und trouble! I had barely raised myself to my hands and knees when,
with a rattle and a rush, a stream of bullets came swishing by, some
striking the ground on my left, about nine feet away.

I took the whole situation in in a flash. To lie there was almost
certain death; to stand up was worse; to go back was as bad as going
forward. What happened afterwards I don't know. I could hear the bullets
whizzing by my head with an ugly hiss. The next moment, with a jump and
a spring, I landed head first in the trench on the opposite side. For
the moment I did not know whether I was hit or not. I unstrapped my
camera, to see if it had caught any bullets, but, thank Heaven, they had
cleared it. Some of our men were standing looking aghast at me, and
wondering what the devil it was that had made such a sudden dive into
their midst. The look on their faces was just too funny for words; I had
to roar with laughter, and, realising that I was safe, they also joined
in.

But I was not out of the wood yet, for brother Fritz immediately turned
"whizz-bangs" on to us. "Phut-bang," "phut-bang," they came. Every one
scampered for cover. Needless to say, I did so too. Five minutes went
by. All the time these souvenirs dropped around us, but luckily none of
them got any direct hits on our trench.

I thought I would wait another five minutes, to see if Bosche would
cease fire. But not he. He was rather cross about my crossing the road
safely.

Time went by. Still the firing continued. I decided to risk throwing the
cord and pulling over my tripod. Keeping low, I yelled to my man: he,
like a sage, had also taken cover, but hearing my shouts came out.

"The rope is coming," I yelled. "Tug it as a signal, when you have it."

"Right," came the reply.

Three times I threw it before I received the welcome tug at the other
end. Then a voice shouted: "Pull away, sir."

I pulled. I had to do it gently, otherwise the broken nature of the
ground might damage the head. At last it was safely over, but Bosche had
seen something moving across; then he turned his typewriter on again.
More bullets flew by, but with the exception of one which struck the
metal revolving top and sliced out a piece as evenly as if it had been
done by machine, no harm was caused.

I bade one of the men shoulder my tripod. We rushed up the trench as
fast as possible, and I thanked Heaven for my escape. When I reached the
section where I judged it best to fit up my camera,