Part 34 (1/2)

”Come along,” I said, ”let's explore. If there are any Bosches about they'll soon let us know of their presence. Let's get on to that other ridge; the Somme river should be there somewhere.”

We left the village and cautiously followed the road down one hill and up the next. The Germans had disappeared as completely as if the earth had swallowed them up. Not a soul was to be seen; we might have been strolling on the Surrey hills!

I gradually reached the brow of the next ridge. The sight which met my eyes was the most stimulating one I had ever seen from a picture point of view. There, in front of us, at a distance of six hundred yards, was the river Somme--the name which will go down to history as the most momentous in this the bloodiest war the world has ever known.

There it glistened, winding its way north and south like a silver snake.

”Come along,” I said, ”I shall get the first picture of the Somme,” and we raced away down the road.

In calmer moments at home I have admitted that we were mad. n.o.body in their right senses would have done such a thing as to rush headlong into country which might have been thick with enemy snipers and machine-guns.

But the quietness of the grave reigned--not a rifle-shot disturbed the silence.

Evidence of the German retreat met our gaze as we ran down the road. On either side were discarded material and, in a quarry on the left, a German Red Cross sign was stuck up on a post, and several dug-outs were burning--smoke was pouring up from below, showing that the Hun was destroying everything.

I was brought to a standstill at the sight of a ma.s.s of wreckage near the river. Smoke was issuing from it. I looked on my map and saw that it was the village of Brie; a small section was this side of the river, but the main part was on the other side. The whole place had been completely destroyed, partly, I ultimately found out, by our gun-fire, and the remainder burnt or blown up by the Germans.

The river had developed into a swampy marsh; in fact it was very difficult to say precisely where the river and ca.n.a.l finished and the marshes began.

I again got my camera into action and filmed, for the first time, the Somme river which was directly in our line of advance.

The bridges were blown up; huge ma.s.ses of stone and iron, twisted and torn and flung into the mora.s.s of weeds and mud and water, forming small dams, thus diverting the river in all directions. Several scenes on this historic spot I filmed, then, wis.h.i.+ng to push forward, I attempted to cross the broken bridges. By careful manoeuvring I managed to cross the first, then the second, but a large gap blown in the roadway about forty feet across, through which the water rushed in a torrent, brought me to a standstill, so reluctantly I had to retrace my steps.

Except for the sound of rus.h.i.+ng water the quietness was almost uncanny--the excitement of the chase was over. Then I began to realise our position.

We were in a section of ground which the enemy had occupied only a few hours before and had apparently abandoned--vanished into thin air! We were at least two kilometres in _front_ of our infantry, in fact we had, of our own accord--keen on obtaining live scenes for the people at home--const.i.tuted ourselves an advance patrol, armed, not with machine-guns, swords, or lances, but with cameras. There was every possibility of our being taken for Germans ourselves by our men from a distance; the real advance guard coming up would undoubtedly open fire and enquire into credentials afterwards. The ruins across the bridge might hide enemy rifles; they might open fire any moment. I explained the situation to my companion, who had also presumably reached a decision very similar to my own, which was to return to the village of Villers-Carbonel as quickly and as carefully as possible.

Keeping to the side of the road we trudged back, and half-way up the hill we ran into one of the things I expected--an advance party. An officer came forward and said in astonished tones:

”Where the devil have you fellows come from?”

”We've been getting photographs of the German retreat,” I replied.

”We're the official photographers and have been half-way across the Somme, but owing to the bridge being blown up we have come back. The Germans seem to have vanished entirely, not a sign of one about anywhere.”

”Well, I'm ----,” he said, ”this is the funniest thing I've ever known.

Will our advance patrols const.i.tute the official photographers for the future? If so, it will save us any amount of trouble.”

”Well?” I said, ”you can go on--devil a Bosche is over there anyway.”

”Well,” he said, ”these troops I am taking down will be the first across the Somme.”

”Right,” I said, seeing immediately the scoop it would be for my film.

”I will come back and film your men going over; it will make a unique picture.”

With that we retraced our steps, and laughing and chatting about our adventure, we once again reached the Somme river.

I fixed up my camera, and, when all was ready, a rough bridge was hastily made of several planks lashed together to bridge gaps in the fallen stonework, and I filmed the first troops to cross the Somme during the great German retreat.