“I hope we’ll be there!” murmured Joe.  “And I hope we get a good light so we can film the fighting.”

“They’ll be almost light enough from the star-shells, bombs and big guns,” said Private Drew.  “Say, you ought to see the illumination some nights when the Boches start to get busy!  Coney Island is nothing to it, Buddy!”

Before the moving picture boys could get into real action on the front line trenches, there were certain formalities to go through, and they had to undergo a bit of training.

Captain Black, to whom they were responsible and to whom they had to report each day, wanted first some films of life in the small village where the troops were quartered when not in the trenches.  This was to show the “boys at home” what sort of life was in prospect for them.

Aside from the danger ever present in war in any form, life in the quaint little town was pleasant.  The boys in khaki were comfortably housed, they had the best of army food, and their pleasures were not few.  With the advent of Blake and his chums and the putting in operation of the moving picture show, enthusiasm ran high, and nothing was too good for the new arrivals.

But they had their work to do, for they were official photographers and were entrusted with certain duties.  Back of the firing line, of course, there was no danger, unless from air raids.  But after the first week, during which they took a number of reels of drilling and recreation scenes, there came a period of preparation.

Blake, Joe and Charlie were given gas masks and shown how to use them.  They were also each provided with an automatic pistol and were given uniforms.  For they had to be on the firing line and on such occasions were not really of the non-combatant class, though they were not supposed to take part in the fighting unless it should be to protect themselves.

At the suggestion of Captain Black the boys had made sheet-iron cases for their cameras and reels of film.

“Of course, if a shell comes your way that case won’t be much protection,” said the United States officer.  “But shrapnel won’t go through it.”

Steel helmets were also given the boys to wear when they went on duty in the firing trenches, and they were told under no circumstances to leave them off.

“For even if there isn’t any shooting from across No Man’s Land,” explained Captain Black, “a hostile aircraft may drop a bomb that will scatter a lot of steel bullets around.  So wear your helmets and keep the cases on your cameras.”

It was a week after this, during which time there had been several false alarms of a big German attack, that one evening as they were about to turn in after having given a moving picture show an orderly came up to Blake.

“You and your two friends will report to Captain Black at four o’clock to-morrow morning,” said the orderly.

“Why that hour?” asked Joe curiously.