Reaching the batteries I unlimbered myself of my gear and approaching the C.O. in charge told him who I was and what I wanted. He was quite pleased to see me and said that he was just about to give Fritz a good dose of "iron rations," firing in salvos. Quickly fixing up my camera I filmed the scenes from various points of view. The men were stripped to the waist, jumping out the shells as fast as they could be handled. While I was filming the scene brother Fritz replied with whizz-bangs thick and fast. They are perfect devils, and it is practically impossible to hear them coming until they burst. I turned my machine round upon the spot near which they were dropping. Several times they got within the range of my camera, and I continued to turn upon them until two came much too close, so thinking discretion the better part of valour, I hastily disappeared into the doubtful shelter of a broken-down Hun trench. Then they came over, several smothering me in dust as they exploded close by. Having obtained all the pictures I required I thanked the C.O. and went on my way. My clothes were absolutely saturated with perspiration as I shambled away towards the top end of Bernafay Wood. I looked back at the battery. Bosche was still "strafing." I vowed I would never go near any forward guns again; but good resolutions are made to be broken, and my lust for pictures is too strong within me. Moving was now difficult. The weight of my camera outfit seemed to be getting heavier. I could only get along at a very slow pace. The strap around my chest seemed to squeeze the very breath out of my lungs. But worse was to come. The Huns began shelling the section with shrapnel in a searching manner, and several times I collapsed into a shell-hole, in the hope of obtaining a little cover. But there is very little shelter from shrapnel. On several occasions I felt like throwing away my steel helmet; the weight seemed abnormal; but prudence warned me and I clung to it. The fire was now too bad to proceed in the open. If there were any trenches or ditches I availed myself of their protection. The heat in the trenches was terrific, and to add to the horrors of the stench and heat there were millions of flies. Filthy brutes! They seemed to cling to one like leeches, and, my arms being full, I could not keep them off my face. Several times I almost decided to turn back, asking myself if it was worth while. But when I looked at Trones Wood in the distance, and the heavy shells bursting all round, I gritted my teeth and decided to push on. Thinking that more smoke might help to keep off the flies I lighted two cigarettes and puffed away at them, one in each corner of my mouth. I'm sure I must have looked a most extraordinary specimen of humanity at this moment. Loaded with kit, perspiring like a bull; my steel helmet cocked on one side of my head; puffing away like a chimney at two cigarettes, and millions of flies buzzing all around me. Picture me if you can.