said. "What's up?
Anything wrong?"

"Yes, rather," they replied, "the ---- day is postponed for forty-eight
hours."

[Illustration: BOMBARDING THE GERMAN TRENCHES AT THE OPENING BATTLE OF
THE GREAT SOMME FIGHT, JULY 1ST, 1916]

[Illustration: MY OFFICIAL PASS TO THE FRONT LINE TO FILM THE BATTLE OF
THE SOMME, JULY 1ST, 1916]

"Great Scott! Why?" I asked.

"The weather," he answered laconically. "It's quite impossible for our
chaps to go over the top in such sticky stuff. They wouldn't stand an
earthly. As I said before, it's doing its best to upset the whole
affair. I know the men will be awfully disappointed. We can hardly hold
them back now--but there, I suppose the Commander-in-Chief knows best.
Undoubtedly it's a wise decision. The weather may break--God knows it
couldn't be worse!"

At that moment the Brigade-General came in. He was looking quite bright.

"I hear 'The Day' has been postponed, sir," I said. "Is that official?"

"Yes," he said. "If the weather improves ever such a little it will pay
us for waiting, and of course it will suit you much better?"

"Rather," I replied. "It also gives me more time to film the preliminary
scenes. I shall, however, keep to my programme, and go to the trenches
this afternoon."

I packed all my apparatus together, put some bully and biscuits in my
bag, and started off once more for the trenches. I admit that on the
journey thoughts crept into my mind, and I wondered whether I should
return. Outwardly I was merry and bright, but inwardly--well, I admit I
felt a bit nervous. And yet, I had an instinctive feeling that all would
be well, that I need not worry. Such is the complex mystery of the human
mind, battling within itself against its own knowledge, its own
decisions, its own instincts. And yet there is a predominating force
which seems to shuffle itself out of the midst of that chaotic state of
mind, and holds itself up as a beacon-light, saying "Follow me, believe
in me, let me guide you, all will be well." And it is the man who allows
himself to be guided by that mysterious something, which for the want of
a better name we may call "instinct," who benefits, both spiritually
and materially, by it.

The usual big gun duel was proceeding with its usual intensity, but we
were putting over about fifty shells to the Huns' one. "Crump" fell both
ahead and behind me, compelling me, as before, to fall flat upon the
ground. I reached the "Fifth Avenue." The trench wa