er in passing. "I want to get to
our front trenches."

"You want to go the other way. This trench leads back to ----."

This was anything but cheering news. I had been walking for about an
hour, always seeming to just miss the right turning. Truth to tell I had
failed to provide myself with a trench map, and it was my first time in
this section. The bursting shells were filling up the trenches, and I
was becoming absolutely fogged. So, in sheer desperation--for the
bombardment was getting more intense and I was afraid of losing
pictures--I climbed on to the parapet to look round. What a scene of
desolation. The first thing I saw was a dead German. That didn't help to
cheer me up overmuch. Making a slight detour I stopped to fix the Hun
front line if possible. Our own I could see. But no matter where I
looked the Bosche line was apparently non-existent. Yet our shells were
smashing into the ground, which seemed to be absolutely empty.

I set up my camera and started to expose. While doing so I happened to
glance down, for I must explain that I was on a slight mound. Which was
the most surprised--the Bosche or myself--I do not know, for less than a
hundred yards away was the German line. I stopped turning. Immediately
I did so bullets came singing unpleasantly past my head. I dropped flat
on the ground, which luckily for me was slightly protected by a ridge of
earth. I dragged the camera down on top of me and, lying flat, the
bullets whizzed by overhead. The Bosche must have thought he had got me,
for in a few moments fire ceased. I wriggled towards the trench and
dropped like a log into the bottom, dragging my camera after me. One of
my men had followed, and seeing me drop, did the same. He came tumbling
head first into the trench.

"That was a near squeak, sir," he said. "Yes, come on, they will
probably start shelling us. Cut through here. I noticed some German
prisoners coming this way. I must get them. Where's the other man? Keep
him close up."

Reaching a trench through which the German prisoners were being led, I
hurriedly fixed my camera and filmed them shambling in, holding their
hands up, their nerves completely shattered by the intensity of our
terrific bombardment. Some were covered with wounds, others were
carrying our wounded Tommies in on stretchers. It was an extraordinary
sight. Ten minutes before these men were doing their utmost to kill each
other. Now, friend and foe were doing their best to help