e C.O. and went on my way.

My clothes were absolutely saturated with perspiration as I shambled
away towards the top end of Bernafay Wood. I looked back at the battery.
Bosche was still "strafing." I vowed I would never go near any forward
guns again; but good resolutions are made to be broken, and my lust for
pictures is too strong within me.

Moving was now difficult. The weight of my camera outfit seemed to be
getting heavier. I could only get along at a very slow pace. The strap
around my chest seemed to squeeze the very breath out of my lungs. But
worse was to come. The Huns began shelling the section with shrapnel in
a searching manner, and several times I collapsed into a shell-hole, in
the hope of obtaining a little cover. But there is very little shelter
from shrapnel. On several occasions I felt like throwing away my steel
helmet; the weight seemed abnormal; but prudence warned me and I clung
to it.

The fire was now too bad to proceed in the open. If there were any
trenches or ditches I availed myself of their protection. The heat in
the trenches was terrific, and to add to the horrors of the stench and
heat there were millions of flies. Filthy brutes! They seemed to cling
to one like leeches, and, my arms being full, I could not keep them off
my face. Several times I almost decided to turn back, asking myself if
it was worth while. But when I looked at Trones Wood in the distance,
and the heavy shells bursting all round, I gritted my teeth and decided
to push on.

Thinking that more smoke might help to keep off the flies I lighted two
cigarettes and puffed away at them, one in each corner of my mouth. I'm
sure I must have looked a most extraordinary specimen of humanity at
this moment. Loaded with kit, perspiring like a bull; my steel helmet
cocked on one side of my head; puffing away like a chimney at two
cigarettes, and millions of flies buzzing all around me. Picture me if
you can.

I was proceeding like an automaton along the trench when suddenly I came
upon an officer who, I afterwards found out, was going up to fix his
next gun positions. He was sitting on a sandbag swearing like Hades, and
trying to disperse the clouds of flies which were settling upon him. He
looked up as I approached, then suddenly burst into a peal of laughter.
I stood still and grinned, not daring to open my mouth to laugh for fear
of losing my cigarettes. Then I dropped my tripod and leaned against the
trench side to rest.