"What do you want, monsieur?" said he in fine English.
"You speak English well," I replied.
"Yes, monsieur, I was in England for four years previous to the war." So I explained my position. "I want to accompany you to the trenches to take some kinema films."
After exchanging a few words he took me to his superior officer, who extended every courtesy to me. I explained to him what I was desirous of doing. "But it is extraordinary, monsieur, that you should take such risks for pictures. You may in all probability get shot."
"Possibly, sir," I replied, "but to obtain genuine scenes one must be absolutely in the front line."
"Ah, you English," he said, "you are extraordinaire." Suddenly taking me by the arm, he led me to an outhouse. At the door we met his Captain. Introducing me, he began to explain my wishes. By the looks and the smiles, I knew things were going well for me.
Calling the interpreter, the Captain said, "If you accompany my men to the trenches you may get killed. You must take all risks. I cannot be held responsible, remember!" And with a smile, he turned and entered the house.
Hardly realising my good fortune, I nearly hugged my new friend, the Lieutenant.
"Monsieur," I said, saluting, "I am un Belge soldat pro tem."
Laughingly he told me to get my kit ready, and from a soldier who could speak English I borrowed a water-bottle and two blankets. Going round to the back of the farm, I came upon the rest of the men being served out with coffee from a copper. Awaiting my turn, I had my water-bottle filled; then the bread rations were served out with tinned herrings. Obtaining my allowance, I stowed it away in my knapsack, rolled up my blanket and fixed it on my back, and was ready. Then the "Fall in" was sounded. What a happy-go-lucky lot! No one would have thought these men were going into battle, and that many of them would probably not return. This, unfortunately, turned out to be only too true.