H0W 1 FILMED
THE WAR
I, OEUT. GEOFFREY NS, O.B.E.
HOW I FILMED THE WAR
IVhcn I mas in Erance I ruade arrangements
with my friend Mr. Lo«» IVarren, al that lime tïditor
of the Kinematograph Weekly, to arrange
manuscript I scnt hbn for lOublication in book form.
The manuscriîM bas no uoay been altered
any malcrial resleCt , and is in lhe form in
I origqnally vroge il.
GtïOFFRE Y tt. MA LINS.
FII.MING TliE FRELIMIIqARY BO.MBARD.XlENT OF THE BIG PUSH, JULY IST,
1016. A FEW IINUTES AFTER THIS PltçTOGRAI'H WAS TAKEN A SHELL
IURST XVITHIN SIX YARDS S.XIASHING DOWN TI1E TRENCFI WALLS AND
HALF BURYING ME. NOTE TllE SANY)BAG ON A VIRE IN FRONT OF MY
'AMERA FOR 'CA.MçUI:LAGE »
HOW I FILMED
"" THE WAR'"
A RECORD OF THE EXTRAORDINARY
EXPERIENCES OF THE MAN WHO
FILMED THE GREAT SOMME BATTLES
EC.
BY
LIEUT. GEOFFREY H. MALINS, O.B.E.
DITKD BY
LOW WARREN
HERBERT JENKINS
YORK STREET, ST.
LONDON, S.W.I
LIMITED
JAMES'S
MCMXX
CONTENTS
PART I
CttAPTER I
A FEW WORDS OF INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER II
WITH THE BELGIANS AT RAM$CAPELLE
pAG t
I Reach the First Line Belgian Tronches--And become a Belgian
Soldier for the Time Bcing--A Night Attack---An Advt'nture
whilst Filming a Mitrailleuse Outpost--Among the Ruins of
Ramscapellc--I Leave the Company and Losc my Way in the
Darkness--A Wclcomc Light and a Long Slecp--How Little
does the Public know of thc Dangers and Difhcultics a Film
Operator has to Face . 6
CHAPTER III
WlTH THE GOUMIERS AT LOMBARTZYDE
A Morning of Surprises--The German Positions Bombarded from
the Sea--Filming the Goumiers in Action--How these Tenacious
Fighters Prepare for Battle--Goumier Habits and Customs--I
Take the Chief's Photograph for the First Time--And After-
wards take Food with Him--An Interesting and Fruitful Adven-
ture Ends Satisfactorily t 5
CHAPTER IV
THE BATTLE OF THE SAND-DUNES
A Dangerous Adventure and What Came of It--A Race Across
the Sand-dunes--And a Spill in a Shell-hole--The Fate of a
Spy--A Battle in the Dunes--Of whxch I Secured Some Fine
Films--A Collision with an Obstructive Mule aa
CHAPTER V
UNDER HEAVY SHELL-FIRE
In a Trench Coat and Cap I again Run the Gauntlet--A Near
Squeak--Looldng for Trouble--I Nearly Find It--A Rough
Ride and a Mud Bath--An Affair of Outposts--I Get Used to
Crawling--Hot Work at the Guns--I ara Reported Dead--But
Prove Very Much Alive--And then Receive a Shock--A
Stern Chase 3 °
CHAPTER VI
AMONG THE SNOwS OF THE VOSGES
I Start for the Vosges--Am Arrested on the Swiss Frontier--And
Released--But Arrested Again--And then Allowed to Go My
Way--Filming in the Firing Zone--A Wonderful French Charge
Over the Snow-clad Hills--I Take Big Risks--And Get a
Magnificent Picture 4 °
V
vi HOW I FILMED THE WAR
PART I I
CHAPTER I
HOW i CAME TO MAKE OFF1C1AL WAR PICTURES
p&G t
I ara Appointed an Official War Office Kinematographer--And Start
for thê Front Line Trênchês--Filming thê German Guns in
Action--With the Canadians--Picturesque I-lut Settlement
Among the Poplars--" I-Iyde 19ark Corner "--Shaving by
Candlclight in Six Inches of Water--Filming in Full View of the
German Lines, 75 yards away--A ]Big Risk. but a 1Realistic
Picture 5
CI-IAPTER I1
CHR1STMAS DAV AT THE FRONT
Leave-taking at Charing Cros--A Fruitless Search for Food on
Christmas Eve--How Tommy XVelcomed the Coming of the
Festive Season--" Peace On Earth. Good "Vill To Men " to the
loom of the Big Guns--Filming the Guards" Division--And the
l'rince of Wales--Coming from a Christmas Service--This Year
and Iqext 6
CHAPTER III
I GET 1NTO A WARM CORNER
Boxing Day--]But No Pantomime--Life in the Trenches--A Sniper
at Work---Sinking a Mine Shaft--The Cheery Influence of an
Irish Padre--A Ccmetery I3ehind the Lines--Pathetic Inscrip-
tions and Mcmentoes on Dead I-Ieroes' Graves--I Get Into a
Pretty Warm Corner--And Have Some Difficulty in Getting Out
Again--]But All's Well that Ends Well .
CI-IAPTER IV
THE BATTLEF1ELD OF NEUVE CHAPELLE
A Visit fo the Old German Trenches--Reveals a Scene of Horror
that Defies Description--Dodging the Shells--I Lose the Handle
of My Camera--And then Lose My Man--The Effect of Shell-fire
on a Novice--In the Village of Neuve Chapelle--A Scene of
Devastation--The Figure of the Lonely Christ
CI-IAPTER V
F1LM1NG THE PRINCE OF WALES
How I Made a" Hide-up "--And Secured a Fine Picture of the Prince
Inspecting some Gun-pits--I-Iis Anxiety to Avoid the Camera--
And His Subsequent Remarks--i.iow a German ]Block-house ,vas
Blown to Smithereens--And the Way I Managed to Film it
Under Fire
CHAPTER VI
MV FIRST VlSIT TO YPRES AND ARRAS
Greeted on Al-rival in the Ruined City o: Ypres by a Furious Fusillade
--I Film the Cloth Hall and Cathedral, and Have a Narrow
65
76
CONTENTS
Escape--A Once t3eautiful Tovn Now Little More Than a
Heap of Ruins--Arras a City of the Dead--Its Cathedal
Destroyed--But Cross and Crucifixes Unharmcd
vii
80
CHAPTER VII
THE BATTLE OF ST. ELOI
Filming Within Forty-five Yards of the German Trenches--Watch-
ing for " Minnies "--Offacers' Quarters--'" Somcthing " ]3egins
to Happen--An Early Morning Bombardmcnt--Dcvelops lnto
the Battle of St. Eloi--Vvhich I Film from Our First-Line
Trench---And Obtain a Fine Picture
85
CHAPTER VIII
A NIGHT ATTACK--AND A NARROW ESCAPE
A Very Lively Experience--Choosing a Position for the Camera
Under Fire--I Get a Taste of Gas--Witness a iNight Attack by
the Germmxs--Surprise an Officer by My Appcarance in the
Trencl..s--And Have One of the Narrowest Escapes---But
Fortunatcly Get Out with iNothing Worse than a Couple of
Bullcts Through My Cap
CHAPTER IX
FOURTEEN THOUSAND FEET ABOVE THE GERMAN LINES
The First Kinematograph Film Taken of the Western Front--And
How I Took It Whilst Travelling Through the Air ai Eighty
Miles an Hour--Under Shell-fire--Over Ypres--A Thrilling
Experience--And a Narrow Escape--A Five Thousand Foot
Dire Through Space
CHAII'ER X
FILMING THE KARTH FROM THE CLOUDS
Chasing an « Enemy " Acroplane af a Height of I3.5oo Feet--And
What Came of It--A Dramatic Adventure in which the Pilot
Played a Big Part--I Get a Nasty Shock--I3ut am Rcassured--
A Freezing Experience--Filming the Earth as we Dived Almost
Perpendicularly--A Picture that would Defy the Most Ardent
Futurist fo Paint
93
lO7
CHAII'ER XI
PREPARING FOR THE «EIG PUSH »
The Threshold of Tremendous Happenings--General --'s Speech
to His Men on the Eve of t3attle--Choosing My Position for
Filming the " t3ig Push "--Under Shell-fire--A Race of Shrieking
Devils--Fritz's Way of " Making Love "--I Visit the " White
City "--And On the Way have Anothcr Experience of Gas
Shells
I2I
viii HOW I FILMED THE WAR
CHAPTER XII
FILMING UNDER F/RE
The General's Speech to the Fusiliers Before Going Into Action--
Filming the 5-inch HowitzersmA Miniature Earthquakem
" The Day " is Postponed--Keeping Within " The Limits "--A
Surprise Meeting in the Trenches--A Reminder of Other Days---
I Get Into a Tight Corner--And Have An Unpleasantly Hot
Experience--I Interview a Trench Mortar--Have a Lively
Quarter of an HourAnd Then Get Off 135
CHAPTER XIII
THE DAWN OF JULY FIRST
A Firework Display Heralds the Arrival ot " The Day "How the
Boys Spent Their Last Few Hours in the Trenches--Rats as
13edfcllows--I Make an Early Start--And Get Through a Mine-
shaft into " No Man's Land "The Great Event Draws Near--
Anxious Moments--The Men Fix Bayonets--And Wait the
Word of Command to" Go Over the Top " 15
CHAPTER XIV
THE DAY AND THE HOUR
A Mighty Convulsion Signalises the Commencement of Operations--
Thon Out Boys " Go Over the Top "--A Fine Film Obtained
whilst Shclls Raincd AroundMe--My Apparatus is Struck--But,
Thank Goodness. the Camcra is Saie--Arrival ot the Wounded--
" Ara I in the Picture ? " they ask 162
CHAlY£ER XV
ROLL-CALL AFTER THE FIGHT
A Glorious Band of Wounded Heroes Stagger Into Line and Answer
the Call--I Visit a Stricken Friend in a Dug-out--On the Way
fo La Boisselle I Cet Lost in the Trenches--And *vVhilst Filming
Unexpectedly Corne Upon the German LineI Have a Narrow
Squeak of Being Crumped--But Get Away Safely--And Inter
Commandcer a Couple of German Prisoners to Act as Porters 69
CHAPTER XVI
EDITING A BATTLE FILM
The Process Described in DetailDeveloping the Negative--Its
Projection on thc Screen--CuttingoEitling--Joining--Printing
the Positive--Building Up the Story--lt is Submitted to the
Military Censors at General Headquarters--And After Being Cut
and Approved by Them--Is Ready for Public Exhibition . 17 8
CHAPTER XVII
THK HORRORS OF TRONES WOOD
Three Times I Try and Fail to Reach this Stronghold of the Dead--
Which Has Been Described as " Hell on Earth "--At a Dressing
Station under Fire--Smoking Two Cigarettes at a Time to Keep
off the Flies--Some Amusing Trench Conversations b¥ Men who
had Lost OEheir Way--I Turn in for the Night--And Have a
Dead Bosche for Company 8 3
CHAPTER XVIII
IIILMING AT POZIÈRES AND CONTALMAISON
Looking for " Thrills "And How I Got Them--I Pass Through
" Sausage Valley," o the Way to PoziresYou lIay and you
Might--What a Tommy Found in a German Dug-outlIow
Fritz Got «' Some of His Own " Back--Taking Pictures in What
Was Once Pozières" Proois Ready To-morrow "
CHAPTER XIX
ALONG THIZ WESTERN FRONT WITH THIZ KING
His Maiesty's Arrival ai Boulogne--At G.H.Q.--General Burstall's
Appreciation--The King on the t3attlefield oI Fricourt--Within
Range oi the Enemy's Guns---His Maiesty's Joke Outside a
German Dug-out--His Memento trom a Hero's Grave--His
Visit to a Casualty Clearing Station---The King and the Puppy--
Once in Disgrace--lgow a Hospital Mascot
CHAPTER XX
KING AND PRESIDENT MEET
An Historie Gathering--In which King and Presidcnt, Joflre and
Haig Take Part--His Majesty and the Little French Girl--I Am
Permitted to Film the King and His Distinguished Guests--A
Visit to the King of the Belgians---A Cross-Channel Journey--
And Home
CHAPTER XXl
THE HUSH] HUSH ]--A WEIRD AND FEARFUL CREATURE
Something in the Wind--An Urgent Message to Report at Head-
quartersAnd What Came OI It--I Hear tor the First Time
of the " Hush I Hush I "--And Try to Discover What It Is--
A WonderIul lXlight Scene--Dawn Breaks and Reveals a
Marvellous Monster--What Is It ?
CHAPTER XXlI
THE JUGGERNAUT CAR OF BATTLE
A Weird-looking Object Makes Ifs First Appearance Upon the
Battlefield--And Surprises Us Almost as Much as It Surprised
Fritz--A Death-dealing Monster that Did the Most Marvellous
Things--And Left the Ground Strewn with Corpses--Realism
of the Tank Pictures
CHAPTER XXlII
WHERE THE VILLAGE OF GUILLEMONT WAS
An AwIul Specimen ot War Devastation--Preparing tor an Advance
--Giving the Bosche " Jumps "--Breakfast Under Fire--My
Camera Fails Me Just Betore the Opening of the Attack--But I
Mariage fo Set it Right and Get Some Fine Pictures--Our Guns
" Talkï" Like the Crack of a Thousand Thunders--A Wonderful
Doctor
ix
196
205
214
222
230
234
x HOW I FILMED THE WAR
CHAPTER XXIV
FIGHTING IN A SEA OF MUD
Inspecting a Tank that xvas Hors de Combat--All that was Left of
Mouquct Farm--A German Underground Fortress--A Trip in
the Bowels of the Earth--A Weird and Wonderful Experience .
