How I Filmed the War Part 39

"Are you the Kinema man?" he enquired. "General ---- told me you were coming; what do you want?"

"Well, sir," I said, "I want to obtain films of all the operations in connection with the taking of St. Quentin; if you have an observation-post from which I can obtain a good view it will suit me admirably."

"I am sure we can fix you up all right. But we are just going to have a meal; sit down and join us. We can then go into details."

Lunch was served in primitive fashion, which was unavoidable under such conditions--but we fared sumptuously, although on a rough plain table with odds and ends for platters, and boxes and other makeshifts for chairs.

During the meal I went into details with the General about my requirements. He quite understood my position and thoroughly appreciated my keen desire to obtain something unique in the way of film story.

"The taking of St. Quentin by the Allied troops, sir, would be one of my finest films."

"Well," he said, "the French are bombarding the suburbs and other places, so far as damage is concerned, to-day; our batteries are also giving a hand. I should advise you to go to this spot"--indicating a position on the map. "What do you think?" he turned to the Brigade Major. "Will this do for him?"

"Yes, sir, I should think so."

"Anyway, I can soon see, if you can put me on the road to find it. But a guide would save time."

"You had better take him," said the General to the Brigade Major; "you know the place quite well."

"Right, sir," he said.

So, getting hold of an extra orderly to help carry my kit, we started off, up through a wood and then for the first time I viewed St. Quentin.

"We had better spread out here," said my guide. "Bosche can observe all movements from the Cathedral tower, and he doesn't forget to 'strafe' us although no harm is ever done."

"He is crumping now by all appearances," I replied, noticing some crumps bursting about three hundred yards away.

"Yes, they are 'strafing' the place we are going to! That's cheerful, anyway. We will make a wide detour; he's putting shrapnel over now. Look out! Keep well to the side of the wood."

We kept under cover until it was necessary to cross a field to a distant copse.

"That's our O.P. We have some guns there, worse luck."

"Hullo, keep down," I said; "that's a burst of four."

Crash--crash--crash--crash! in quick succession, the fearful bursts making the ground tremble.

"Very pretty," I remarked. "I will get my camera ready for the next lot."

They came--and I started turning one after the other; it was an excellent scene; but, as the enemy seemed to swing his range round slightly, the pieces were coming much too near to be healthy. So, hastily packing up, we made straight for the copse on the quarry top.

High shrapnel was now bursting, several pieces whistling very unpleasantly near.

"Let's get under shelter of the trees," said the Brigade Major, "the trunks will give us a lot of cover."

We made a run for it, and reached them safely, and, gently drawing near the outer edge, I was in full view of St. Quentin.

The Cathedral loomed up with great prominence--and shrapnel was exploding near the tower.

"That's to keep the Hun observers down," he said. "We are not, of course, sh.e.l.ling the place to damage it at all. Those fires you can see there are of Bosche making; he is systematically burning the place as a prelude to retreat. My Intelligence officer says that the Palace of Justice and the theatre are well alight, and airmen declare the town quite empty; they flew over it yesterday only about two hundred feet above the house-tops and they were not fired at once. Seems to me they've evacuated the populace entirely."

"Jove," I said, "the French are letting them have it over there,"

pointing in the distance.

"That is, of course, south of the town, very nearly running due east and west--it's an excellent barrage--and all H.E., too."

I soon got my camera into action and, carefully concealing the tripod behind a tree trunk or rather a little to one side, I began exposing.

The firing was very heavy. I continued exposing on various sections which gave me the most comprehensive idea of barrage fire.

"The French are bang up against the 'Hindenburg' line there, and it's pretty deep in wire--as you know," said my guide, "but I think they will manage it all right; it's only a matter of time. Hullo! they are 'strafing' their confounded guns again with H.E. Look out! keep down!"

And keep down we did. "Those 5.9 of brother Fritz's are not very kind to one; we had better stay for a few minutes; he may catch us crossing the field."

Ten minutes went by; things were a bit quieter, so, hastily packing up, we doubled back to the road.

"I never did like getting near forward gun position," I said, "but, curiously enough, my best view-points compel me on many occasions to fix up in their vicinity."

We got on to the road without casualties and in time to see the H.L.I.

forming up to leave at dusk for the front line, or the series of strong points which comprised it in this section.

They were having the operation orders read out to them by their officer in charge. The scenes made very interesting ones for me--the men, alert and keen to the last degree, stood there in line, listening intently to the words until the end.

The next morning I had a wire from H.Q. asking me to take charge of two French journalists for a day or two; they were most anxious to see the British troops in action before St. Quentin. Towards midday they arrived--M. Gustave Babin, of _L'Ill.u.s.tration_, Paris--and M. Eugene Tardeau, of the _Echo de Paris_. I presented these gentlemen to the General, who kindly extended every facility to them.

I took them up to the observation post from which they could look down on St. Quentin.

"It will be a great moment for me," said M. Babin, "to obtain the first impression of the Allied entry in the town."

For myself the day was quite uneventful, beyond obtaining extra scenes of the preparatory work of our artillery. The heavy bombardment was continuing with unabated fury, the horizon was black with the smoke of bursting high explosives, huge ma.s.ses of shrapnel were showering their leaden messengers of death upon the enemy. Towards evening the weather changed for the worse. It began with a biting cold sleet, which quickly turned into snow.

That night we slept in an old greenhouse which was open to the four winds of heaven. The cold was intense. I rolled myself up tight in my bag and drew my waterproof ground-sheet well over my body. It was a good job I did so for the snow was blowing in through the many fissures and cracks and settling upon me like fallen leaves in autumn.

The heavy sh.e.l.ling continued throughout the night. Several Bosche sh.e.l.ls came unpleasantly near, shaking my rickety shelter in an alarming manner.

The next day the weather continued vile and the operations were indefinitely postponed. Therefore there was nothing further to do but to return to H.Q.

St. Quentin, for the present, was to me a blank, although I had continued for some time preparing all the scenes leading up to its capture.

The weather was changing, the ground was drying. Our line, just north of the town, was being pushed further forward. Holon-Selency, Francilly-Selency, Fayet and Villerete had fallen to our victorious troops, but the main attack was not yet.

To obtain scenes of our men actually in the front line trenches facing the town, I made my way through Savy and Savy Wood, in which not a single tree was left standing by the Bosche. Through the wood I carefully worked forward by keeping well under cover of a slight rise in the ground. I met a battalion commander on the way who kindly directed me to the best path to take.

"But be careful and keep your head down. Hun snipers are very active and he is putting shrapnel over pretty frequently. Although it doesn't hurt us--it evidently amuses him," he said, with a smile. "There is one section where you will have to run the gauntlet--for you are in full view of the lines. Keep down as low as possible."

I thanked the C.O. and went ahead. The weather was now perfect--a cloudless blue sky flecked here and there by the furry white b.a.l.l.s of our bursting shrapnel around Hun aeroplanes, keeping them well above observation range.

I noticed a flight of our men winging their way over enemy lines. I could hear the rapid fire of the Bosche anti-aircraft guns, and see their black b.a.l.l.s of shrapnel burst. But our birdmen went on their way without a moment's hesitation. I recalled the time when I was up among the clouds, filming the Bosche lines thirteen thousand feet above mother earth.

Suddenly a sharp crack, crack and whir of a machine-gun rang out. A fight was going on up there; our anti-aircraft guns ceased, being afraid of hitting our own men, but the Bosche still kept on.