"Where have you heard that term used?" I enquired. "'Limits' is a technical term." "Yes, I heard it used once, a year or two ago. I was staying at a small place called Steyning, near Brighton. A Film Company was taking scenes in the village and on the downs. They had about two hundred horsemen and an immense crowd, and were rehearsing a scene for what I was told was a representation of the Battle of Worcester. It was some fight. The camera man was continually shouting out to them to keep in 'the limits' (I assumed he meant the angle of view). As I say, it was some fight. Everything went well until a section of the men, who were supposed to run away, got a few genuine knocks on the head and, wishing to get their own back, they continued fighting. It was the funniest thing in the world. Of course the camera was stopped, and the scene retaken." "That's extraordinary," I replied. "Do you know that I was the chap who filmed that scene? it was for a film play called 'King Charles.' It's very peculiar how one meets. I remember that incident quite well." I again filmed various scenes of the Germans "strafing" our lines. Our guns, as usual, were crashing out. They were pouring concentrated fire on the Hawthorn Redoubt, a stronghold of the Germans, and thinking it would yield an excellent picture, I made my way to a point of vantage, whence I could get an unobstructed field of view. There was only one place, and that was a point directly opposite. To get there it was necessary to cross a sunken road about twenty-five feet wide. But it was under continual fire from German machine guns, and being broad daylight it was absolutely asking for trouble, thick and unadulterated, to attempt to cross it. I was advised not to do so, and I admit I ought to have taken the advice. Anyway, the opportunity of getting such a fine scene of a barrage of fire was too strong, and for once my cautionary instincts were at fault. To reach the sunken road was comparatively easy. You had only to walk along our front line trench, and fall down flat on the ground when a German shell burst near you, then proceed. I reached the junction where the road ran across at right angles, and from the shelter of our parapet the road looked the quietest place on earth. It appeared easy enough to me to jump up quickly, run across and drop on the further side in our trench. "Ridiculously easy! I'm going across," I said to my man. "When I'm over I'll throw a cord across for you to tie my tripod on to; then I'll pull it across. It will save you attempting it." I tied the camera on my shoulders, so as to have my arms quite free. I was now ready. The firing was renewed with redoubled vigour. Shells I could see were falling on the Hun lines like hailstones. "Jove!" I said to myself, "I shall miss it. Here goes."