"Thanks," I replied.
Thinking there might be an opportunity of getting some scenes of shell-bursts, I hurried on as fast as conditions would permit. With men coming up, and myself and others going down, with full packs on, it was most difficult to squeeze past each other. At times it was impossible, so climbing up on to the parapet, I crawled into another traverse further along.
Just then another shell burst lower down, but well away from the trench, hurting no one. I eventually reached the "White City" without mishap, and was greeted enthusiastically by the officers present.
"What's the programme now?"
"I am waiting for the final kick-off," I said. "Are you going to give me a good show? And don't forget," I said, "hold back some of your bayonet-work on Fritz until I get there with my machine."
"But you're not coming after us with that affair, are you?"
"Yes, certainly; bet your life I shan't be far behind. As soon as you get into Bosche trenches I shall be there; so don't forget—get there."
From the corner some one shouted: "Tell brother Fritz if he gets out of 'the limits,' won't you?" This remark caused much laughter.
"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."