the roof of our dug-out,
rewounding a lot of our chaps lying there. By the way, are you leaving
your car there?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Well, you had better say good-bye to it; several of our ambulances have
been strafed there."

"Well," I said, "can't be helped; it must take its chance. I'm going to
take a few scenes of you at work. Where did these Bosches come from?"

"This morning, from Guillemont; our boys had a bit of a stunt on and
landed a few of the beggars."

I filmed various incidents showing the treatment of wounded prisoners.
They received the same careful attention as our own men; whatever they
asked for they had. Several padres were kneeling down beside our boys,
taking down messages to be sent to their relatives.

Stretcher after stretcher with its human freight of Briton and Hun was
deposited on the ground. Immediately doctors and orderlies were upon
their knees tending to their wants with a gentleness that was
wonderful. While I was there several shells fell and exploded only a
short distance away.

I left the dressing station and paused upon a mound near a tree stump,
the top of which had been carefully split off by shell-fire. I stood
looking in the direction of Trones. The Bosches were "strafing" it
pretty thoroughly. Away across at Montaubon village the same thing was
happening. They were fairly watering the place with H.E. and shrapnel.
Our guns were rattling out as well, and I am glad to say that it sounded
to me as though ours were at least ten to their one.

Well, the scenes had to be obtained. I admit the job looked anything but
pleasant. "Well, here goes!" I said, and putting on a cigarette, I
trudged off with my apparatus across the open, making a bee-line midway
between Montaubon and Bernafay Wood. I gave both places a wide berth,
thereby steering clear of possible Bosche shells. How hot it was.
Perspiration was literally pouring from me. I kept on over the ground
captured from the Germans. The smell in places was almost unbearable. I
puffed away at my cigarette, thereby reducing the stench to a minimum.

Several shells came whizzing overhead in the direction of the dressing
station I had just left. With a grinding crash they exploded. "Shrapnel,
woolly bears," I said under my breath. They seemed to burst right on top
of them too. I thought of all those poor wounded Tommies lying helpless
on their stretchers. Another--then another--came hurtling over. The
splitting crash of the burs