245
CHAPTER XXV
THE EE OF GREAT EVENTS
A Choppy Cross-Channel TripI ]ndu]ge in a Revcrie--And Try to
Pecr Into the Future---Af Headq uartcrs Again--Trying to Cross
the Hiver Somme on an lmprovised Raft--In Peronne Airer the
German Evacuation--A Specimcn of Hunnish " Kultur '"
25 °
CHAPTER XXVI
AN UNCANNY ADVENTURE,
Expioring the Unknown--A Silence That Couid be Felt--In the
Village of Villcrs-Carboncl--A Car and lts Kittcns in an Odd
Retrcat--Brooks' Penchant for " Souvenirs "The First Troops
to Cross the Somme 259
CHAPTER XXVII
THE GERMANS IN RETREAT
The Enemy Destroy Everything as They Go--Clcaring Away the
Débris of the Battlcfield--And Repairing the Damage Done by
the Huns--An Eormous lVIine CraterA 1Reception by Frcnch
Peasants" Les Anglais ! Les Anglais "---Stuck on the 1Road
fo Bovincourt 266
CHAPTER XX¥III
THE STORY OF AN "ARMOURED CAR ABOUT WHICH
I COULD A TALE UNFOLD
Possibilities--Food for Famished Viilagers---Meeting the Mayoress
of Bovincourt--Who Presides at a Wonderiul Impromptu
Ceremony--A Scrap Outside VraignesA Church Full of
Refugees--A True Pal--A Mcal with the Mayor of Bierne
CHAPTER XXIX
BEFORE ST. QUENTIN
The "Hindenburg" Line--A Diabolical Piece of Yandalism--
Brigadier H.Q. in a Cellar--A Fight in Mid-air--Xaiting for
the Taking of St. Quentin--L'Envoi
292
ILLUSTRATIONS
FILMING THE PRELIMINAR$ r BOMBARDMENT OF THE "BIG PUSH,"
JULY IST, I916 Fro,tispiers
TO FACE PAGK
"VITH A GROUF OF BELGIAN OFFICERS AT FURNES, BELGIUM, I914
ON SKIS IN THE VOSGES /OUNTAINS JUST BEFORE THE FRENCH
ATTACK, FEBRUARY AND ARCH, IQI 5 12
USING bIY AEROSCOPE IN BELGIUM. I914-15 22
How I CARRIED MY FILM IN THE EARLY ]-)AYS OF IHE WAR IN
BELGIUM AND THE VOSGES 3IouNTAINS 4 °
THE STATE OF THE TRENCHES IN WIIICH WE LIVED AND SLEPT(
FOR WEEKS ON END DURING THE EIRST AND SECOND WINTER
OF WAR 52
OUR DUG-OUTS IN THE FRONT LINE AT PICANTIN 1N WHICH
LIVED, FOUGHT, AND MANY" DIED DURING I914--I 5, BEFORE
THE DAYS OF TIN HATS
CHOOSING A POSITION FOR MY" CAMERA IN THE FRONT LINE TRENCH
AT PICANTIN. WITH THE GUARDS. WINTER, i915-i6 .
THIg PRINCE OF WALES TRYING TO LOCATE ,IY " CAMOUFLAGED
CAMERA '»
THE PRINCE OF WALES LEAVING A TEMPORARY CHURCH AT LA
GORGUE, XMAS DAY, I915 .
ON THE WAI r TO THE " ][ENIN DATE " WITH AN ARTILLERI r OFFICER
TO FILM OUR GUNS IN ACTION
TAKING SCENES IN DEVASTATED YPRES, IIAY, I916
IN YPRES, WITH " BABY " BROOKS, THE OFFICIAL STILL PHOTO-
GRAPHER, MAY, 1916 .
WITH MY AEROSCOVE CAMERA AFTER FILMING THE BATTLE OF
ST. ELOI
IN THE VAIN STREET OF CONTALMAISON THE DAY OF ITS CAPTURE
LAUNCHING A SMOKE BARRAGE AT THE ]ATTLE OF ST. ELOI
IN THE TRENCHES AT THE FAMOUS AND DEADLY «'HoHENZoLLERN
REDOUBT," AFTER A GERMAN ATTACK
IN A SHELL-HOLE IN " No 1VAN'S LAND '» FILMING OUR HEAVY
BOMBARDMENT OF THE GERMAN LINES
GEOFFREY" E. i'V[ALINS, O.B.E., OFFICIAL KINEMATOGRAPHER TO THE
WAR OFFICE
BOMBARDING THE GERMAN TRENCHES AT THE OPENING BATTLE
OF THE GREAT SOMME FIGHT, JUL¥ IST, 1916
MY" OFFICIAL PASS TO THE FRONT LINE TO FILM THE BATTLE OF
THE SOMME, JULY IST, 1916
THE PLAN OF ATTACK AT BEAUMONT HAMEL. JULY IST, 1916
xi
52
56
62
62
76
80
84
9o
96
96
lO9
122
132
138
138
146
xii
HOW I FILMED THE WAR
OVER THE TOP OF BEAUMONT HAMEL. ULY IST, I916
IN THE SUNKEN ROAD AT BEAUMONT HAMEL, ]UST BEFORE ZERO
HOUR, JuLY IST, I96
I A TRENCH MORTAR TUNNEL, DURING THE BATTLE OF THE SOMME.
AT BEAUMONT HAMEL, JuL IST, I916
THE OPENING OF THE GREAT BATTLE OF THE SOMME, JULY IST,
96
THE OLL CALL OF THE SEAFORTHS AT " WHITE CITY," BEAU-
MONT HAMEL, JULY IST» I916
FAGGED OUT IN THE " VHITE CITV " AFTER WE RETIRED TO OUR
TRENCHES, JULY IST, I916
OVIERS, Jç 3Rb D 4, 96
«« HOHENZOLLR EDOUBT "
ACCOMPANIED BY PRESIDET POINCARÉ, SIR DOUGLAS HAIG,
GE JovvR D GEER Foc
HIS ]AJESTY THE KING, WIT PRESIDET POICAR, IN FRANCE,
96
HER [AJESTY, THE UEEN OF THE BELGIAS, TAKING A SAP OF
ME AT WORK WHILE FILMING THE ING
THE PRINCE OF VALES SPEAKIG WITH BELGIA OFFICERS AT LA
PANNE, BELGIUM
THE FIRST " TANK "' THAT WENT INTO ACTION, .[.L.S. " DAPHNE."
SVTMR 5TH, X96
THE BATTEmV O " GXCH
ESERVES WATCHING THE ATTACK AT [ARTINPUICH, SEPTEMBER
X5TH,
OVER THE TOP AT MARTINPUICH, SEPT. I5TH, I916
TWO MINUTES TO ZERO HOUR AT MARTINPUICH, SEPT. I 5TH, I916
THE HIGHLAND BRIGADE GOING OVER THE ToP AT MARTINPUICH,
SETEMER XSTH,
LORD KITCHENER'S LAST VISIT TO FRANCE
FILMING OUR GUNS IN ACTION DURING THE GREAT GERMAN
TO ST. UENTIN, MARCH, I9I 7 .
THE QUARRY ROM WmCH I CRAWLEV TO FILM THE GERMAN
TRECHES X FRONT OF ST. QUENTIN,
OU OUTPOST LINE WITHIN 800 YARDS OF ST.
I46
I54
54
I62
I68
i68
I76
I76
I84
2o6
28
218
222
224
224
228
228
234
256
268
29o
3OZ
PART I
HOW I FILMED THE WAR
CHAPTER I
A FEW WORDS OF INTRODUCTION
-, ATE has hot been unkind to me. I have had
my chances, particularly during the last
1 two or three years, and--well, I have done
my best to make the most of what has corne my way.
That and nothing more.
How I came fo be entrusted with the important
commission of acting as Official War Office Kine-
matographer is an interesting story, and the first
few chapters of this book recount the sequence of
events that led up to my being given the appoint-
ment.
Let me begin by saying that I ara not a writer,
I ara just a " movie man," as they called me out
there. My mind is stored full to overflowing with
the impressions of all I have seen and heard ; recol-
lections of adventures crowd upon me thick and fast.
Thoughts flash through my mind, and almost tumble
over one another as I strive to record them. Yet at
times, when I take pen in hand to write them down,
they seem to elude me for the moment, and make
the task more difficult than I had anticipated.
In the following chapters I have merely aimed at
.setting .down, in simple language, a record of my
lmpresslons, so far as I can recall them, of what I
have seen of many and varied phases of the Great
4 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
Drama which has now been played to a finish on the
other side of the English Channel. Most of those
recollections were penned at odd moments, soon
after the events chronicled, when they were still
fresh in mind, often within range of the guns.
It was my good fortune for two years fo be one
of the ONcial War Office Kinematographers. I vas
privileged fo move about on the Western Front with
considerable freedom. My actions were largc.ly un-
trammelled; I had my instructions to carry out;
my superiors to satisfy; my work to do; and I
endeavourcd to do all that has been required of me
fo the best of my ability, never thinking of the cost,
or consequences, to myself of an adventure so long
as I secured a pictorial record of the deeds of out
heroic Army in France. I have striven to make my
pictures worthy of being preserved as a permanent
memorial of the greatest Drama in history.
That is the keynote of this record. As an Official
Kinematographer I have striven to be, and I have
tried all the rime to realise that I was the eyes of
the millions of my fellow-countrymen at home. In
my pictures I have endeavoured to catch something
of the glamour, as well as the awful horror of it all.
I have caught a picture here, a picture there; a
scene in this place, a scene in that ; and all the rime
at the back of my mind has always been the thought :
" That will give them some idea of things as they
are out here." My pictures have never been taken
with the idea of merely making pictures, nor with
the sole idea, as some people think, of merely prox-id-
ing a " thrill." I regarded my task in a different
light fo that. To me has been entrusted the task of
secufing for the enlightenment and education of the
people of to-day, and of future generations, such a
picture as will stir their imaginations and thrill
their hearts with pride.
This by way of introduction. Now to proceed
INTRODUCTION 5
with my task, the telling of the adventures of a
kinematograph camera man in war-time.
From my early days I was always interested in
photography, and boyish experiments eventually
led me along the path to my life's vocation. In rime
I took up the study of kinematography, and j oined
the staff of the Clarendon Film .Company (of London
and Croydon), one of the ploneer firms in the
industry. There I learned much and ruade such
.progress that in rime I was entrusted with the film-
lng of great productions, which cost thousands of
pounds to make. From there I went to the Gaumont
Company, and I vas in the service of this great
Anglo-French film organisation when war broke
out.
During the early days of the autumn of 1914. I
was busily occupied in fi.lming various scenes in
connection with the war in different parts of the
country. One day when I was at the London office
of the Company I was sent for by the Chief.
" We want a man to go out to Belgium and get
some good ' stuff.' [Stuff, let me say, is the technical
or slang terre for film pictures.] How would you
like to go ? "
" Go ? " I asked. " I'm ready. When ? Now ? "
" As soon as you like."
" Right, I'm ready," I said, without a moment's
hesitation, little thinking of the nature of the
adventure upon which I was so eager to embark.
And so it came about. Provided with the neces-
sary cash, and an Aeroscope camera, I started off
next day, and the following chapters record a few of
my adventures in search of pictorial material for the
screen.
CHAPTER II
XVITH THE BELGIANS AT RAMSCAPELLE
1 Rt.ach the First Line Belgian Trenches--And becomc a I3elgian
Soldier for the Time 13eing--A Night Attack--An Adventure
whilst Filming a Mitrailleuse Outpost--Among thc luins of
Rarnscapclle--I Lcave thc Company and Lose my Way in the
Darkncss--A 'clcome Light and a Long Slcep--Hcw Little
docs the Public know of thc Dangt.rs and DifficulLies a Film
Operator has te Face.
EAVING London, I crossed te France. I
arranged, as far as possible, te get through
from Calais te Furnes, and with the greatest
of good luck I Inanaged it, arriving at Iny destination
at eleven o'clock at night. As usual, it was raining
hard.
Starting out next day for the front line, I reached
the district whcre a battalion was resting--I was
allowed in their quarters. Addressing one of the inen,
I asked if he could speak English. " Non, monsieur,"
and making a sign te Ine te remain he hurried off.
Back came the fellow with an oflïcer.
" What de you want, monsieur ? " said he in fine
English.
" You speak English well," I replied.
" Yes, monsieur, I was in England for four years
previous te the war." Se I explained my position.
" I want te accolnpany you te the trenches te take
solne kinelna fillns."
After exchanging a few words he took me te his
superior officer, who extended every courtesy te me.
I explained te hiln what I was desirous of doing.
" But it is extraordinary, monsieur, that you should
6
AT RAMSCAPELLE 7
take such risks for pictures. You may in ail prob-
ability get shot."
" Possibly, sir," I replied, " but fo obtain genuine
scenes one must be absolutely in the front line."
" Ah, you English," he said, " you are extra-
ordlnaCre." Suddenly taking me by the arm, he led
me to an outhouse. At the door we met his Captain.
Introducing me, he began fo explain my wishes.
By the looks and the smiles, I knew things were going
well for me.
Calling the interpreter, the Captain said, " If you
accompany my men to the trenches you may get
killed. You must take ail risks. I cannot be held
responsible, remember!" And with a smile, he
turned and entered the house.
Hardly realising my good fortune, I nearly
hugged my new friend, the Lieutenant.
" Monsieur," I said, saluting, "I ara un Belge
soldat pro rem."
Laughingly he told me to get my kit ready, and
from a soldier who could speak English I borrowed
a water-bottle and two blankets. Going round to
the back of the farm, I came upon the test of the
men being served out with coffee from a copper.
