“We’re going over the top,” was the answer.  “You may get some pictures then.”

Charles Anderson hastily consulted a small book he took from his pocket.

“What you doing?” asked Blake.

“Looking to see what time the sun rises.  I want to see if there’ll be light enough to make pictures.  Yes,” he went on, as he found what he wanted in the miniature almanac, “we ought to be able to get some shots.”

The gray wreaths of a fog that had settled down in the night were being dispelled by the advance heralds of dawn in the shape of a few faint streaks of light when Blake and his chums, wearing their steel helmets and with the steel-protected cameras, started from the farmhouse where they were quartered to report to Captain Black.

“All ready, boys?” the captain called.  “We’re going over the top at five-seven—­just as soon as the artillery puts down a barrage to clear the way for us.  You’re to get what pictures you can.  I’ll leave that part to you.  But don’t get ahead of the barrage fire—­that is, if you want to come back,” he added significantly.

“All right,” answered Blake, in a low voice.

He and his chums took their places in one of the communicating trenches, waiting for the American and the French soldiers in the front ones to spring up and go “over the top.”

Every minute seemed an hour, and there were frequent consultations of wrist watches.  Suddenly, at five o’clock exactly, there was a roar that sounded like a hundred bursts of thunder.  The artillery had opened the engagement, and the moving picture boys, at last on the firing line, grasped their cameras and reels of film as the soldiers grasped their guns and waited for the word to go.

The earth beneath them seemed to rock with the concussion of the big guns.

CHAPTER XVII

BOWLED OVER

Not a man of the American and French forces that were to attack the Germans had yet left the protecting trench.  The object of the artillery fire, which always preceded an attack unless it was a surprise one with tanks, was to blow away the barbed-wire entanglements, and, if possible, dispose of some of the enemy guns as well as the fighting men.

The barrage was really a “curtain of fire” moving ahead of the attacking troops to protect them.  This curtain actually advanced, for the guns belching out the rain of steel and lead were slowly elevated, and with the elevation a longer range was obtained.

Waiting in a trench slightly behind the troops that were soon to go into action, Blake Stewart and his chums talked, taking no care to keep down their voices.  Indeed, they had to yell to be heard.

“Well, we’re here at last,” said Blake.

“Yes; and it looks as if there’d be plenty of action,” added Joe.

“If it only gets lighter and the smoke doesn’t hang down so,” added Charlie.  “We won’t get very good films if it doesn’t get lighter.  It’s fierce now.”