him if we could so arrange it that the Prince started from the further end of the path and came towards camera. He said he would try. Fixing up the camera, I got in front of the hedge facing the path, and completely hid all signs of the machine with bracken and branches of trees. Pus.h.i.+ng the lens well through the hedge, I ripped open an old sandbag, cut a hole in it and hung it on the hedge, with my lens pointing through. By such means it was quite impossible for anyone in front to see either myself or the camera, and having completed my preparations, I settled down to patiently await the arrival of the Prince.

In about half an hour he came along with Lord Cavan, a general, and other officers of the staff. True to his promise, Captain ---- got the Prince to follow the path I had indicated. When he arrived at the further end of the row of guns, I started filming. He came direct towards the camera, but when within fifteen feet of it the noise of handle turning attracted his attention. He stood fully fifteen seconds gazing in my direction, evidently wondering what it was on the other side of the hedge. Then he pa.s.sed out of range. I hurried across the field with my aeroscope (an automatic camera), and stood at the end of the path waiting for him to pa.s.s.

In a few moments he came along, and I started filming. The smiles of the staff officers were pleasing to behold. One of them remarked to the Prince that it was quite impossible to escape this time. As he pa.s.sed inside the farm-house, I heard him remark: "That was the man I tried to dodge on Christmas Day. How did he know I was coming here? Who told him?" The enquiry was followed by some good-natured laughter, and feeling satisfied with my work, I hurried away.

I had now to proceed to the front line trenches, taking the car, as far as possible, along the road. I had hidden it under cover of some ruined buildings, and taking the camera, and bidding my chauffeur bring the tripod, I started out. A captain conducted me. We quickly got to the communication trenches. As usual, a good deal of "strafing" was going on, and the German snipers were very busy. When we reached the first line firing trenches, I peered over the parapet through a periscope, but found I was too far south of the block-house. So I proceeded higher up, and about eight hundred yards further on came a traverse, which I had chosen, and the loophole through which I was going to film the scene.

The distance to the German block-house from where I was standing was about 150 yards.

The thickness of the parapet, I should say, was roughly four feet; and through the parapet was a conical, square-shaped, wooden cylinder. In front, under cover of darkness, the night previous, I had had two sandbags placed, so that when everything was ready, and my camera fixed, a slight push from the back with a stick would s.h.i.+ft them clear of the opening. Fixing up the camera, I very carefully pinned an empty sandbag over the back of the aperture, with the object of keeping any daylight from streaming through. I placed a long stick ready to push the sandbags down. I intended doing that after the first sh.e.l.l had fallen.

This particular loophole had been severely sniped all the morning, the Germans evidently thinking it was a new Maxim-gun emplacement. Time was drawing near. I thought I would try with the stick whether the sandbags would fall easily. Evidently I gave them too vigorous a push, for the next moment they came toppling down. Knowing such a movement as that was certain to attract the German snipers' attention, I quickly ducked my head down and hoped our 9.2's would soon open fire. I did not relish the idea of having a bullet through my camera.

Sure enough the Germans had seen the movement, for bullets began battering into sandbags around the loophole. At that moment the C.O.

withdrew the whole of the men from that section of the trench, and I was left alone. But the prospect of getting a fine film drove all other thoughts from my mind.

A few minutes later the first sh.e.l.l came hurtling over and exploded within ten yards of the block-house. I started filming. Sh.e.l.l after sh.e.l.l I recorded as it exploded, first on one side then on the other, until at last the eighth sh.e.l.l fell directly on top of the block-house, and with a tremendous explosion the whole fabric disappeared in a cloud of smoke and flame. Debris of every description rattled in the trench all round me, and continued to fall for some moments, but luckily I was not hit. Being unable to resist the temptation of looking over the parapet, I jumped up and gazed at the remains of the building which now consisted of nothing more than a twisted, churned-up ma.s.s of concrete and iron rails. Our artillery had done its work, and done it well.

CHAPTER VI

MY FIRST VISIT TO YPRES AND ARRAS

Greeted on Arrival in the Ruined City of Ypres by a Furious Fusillade--I Film the Cloth Hall and Cathedral, and Have a Narrow Escape--A Once Beautiful Town Now Little More Than a Heap of Ruins--Arras a City of the Dead--Its Cathedral Destroyed--But Cross and Crucifixes Unharmed.

To Ypres! This was the order for the day. The news gave me a thrill of excitement. The thunder of the big guns grew louder as we approached the front line, until they seemed to merge into one continuous roar.

Stopping on the road, I asked if the Germans were "strafing" to-day.

"Yes," said one of our military police, "they were sh.e.l.ling us pretty heavily this morning: you will have to be very careful moving about inside. Bosche machines are always up in the air, taking bearings for the guns."

Arriving at the outskirts of the ruined town, we were pulled up by a sentry, who, finding our papers in order, allowed us to proceed. At that moment a furious fusillade of gun-fire attracted our attention, and three shrill blasts of a whistle rang out; then we heard a cry, "Everyone under cover!" Stopping the car, I immediately jumped out, and stood under cover of a broken-down wall, and looking up, could see the cause of this activity.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TAKING SCENES IN DEVASTATED YPRES, MAY, 1916]

High in the air, about eight to ten thousand feet, was a Bosche aeroplane, and while I was watching it shrapnel sh.e.l.ls from our anti-aircraft guns were exploding round it like rain. A great number were fired at it. The whole sky was flecked with white and black patches of smoke, but not one hit was recorded. The machine seemed to sail through that inferno as if nothing were happening, and at last it disappeared in the haze over its own lines. Only then were we allowed to proceed.