Awaiting my tutu, I had my water-bottle filled;
then the bread rations were served out with tinned
herrings. Obtaining my allowance, I stowed it
away in my knapsack, rolled up my blanket and
fixed it on my back, and was ready. Then the
" Fall in " was sounded. What a happy-go-lucky
lot! No one would have thought these men were
going into battle, and that many of them would
probably hot return. This, unfortunately, turned
out to be only too true.
In my interest in the scene and anxiety to film it,
I was forgetting to put my own house in order.
"What if I don't corne back ? " I suddenly thought.
Begging some paper, I wrote a letter, addressed to
8 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
my firm, telling them whcre I had gone, and where
to call at Fumes for my films in the event of my
being shot. Addressîng it, I left it in charge of an
officer, to be posted if I did not return, and requested
that if anything happened to me my stuff should
be left at my café in Fumes. Shaking me by
the hand, he said he sincerely hoped it would not be
necessary. Laughingly I bade him adieu. Falling
in with the other men we started off, with the cheers
and good wishes of those left behind ringing in our
ears.
It was still raining, and, as we crossed the fields of
mud, I began to feel the weight of my equipment
pressing on my shoulders, which with my camera
and spare films made my progress very slow. Many
a rime during that march the men offered fo help
me, but, knowi.ng that they had quite enough
to do in carrylng their ovn load, I stubbornly
refused.
On we went, the roar of the guns getting nearer :
over field after field, fully eighteen inches deep in
mud, and keeping as close to hedges as possible,
fo escape detection from hostile aeroplanes. Near a
bridge we were stopped by an oftîcer.
" What's the marrer ? " I asked of my interpreter.
Not knowing, he went fo enquire.
An order was shouted. The whole regiment
rushed for cover fo a hedge which ran by the road-
side. I naturally followed. My friend told me that
the Germans had sent up an observation balloon,
so we dare not advance until nightfall, or they would
be sure to sec us and begin shelling our column
before we arrived at the trenches. In the rain we
sat huddled close together. Notwithstanding the
uncomfortable conditions, I was very thmkful for
the rest. Night came, and we got the word fo start
again. Progress was becoming more diftîcult than
ever, and I only kept myself from many a rime
AT RAMSCAPELLE
9
nearest
falling headlong by clinging on to my
companion ; he did likevise.
Ye gods ! vhat a night, and vhat a sight ! Rain-
ing hard, a strong wind blowing, and the thick,
black, inky darkness every now and then illumin-
ated by the flash of the guns. Death vas certainly
in evidence to-night. One fclt it. The creative
genius of the weirdest, imaginative artist could hot
have painted a scene of death so truthfully. The
odour arising from dccaying bodies in the ground
was at times almost overw.helming.
We had been converslng generally during the
march, but nov vord was passed that we vere not
fo speak under any circumstances, hot until we were
in the trenches. A whispered order came that evcry
man must hold on to the comrade in front of him,
and bear to the leff. Reaching the trench allotted
to us, we vent along it in single file, up to our knees
in water. Sometimes a plank had been thrown
along it, or bricks, but generally there was nothing
but mud to plough through.
" Halt ! " came the command fo the section I was
with. " This is our shelter, monsieur," said a
voice.
Gropingly, I followed the speaker on hands and
knees. The shelter vas about xo_ feet long, 3 feet
6 inches high, the saine in width, and ruade of old
boards. On the top, outside, was about 9 inches of
earth, to render it as far as possible shrapnel-proof.
On the floor were some boards, placed on bricks and
covered with soddened straw. There was j ust
enough room for four of us.
Rolling ourselves in our blankets we lay down,
and by the light of an electric torch we ravenously
ate our bread and herrings. I enjoyed that simple
meal as rnuch as the finest dinner I have ever had
placed before me. Whilst eating, a messenger came
and warned us to be prepared for an attack. Heavy
o HOW I FILMED THE WAR
rifle-fire was taking place, both on the right and left
of out position.
" Well," thought I, " this is a good start ; they
might have waited for daylight, I could then film
their proceedings." At any rate, if the attack came,
I hoped it would last through the next day.
Switching off the light, we lay down and awaited
events. But not for long. The order came to man
the trench. Out xve tumbled, and took up out
positions. Suddenly out of the blackness, in the
direction of the German positions, came the rattle of
rifle-fire, and the bullcts began to 'histle overhead.
Keeping as low as possible, we replied, firing in
quick succcssion at the flashes of the enemy rifles.
This continued th.roughout the night.
Towards mormng, a fog settled down, which
blocked out out vlev of each other, and there
vas a lull in the fighting. At midday the attack
started again. Taking my apparatus, I filmed a
section of Belgians in action. Several rimes bullets
vhistled unpleasantly near my head. Passing along
the trench, I filmed a mitrailleuse battery in action,
which was literally moxving down the Germans as
fast as they appeared. Then I filmed another
section of men, while the bullets were flying all
around them. Several could not resist looking round
and laughing at the camera.
Whilst thus engaged, several shells fell within
thirty feet of me. Tvo failed to explode; another
exploded and sent a lump of mud full in my face.
With great spluttering, and I must adroit a little
svearig, I quickly cleaned it off. Then I filmed
a large shell-hole filled with vater, caused by the
explosion of a German " Jack Johnson."
The diameter was 28 feet across, and, roughly,
6 feet deep in the centre. At the other end of the
line I filmed a company damming the Canal, to turn
it into the German trenches.
AT RAMSCAPELLE II
Then I cautiously made my way back, and filmed
a section being served with hot coffee while under
tire. Coming upon some men warming themselves
round a bucket-stove, I joined the circle for a little
warmth. How comforting it was in that veritable
morass. Even as we chatted we were subj ected to
a heavy shrapnel attack, and the way we all scuttled
to the trench huts was a sight for the gods. It was
one mad scramble of laughing soldiers. Plunk--
plunk--plunk--came the shells, not 20-25 feet from
where we were siNing by the tire. Six shells fell in
out position, one failed to explode. I had a bet with
a Belgian officer that it was 30 feet from us. He bet
me it was 40 feet. Not to be done, I roughly
measured off a yard stick, and lc[t the shclter of the
trench to measure the distance. It turned out to be
28 feet. Just as I had finished, I heard three more
shells corne shrieking towards me. I simply dived
for the trench, and luckily reached it just in time.
Towards evening out artillery shelled a farm-house
about three-quarters of a mile distant, where the
Germans had three guns hidden, and through the
glasses I watched the shells drop into the building
and literally blow it to pieces. Unfortunately, it
was too far off to film it satisfactorily.
That night was practically a repetition of the
previous one. The trench was attacked the greater
part of the time, and bullets continually spattered
against the small iron plate.
Next morning I decided to try and film the
mitrailleuse outpost on a little spot of land in the
ttoods, only connected by a narrow strip of grass-land
just high enough to be out of reach of the water.
Still keeping low under cover of the trenches, I
ruade my way in that direction. Several officers
tried to persuadê me not to go, but knowing it
would make an excellent scene, I decided to risk it.
On the side of the bank nearest out front line the
12 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
ground sloped at a more abrupt angle, the distance
from the trench to the outpost being about sixty
yards. Rushing over the top of the parapet, I got
to the edge of the grass road and crouched down.
The water up to my knees, I made my way carefully
along. Twice I stumbled over dead bodies. At last
I reached the outpost safely, but during the last few
yards I must bave raised myself a little too high,
for the next minute several bullets splashed into the
water where I had been.
The outpost was very surprised when I ruade my
appearance, and expressed astonishment that I had
not been shot. "A miss is as good as a mlle," I
laughingly replied, and then I told them I had corne
to film them at v:ork. This I proceeded to do, and
got an excellent scene of the mitrailleuse in action,
and the other section loading up. The frightful
slaughter done by these guns is indescribable.
Nothing can possibly lire under the concentrated
tire of these weapons, as the Germans found to their
cost that day.
Af ter getting my scenes, I thanked the officer,
and was about to make my way back ; but he for-
bade me fo risk it, telling me to wait until night
and return under cover of the darkness. To this I
agreed, and that night left the outpost with the others
when the relief party came up.
Shortly after news was received that we were to
be relieved from duty in the trenches for the next
forty-eight hours ; the relief column was on frs way
to take our places. I was delighted, for I had been
wet through during the days and nights I had been
there, but was fully satisfied that I had got some
real lire films. Hastily packing up my equipment,
I stood waiting the signal to more off. At last the
relief came up. Holding. each other's hands, we
carefully made our way m Indian file along the
trench, on to the road, and into Ramscapelle.
.1
Il
WITH A I;RIIP OF BELGIAN OFI-'ICERS A'F FURNES, BEI.GIt'M 1914.
#3NE «I-" "IIIEM ['SEl» TO A"I" AS MY COURIER
ON SKIES IN THE V«):q«;ES .MOUNTAINS Jl_l.qT BEFORE TIIE FRENCH ATTACK,
17EBRUAR'$" AND _MARCII, 1915
AT RAMSCAPELLE 13
What a terrible sight i was! The skeletons of
houses stood grim and gaunt, and the sound of the
wind rushing through the ruins was like the moaning
of the spirits of the dead inhabitants crying aloud
for vengeance. The sounds increased in volume as
we neared this scene of awful desolation, and the
groans became a crescendo of shrieks which, com-
bined with the crash of shell-fire, made one's blood
run cold.
Leaving the ruins behind we gained the main road,
and on a.rriving at the bridge where we had stopped
on our j ourney out, I parted with the company,
thinking to make my way to a café by a short cut
over some fields. I wished to heaven afterwards
that I had not done so. I cut across a ditch, feeling
my way as much as possible with a stick. But I had
not gone far before I knew I had lost my way. The
tain was driving pitilessly in my face, but I stumbled
on in the inky darkness, often above my knees in
thick clay mud. Several times I thought I should
never reach the road. It was far worse than being
under tire.
I must have staggered along for about two miles
when I perceived a light ahead. Never was sight
more welcome. Remember, I had about fifty to
sixty pounds weight on my back, and having had
little or no sleep for rive nights my physical strogth
was at a low ebb. It seemed hours before I reached
that house, and when at last I got there I collapsed
on the floor.
I struggled up again in a few minutes, and asked
the bewildered occupants to give me hot coffee,
and after resting for an hour, I marie again for Furnes
reaching it in the early hours of the morning.
Going to my café, I went to bed, and slept for
eighteen hours ; the following day I packed up and
returned to London.
A day or two afterwards I was sitting comfortably
14
HOW I FILMED THE WAR
in a cushioned chair in the private theatre at our
London office watching these selfsame scenes being
projected upon the screen. Ah! thought I, how
little does the great public, for whom they are
tended, know of the difficulties and dangers, the
trials and tribulations, the kinematograph camera
man expcrienccs in order to obtain these pictures.
CHAPTER III
WITH THE GOUMIERS AT LOMBARTZYDE
A Morning of Surprises--The German Positions ]3ombarded Irom
the Sea--Filming the Goumiers in Action--I-Iov these Tenacious
Fighters Prepare for ]3attle--Goumier Habits and Customs--I
Take the Chief's Photograph for the First Time--And AIter-
vards take Food with Him--An Intercsting and Fruittul Adven-
ture Ends SatisIactorily.
NCE more I went to Furnes, and while
sipping my coffee at the café I heard a
remark made about the Goumiers (the
Arab horsemen employed by the French as scouts).
Quickly realising the possibilities in a film of such a
body of men, I ruade enquiries of the speakers as to
their whereabouts.
" Ah, monsieur, they are on the sand-dunes near
Nieuport. They are veritable fiends, monsieur,
with the Bosches, who run away from them like cats.
They are terrible fighters."
After such a gloving account, I thought the sooner
I interviewed these fighters the better.
Starting out next morning, I ruade a bee-line for
the coast.
I soon began to hear the sharp crackle of rire-tire,
and artillery on my right opened tire on the German
position, and then the heavy boom, boom of the
guns from the sea. Looking in that direction, I
discerned several of our battleships opening tire,
the shells giving a fearful shriek as they passed
overhead. The Germans were certainly in for it that
day.
Keeping along the bottom of the dunes, I observed
16 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
a Goumier encampment in the distance. At that
moment there came a rasping voice on my. right.
"Halt!" This certainly was a mornmg of
surprises.
" Ah," I said, wffh a laugh, " you startled me."
"I am sorry, monsieur," he said. " The pass-
word, if you please ? "
" It is not necessary," I replied. "I wish to
speak to your officer. I will go by myself to the
officer in charge, it is not necessary for you to leave
your post. Direct me to Headquarters, and tell me
your captain's naine."
" Captain , monsieur. He is billeted in that
bouse which is half destroyed by shell-fire. Be
careful, monsieur, and keep low, or you will draw
the tire on you." He saluted, and turned back to
his post.
Making straight for the ruined house in question,
I observed a sentry on guard at the door. This, I
perceived, led to a cellar. I asked to sec the Captain.
The man saluted and entered the house, appearing
in a few minutes with his ctfief. I saluted, and bade
him " good morning," extending my hand, which
he grasped in a hearty handshake. I straightway
explained my business, and asked him for his co-
operation in securing some interesting films of the
Goumiers in action.
He replied that he would be glad to assist me as
far as possible.
" You will greatly hclp me, sir," I said, " if you
can roughly give me their location."
" That I cannot do," he replied, " but follow my
directions, and take your chance. I will, however,
accompany you a short distance."
We started out, keeping as much to the seashore
as possible.
" Keep low,'" the Captain said, " the place is
thick with Bosche snipers." I certainly needed no
THE GOUMIERS AT LOMBARTZYDE 17
second warning, for I had experienced those gentry
before. " Out Goumiers are doing splendid work
here on the dunes. Itis, of course, like home to
them among the sand-heaps."
