I found out through H.Q. that some of our 15-inch howitzers were in the vicinity, so I decided to film them without delay, to work them into the story of the battle. I discovered their position on my map. I reached the battery. The state of the ground was indescribable. It was more like a "sea of mud," and standing in the middle of this morass was the giant gun, for all the world like a horrible frog squatting on its haunches. Each time it breathed it belched out flame and smoke with the most unearthly crash that could possibly be produced, and with each breath there flew with it a mass of metal and high explosive weighing fourteen hundred pounds, scattering death and destruction for hundreds of yards round the point of impact in the German defences, so that our boys might find it easier to force their way through. I filmed the firing several times, from various points of view, and when standing only about fifteen yards away the concussion shook the ground like a miniature earthquake. On one occasion, indeed, it lifted my camera and tripod in the air, driving it crashing into my chest. I had unknowingly placed myself in the danger zone which forms a semi-circle on either side of the muzzle when fired, the force being at times so great as to tear trees up by the roots and send them crashing to the ground. The prospects for "The Day" were certainly bad. As one burly Lancashire lad said to me: "the Devil was looking after his own; but we are going to beat them, sir." That was the spirit of all the men I met there. I went direct to B.H.Q. to get a full supply of film stock before going to the front line. I wished to get there early, to have a final look round and a discussion with the officers. A man I knew was there, looking for all the world like a man down and out. He had a face as long as a fiddle, and several other officers were looking just as glum. "You're a cheerful lot," I said. "What's up? Anything wrong?" "Yes, rather," they replied, "the ---- day is postponed for forty-eight hours." [Illustration: BOMBARDING THE GERMAN TRENCHES AT THE OPENING BATTLE OF THE GREAT SOMME FIGHT, JULY 1ST, 1916] [Illustration: MY OFFICIAL PASS TO THE FRONT LINE TO FILM THE BATTLE OF THE SOMME, JULY 1ST, 1916] "Great Scott! Why?" I asked. "The weather," he answered laconically. "It's quite impossible for our chaps to go over the top in such sticky stuff. They wouldn't stand an earthly. As I said before, it's doing its best to upset the whole affair. I know the men will be awfully disappointed. We can hardly hold them back now--but there, I suppose the Commander-in-Chief knows best. Undoubtedly it's a wise decision. The weather may break--God knows it couldn't be worse!" At that moment the Brigade-General came in. He was looking quite bright. "I hear 'The Day' has been postponed, sir," I said. "Is that official?" "Yes," he said. "If the weather improves ever such a little it will pay us for waiting, and of course it will suit you much better?"