I examined the ground, it was very soft, and the newly scattered earth and clay from the mine made it much worse.
"If we get stuck," I thought, "there is nobody about to help us out." The captain tried and got over.
I yelled out that I would follow; they disappeared in the direction of Bovincourt. Backing my car to get a good start I let it go over the edge of the road into the field. It was like going through pudding. The near wheels roared round without gripping. Then it happened! We were stuck! A fine predicament, I thought, with prowling enemy patrols about and no rifle.
"All shoulders to the wheel," I said. By digging, and jamming wood, sacking and straw under the wheels we managed, after three-quarters of an hour, to get it out. Jove! what a time it was! And so on the road again.
"We will get into Bovincourt," I said. "Let her go; I may meet the others."
The feeling was uncanny and my position strange, for all I knew Bosches were all around me (and later on this proved to be the case).
Night was falling, and ere I reached the village it was quite impossible to take any scenes.
At the entrance to the village I ran into several people who crowded round the car, crying and laughing in their relief at seeing the British arrive. Old men and women who could barely move hobbled forward to shake hands, with tears in their eyes. They clambered in and around the car, and it was only by making them understand that I would return on the following day that they allowed the car to proceed. The sight was wonderful and I wish I were able to describe it better.
I could not find the other car, so, assuming it had gone back, I decided to return as far as Brie and stay the night. As I was leaving the village a burst of machine-gun fire rang out close by followed by violent rifle-shots.
"Let her go," I said to my chauffeur. "I am not at all anxious to get pipped out here. My films must not fall into enemy hands."