Out conversation was suddenly cut short by the
shriek of a shell coming in out direction. Simul-
taneously we fell fiat on the sand, and only iust in
rime, for on the other side of the dune the shell fell
and exploded, shaking the ground like a miniature
earthquake and throwing clouds of sand in our
direction.
" They have started on our encampment again,"
the Captain said, "but our huts are quite impervious
to their shells ; the sand is finer than armourplate."
Several more shells came hurtling overheard, but
fell some distance belfind us. Looking over the top
of the dune, I expected to see an enormous hole,
caused by the explosion, but judge my surprise on
seeing hardly any difference. The sides of the
cavity had apparently fallen in again. A short
distance further on the Captain said he would leave
me.
" You can start now," and he pointed in the
distance to a moving object in the sand, crawling
along on its stomach for all the world like a shake.
" I will go," he said, " and if you see the Chief of the
Goumiers, tell him I sent you." With a handshake
we parte& I again turned to look at the Goumier
scout, his movements fascinated me. Keeping low
under the top of the dune, I made for a small hill,
from which I decided to film him. Reaching there,
I did so.
I then saw, going in opposite directions, two more
scouts, each proceeding to crawl slowly in the same
fashion as the first.
" This film certainly will be unique," I thought.
Who could imagine that within half an hour's ride
of this whirling sand, xàth full-blooded Arabs mov-
c
18 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
ing about upon it, the soldiers of Belgium are fighting
in two feet of mud and water, and bave been doing
so for months past. No one would think so to look
at it.
A rattle of musketry on my right served as a hint
that there were other scenes to be secured. Making
my way in the direction of the sound, I came upon
a body of Goumiers engaged in sniping at the
Germans. I filmed them, and was just moving
away when the interpreter of the company stop.ped
and questioned me. I told him of my prevlous
conversation vith the Cptain, vhich satisfied him.
" Well," he said, " you are just in time to catch
a troop going off on a scouting expedition," and he
led the way to a large dune looking down on the sea,
and there just moving off was the troop.
What a magnificent picture they marie, sitting on
their horses. They seemcd to be part of them.
Veritable black statues they looked, and their
movements were like a finely tensioned spring.
Hastily filming the troop, I hurried across and
succeeded in obtaining some scenes of another
detachment proceeding further on the flank, and as
they wound in and out up the sand-hills, I managed
to get into a splendid point of vantage, and filmed
them coming towards me. Their wild savage
huzzas, as they passed, were thrilling in the extreme.
Looking round, I perceived a curious-looking group
a short distance away, going through what appeared
to be some devotional ceremony.
Hastening down the hill, I crossed to the group,
which turned out to be under the command of the
Chief of the Goumiers himself, who was going
through a short ceremony with some scouts, previous
to their meeting the Germans. It was quite im-
pressive. Forming the four men up in line, the
Chier gave each of them instructions, waving signs
and symbols over their heads and bodies, then with
THE GOUMIERS AT LOMBARTZYDE 19
a chant sent them on their j ourney. The actual
obeisance was too sacred in itself fo film. I was told
by the interpreter afterwards that he was glad I did
hot do so, as they would have been very wrath ?
A few words about the customs of the Goumiers
may hot be out of place. These men are the aris-
tocracy of the Algerian Arabs ; men of independent
means in their own land. At the outbreak of war
they patriotically combined under their chief, and
offered themselves to the French Government,
which gladly accepted their services for work on the
sand-dunes of Flanders. The troop bore the whole
cost of their outfit and transport. They brought
their own native transport system with them. The
men obey none but their chief, at whose bidding
they would, I believe, even go through Hell itself.
All arguments, quarrels, and discussions in the troop
are brought before the Chief, whose word and judg-
ment is law.
On the dunes of Northern Flanders they had their
own encampment, conducted in their own native
style. They looked after their horses with as much
care as a fond mother does her child. The harness
and trappings were magnificently decorated with
beautiful designs in mother-of-pearl and gold, and
the men, when astride their horses and garbed in
their long flowing white burnouses, looked the very
personification of dignity. The Chief never handles
a rifle, it would be beneath his position to do so.
He is the Head, and lires up toit in every respect
possible.
I filmed him by the side of his horse. It was the
first time he had been photographed.
Retuming to the point where the scouts were
leaving, I decided to follow close behind them, on
the chance of getting some good scenes. Strapping
my camera on my back, and pushing a tuft of grass
under the strap, fo disguise it as much as possible
20 H0W I FILMED THE WAR
if viewed from the front, I crawled after them. One
may think that crawling on the sand is easy; well,
all I can say to those who think so is, " Try it." I
soon round it was not so easy as it looked, especially
under conditions where the raising of one's body
two or three inches above the top of the dune might
be possibly asking for a bullct through it, and draw-
ing a concentrated tire in one's direction.
I had crawled in this fashion for about 15o yards,
when I heard a shell corne shrieking in my direction.
With a plunk it fell, and exploded about forty feet
away, choking me with sand and hall blinding me for
about rive minutes. The acrid fumes, too, which
came from it, seemed to tighten my throat, making
respiration very difficult for some ten minutes after-
wards. Cautiously looking round, I tried to locate
the othcr scouts, but nowhere could they be seen. I
crawled for another thirty yards or so, but still no sign
of them. Deciding that if I continued by myself I
had everything to lose and nothing to gain, I con-
cluded that discretion was the better part of valour.
Possibly the buzzing sensation in my throat, and the
smarting of my eyes, helped me in coming to that
decision, so I retraced my steps, or rather crawl.
.Getting back to the encampment, I bathed my eyes
n water, which quickly soothed them.
In a short rime news came in that the scouts were
returning. Hurrying to the spot indicated, I was
just in rime to film them on their arrival. The
exultant look on their faces told me that they had
done good work.
I then filmed a general view of the encampment,
and several other interesting scenes, and was just
on the point of departing when the Chier asked me
to partake of some food with him. Being very
hungry, I accepted the invitation, and afterwards,
over a cup of coffee and cigarettes, I obtained through
an interpreter some very interesting information.
THE GOIJMIERS AT LOMBARTZYDE 21
The night being now well advanced, I bade the
Chief adieu, and striking out across the dunes I
made for Fumes. The effect of the star-shells sent
up by the Germans was very wonderful. They shed
a vivid blue light all round, throwing everything up
with startling clearness.
After about a mlle I was suddenly brought up by
the glitter of a sentry's bayonet. " Password,
monsieur." Flashing a lamp in my face, the man
evidently recognised me, for he had seen me with
his officer that day, and the next moment he
apologised for stopping me. " Pardon, monsieur,"
he said. " Pass, Monsieur Anglais, pardon ! "
Accepting his apologies, I moved off in the
direction of Fumes, where, after reviewing the
events of the previous days, I came fo the conclusion
that I had every reason fo be hankful that I had
once more returned from an interesting and fruitful
adventure with a whole skin.
CHAPTER IV
THE BATTLE OF THE SAND-DUNES
A I)angcrous Adventurc and hat Came of It--A Race Across
the Sand-dunes--And a Spill in a Shell-Hole--Thc Fate of a
Spy--A I3attle in the Dunes--Of which I Secured Some Fine
Films--A Collision with an Obstructive Mule.
l ARRIVED at Oost-Dunkerque, which place I
decided to use as a base for this journey,
chiefly because it was on the main route to
Nieuport Bain. Having on my previous visit
proceeded on foot, and returned successfully, I
decided that I should go by car. To get what I
required meant that I should have to pass right
through the French lines.
Finding out a chauffeur who had previously
helped me, I explained my plans to him.
" Well, monsieur," he said, "I will try and help
you, but for me it is hot possible to get you through.
I ara stationed here indefinitely, but I have a friend
who drives an armoured car. I will ask him to do
it." We then parted ; I was to meet him with his
friend that night.
I packed my things as close as possible, tying two
extra spools of film in a package round my waist
under my coat, put on my knapsack, and drew my
Balaclava helmet well down over my chin.
Anxiously I awaited my friends. Seven o'clock--
eight o'clock--nine o'clock. " Were they unable to
corne for me ? " "Was there some hitch in the
arrangement ? " These thoughts flashed through my
mind, when suddenly I heard a voice call behind me.
" Monsieur, monsieur ! "
U";IN«; .MV AEROSCOPE CAMERA IN }:ELGIU.M 1914-15
IHE BATTLE OI r THE SAND-DUNES 23
Turning, I saw my chauffeur friend beckoning to
me. Hurrying forward, I asked if all was well.
" Oui, monsieur. I will meet you by the railway
cutting."
This was the beginning of an adventure which I
shall always remember. I had been up at the bridge
some two minutes, when the armoured car glided up.
" Up, monsieur," came a voice, and up I got.
Placing my camera by the side of the mitrailleuse,
I sat by my chauffeur, and we started off for the
French lines.
Dashing along roads covered with shell-holes,
I marvelled again and again at the man's wonderful
driving. Heaps of times we escaped a smash-up by a
hair's-breadth.
On we went over the dunes; the night was
continuously lighted up by flashes from the big guns,
both French and German. We were pulled up with
a jerk, which sent me flying over the left wheel,
doing a somersault, and finally landing head first
into a lovely soft sandbank. Spluttering and
staggering to my feet, I looked round for the cause
of my sudden exit from the car, and there in the
glare of the headlight were two French offlcers.
Both were laughing heartily and appreciating the
joke. As I had not hurt myself, I joined in. After
out hilarity had subsided they apologised, and
hoped I had not hurt myself. Seeing that I was an
an Englishman, they asked me where I was going.
I replied, " to Nieuport Bain." They asked me if
my chauffeur might take a message to the Captain
es "
of the -- Chasseurs. " Yes, y , I replied,
" with pleasure."
Thinking that by staying every second might be
dangerous, I asked the offlcers to give the message,
and we would proceed. They did so, and again
apologising for their abrupt appearance, they bade
us " good night."
24 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
I hurriedly bade the drivcr start off, and away we
went. He evidently had hot got over his nervous-
ness, for, airer going about three-quarters of a toile,
we tan into a large, partially filled shell-hole, burying
the Iront wheels above the axle. To save myself
Irom a second dive, I clutched hold ol the mitrail-
leuse.
This was a position indeed! Scooping away as
much sand as possible from the front wheels, we put
on Iull power, and tried to back the car out ol it.
But as the rear wheels were unable to grip in the sand
it would hot budge.
While there the Germans must bave seen our light,
for suddenly a star-shell shot up from their position,
illuminating the ground Ior a great distance. I
swiftly pinched the tube ol our headlight, so putting
it out, then dropped Iull length on the sand. I
observed my companion had done the same.
We lay there Ior about ten minutes, hot knowing
what to expect, but luckily nothing happened. It
was obvious that we could hot move the car without
assistance, so shouldering my apparatus we started
to walk the remaining distance. Twice we were held
up by sentries, but by giving the password we got
through. Enquiring for the headquarters of
Captain , we were directed to a ruined house
which had been destroyed by German shell-fire.
" Mon Capitaine is in the cellar, monsieur."
Thinking that it would be a better introduction
if I personally delivered the message to the Captain,
I asked my chauffeur to let me do so. Asking the
sentry at the door to take me to his Captain, we
passed down some dozen steps and into a comfort-
ably furnished cellar. Sitting round a little table
were seven officers. I asked for Captain
" He is hot here, monsieur," said one. " Is it
urgent ? "
" I do not know," I replie& I was trying to form
BATTLE OF THE SAND-DUNES 25
another reply in French, when an officer asked me
in English if he could be of any service. I told him
that an officer had given me a message to deliver on
my j ourney here, but owing to an accident to the
car I had had to walk. Taking the letter, he said he
would send a messenger to the Captain with it.
" You must be hungry, monsieur. Will you share
a snack with us ? " Gladly accepting their hospi-
tality, I sat down with them. " Are you from
London ? " he asked.
" Yes," I said. " Do you know it ? "
" Yes, yes," he replied. " I was for three years
there. But are you militaire ?" he enquired.
" Well, hardly that," I confess. "I ara here to
take kinema records of the war. I have corne in this
direction to film an action on the sand-dunes. Will
you help me ? "
" I will do what I can for you," he replied. " We
expect to make a sortie to-morrow morning. It will
be very risky for you."
" I will take my chance," I replied, " with you."
Whilst out conversation proceeded, I noticed a
scuffling on the cellar steps, then into the room
came four soldiers with a man in peasant's clothes.
He turned out to be a spy caught signalling in the
dunes. They brought him in to have a cup of coffee
before taking him out tobe shot. He was asked if
he would take sugar ; his reply was " No."
Presently there was a shot outside, and there was
one spy the less.
The Captain returned and, after explanations,
ruade me understand that he would accept no
responsibility for my safety. Those conditions I
did not mind a scrap. Rolling myself in a blanket,
I tumbled in. " What would the morrow bring
forth ? " I wondered.
I was up next morning at four o'clock. Every-
where there was a state of suppressed excitement.
z6
HOW I FILMED THE WAR
Outside the men were preparing, but there was not
the least sign of confusion anywhere. To look at
them one would hOt imagine these men were going
out to fight, knowing that some of them at least
would hot return again. But itis war, and sentiment
has no place in their thoughts.
The order came to line up. Hours before the
scouts had gone out to prepare the ground. They
had hot returned yet. Personally, I hoped they
would hOt turn up till the day was a little more
advanced. Eight o'clock; still not sufficient light
for filming. A lieutenant came to me, and said if
I would go carefully along the sand-dunes in the
direction he suggested, possibly it would be better ;
he would say no more. I did so; and I had only
gone about hall a kilometre when, chancing to turn
back, I spied coming over the dunes on my right
two scouts, running for all they were worth.
