"Well," said one, "there are several places, but Bosche is 'hating' us rather this afternoon, and the firing trench is anything but healthy. He's been properly dosing us with 'whizz-bangs,' but you know he _will_ have his bit of fun. You see, when Fritz starts we let off a few 'flying pigs' in return, which undoubtedly disturbs his peace of mind." "By my map, a spot called 'Lanwick Street' seems likely," I said. "It's bang opposite the village, and they are putting the 15-inch on the eastern corner. If you will be good enough to guide me, I will have a look now; it will take me some time to fix up my camera in reasonable safety." "You won't find much safety there," he replied. "We have practically to rebuild the parapet every night, but only for a few more days, thank Heaven! Anyway, come along." We proceeded by way of "King Street" to "Lanwick Street," and several times we had to fall flat in the trench bottom to escape being hit by shells. They seemed at times to burst almost overhead. The "whizz-bangs" which Fritz puts over are rather little beggars; you have no time to dodge them. They come with a "phut" and a bang that for sheer speed knocks spots off a flash of lightning. One only thinks to duck when the beastly thing has gone off. "Lanwick Street" was the usual sort of trench. At one end was an artillery observation officer, correcting the range of his guns. "Go easy, won't you?" he said to me. "Bosche has an idea we use this corner for something rather important. If he sees your camera we shall certainly receive his attention. For Heaven's sake, keep your head down." "Right-o!" I said. "Lend me your periscope; I will have a look at the ground first through that." I looked on the village, or rather the late site of it. It was absolutely flattened out, with the exception of a few remaining stumps of trees, which used to be a beautiful wood, near which the village nestled. "That's been done by our guns in five days; some mess, eh?" "My word, yes. Now about this afternoon's bombardment; they are working on the left-hand corner." I chose a spot for working and fixing up my tripod, and waited until 4.30 p.m. In the meantime, with the aid of a stick, I gradually pushed away several sandbags which interfered with my view on the parapet. To do this it was necessary to raise myself head and shoulders above the top and, with one arm pushed forward, I worked the bags clear. I felt much better when that job was done. "You're lucky," said the A.O. "I had one of my periscopes hit clean by a bullet this morning. Fritz must be having a nap, or he would have had you for a cert." "Anyway," I replied, "it gives me a comparatively clear view now."