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"But brother Bosche will be very peevish about it. We don't usually fire at this time of the afternoon. Yes, there is the haymaking party going home. There will be a beastly noise for the next half-hour. Pass the word along for every man to get into his dug-out." The warning comes none too soon. In five minutes the incensed Hun is retaliating for the disturbance of his afternoon siesta.
Bosche machines are always up in the air, taking bearings for the guns." Arriving at the outskirts of the ruined town, we were pulled up by a sentry, who, finding our papers in order, allowed us to proceed. At that moment a furious fusillade of gun-fire attracted our attention, and three shrill blasts of a whistle rang out; then we heard a cry, "Everyone under cover!"
The village had been turned by the Bosche into a veritable fortress; trenches and strong points, bristling with machine-guns, commanded every point which gave vantage to the enemy. But, after much bloody fighting, our troops stormed and captured the place and the German losses must have been appalling.
"We start our intense at twelve o'clock, every gun we have in this section is going to fairly give Bosche jumps; in fact he will have to find a 'better 'ole." This remark caused considerable laughter. "I am going to get my scenes from 'Ginchy Telegraph'; it seems a very likely spot by the map. Shall I get there about eleven o'clock and fix up?" "Good," said one.
I raced towards them as hard as possible and filmed them going across first one section then the other; Bosche shells were falling near them, knocking a few out but missing most, first one line then the other. Bosche was dropping large "coal boxes" all along our supports.
"Phut-bang," "phut-bang," they came. Every one scampered for cover. Needless to say, I did so too. Five minutes went by. All the time these souvenirs dropped around us, but luckily none of them got any direct hits on our trench. I thought I would wait another five minutes, to see if Bosche would cease fire. But not he. He was rather cross about my crossing the road safely. Time went by.
"Be careful," came the warning voice of a major, "the whole of the ground here is in view of the Bosche artillery observers. If they see anyone moving about they'll start 'strafing' like anything, and I assure you they do it very conscientiously." I therefore kept as low as possible.
That's the worst of the Bosche. He starts by being playful; but if not suppressed at once, he gets rough; and that, of course, spoils all the harmony of the proceedings. So I cordially commend your idea of the one-fifty-five turn, sir." "I'll see what can be done," says the major. "I think the best plan would be a couple of hours' solid frightfulness, from every battery we can switch on.
Never mind, stick it; they won't bite." "Pleasant dreams," I mumbled as I drew my blanket well around my face; in a few minutes the presence of dead Bosche ceased to trouble me. I slept.
The earth rushed up to meet us. For the moment it seemed as if the aeroplane was out of control, but with a graceful glide, which brought us level, we continued our journey at a height of three thousand feet. "Get what you want quickly," he shouted. "We can't stay here long." I began to expose again. By now we were over line after line of trenches. At times we were well over the Bosche lines.
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