Quietly getting my camera into position, I started
exposing, being certain this was the opening of the
attack. I was not mistaken, for within a few minutes
the advance guard came hurrying up in the distance ;
the attack was about to begin. Suddenly the French
g-uns opened tire ; they were concealed some distance
in the rear. Shells then went at it thick and fast,
shrieking one after the other overhead.
The advance guard opened out, clambered up the
dunes, and disappeared over the top, I filming
them. I waited until the supporting column came
up, and filmed them also. I followed them up and
over the dunes. Dcploying along the top, they
spread out about six metres apart, with the object
of deceiving the Germans as to their numbers, until
the supporting column reached them. The battle
of musketry then rang out. Cautiously advancing
with a company, I filmed them take the offensive
and make for a large dune forty yards ahead.
Successfully reaching it they lay down and fired in
BATTLE OF THE SAND-DUNES 27
rapid succession. Crawling up, I managed to take a
fine scene of the attack, showing the explosion of two
French shells over the ruins of the town. The
Germans evidently found our range, for several
shells came whistling unpleasantly near me.
What followed was a succession of scenes, show-
ing the covering columns advancing and others
moving round on the flank. The Germans lost
very heavily in this engagement, and great progress
was ruade by the gallant French. While filming a
section of the flanking party, I had the nearest
acquaintance with a shell that I shall ever wish for.
I don't think it would have been the good fortune of
many to have such an experience and corne scathless
out of ff.
I was kneeling filming the scene, when I heard a
shell hurtling in my direction. Knowing that if I
moved I might as likely run into it as not, I remained
where I was, still operating my camera, when an
explosion occurred just behind me, which sounded
as if the earth itself had cracked. The concussion
threw me with terrific force head over heels into the
sand. The explosion seemed to cause a vacuum in
the air for some distance around, for try as I would
I could not get my breath. I lay gasping and
struggling like a drowning man for what seemed an
interminable length of rime, although it could bave
only been a few seconds.
Af last I pulled round; my first thought was for
my camera. I saw ita short distance away, half
buried in the sand. Picking it up, I was greatly
relieved to find it uninjured, but choked with sand
round the lens, which I quickly cleared. The im-
pression on my body, caused by the concussion of
the exploding shell, seemed as if the whole of one
side of me had been struck with something soft,
yet with such terrible force that I felt it all over af
the same moment. That is the best way I can
28 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
describe ff, and I assure you I don't wish for a
second interview. Æoticin gE some blood upon my
hand, I found a small wound on the knuckle.
Whether or no it was caused by a small splinter from
the shell, I cannot say; in all probability if was,
for I do hot think striking the soft sand would have
caused it.
Turning back, I ruade for the sea road, and filmed
the reserves coming up to strengthen the positions
already won. Hurrying across in the direction of
another column, I filmed them steadily advancing,
while their comrades kept the Germans employed
from the top of a large dune. The main body then
came up and lined the top for a considerable distance,
and at the word of command the whole body arose
as one man. For the fraction of a second they were
strikingly silhouetted against the sky-line; then
with a cheer they charged down the other side.
Darkness was now closing in, making it impossible
for me to film any further developments, so I pro-
ceeded back to the cellar with an officer and some
men. After resting awhile, I decided to go back to
Fumes that night with my films and get home with
them as quickly, as possible. Meeting a small
transport car gomg in the desired direction after
some stores, I begged a ride, and getting up beside
the driver, we started off. Owing to the enormous
shell-holes if was impossible to proceed along the
road without a light.
What a magnificent sight it was. Magnesium
star-shells were continually being sent up by the
Germans. They hung in the air alight for about
thirty seconds, illuminating the ground like day.
When they disappeared the guns flashed out ; then
the French replied; aftei that more star-shells;
then the guns spoke again, and soit continued. We
were suddenly stopped by an officer warning us
to put out out lamp immediately, and proceed
BATTLE OF THE SAND-DUNES 2 9
cautiously for about three hundred yards. While
doing so a shell came screaming by. We knew then
that the Germans had seen out light. We immedi-
ately rushed to a shell-proof shelter in the sand. I
had barely reached it when a shell exploded close by
the car, half destroying the body of it. That was
the only one that came anywhere near. Running
to see what damage was done, I was pleased to see,
by the aid of a covered light, that the chassis was
practically uninjured. So starting up we once more
proceeded on our j ourney.
We had several narrow squeaks in negotiating
corners and miniature sand-banks, and once we
bumped into a mule that had strayed on to the road
--but whether it will do so again I don't know, for
after the bump it disappeared in a whirl of sand,
making a noise like a myriad of fiends let loose.
But the remainder of the journey was uneventful,
and after a long night's test I left for Calais.
CHAPTER V
UNDER HEAVV SHELL-FIRE
In a Trench Coat and Cap I again Run the GauntletmA Near
Squeak--Looking for Trouble- I Nearly Find It--A Rough
Ride and a Mud Bath--An Affair of Outposts--I Gct Used to
CrawlingHot Work at the Gunsl ara Reported Dead--But
Prove Very Much Alive-----And then Receive a ShockA
Stern Chase.
T IME after time I crossed over to France and
so into Belgium, and obtained a series of
pictures that delighted my employers,
and pleased the picture theatre public. But I
wanted something more than snapshots of topical
events.
Unfortunately, I had been unable to make
previous arrangements for a car to take me into
Belgium. The railroad was barred to me, and walk-
ing quite out of the question. A motor-car was the
only method of travelling. Airer two days of careful
.enquiries, I at last round a man to take me. He was
In the transport department, taking meat to the
trenches. I was to meet him that evening on the
outskirts of Calais. And I met him that night
at an appointed rendezvous, and started on our
journey.
Eventually we entered Furnes. Making my way
into a side street, I told my chauffeur to call at a
certain address whenever he passed through the
town, and if I should require his services further,
I would leave a letter to that effect.
I was awakened next morning by being vigorously
shaken by my Belgian friend, Jules.
UNDER HEAVY SHELL-FIRE 31
" Quick, monsieur, the Germans are bombarding
us," he cried.
Jumping out of bed, I rushed to the window. The
next second I heard the shriek of shells coming
nearer. With a crash and a fearful explosion they
burst practically simultaneously on the houses
opposite, completely demolishing them, but luckily
killing no one. Hastily dressing, I grabbcd my
camera and went out into the square and waited.
hoping to film, if possible, the explosion of the shells
as they fell on the buildings. Two more shells came
shrieking over. The few people about were quickly
making for the cover of their cellars. Getting my
camera into position, ready to swing in any direction,
I waited. With deafening explosions the shells
exploded in a small street behind me. The Germans
were evidently trying to smash up the old Flemish
town hall, which was in the corner of the market-
place, so I decided to fix my focus in its direction.
But though I waited for over an hour, nothing else
happ.ened. The Germans had ceased firing for that
mormng at least. Not till I had gone to my café did
I realise the danger I had exposed myself to, but
somehow I had seemed so confident that I should
not get hit, that to film the explosions entirely
absorbed all my thoughts.
Next morning I decided to tour the front line,
if possible from Dixmude to Nieuport, making
Ramscapelle a centre. I hoped to drop in with an
isolated action or a few outpost duels, for up to the
present things were going exceedingly slow from my
point of view.
Arranging for a dispatch rider to take me alon.g to
Ramscapelle, away I went. The roads were in a
frightful condition after months of tain, and shell-
holes were dotted all over the surface. It is marvel-
lous these men do not more frequently meet death
by accident, for what with the back wheel sliding
32 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
and skidding like an unbroken mule, and dodging
round shell-holes as if we were playing musical
chairs, and hanging round the driver's waist like a
limpet to keep out balance, it was anything but a
comfortable experience. In the end one back wheel
slipped into a shell-hole and pitched me into a lovely
pool of water and mud. Then after remounting,
we were edged off lle road into lte mud again by a
heavy transport lorry, and enjoyed a second mud-
bath. After that I came to the conclusion that I
would rather film a close view of a bayonet charge
lhan do another such journey.
By now I was the most abject-looking specimen
of lmmanity imaginable. My camera in its case was
securely fastened on my shoulders as a knapsack,
and so, with the exception of a slight derangement,
which I soon readjusted, no damage was done. But
the motor-cycle suffered considerably, and leaving
it alongside the road to await a breakdon lorry to
repair it--or a shell to finish it--I proceeded on foot
to Ramscapelle.
Within a hundred yards of the ruined town, from
the shelter of a wrecked barn came the voice of a
Belgian soldier peremptorily ordering me to take
cover. Without asking questions, I did so by
sprawling full length in a deep wheel-rut, but as I
had previously had a mud-bath, a little more or less
did hot matter. I wriggled myself towards the
cover of lhe barn, when a sharp volley of rifle-fire
broke out on my left. Gaining shelter, I asked the
soldier the reason of the fusillade.
" Uhlan outposts, monsieur," replied the man
laconically.
Keeping under cover, I crawled towards the back
of the barn, and ensconced behind some bales of
straw, on a small bridge, I filmed this Belgian out-
post driving off the Uhlans, and peeping through
one of the rifle slots, I could see them shohag a
clean pair of heels, but hot 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 ruade 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 corne 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 tobe very careful to
guard, against spies. They had caught one only. that
mornmg, " 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 where-
abouts 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 hot 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 ruade my way
through Ramscapelle. Hardened as I was by now
to sights of devastation, I could not help a lump
D
34 HOW I FILMED THE
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 fo wander on in deep
.thought, quite oblivious to my immediate surround-
mgs. This momentary lapse nearly proved disas-
trous. 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 senses by being dragged into a gun
trench, absolutely invisible both from the front and
above.
Compelled fo go on hands and knees into the dug-
oui, I was confronted by a rather irate Belgian
officer, who demanded why I xvas there walking
about and not taking cover. Did I know that I had
drawn the enemy's tire, which was very nearly an
unpardonable offence ?
Quickly realising the seriousness of my position,
I thought the best thing to do was fo tell him my
mission, and so I explained fo the officer that I had
unconsciously wandered there.
" There, monsieur," he said, " that is what you
have done," and at that moment I heard two shells
explode fiffeen yards behind us. " We date not
reply, monsieur," he said, " because this is a secret
battery. Mon Dieu ! " he exclaimed, " I hope they
cease firing, or they may destroy out defences."
Fortunately, the Germans seeing no further sign of
life, evidently thought it was a case of an isolated
soldier, and so ceased their tire. Imagine my
thankfulness.
I enquired if there was anyone there who could
speak English. A messenger was sent out and
returned with a Belgian, who before the war broke
out was a teacher of languages in England. With
his aid I gave the chief officer full explanation, and
pledged my word of honour that neither names,
UNDER HEAVY SHELL-FIRE 35
districts, nor details of positions should ever be
rnentioned.
Wishing to film some scenes of big guns in action,
I enquired whether he was going to tire. He was
expecting orders any minute, so rnaking myself as
cornfortable as possible in the dug-out, I waited.
But nothing happened, and that night, and the one
following, I slept there.
Early next rnorning (about 3 a.rn.) I was awakened
by the noise of a terrific cannonading. Together
with the officer I crawled out on to the top of our
embankrnent and viewed the scene. The Gerrnans
had started a night attack, the Belgian guns had
caught them in the act and were skelling them for
all they were worth.
As soon as it was daylight I strapped rny carnera
on rny back, and, lying fiat in the rnud, I edged
away in the direction of the battery. Before leaving,
the officer gave rne a final warning about drawing the
Germans' tire. Alternately crawling and working
rny way on hands and knees, and taking advantage
of any little bit of cover, I drew nearer to the guns.
While I was lying here, there crashed out a regular
infemo of rifle-fire from the German trenches. The
bullets sang overhead like a flight of hornets.
This certainly was a warm corner. If I had filmed
this scene, all that would have been shown was a
dreary waste of mud-heaps, caused by the explosion
of the shells, and the graves of fallen soldiers dotted
all over the place. As far as the eye could see the
country was absolutely devoid of any living thing.
Thousands of people in England, comfortably
seated in the picture theatre, would have passed
this scene by as quite uninteresting except for its
rnemories. But if the sounds I heard, and the flying
bullets that whizzed by me, could have been photo-
graphed, they might take a different view of it.
Death was everywhere. The air was thick with it.
36 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
To have lifted my head would have meant the billet
for a bullet. So there I had to lie soaked through to
the skin, and before I had been there twenty minutes
I was literally lying in water. The German fusillade
seemed interminable. Suddenly with a roar the
Belgian guns spoke. About fifty shells were fired,
and gradually the rifle-fire ceased. With a sigh of
relief I drew myself out of the hole which my body
had made, and on my elbows and knees, like a baby
crawling, I covered the intervening ground fo the
battery. Getting up, and bending nearly double,
I tan under cover of the barricades.
The men were astounded to see me run in. I went
in the direction of a group of officers, who looked at
me in amazement. Saluting me, one of them came
forward and asked who I wanted. Explaining my
business, I told him I had permission from head-
quarters to film any scenes of interest. The officer
then introduced me to his friends, who asked me
how in the world I had crossed the district without
getting hit. I described my movements, and they
all agreed that I was exceedingly lucky.
Once more the guns started, so getting my camera
ready I commenced filming them m action, one
scene after another. I changed from the firing of
one gun to the full battery in action. The men were
working like mad. All the rime they were baling
water out of the gun trenches with buckets. In
some cases airer the gun had fired if sank back about
eighteen inches in the mud, and had to be dug out
and set again. These poor devils had been doing
this for nearly four months, every man of them was
a hero.
