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Updated: June 22, 2025
Pirie was seized by the throat by a Hun, but he put his bayonet through his assailant's neck and left it there; the Bosche fell dead as Kinniburgh came to the rescue.
I have not the slightest doubt that there will be a heavy counter-attack, which we shall repel. After that we shall attack again, and gain more ground, or at least keep the Bosche exceedingly busy holding on.
"True enough," said Robinson, "but maybe they'll write 'ome and tell their pals 'ow pleased the Bosche is with them, and 'ave a kind word in passing to say when any of them goes 'ome casualtied or on leave, 'Well done, Wales! Well, I 'ope Wales likes that smack in the eye," and he spat contemptuously.
"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."
I hastily fixed my camera on the side of the small bank, this side of our firing trench, with my lens pointing towards the Hawthorn Redoubt, where the mine the largest "blown" on the British Front was going up. It was loaded with twenty tons of a new explosive of tremendous destructive power, and it had taken seven months to build. Gee, what an awakening for Bosche!
He seemed highly amused and thanked me for the information brought. I told him that wishing to be on the spot if anything interesting happened during the night or early next morning I had decided to sleep in my car in the village. I was going to hunt up a place to cook some food. "I will take you somewhere," he said. "There is the old Mayor of Bierne here. He has been evacuated by the Bosche.
The explanation was fairly simple, however, as each battalion had a few miles of trenches in their sector and it was impossible to have them all dug to a plan. Still, as had always been our lot, there was any amount of digging to be done and we had to get down to it. Night patrols here found little. The Bosche front line was only held by a few posts.
Here I filmed various scenes, but Bosche, as usual, kept me on the jump with his shrapnel, forcing me to take hurried shelter from time to time. There is one thing I shall always thank Fritz for, and that is his dug-outs. If he only knew how useful they had been to me on many occasions I am sure he would feel flattered. From the chalk-pit to Pozières was no great distance.
"Yes, certainly; bet your life I shan't be far behind. As soon as you get into Bosche trenches I shall be there; so don't forget get there." From the corner some one shouted: "Tell brother Fritz if he gets out of 'the limits, won't you?" This remark caused much laughter. "Where have you heard that term used?" I enquired. "'Limits' is a technical term."
"This is an extraordinary state of affairs, isn't it? In case there are any Bosche rearguard patrols, we'll keep this side of the ruins as much as possible." The village was practically on the top of a ridge of hills. I stood under the shadow of some tree-stumps and gazed around. What a scene of desolation it was.
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