I had made a rough programme of what to film, and decided to start from the Grand Place. In a few words, I may say that I filmed the Place from the remains of the Cloth Hall, the Cathedral, and various districts of the town, but to try and describe the awful condition of what was once the most beautiful town in Belgium would be to attempt the impossible.

No pen, and no imagination, could do justice to it. The wildest dreams of Dante could not conjure up such terrible, such awful scenes.

The immensity of the outrage gripped me perhaps more completely when I stood upon the heap of rubble that was once the most beautiful piece of architecture of its kind in all the world. The Cloth Hall, and the Cathedral, looked exactly as if some mighty scythe had swept across the ground, levelling everything in its path. The monster 15-inch German sh.e.l.ls had dismembered and torn open the buildings brick by brick.

Confusion and devastation reigned everywhere, no matter in what direction you looked. It was as if the very heavens and the earth had crashed together, crus.h.i.+ng everything between them out of all semblance to what it had been.

The ground was literally pock-marked with enemy sh.e.l.l-holes. The stench of decaying bodies followed me everywhere. At times the horror of it all seemed to freeze the understanding, and it was difficult to realise that one was part and parcel of this world of ours. Literally, horror was piled upon horror. And this was the twentieth century of which men boasted; this was civilisation! Built by men's hands, the result of centuries of work. Now look at them; those beautiful architectural monuments, destroyed, in a few months, by the vilest sp.a.w.n that ever contaminated the earth. A breed that should and would be blotted out of existence as effectively as they had blotted out the town of Ypres.

Beneath one large building lay buried a number of our gallant soldiers, who were sheltering there, wounded. The position was given away by spies, with the result that the Germans poured a concentrated fire of sh.e.l.ls upon the helpless fellows, and the sh.e.l.ling was so terrific that the whole building collapsed and buried every living soul beneath the debris.

As I stood upon the heap tears came into my eyes, and the spirits of the brave lads seemed to call out for vengeance. And even as I stood and pondered, the big guns rang out, the very concussion shaking bricks and dust upon me as I stood there. While filming the scene, German sh.e.l.ls came hurtling and shrieking overhead, exploding just behind me and scattering the debris of the ruins high above and whizzing in my direction.

To obtain a good view-point, I clambered upon a mount of bricks nearly fifty feet high, all that was left of the Cathedral Tower. From that eminence I could look right down into the interior, and I succeeded in taking an excellent film of it. While doing so, two German sh.e.l.ls exploded a short distance away. Whether it was the concussion or pieces of sh.e.l.l that struck it, I do not know--probably the latter--but large pieces of stone and granite fell at my feet, and one piece hit my shoulder. So I quickly made my way to more healthy quarters, and even as I left the sh.e.l.ls overhead began to shriek with redoubled fury, as if the very legions of h.e.l.l were moaning, aghast at the terrible crime which the fiendish Huns had perpetrated.

Arras, although not by any means as badly damaged as Ypres, is one of the most historical and beautiful places systematically destroyed by the Germans. The Cathedral, the wonderful Museum, the Hotel de Ville, once the pride of this broken city, are now no more. Arras provides yet another blasting monument of the unspeakable methods of warfare as practised by the descendants of Attila, the Hun. The city was as silent as the tomb when I visited it. It was dead in every sense of the word; a place only fit for the inhabitants of the nether world. Only when the German sh.e.l.ls came screaming overhead with unearthly noise, in an empty street, was the silence broken in this city of the dead.

I visited the ruined Cathedral, and filmed various scenes of the interior and exterior, having to climb over huge mounds of fallen masonry to obtain my best view-points. In places all that was left standing was the bare walls. The huge columns, with their beautiful sculptures, no longer able to support the roof, still stood like grim sentinels watching over their sacred charge. And yet, despite the unholy bombardment to which the building had been subjected, three things remained unharmed and untouched in the midst of this scene of awful desolation. The three crucifixes, with the figures of Christ still upon them, gazed down upon this scene of horror. And high upon the topmost joint of the south wall stood the cross, the symbol of Christianity--unharmed. The united endeavours of the Powers of Evil could not dislodge that sacred emblem from its topmost pinnacle.

I left the Cathedral and walked along the gra.s.s-covered streets, pock-marked by innumerable sh.e.l.l-holes, and every now and then I had to dive into some cellar for shelter from falling sh.e.l.ls. At the Hotel de Ville the same sight presented itself. The bombardment had reduced its walls to little more than a tottering sh.e.l.l, which fell to pieces at the merest touch.

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN YPRES, WITH "BABY" BROOKS, THE OFFICIAL STILL PHOTOGRAPHER, MAY, 1916]

CHAPTER VII

THE BATTLE OF ST. ELOI

Filming Within Forty-five Yards of the German Trenches--Watching for "Minnies"--Officers'

Quarters--"Something" Begins to Happen--An Early Morning Bombardment--Develops Into the Battle of St. Eloi--Which I Film from Our First-Line Trench--And Obtain a Fine Picture.

A bombardment was to take place. A rather vague statement, and a common enough occurrence; but not so this one.

I had a dim idea--not without foundation, as it turned out--that there was more in this particular bombardment than appeared on the surface.

Why this thought crossed my mind I do not know. But there it was, and I also felt that it would somehow turn out seriously for me before I had finished.

I was to go to a certain spot to see a general--and obtain permission to choose a good view-point for my machine. My knowledge of the topography of this particular part of the line was none too good.