"Just before you," I replied. "I came from Bovincourt."
"Well, you have got some job. I certainly didn't expect to find anyone so harmless as a photographer awaiting our arrival."
The conversation was abruptly stopped by a warning shout from one of the observers on a house-top close by.
"Germans, sir."
The officer and I rushed to a gap in the buildings and looked through our glasses, and there, on a small ridge a thousand yards off, a body of horsemen were seen approaching, riding hard, as if their very lives depended upon it.
An order was immediately given to the machine-gun company who had taken up a most advantageous position and one that commanded most of the country near by.
I placed my camera in such a position by the side of a wall that I could see all that was taking place and if seen myself I could easily pull it under cover.
Nearer and nearer they came. They were too far away to photograph. Excitement was intense. Were they coming into the village? If they did, I thought, in all conscience they would get a warm reception, knowing as I did the arrangements for its defence. My eyes were fixed upon them.
The officer close by was on the point of giving the order to fire when a burst of machine-gun fire rang out in the distance.
"Our cavalry have got them," said the officer. "We have some strong posts just here, Bosche has fairly run into them. Look! They have their tails up."