Finally the word came. Once more in the gray dawn the boys took their places with their cameras in the communicating trench, while ahead of them crouched the soldiers eager to be unleashed at the Germans.
And then they went through it all over again. There was the curtain of fire, the artillery opening up along a five-mile front with a din the boys had never heard equalled.
Waiting for the light to improve a little, the boys set up their cameras in a little grove of trees where they would be somewhat protected and began to make the pictures.
The battle was one of the worst of the war. There were many killed and wounded, and through it all—through the storm of firing—the moving picture boys took reel after reel of film.
"Some fight!" cried Blake, as a screaming shell burst over their heads, some scattering fragments falling uncomfortably close to them.
"I should say yes!" agreed Joe. "But look, here comes Drew on the run. I wonder what's happened."
They saw their friend the private rushing toward them, and waving his hands. He was shouting, but what he said they could not hear.
And then, so suddenly that it was like a burst of fire, Blake, Joe and Charles experienced a strange feeling! Some powerful odor overpowered them! Gasping and choking, they fell to the ground, dimly hearing Drew shouting:
"Gassed! Gassed! Put on your masks!"