Within a hundred yards of the ruined town, from the shelter of a wrecked barn came the voice of a Belgian soldier peremptorily ordering me to take cover. Without asking questions, I did so by sprawling full length in a deep wheel-rut, but as I had previously had a mud-bath, a little more or less did not matter. I wriggled myself towards the cover of the barn, when a sharp volley of rifle-fire broke out on my left. Gaining shelter, I asked the soldier the reason of the fusillade. "Uhlan outposts, monsieur," replied the man laconically. Keeping under cover, I crawled towards the back of the barn, and ensconced behind some bales of straw, on a small bridge, I filmed this Belgian outpost driving off the Uhlans, and peeping through one of the rifle slots, I could see them showing a clean pair of heels, but not without losing one of their number. He was brought into our lines later, and I was lucky enough to secure the pennon from his lance as a souvenir. I made my way by various means into the town. The place was absolutely devoid of life. It was highly dangerous to move about in the open. To be seen by the German airmen was the signal for being shelled for about three hours. Whilst filming some of the ruins, I was startled by a sharp word of command. Turning round, I saw a Belgian soldier, with his rifle pointing at me. He ordered me to advance. I produced my permit, and giving the password, I quite satisfied him. Bidding me come inside he indicated a seat, and asked me to have some soup. And didn't it smell appetising! A broken door served as a table; various oddments, as chairs and the soup-copper, stood in the centre of the table. This proved one of the most enjoyable meals of the campaign. The soldier told me they had to be very careful to guard against spies. They had caught one only that morning, "but he will spy no more, monsieur," he said, with a significant look. I rose, and said I must leave them, as I wanted to take advantage of the daylight. I asked my friend if he could give me any information as to the whereabouts of anything interesting to film, as I wanted to take back scenes to show the people of England the ravages caused in Belgium by the Huns, and the brave Belgians in action. He was full of regrets that he was not able to accompany me, but being on duty he dare not move. With a hearty shake of the hand and best wishes we parted, and, keeping under cover of the ruined buildings as much as possible, I made my way through Ramscapelle. Hardened as I was by now to sights of devastation, I could not help a lump rising in my throat when I came upon children's toys, babies' cots, and suchlike things, peeping out from among the ruins caused by the German guns.