While taking these scenes, my compressed air
cylinders tan out. Looking round for somevhere
solid on which to put my machine and foot-pump,
I round some bricks, and made a little foundation.
Then I started to pump up. At every six strokes of
UNDER HEAVY SHELL-FIRE 37
the pump, it was necessary to pack under it more
bricks, and still more, for the ground was a veritable
morass. In the ordinary way my camera takes
ten minutes to refill. On this occasion it took me
forty-five minutes, and all the rime guns were
thundering out.
Making my way in a semi-circle, under cover of
the communication trenches, to the most advanced
outpost, I filmed a party of Belgian snipers hard at
work, cheerfully sniping off any German unwise enough
to show the smallest portion of his head. Several
rimes while I was watching, I noticed one of the men
mark upon his rifle with the stub of a pencil. I
asked why he did it.
"That, monsieur," he replied, " is a mark for
every Bosche I shoot. See," he said, holding the
butt-end for me to look at, and I noticed twenty-
eight crosses marked upon it. Snatching it up to his
shoulder he fired agaln, and joyfully he added
another cross.
By this rime it was getting dark, and quite im-
possible to take any more scenes, so I returned to the
battery, where the officer kindly invited me to stay
the night. Getting some dry straw from a water-
proof bag, we spread it out on the boards of the
trench-hut, rolled out blankets round out shoulders,
and lighted out cigarettes. Then they asked me
about England. They told me that as long as
Belgium existed they would never forget what
England had done for her people. While talking
our candle went out, and as we had no other we sat
in the darkness, huddled together to keep warm.
Heavy tain again came on, penetrating through the
earth roof and soaking into my blanket.
I must have dozed off, for after a little while I
awoke with a start and, looking towards the entrance,
I noticed a blue-white glare of light. As my coin-
panions were getting out, I followed them, in time
38 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
to see the Germans sending up star-shells, fo guard
against any attack on out part.
The following day I filmed several scenes con-
nected with the Belgian artillery and outposts. I
waited during the remainder of the day fo catch, if
possible, some scenes of German shells exploding,
but again I was doomed fo disappointment, for, ç'ith
the exception of a few af a distance, I was never able
fo get the close ones in my field of view.
Having exhausted my stock of film, I decided to
return fo my base, but on bidding adieu to the
Commandant he begged me fo return under cover
of darkness. That night I set out for Furnes, and
after walki.g about an hour, I was lucky enough to
get a lift in an ambulance waggon, which set me
doum in the market-place.
Entering the café by a side door, my Belgian
friend seemed to me to be astounded at my appear-
ance. He immediately rushed up to me, shook my
hands and pummelled my back. His friends did the
saine. After I had got over my astonishment, I
ventured to ask the reason for this jubilation.
" Are thought you were dead," he cried; " we
heard you had been shot by the Germans, and as
you had not turned up for the last rive days, we
came to the conclusion that it was true. But,
monsieur, we cannot tell you how pleased we are to
see you again ali,e and well."
Seeing the condition I was in, they heated water
for a bath, and assisted me in every way possible.
Vrhen I was once more comfortable, I asked my
friend, over a cup of coffee, to tell me the exact report,
as it highly amused me.
" Well, monsieur," he said, " yo.ur motor c3"clist
came rushing in the other evenmg, saying that
Monsieur Malins, the Englishman, had been shot
while crossing ground between the two batteries.
He told us that you had been seen attempting the
UNDER HEAVY SHELL-FIRE 39
crossing ; that you suddenly threw up your arms,
and pitched forward dead. And, monsieur, we were
preparing to send your bag to London, with a letter
explaining the sad news. The Colonel was going to
write the letter."
" Well," I replied with a laugh, "I ara worth a
good many dead men yet. I remember crossing the
ground you mention--but, anyway, the' eye-witness'
who saw my death was certainly ' seeing things.' "
CHAPTER VI
AMONG THE SNOWS OF THE VOSGES
I Staxt for the Vosges--Am Arrested on the Swiss FrontiermAnd
Released--But Arrested Again--And then Allowed to Go My
Way--Filming in the Firing Zone--A Wonderful French Charge
Over the Snow-clad Hills---I Take Big Isks--And Get a
Magnificent Picture.
T HE man who wants to film a fight, unlike
the man who wants to describe it, must be
really on the spot. A comfortable corner
in the H6tcl des Quoi, at Boulogne, is no use to the
camera man.
" Is it possible to film actual events with the
French troops in the Vosges and Alsace ? " I was
asked when I got back after my last adventure.
" If the public wants those films," I replied, " the
public must have them." And without any previous
knovledge of the district, or its natural difficulties,
apart from the normal military troubles to which by
that rime I was hardened, I set out for Paris, deter-
mined to plan my route according to what I learned
there. And for the test I knew it would be luck that
would dctermine the result, because other camera
men had attempted to cover the same district, men
xvho knew evcrything there was to be known in the
way of getting on the spot, and all had been turned
back vith trifling success.
For various reasons, among them the claims of
picturesqueness, St. Dié struck me as the best field,
and to get there it is necessary to make a detour into
Switzerland. From Geneva, where I arranged for
transport of my films in case of urgent need, much
AND "Ïl I ff
THE SNOVTS OF THE VOSGES 41
as an Arctic explorer would leave supplies of food
behind him on his way to the Pole, I arranged in
certain places that if I was not heard from at certain
dates and certain rimes, enquiries were to be made,
diplomatically, for me.
From Basle I went to the Swiss frontier, and had
a splendid view of the Alsace country, which was
in German possession. German and Swiss guards
stood on either side of the boundary, and they made
such a picturesque scene that I filmed them, which
was nearly disastrous. A gendarme pounced on me
at once, took me to general headquarters and then
back to Perrontruy, whcre I was escorted through
the streets by an armed guard.
At the military barracks I was thoroughly
examined by the chief of the staff, who drew my
attention to a military notice, prohibiting any photo-
graphing of Swiss soldicry. He decided that my
offence was so tank that it must go before another
tribunal, and off I was marched to Delemont, where
a sort of court-martial was held on me. My film, of
course, was confiscated ; that was the least I could
expect, but they also extracted a promise in writin.g
that I would not take any more photographs in
Switzerland, and they gave me a few hours to leave
the country, by way of Berne.
That didn't suit me at all. Berne was too far away
from my intended destination, and, after a hurried
study of the map, I decided to chance it, and go to
Biel. I did. So did the man told off to watch me.
And when I left the train at Biel he arrested me. I
am afraid I sang " Rule Britannia " very loudly to
those good gentlemen before whom he took me,
claiming the right of a British citizen to do as he
liked, within reason, in a neutral country.
In the result they told me to get out of the country
any .way I liked, if only I would get out, and, as my
opinion was much the same, we parted good friends.
42 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
I had lost a week, and many feet of good film,
which showed me that the difficulties I should bave
to face in my chosen field of operations were by far
the greatest I had up to then encountered in any of
my trips to the firing line. I pushed on through
Besançon on the way to Belfort.
Now Belfort, being a fortified town, was an
obviously impossible place for me to get into, becallse
I shouldn't get out again in a hurry. So I took a
slow train, descended at a small station on the out-
skirts, prepared to make my way across country to
Remiremont. This I achieved, very slowly, and
with many difficulties, by means of peasants' carts
and an occasional ride on horseback.
This brought me into the firing zone, and the
region of snow. My danger was iacreased, and my
mode of progress more difficult, because for the
first rime in my life I had to take to skis. So many
people have told the story of their first attempts
with these that I will content myself with saying
that, after many tumbles, I became roughly accus-
tomed to them, and that when sledge transport was
not available, I was able to make my way on ski. I
don't suppose anyone else has ever learned to ski
under such queer conditions, with the roar of big
guns rllmbling round all the time, with my whole
expedition trembling every moment in the balance.
The end of my j ourney to St. Dié was the most
dramatic part of the whole business. Tired out, I
saw a café on the outskirts of the village, which I
thought would serve me as a reconnoitring post,
so I went in and ordered some coffee. I had not been
there rive minutes when some officers walked in, and
drew themselves up sharply when they saw a
stranger there, in a mlld-stained costume that might
have been a British army uniform. I decided to
take the bold course. I rose, saluted them, and in
my Anglo-French ished them good evening. They
THE SNOWS OF THE VOSGES 43
returned my reeting and sat down, conversing in
an undertone, with an occasional side-flung glance
at me. I saw that my attack would have to be
pushed home, especially as I caught the word
" espion," or my fevered imagination ruade me think
I did.
I rose and crossed to their table, all smiles, and in
my best French heartily agreed with them that one
bas to be very careful in war time about spies. In
fact, I added, I had no doubt they took me for
one.
This counter-attack--and possibly the very notice-
able Britishness of my accent--rathcr confused them.
Happily one of them spoke a little English, and, with
that and my little French, satisfactory explanations
were ruade.
I affected no secrecy about my object, and asked
them frankly if it would be possible for pictures of
their regiment to be taken. One of them promised
to speak to the Commandant about it. I begged
them not to trouble about it, however, as really all
I wanted was a hint as to when and where an
engagement was probable, and then I would manage
to be there.
They. shrugged their shoulders in a most grimly
expressive way.
" If you do that it will be at your own risk," they
said.
I gladly accepted the risk, and they then told me
of one or two vantage points in the district from
which I might manage to see something of the
operations, taking my chance, of course, of anything
happening near enough to be photographed, as they
could not, and quite rightly would not, say anything
as to the plans for the future.
It was not quite midday. I had at least four hours
of daylight, and I determined not to lose them. It
was obvious that my stay in St. Dié would be very
44
HOW I FILMED THE WAR
brief at the best. I hired a sledge and persuaded the
driver to take me part of the way at least to the
nearest point which the officers had mentioned.
But neither he nor his horse liked the way the
shells were coming around, and at last even his
avarice refused to be stimulated further at the
expense of his courage. So I strapped on my skis,
thankful for my earlier experience with them, and
sped towards a wood which French soldiers were
clearing of German snipers. I managed to get one
or two good incidents there, though occasional un-
certainty about my skis spoiled other fine scenes,
and in my haste to more flore one spot to another,
I once went head over heels into a snowdrift many
feet deep.
The ludicrous spectacle that I must have eut
only occurred to me afterwards, and the utterly in-
appropriate nature of such an incident within sight
of men who were battling in lire and death grip was
a reflection for calmer moments. I do not mind
confessing that my sole thought during the whole of
that afternoon was my camera and my films. The
lust of battle was in me too. I had overcome great
difficulties to obtain hot merely kinema-pictures,
but actual vivid records of the Great War, scenes
that posterity might look upon as true representa-
tions of the struggle their forefathers waged. Military
experts may argue as to whether this move or that
was really ruade in a battle : the tales of soldiers
returned from the wars become, in passing from
mouth to mouth, fables of the most wondrous deeds
of prowess. But the kinema film never alters. It
does not argue. It depicts.
The terrific cannonade that was proceeding told
me that beyond the crest of the hill an infantry
attack was preparing. It was for me a question of
finding both a vantage point and good cover, for
shells had already whizzed screaming overhead and
l tiE SIOWS OF THE VOSGES 45
exploded hot many yards behind me. There were
the remains of a wall ahead, and I discarded my
skis in order to crawl fiat on my stomach to one of
the larger remaining fragments, and when I got
behind it I found a most convenient hole, which
would allow me to work my camera without being
exposed myself.
In the distance a few scouts, black against the
snow, crawled crouching up the hill.
The attack was beginning.
The snow-covered hillside became suddenly black
with moving figures sweeping in irregular formation
up towards the crest. Big gun and rifle tire mingled
like strophe and antistrophe of an anthem of death.
There was a certain massiveness about the noise
that was awful. Yet there was none of the tradi-
tional air of battle about the engagement. There
was no hand to hand fighting, for the opponents
were several hundred yards apart. It was just now
and then when one saw a little distant figure pitch
forward and lie still on the ShOW that one realised
there was real fighting going on, and that it was not
manuvres.
The gallant French troops swept on up the hill,
and I think I was the only man in all that district
who noted the black trail of spent human lire they
left behind them.
I raised myself ever so little to glance over the
top of my scrap of sheltering wall, and away across
the valley, on the crest of the other hill, I could see
specks which were the Germans. They appeared to
be massing ready for a charge, but the scene was too
far away for the camera to record it with any
distinctness.
I therefore swept round again to the French lines,
to meet the splendid sight of the French reserves
dashing up over the hill behind me to the support.
Every man seemed animated by the one idea--to
4 6 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
take the bill. There was a swing, an air of irresisti-
bility about them that was magnificent. But even
in the midst of enthusiasm my trained sense told me
that my position must have been visible to some of
them, and that it was time for me to move.
I edged my way along the broken stumps of wall
to the shelter of a wood, and there, with bullets from
snipers occasionally sending twigs, leaves, and even
branches pattering down around me, .ith shells
bursting all round, I continued to filin the general
attack until the spool in the camera ran out. To
bave changed spools there would bave been the
height of folly, so I plunged down a side path, where
in the shelter of a dell, with thick undergrooEh, I
loaded up my camcra again, and utterly careless of
direction, ruade a dash for the edge of the wood
again, emerging just in rime fo catch the passage of
a Frcnch regiment advancing along the edge of the
wood to cut off the retreat of the little party of
Germans who had been endeavouring fo hold if as
an advanced sniping-post.
Snipers seemed to be in every tree. t3ullets
whistled down like acorns in the autumn breeze,
but the French suddenly formed a semi-circle and
pushed right into the vood, driving the enemy from
their perches in the trees or shootiaag them as they
scrambled down.
