How I Filmed the War Part 13

"I'm going to chase it," he said. And away he went. But the faster we moved the faster went the other machine. At last we discovered the reason. In fact, I believe we both discovered it at precisely the same moment. _The plane was one of our own!_ I looked at the Captain. He smiled at me, and I'm positive he felt disappointed at the discovery.

"What's the height?" I enquired.

"About thirteen thousand feet," he said. "Shall we go higher? We may get above the mist."

"Try a little more," I replied. "But I don't think it will be possible to film any more scenes to-day; the fog is much too heavy."

The whole machine was wet with moisture. It seemed as if we should never rise above it. I had never before known it so thick. My companion asked if we should return. With reluctance I agreed, then, turning round face to the sun, we rushed away.

The mist did not seem to change. Mile after mile we encountered the same impenetrable blanket of clammy moisture. I was huddling as tight as possible to the bottom of the seat, taking advantage of the least bit of cover from the biting, rus.h.i.+ng swirl of icy-cold air. Mile after mile; it seemed hours up there in the solitude. I watched the regular dancing up and down of the valves on top of the engine. I was thinking of a tune that would fit to the regular beat of the tappets.

I shouted through the 'phone.

No answer.

He must be too cold to speak, I thought. For myself, I did not know whether I had jaws or not. The las.h.i.+ng, biting wind did not affect my face now. I could feel nothing. Once I tried to pinch my cheek; it was lifeless. It might have been clay. My jaw was practically set stiff. I could only just articulate.

I tried again to attract my companion's attention. Still no answer.

I was wondering whether anything had happened to him, when something did happen which very nearly petrified me. I felt a clutch on my shoulder.

Quickly turning my head, I was horrified to see him standing on his seat and leaning over my shoulder.

"Get off the telephone tube, you idiot. You are sitting on it," he shouted. "We can't speak to one another."

"Telephone be d.a.m.ned!" I managed to shout. "Get back to your seat. Don't play monkey-tricks up here."

If you can imagine yourself fourteen thousand feet above the earth, sitting in an aeroplane, and the pilot letting go all his controls, as he stands on his feet shouting in your ear, you will be able to realise, but only to a very slight extent, what my feelings were at this precise moment.

He returned to his seat. He was smiling. I fumbled about underneath and found the tube. Putting it to my mouth, I asked him what he meant by it.

"That's all right, my dear chap," he said, "there's no need to get alarmed. The old bus will go along merrily on its own."

"I'll believe all you say. In fact I'll believe anything you like to tell me, but I'd much rather you sit in your seat and control the machine," I replied.

He chuckled, apparently enjoying the joke to the full, but during the remainder of the journey I made sure I was not sitting on the speaking tube.

The mist was gradually clearing now. The sun shone gloriously, the clouds, a long way beneath us, looked more substantial; through the gaps in their fleecy whiteness the earth appeared. It seemed a long time since I had seen it. We were again coming to the edge of a cloud bank.

The atmosphere beyond was exceedingly clear.

"We are nearly home," said my companion. "Are you going to take any more scenes?"

"Yes," I said, "I suppose you'll spiral down?"

"Right-ho!"

"I'll take a film showing the earth revolving. It'll look very quaint on the screen."

"Here goes then. We are going to dive down to about six thousand feet, so hold on tight to your strap."

The engines almost stopped. Suddenly we seemed to be falling earthwards.

Down--down--down! We were diving as nearly perpendicular as it is possible to be. Sharp pains shot through my head. It was getting worse.

The pain was horrible. The right side of my face and head seemed as if a hundred pin-points were being driven into it. I clutched my face in agony; then I realised the cause. Coming down from such a height, at so terrific a speed, the different pressure of the atmosphere affected the blood pressure on the head.

Suddenly the downward rush was stopped. The plane was brought to an even keel.

"I'm going to spiral now," said the pilot. "Ready?"

"Right away," I said, and knelt again in my seat. The plane suddenly seemed to swerve. Then it slanted at a most terrifying angle, and began to descend rapidly towards the earth in a spiral form. I filmed the scene on the journey. To say the earth looked extraordinary would be putting it very mildly. The ground below seemed to rush up and mix with the clouds. First the earth seemed to be over one's head, then the clouds. I am sure the most ardent futurist artist would find it utterly impossible to do justice to such a scene. Round and round we went. Now one side, now the other. How I held to my camera-handle goodness only knows. Half the time, I am sure, I turned it mechanically.

