t from holes and crannies in the chalk.
Needless to say, I could not sleep a wink, tired out as I was, and as I
lay there, twenty feet underground, I could hear the rumble and roar of
the shells crashing their way through our parapets, tearing, killing and
maiming our brave lads, who throughout all these horrors held this
section of our line like a wall of steel.

I had been lying there for about half an hour. Then I got up and climbed
out of the incline into the open trench. I worked my way towards the
firing trench; bullets from Bosche machine-guns and snipers were
flattening themselves against the parapet. Several times I had to
squeeze myself close to the muddy sides to allow stretcher-bearers to
pass with their grim burdens; some for the corner of the Quarry, some
for good old "Blighty."

I stayed for a while alongside a sentry.

"Any news?" I asked.

"No, sir," said he, "but I feel as if something is going to happen."

"Come," said I, with a laugh, "this is not the time for dreaming."

"No, sir, I'm not dreaming, but I feel something--something that I can't
explain."

"Well, cheer up," I said. "Good night."

"Good night, sir!"

And as I wended my way along I could hear him softly whistling to
himself the refrain of an old song.

At last I came upon the section opposite which our mine was going up in
the morning, and cautiously looking over the parapet I surveyed the
ground in front. There were several sandbags that required shifting. If
they remained it would be necessary to place the camera higher above the
top than was safe or wise. Carefully pulling myself up, I lay along the
top of the parapet and pushed them aside. Several star-shells were fired
whilst I was so engaged, and I dare not stir--I scarcely dared
breathe--for fear the slightest movement would draw a stream of bullets
in my direction.

Undoubtedly this was the only place from which to film the mine
successfully. So marking the spot I slid down into the trench again, and
retraced my steps to the dug-out. I found the officer I had previously
seen enjoying a lovely, steaming tin of tea, and it wasn't many minutes
before I was keeping him company. We sat chatting and smoking for a
considerable time.

"Is everything ready?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "There is over three thousand pounds of it there"
(mentioning an explosive). "Brother Bosche will enjoy it."

"Let me see your map," I said, "and I'll point out the spot where I'm
working.