Through the wood I plunged, utterly ignoring
every danger, both from friend or foe, in the thrill
of that wonderful " drive." Luck, however, xvas
with me. Neither the French nor the Germans
seemed to see me, and we all suddenly came out of
the wood at the far side, and I then managed fo get
a splendid picture of the end of the pursuit, Then
the French, wild with excitement at their success in
clearing the district of the enemy, plunged madly
down the hill in chase of the last remnants of the
sniping band.
THE SNOWS OF THE VOSGES 47
A few seconds later I darted back into the cover
of the trees.
My mission was accomplished. I had secured
pictures of actual events in the Vosges. But that
was the least part of my work. I had to get the film
to London.
The excitement of the pursuit had taken me far
from my starting-point, and with the reaction 1bat
set in when I was alone in the wood, with all its
memories and its ghastly memorials of the carnage,
I round it required all my strength of nerve to push
me on. I had to plough through open spaces, two
feet and more deep in snow, through undergrowth,
hOt knowing at what moment I might stumble
across some unseen thing. Above all, I had but the
barest recollection of my direction. It seemed
many hours before I regained my stump of wall and
found my skis lying just where I had cast them off.
It was a race against rime, too, for dusk was falling,
and I knew that it would be impossible to get out of
St. Dié by any conveyance after dark.
I had the luck to find a man with a sledge, who
was returning to a distant village, some way behind
the war zone, and he agreed for a substantial con-
sideration to take me. We drove for many hours
through the night, and it was very late when at last,
in a peasant's cottage, I flung myself fully dressed
on a sofa, for there was no spare bed, and slept like
a log for several hours.
It was by many odd conveyances that I ruade my
way to Besançon, and thence to Dijon. I had
managed to clean myself up, and looked less like an
escaped convict than I had done; but I was very
wary all the way to Paris, where I communicated
with headquarters, and received orders to rush the
films across to London as fast as ever I could.
Having overcome the perils of the land, I had to
face those of the sea, for the German submarines
48 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
were just beginning their campaign against merchant
shipping, and cross-Channel steamers were an almost
certain mark. So the boat service was suspended
for a day or two, and there was I stranded in Dieppe
with my precious films, as utterly shut off from
London as the German army.
I was held up there for three days, during which
time I secured pictures of the steamer Dinorah,
which limped into port after being torpedoed, of a
sailing vessel which had struck a mine, and some
interesting scenes on board French torpedo boat
destroyers as they returned from patrolling the
Channel.
I spent most of my time hanging around the docks,
ready to rush on board any steamer that touched
af an English port. At last I heard of one that would
start af midnight. My films were all packed in tins,
sealed with rubber solution to make them absolutely
watertight, and the tins were strung together, so
that in the event of the ship going down I could
have slipped them round my waist. If they went to
the bottom I should go too, but if I was saved I was
determined hot to reach London without them.
As it happened, my adventures were at an end.
We saw nothing of any under-water pirates, and my
trip to the fighting line ended in a prosaic taxi-cab
through London streets that seemed to know
nothing of war.
PART I I
E
CHAPTER I
HOW I CAME TO MAKE OFFICIAL WAR PICTURES
I am Appolnted an Official War Office Kinematographer--And Start
for the Front Line Trenches--Filrning the Gerrnan Guns in
Action--With the Canadians--Picturesque Hut Settlement
Among the Poplars--" Hyde Park Corner "--Shaving by
Candlelight in Six Inches of Water--Filrning in Full View of the
German Lines, 75 yards away--A ]3ig Risk, but a Realistic
Picture.
D URING the early days of the war I worked
more or less as a free lance camera man,
both in Belgium and in France, and it was
hot till the autumn of 1915 that I was appointed an
Official Kinematographer by the War Office, and
was dispatched to the Front to take films, under the
direction of Kinematograph Trade Topical Com-
mittee. When offered the appointment, I did not
take long to decide upon its acceptance. I was
ready and anxious to go, and as I had had consider-
able experience of the work, both in Belgium and in
the Vosges, I knew pretty well what was expected
of me. Numerous interviews with the authorities
and members of the Committee followed, and for a
few days I was kept in a fever of expectation.
Eventually arrangements were completed, and the
announcement was then made that Mr. Tong (of
Jury's Imperial Pictures) and myself had been
appointed Official War Office Kinematographers.
I was in the seventh heaven of delight, and looked
forward to an early departure for the Front in my
official capacity. This came soon enough, and on
the eve of our going Tong and I were entertained to
dinner by the members of the Topical Committee,
5I
52 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
and during the post-prandial talk many interesting
and complimentary things were said.
We left Charing Cross on an early morning in
November, and several members of the Committee
were there to see us off, and wish us God-speed.
We reached the other side safely, after a rather
choppy crossing, and soon I was on my way to the
Front--and the front line trenches, if possible.
Passing through Bailleul, Armentières and Ploeg-
steert, I was able to film some hidden batteries in
action. As the whole road was in full view of the
German lines we had to go very carefully. Several
shells dropped close by me when running across the
open ground. I managed at last to get into a house,
and from a top window, or rather what was once a
window, filmed the guns in action.
While doing so an artillery oflïcer came and told
me not to move too much as the Germans had been
trying to find this battery for some considerable
time, and if they saw any movement they would
undoubtedly start to shell heavily. Not wishing to
draw a cloud of shells on me, needless to say, I was
v.ery careful. Eventually I obtained the desired
vlew, and making my way through the communica-
tion trenches to the front of the guns, I obtained
excellent pictures of rapid firing. I had to keep very
low the whole of the rime. About forty yards on my
right a small working party of out men had been seen,
and they were immediately " strafed."
During the next few days it rained the whole of
the time, and there was little opportunity for photo-
graphy; but I obtained some excellent scenes,
showing the conditions under which out men were
living and fighting, and their indomitable cheer-
fulness.
About this time I arranged to go to the Canadian
front tienches, in their section facing Messines.
Arriving at the headquarters at Bailleul, I met
"FILE STATE OF "I'HE "I'RENCllES IN .Vlllt'll ..E l IVED AND SI.EI'T (.) I:CR
WEEKS ON END DURING l'lll' FIRSF -ND SEç'«ND ..IN'I'ER OF W..R
C,I'R I)UC.-OtTS IN THE FRNT I INE -'l" PI('ANTIN IN }.VHIClt .VE I IVED.
FO[_IGHI' A\D MAN$" I}IED I}['RINI; IQI4-[ , |IEI-'«'Rl: TIIE I»A''S OF l'IN HAI'S
OFFICIAL WAR PICTURES 53
Lieutenant-Colonel , and we decided to go
straight to the front line. Leaving in a heavy tain,
we splashed out way through one continuous stream
of mud and water. Mile after toile of if. In places
the water covered the entire road, until af rimes one
hardly knew which was the road and which was the
ditch alongside. Several times our car got ditched.
Shell-holes dotted our path everywhere.
Apart from the rotten conditions, the journey
proved most interesting ; vehicles of all kinds, .from
motor-buses fo wheelbarrows, were rushing back-
wards and forwards, taking up supplies and return-
ing empty. Occasionally we passed ambulance cars,
with some poor fellows inside suffering from frost-
bite, or " trench-foot" as it is generally called out
here. Though their feet were swathed in bandages,
and they were obviously in great pain, they bore up
like true Britons. Line after line of men passed us.
Those coming from the trenches were covered in mud
from head fo foot, but they were all smiling, and
they swung along with a word and a jest as if they
were marching down Piccadilly. Those going in to
take their places : were they gloomy ? Not a bit of
it! If anything they were more cheerful, and
quipped their mud-covered comrades on their
appearance.
We drew up af a ruined farm-house, which the
Colonel told me used to be their head.quarters, until
the position was given away by sples. Then the
Germans started shelling if until there was hardly a
brick standing. Luckily none of the staff were killed.
Leaving the farm, we made our way on foot fo
Ploegst.eert Wood. A terrible amount of " strafing "
was gomg on here. Shells were exploding all round,
and our guns were replying with " interest." As we
made out way cautiously up fo the side of the wood,
with mud half way up fo our knees, we scrambled,
or rather waddled, round the base of the much-
54 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
contestedhill, which the Germans tried their hardest
to keep, but which, thanks to the Canadians, we
wrested from them.
Under cover of canvas screens, which in many
places were blown away by shell-fire, and bending
low to save out heads from the snipers' bullets, we
gained the communication trenches. Again wading
knee-deep in mud and water, we eventually reached
the firing trench.
The German front line was only sixty-five yards
away, and the town of Messines could be seen in the
distance.
Staying in this section of trench, I filmed several
scenes of the men at work ropairing and rebuilding
the sides which the night previou.s had been destroyed
by shell-fire and the heavy rares. Then followed
scenes of relief prties coming in, and working
parties hard at it trying to drain their dug-outs.
This latter seemed to me an almost superhuman
task ; but through it all, the men smiled. Bending
low, I raced across an open space, and with a
jump landed in an advanced sniper's post, in a
ruined farm-house. I filmed him, carefully and
coolly picking off the Germans foolish enough to
show their heads.
Then I set my camera up behind what I thought
quite a safe screen, to film a general view of our
front line, but I had hardly started exposing when,
with murderous little shrieks, two bullets whizzed
close by my head--quite as near as I shall ever want
them. Dropping as low as possible, I reached up,
and still turning the handle finished the scene.
Then followed several pictures of scouts and snipers
making their way across the ground, taking ad-
vantage of any slight cover they could get, in order
to take up suitable positions for their work.
By this time the light was getting rather bad, and
as it was still raining liard I ruade my way back.
OFFICIAL WAR PICTURES 55
During the return j ourney, an officer who accom-
panied me showed himself unknowingly above the
parapet, and " zipp " came a bullct, vhich ripped
one of the stars off his coat.
" Jove!" said he, with the greatest of sang-froid,
" that's a near thing ; but it's spoilt my shoulder-
strap " " and with a laugh we went on out way.
Again we had to cross the open ground to the
covered way. Accordingly we spread out about
fifty yards apart, and proceeded. Careful as we were,
the Germans spotted us, and from thence onwards
to the top of the hill shrapnel shells burst all round
us and overhead. Several pieces fcll almost at my
feet, but by a miracle I escaped unscathed.
For some minutes I had tolie crouching in a ditch,
sitting in water. It was a veritable inferno of tire.
I cautiously worked my way along. Where the test
of the party had gone I did not know. I hugged my
camera to my chest and staggered blindly on. In
about hall an hour I gained the cover of some bushes,
and for the first rime had a chance to look about me.
The firing had momentarily ceased, and from various
ditches I saw the heads of the other officers pop out.
The sight was too funny for words. With a hearty
laugh they jumped up and hurried away. My
chauffeur, who incidentally used to carry my tripod,
was the most sorry spectacle for he was absolutely
covered from head to foot with clay, and m¥ tripod
was quite unrecognisable. Hurrying over the top of
the hill we gained out cars, and rapidly beat a retreat
for headquarters.
The following day I went to film the ruins of
Richebourg St. Vaaste. What an awful spectacle!
A repetition of the horrors of Ypres on a smaller
scale. Nothing leff, only the bare skeletons of the
houses and the church. With great diffictllty, I
managed to climb to the top of the ruined tower,
and filmed the town from that point. I was told by
56 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
an observation officer to keep low, as the Germans
had the church still under tire. Naturally I did so,
hot wishing for a shell that might bring the tower
down, and myself with it.
Remarkable to relate, the figure of Christ upon
the Cross was untouched in the midst of this terrible
scene of devastation. Subsequently the tower was
completely destroyed by German shells.
Hearing that the Canadian guns were going to
bombard Petite Douve, a large farmstead which the
Germans had fortified with machine-guns and snipers,
I started off from headquarters in the company of a
lieutenant-colonel and a captain. A few passing
remarks on the conditions of the road as we went
along to Hill 63 will be interesting. No matter
where one looked there was mud and water. In
several places the roads were flooded to a depth of
six inches, and out cars several times sank above the
front axle in hidden shell-holes. The whole district
was pitted with them. Entire sections of artillery
were stuck in the mud on the roadside, and all the
efforts of the men failed to move them.
All around us hidden guns, 4"5 and 9.2, were
hurtling their messengers of death with a monotonous
regularity. Passing a signpost, marked " Hyde Park
Corner," which looked incongruous in such a place,
we entered Ploegsteert Wood. But what a change !
If was as if one had suddenly left France and dropped
unceremoniously into the western woods of America,
in the rimes of the old pioneers. By the wood-side,
as far as one could see, stretched a series of log-huts.
To the right the saine scene unfolded itself. Out
cars came to a stop. Then I had a chance to study
the settings more closely.
What a picture ! Amidst all the glamour of war,
these huts, surrounded by tall poplars, which stood
grim, gaunt and leafless--in many places branchless,
owing to the enemies' shells, which tore their way
0
0
OFFICIAL WAR PICTURES 57
through them--presented the most picturesque
scene I had corne across for many a long day.
Upon the boards fixed over the doorposts were
written the names of familiar London places. As
the rime of the bombardment was draving near I
could hot stay at the moment to film anything,
but decided to do so at an early opportunity.
Sharing my apparatus with two men, we started
climbing through eighteen inches of slimy mud
towards the top of Hill 63. The effort was almost
backbreaking. At last we got through and paused,
under cover of the ruins of an old château, to gain
breath. To negotiate the top needed care as it was
in full view of the German front. I went first with
the Captain, and both of us kept practically doubled
up, and moved on all fours. The men behînd us
waited until we had covered about one hundred
yards, then they followed. We decided to make for
a point in the distance which was at one rime a
grand old château. Now it was nothing more than
a heap of rubble. We waited for the remainder of
the party to corne up before proceeding, the idea
being that in case either of us was hit by shrapnel,
or picked off by a sniper, no rime would be lost in
rendering assistance.
