r I scouted round the outskirts of the village.
In a wood a short distance away it was evident that our patrols were in
contact with the Huns. Volley after volley of rifle-fire rang out, and
now and then a burst from the machine-guns. A horseman was heading
straight for me. Was he British or Hun? In a few minutes I could see he
was one of our men--evidently a dispatch-rider. He swept down into a
hollow, then up the road into the village. He was riding hard; his horse
stumbled, but by a great effort the rider recovered himself. He dashed
past me and, clattering over the fallen masonry, disappeared from sight.

I looked around. Not a sign of life anywhere, so I decided to make for
Vraignes about a kilometre distant south-east of Bovincourt. I had
previously heard from one of the villagers that there were about one
thousand people left there.

Strapping my camera on my back I tramped away, my man following in the
rear. The "still" man, who had left me after feeding the villagers, had
been prowling around getting pictures. Accidentally he ran into me, so
together we trekked off.

Taking advantage of every bit of cover possible, as German snipers were
none too careful as to where they put their bullets, we eventually
reached the outskirts of Vraignes. Not a sign of Germans, but crowds of
civilians. Things here were the same as at Bovincourt, but a few more
houses were left standing owing to the fire not completely doing its
work. The people were in the same state. We had just got into the
village, and near the Mairie, when a commotion round the corner by the
church attracted my attention. The men and women who had crowded around
us shouting with joy, turned and rushed up the road.

"Vive les Anglais! Vive les Anglais!" The cry was taken up by every one.
Hands and handkerchiefs were waving in all directions. "Vive les
Anglais! Vive les Anglais!"

"Our boys are there," I said.

My camera was up and turned on to the corner where the crowd stood and,
at that moment, a troop of our cyclists entered, riding very slowly
through the exultant people--the first British troops to enter the
village. I turned the handle. The scene was inspiring. Cheer after cheer
rent the air. Old men and women were crying with joy. Others were
holding their babies up to kiss our boys. Children were clinging and
hugging around their legs, until it was impossible for them to proceed
further. The order was given by the officer in charge to halt. The