seemed to be
crashing together, and it sounded as if thousands of peals of thunder
had concentrated themselves into one soul-terrifying roar.

An officer looked in at the entrance at that moment.

"Hullo!" he said. "Are you the 'movie-man'?"

"Yes," I said, sitting up. "What's up?"

"Well, I'm hanged; I'm glad I've found you. Do you know, I asked
several Johnnies down the line if you were in the trenches and they
laughed at me; asked me if I had been drinking; they thought I was
pulling their leg. 'A movie man in the trenches,' they said, in tones of
amazement; 'not likely!' I told them that you were here last night, and
that you are here to film the attack. Well, anyway, this is what I have
come for. The Colonel sent me--you know him--to see if you would film a
company of our men in occupation of Sunken Road. They occupied it during
the night without a single casualty, by tunnelling for about fifty yards
through the parapet, under 'No Man's Land'; then sapped up and into the
road. It's a fine piece of work," he said, "and would make a good
picture."

"Rather," I said; "I'll come. It will be splendid from the historical
point of view. Can you let me have a guide, to show me the quickest and
best way?"

"Yes, I will send one of our pioneers; he will guide you," he said. "Let
me know how you get on, won't you? And, if possible, when you return
call in and see the Colonel. He will be frightfully bucked."

"Right-o!" I said. "By Gad! it's bally cold. My teeth won't hold still.
Push that man along, and I'll get off."

"Au revoir," he called out as he left. "See you later."

[Illustration: IN THE SUNKEN ROAD AT BEAUMONT HAMEL, JUST BEFORE ZERO
HOUR, JULY 1ST, 1916. MY EXPERIENCES IN GETTING INTO THIS PLACE AT 6.20
A.M. REMAIN THE MOST VIVID OF ALL]

[Illustration: IN A TRENCH MORTAR TUNNEL, DURING THE BATTLE OF THE
SOMME, AT BEAUMONT HAMEL, JULY 1ST, 1916]

The guide turned up a few minutes afterwards; he took the tripod, I the
camera. I started off and entered King Street, making my way towards the
firing trench. I have described in previous chapters what it was like to
be under an intense bombardment. I have attempted to analyse my feelings
when lying in the trenches with shells bursting directly overhead. I
have been in all sorts of places, under heavy shell-fire, but for
intensity and nearness--nothing--absolutely nothing--compared with
the frightful and demoralising nature of the shell-fire which I
experien