I crawled towards the back of the barn, and
ensconced behind some bales of straw, on a small bridge, I filmed this
Belgian outpost driving off the Uhlans, and peeping through one of the
rifle slots, I could see them showing a clean pair of heels, but not
without losing one of their number. He was brought into our lines later,
and I was lucky enough to secure the pennon from his lance as a
souvenir.

I made my way by various means into the town. The place was absolutely
devoid of life. It was highly dangerous to move about in the open. To be
seen by the German airmen was the signal for being shelled for about
three hours.

Whilst filming some of the ruins, I was startled by a sharp word of
command. Turning round, I saw a Belgian soldier, with his rifle pointing
at me. He ordered me to advance. I produced my permit, and giving the
password, I quite satisfied him. Bidding me come inside he indicated a
seat, and asked me to have some soup. And didn't it smell appetising! A
broken door served as a table; various oddments, as chairs and the
soup-copper, stood in the centre of the table. This proved one of the
most enjoyable meals of the campaign.

The soldier told me they had to be very careful to guard against spies.
They had caught one only that morning, "but he will spy no more,
monsieur," he said, with a significant look.

I rose, and said I must leave them, as I wanted to take advantage of the
daylight. I asked my friend if he could give me any information as to
the whereabouts of anything interesting to film, as I wanted to take
back scenes to show the people of England the ravages caused in Belgium
by the Huns, and the brave Belgians in action. He was full of regrets
that he was not able to accompany me, but being on duty he dare not
move.

With a hearty shake of the hand and best wishes we parted, and, keeping
under cover of the ruined buildings as much as possible, I made my way
through Ramscapelle. Hardened as I was by now to sights of devastation,
I could not help a lump rising in my throat when I came upon children's
toys, babies' cots, and suchlike things, peeping out from among the
ruins caused by the German guns.

These scenes caused me to wander on in deep thought, quite oblivious to
my immediate surroundings. This momentary lapse nearly proved
disastrous. By some means I had passed the sentries, and wandered
practically on top of a Belgian concealed heavy gun battery. I was
quickly brought to my sense