Resting awhile, we again proceeded in the same
order as before. We were held up by a sentry, and
warned to take to the communication trenches down
the hill, as German snipers had been picking off men
in the working parties the whole of the morning, and
shrapnel was continually bursting overhead. We
entered the trench, and as usual sank up to out knees
in mud.
How in the world we got through it I don't know !
Every rime I lifted my foot it seemed as though the
mud would suck my knee-boot off. After going
along in this way for about three hundred yards,
and occasionally ducking my head fo avoid being hit
58 HOW I FILMEZ) THE WAR
by bursting shells, we came fo a ruinecl barn. The
cellars hacl been converted, with the aid of a good
supply of sandbags, into a miniature fort. A sloping
tunnel led to the interior, and the Captain going in
front, we entered.
There by the light of a candle, and standing in a
goocl six inches of water, was a captain shaving him-
self. This officer the previous week had led his party
of bombers into the German trenches, killecl over
thirty and capturecl twelve, and only sufferecl one
casualty. For this action he was awarclecl the D.S.O.
I was introducecl, and sitting on the edge of a bench
we chattecl until the others came up. A few minutes
later the Colonel entered.
We then startecl off in single file clown the other
side of Hill 63. I hacl fo take advantage of any bit
of cover that offerecl itself cluring the clescent. At
one point we had fo cross an open space between a
ruinecl farm and a barn. The Germans hacl several
snipers who concentratecl on this point, and there
was consiclerable risk in getting across. Bencling low,
however, I started, and when half-way over I heard
the whistle of a bullet overheacl. I clroppecl fiat and
crawlecl the remainder of the distance, reaching cover
in safety.
Af that moment out big guns started shelling the
German trenches, and knowing that the diversion
would momentarily occupy the snipers' attention
the others raced safely across in a bocly. The re-
mainder of the j ourney was made in comparative
safety, the only danger being from exploding shrapnel
overhead. But one cloes not trouble very much
about that after a rime. Reaching the front trenches,
I ruade my way along fo a point from which I could
best view the Petite Douve. Obtaining a waterproof
sheet we carefully raisecl it very, very slowly above
the parapet with the aicl of a couple of bayonets.
Without a doubt, I thought, the Germans woulcl be
OFFICIAL WAR PICTURES 59
sure to notice something different on that section
after a few seconds. And soit proved. Two rifle-
shots rang out from the enemy trench, and right
through the sheet they went.
Our object in putting up this temporary screen
was to hide the erection of my tripod and camera,
and then at the moment the bombardment began
it was to be taken away, and I would risk the test.
Just when the bullets came through I was bending
to fasten the tripod legs. A few seconds earlier and
one or other of them would have surely round my
head. Getting some sandbags, we carefully pushed
them on to the parapet, in order to break the contact
as much as possible, and we put one in front of the
camera in a direct line to cover the movement of my
hand while exposing. I was now ready. Raising
my head above the parapet for a final look, I noticed
I was fully exposed to the right German trenches,
and was just on the point of asking Captain if
there was any possibility of getting sniped from that
direction when with a "zipp " a bullet passed directly
between out heads. Having obtained such a practical
and prompt answer to my enquiry, though hot
exactly the kind I had expected, I had some more
sandbags placed, one on top of the other, to shdter
my head as much as possible.
All I had to do now was to focus, and to do that I
lifted the bottom edge of the screen gently. In a
few seconds it was done, and dropping the screen,
I waited for the first shot. I was warned by an
observing officer that I had still rive minutes to spare.
They were not bombarding until 2.15. German
shells were continually dropping all round. The
part of the hill down which we came was getting
quite a lively time of it. The enemy seemed to be
searching every spot. On the ri.ght a Canadian sniper
was at work, taking careful alto. Turning to me,
he said:
60 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
" Wall, sir, I ber that chap won't want any more
headache pills."
The remark caused a good deal of laughter.
Boom--boom--boom. In rapid succession came
two shells from out guns. Every one was alert. I
sprang to my camera. Two men were standing by
me, ready to take down the screen. Boom came
another shell, and ata sign the men dropped the
screen.
I was exposed to the full view of the German lines,
from my shoulders.upwards.
I started exposmg; the shells came in rapid
succession, dropping right in the middle of the
Pctite Douve. As they fcll clouds of bricks and
other d6bris were thro»vn in the air; the din was
terrific. Nothing in the world could possibly have
lived there. After about thirty shells had been
dropped there was a slight pause for about hall a
minute, during which I continued turning the
handle. The Germans were too occupied in getting
under cover to notice the fine target my head offered,
for hot a single shot was fired af me.
Once more our guns rang out, and in as many
seconds--at least soit seemed to me--another thirty
shells dropped into the buildings and tore them wall
from wall. Word was then passed to me that this
was the finishing salvo.
With the saine suddenness as it had begun, the
firing ceased. Dropping quickly, and draggin.g the
camera after me, I stood safely once more m the
bottom of the trench and, to tell the truth, I was
glad it was over. To put one's head above the
parapet of a trench, with the Germans only seventy-
rive yards away, and to take a kinematograph
picture of a bombardment, is not one of the wisest--
or safest--things to do !
CHAPTER II
CHRISTMAS DAY AT THE FRONT
Leave-taking af Charing Cross--A Fruitless Search for Food on
Christmas Eve--How Tommy Wclcomcd the Coming of the
Festive Season--" Peace On Earth. Good Will To Men" fo the
Boom of the Big Guns--Filming the Guards' Division--And the
Prince of Walesming from a Christmas Service--This Ycar
and Next.
N December 23rd I met an officer, a captain,
af Charing Cross Station. We were leaving
by the 8.50 train, and we were not the only
ones fo leave Christmas behind, for hundreds of men
were returning fo the Front. Heartbreaking scenes
were taking place, and many of the brave women-
folk were stifling their sobs, in order to give their
men a pleasant send-off, possibly for the last rime.
Amidst hurried good-byes and fond kisses from
mothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives, and with
shouts of good luck from hundreds of throats, the
train started off. Handkerchiefs were waved from
many windows, cheerful heads were thrust out, and
not until the train had cleared the platform, and the
"hurrahs " had faded away in the distance, did we
take our seats. Then wffh set faces, grim with
determination, we resigned ourselves to the fate that
awaited us on the battlefields of France. Reaching
Boulogne, after a rather choppy voyage, our car
conv.eyed us to G.H.Q., which we reached late in the
evenlng.
The tollowing morning I was told to leave for La
Gorgue, 4o film seenes connected with the Guards'
Division. Late that afternoon, the Captain and
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62 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
I set out for our destination, reaching there about
8 o'clock. I was billeted in a private bouse, and
immediately enquired for some food, but it was
impossible fo obtain any there. Going out I walked
through the town, in the hope of finding a place fo
get something. But none could be round. Feeling
very tired, I began to retrace my steps, with the
intention of going fo bed.
On my way back I had reason to change my mind.
Quite an interesting scene unfolded itself. The boom
of the guns rang out sharp and clear. The moon was
shining brightly, and at intervals there flashed across
the sky the not-Iar-distant glare of star-shells. In
the bouses, lining both sides of the road, there was
music, from the humble mouth-o.rga.n to the piano,
and lusty British voices were smglng old English
tunes with the enthusiasm of boyhood.
On the pavement clusters of our Tommies were
proceeding towards their billets, singing heartily at
the top of their voices. Some batches were singing
carols, others the latest favourites, such as " Keep
the Home Fires Burning."
No marrer where one went, the saine conditions
and the saine sounds prevailed ; just happy-go-lucky
throngs, filled with the songs and laughter born of
the spirit of Christmas. And yet as I reached my
room, despite the scenes of joyousness and hilarity
rampant, I could still hear the crash of the guns.
This was my second Christmas at the Front,
although hot in the same district. Last year I was
with the brave Belgian army. This year was
certainly very different in all.respects except the
weather, and that was as polsonous as ever. A
miserable, misty, drifting rain, which would soak
through fo the skin in a tew minutes anyone hot
provided with a good rainproof. Donning my
Burberry, I proceeded towards a small chapel, or
rather fo a building which is now used as one. It
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CHRISTMAS DAY AT THE FRONT 63
was originally a workshop. On three sides if was
entirely surrounded by the floods. The front door
was just clear, but I had fo paddle through Inud half-
way up fo Iny knees fo get there. I intended fo
obtain a filin of the Guards' Division attending the
Christinas service.
Fixing up my cainera, I awaited their arrival.
After a short tiine they caine along, headed by their
band. What a fine body of Inen! Swinging along
with firin stride, they caine past. Thinking I had
got sufficient I packed Iny cainera, when, fo Iny
astonishinent, I saw the Prince of Wales, with Lord
Cavan, coining up at the rear. Rushing back to Iny
old position, I endeavoured to fix up again, to film
them coining in, but I was too late. " Anyway,"
I thought, " I vill get him coming out."
Fixing up Iny Inachine at a new and advantageous
point of view, I waited. The service began. I could
hear the strains of the old, old carols and Christinas
hymns. Surely one could not have heard thein
under stranger conditions, for as the sound of that
beautiful carol, "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men !"
swelled froin the throats of several hundreds of our
troops, the heavy guns thundered out round after
round with increasing intensity. Strange that at
such a Inoinent so terrific a boinbardinent should
have taken place. It seeins as if soine strange tele-
pathic influence was at work, coininanding all the
guns in the vicinity to open tire wîth redoubled fury.
And high in the air, our steel " birds " were hover-
ing over the eneiny lines, directing the tire, and
flecked all round thein, like flakes of SHOW, was the
smoke from the shrapnel shells fired on them by the
Gerlnans.
" Peace on earth, good will to Inen," caine the
strains of Inusic froin the little church. Crash!
went the guns again and again, throwing their
shrieking Inass of metal far overhead. I fell into a
64 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
deep reverie, and my thoughts naturally strayed fo
those af home.
Returning fo my room, I donned my thick woollen
coat, as I intended fo rush off fo G.H.Q. fo see
Tong, who had got a bad attack of dysentery,
and try and cheer him up. Getting into my car, I
told the chauffeur fo drive like the wind. I had
fifty kilometres fo go. Away we rushed through the
night, and as we went through villages where out
Tommies were billeted, the strains of the old home
songsIrish, Scotch and English--were wafted fo
my ears. Except for the incessant shelling, the flash
of guns, and the distant glare from the star-shells,
if was almost impossible fo believe we were in the
terrible throes of war. I arrived af G.H.Q. about
8.30 p.m.
Poor Tong was very queer and feeling dejected.
Not being able fo speak French, he could not let the
people of the hotel know what he wanted. I soon
made him as comfortable as possible, and sat beside
his bed chatting about this, the strangest Christmas
Day I had ever experienced. After remaining with
him for about an hour and a half, I again started for
the front line, where I arrived about i a.m., dog-tired,
and af once turned in.
So ended my second Christmas Day af the Front,
and, as I dozed off fo sleep, I found myself wondering
whether the next Christmas would find me still in
France. Should I be listening fo carols and guns
af the Front, or would the message of the bells peal
from a church in an adjacent street af home,
and announce the coming of another Christmas fo
me and mine ?
CHAPTER III
I GET INTO A WARM CORNER
]3oxing Day--]3ut No Pantomime--Lire in the Trenches--A Smper
at Work--Sinking a Mine Shaft--The Cheery Influence of an
Irish Padre--A Cemetery ]3ehind the Lines--Pathetic Inscrip-
tions and Mementoes on Dead Heroes' Graves--I Get Into a
Pretty Warm Corner--And Have Some Difficulty in Getting Out
Again--But All's Well that Ends Well.
B OXING DAY! But nothing out of the
ordinary happened. I filmed the Royal
Welsh Fusiliers en route for the trenches.
As usual, the weather was impossible, and the troops
came up in motor-buses. At the sound of a whistle,
they formed up in line and stopped, and the men
scrambled out and stood to attention by the road-
side. They were going to the front line. They gave
me a parting cheer, and a smile that they knew
would be seen by the people in England--perchance
by their own parents.
I went along the famous La Bassée Road--the most
fiercely contested stretch in that part of the country.
It was literally lined with shell-destroyed houses,
large and small; châteaux and hovels. All had
been levelled to the ground by the Huns. I filmed
various scenes of the Coldstreams, the Irish and the
Grenadier Guards. At the furthermost point of the
road to which cars are allowed shells started to fall
rather heavily, so, not wishing to argue the point
with them, I took cover. When the " strafing "
ceased I filmed other interesting scenes, and then
returned to my headquarters.
The next day was very interesting, and rather
F 6 5
66 HOW I FILMED THE WAR
exciting. I was to go to the front trenches and get
some scenes of the men at work under actual con-
ditions. Proceeding by the Road, I reached the
Croix Rouge crossing, which was heavily " strafed "
the previous day. Hiding the car under cover of a
partly demolished house, and strapping the camera
on my back, my orderly carrymg the tripod, I
started out to walk the remaining distance. I had
not gone far when a sentry advised me hot to proceed
further on the road, but to take to the trench lining
it, as the thoroughfare from this point was in full
view of the German artillery observers. Not wishing
to be shelled unnecessarily, I did as he suggested.
"And don't forger to keep your head down, sir,"
was his last remark. So bending nearly double, I
proceeded. As a further precaution, I kept my man
behind me at a distance of about twenty yards.
Several rimes high explosives and shrapnel came
unpleasantly near.
Presently I came upon a wooden tramway running
at right angles to the road. My instructions were to
proceed along it until I came to " Signpost Lane."
Why it was so dubbed I was unable to discover, but
one thing I was certainly not kept in ignor 
