"That's extraordinary," I replied. "Do you know that I was the chap who
filmed that scene? it was for a film play called 'King Charles.' It's
very peculiar how one meets. I remember that incident quite well."

I again filmed various scenes of the Germans "strafing" our lines. Our
guns, as usual, were crashing out. They were pouring concentrated fire
on the Hawthorn Redoubt, a stronghold of the Germans, and thinking it
would yield an excellent picture, I made my way to a point of vantage,
whence I could get an unobstructed field of view. There was only one
place, and that was a point directly opposite. To get there it was
necessary to cross a sunken road about twenty-five feet wide. But it
was under continual fire from German machine guns, and being broad
daylight it was absolutely asking for trouble, thick and unadulterated,
to attempt to cross it. I was advised not to do so, and I admit I ought
to have taken the advice. Anyway, the opportunity of getting such a fine
scene of a barrage of fire was too strong, and for once my cautionary
instincts were at fault.

To reach the sunken road was comparatively easy. You had only to walk
along our front line trench, and fall down flat on the ground when a
German shell burst near you, then proceed. I reached the junction where
the road ran across at right angles, and from the shelter of our parapet
the road looked the quietest place on earth. It appeared easy enough to
me to jump up quickly, run across and drop on the further side in our
trench.

"Ridiculously easy! I'm going across," I said to my man. "When I'm over
I'll throw a cord across for you to tie my tripod on to; then I'll pull
it across. It will save you attempting it."

I tied the camera on my shoulders, so as to have my arms quite free. I
was now ready. The firing was renewed with redoubled vigour. Shells I
could see were falling on the Hun lines like hailstones. "Jove!" I said
to myself, "I shall miss it. Here goes."

Clambering up to the road level, I sprawled out flat and lay perfectly
still for a few seconds, with my heart jumping like a steam engine.
Nothing happened. I gradually drew up my leg, dug the toe of my boot in
the ground, and pushed myself forward bit by bit. So far, so good: I was
half-way across. I was congratulating myself on my easy task. "What in
the world am I lying here for?" I asked myself; "why shouldn't I run the
remaining distance?" And suiting the action to the word, I got up--and
fo