Suddenly we came to an even keel. The earth seemed within jumping distance. The nose dipped again, the propeller whirled. Within a few seconds we were bounding along on the gra.s.sy s.p.a.ce of the aerodrome, and finally coming to rest we were surrounded by the mechanics, who quickly brought the machine to a standstill.

"By the way," I said to the pilot, as we went off to tea, "how long were we up there altogether?"

"Two hours," he replied.

Two hours! Great Scott! It seemed days!

CHAPTER XI

PREPARING FOR THE "BIG PUSH"

The Threshold of Tremendous Happenings--General ----'s Speech to His Men on the Eve of Battle--Choosing My Position for Filming the "Big Push"--Under Sh.e.l.l-fire--A Race of Shrieking Devils--Fritz's Way of "Making Love"--I Visit the "White City"--And On the Way have Another Experience of Gas Sh.e.l.ls.

The time for which England has been preparing during these past two awful years is here. We are now on the threshold of tremendous happenings. The Great Offensive is about to begin. What will be the result?

We see the wonderful organisation of our vast armies, and we know the firm and resolute methods of our General Staff--as I have seen and known them during the war--would leave nothing to be desired. As a machine, it is the most wonderful that was ever created.

My position as Official Kinematographer has afforded me unique opportunities to gain knowledge of the whole system required to wage the most terrible war that has ever been known to mankind. I have not let these opportunities slip by.

The great day was coming; there was a mysterious something which affected everyone at G.H.Q. There was no definite news to hand; n.o.body, with the exception of those directly concerned, knew when and where the blow was to be struck. Some thought on the northern part of our line, others the centre; others, again, the south. In the home, in the streets, in the cafes and gardens, the one topic of conversation was--the coming Great Offensive.

I was told by a colonel that my chance to make history was coming. That was all. But those few words conveyed an enormous lot to me. Later in the day I was told by a captain to proceed to the front line, to choose a suitable position wherein to fix up my camera. Our section facing Gouerment was suggested to me as the place where there was likely to be the most excitement, and I immediately set out for that section. During the journey I was held up by a large body of our men, who turned out afterwards to be the London Scottish. They were formed up in a square, and in the centre was a general, with his staff officers, addressing the men. His words thrilled the hearts of every one who heard them:

"Gentlemen of the London Scottish: Within the next few days you will take part in the greatest battle in the history of the world. To you has been entrusted the taking and holding of Gouerment.... England is looking to you to free the world from slavery and militarism that is epitomized in the German nation and German Kultur.... Gentlemen, I know you will not fail, and from the bottom of my heart I wish you the best of luck."

I waited until the address was finished, and then proceeded to a certain place, striking out on the left and trudging through innumerable communication trenches, at times up to my knees in mud and water.

Eventually I reached an eminence facing the village of Gouerment. It was in a valley. The German trenches ran parallel with my position, and on the right I could discern the long green ribbon of gra.s.s termed "No Man's Land," stretching as far as the eye could see. The whole front of the German lines was being sh.e.l.led by our heavy guns; the place was a spitting ma.s.s of smoke and flame. Salvo after salvo was being poured from our guns.

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN A Sh.e.l.l HOLE IN "NO MAN'S LAND" FILMING OUR HEAVY BOMBARDMENT OF THE GERMAN LINES. I GOT INTO THIS POSITION DURING THE NIGHT PREVIOUS. IT WAS HERE THAT I EARNED THE SOUBRIQUET "MALINS OF NO MAN'S LAND"]

"What an inspiring sight," I said to an officer standing by my side, "and these sh.e.l.ls were made by the women of England."

"Well," he said, "you see Gommecourt; that's all coming down in a day or two. Every gun, large and small, will concentrate its fire on it, and level it to the ground. That's your picture."

"In that case," I replied, "I shall want to be much nearer our front line. I must get within five hundred yards of it. What a sight! What a film it will be!"