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pfm Picture A Week (PAW) 2018

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Malins' View, Beaumont-Hamel

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"I hastily fixed my camera on the side of a small bank, this side of our firing trench, with my lens facing towards the Hawthorn Redoubt. Time: 7.19 a.m. My hand grasped the handle of the camera. I set my teeth. My whole mind was concentrated upon my work. Another thirty seconds passed. I started turning the handle, two revolutions per second, no more, no less. I noticed how regular I was turning... I fixed my eyes on the Redoubt. Any second now. Surely it was time. It seemed to me as if I had been turning for hours. Why doesn't it go up?

I looked at my exposure dial. I had used over a thousand feet. The horrible thought flashed through my mind, that my film might run out before the mine blew. Would it go up before I had time to reload? The thought brought beads of perspiration to my forehead. The agony was awful; indescribable. My hand began to shake. Another 250 feet exposed. I had to keep on.

Then it happened."

 
eternumviti said:
Malins' View, Beaumont-Hamel

Z7FGDK.jpg


"I hastily fixed my camera on the side of a small bank, this side of our firing trench, with my lens facing towards the Hawthorn Redoubt. Time: 7.19 a.m. My hand grasped the handle of the camera. I set my teeth. My whole mind was concentrated upon my work. Another thirty seconds passed. I started turning the handle, two revolutions per second, no more, no less. I noticed how regular I was turning... I fixed my eyes on the Redoubt. Any second now. Surely it was time. It seemed to me as if I had been turning for hours. Why doesn't it go up?

I looked at my exposure dial. I had used over a thousand feet. The horrible thought flashed through my mind, that my film might run out before the mine blew. Would it go up before I had time to reload? The thought brought beads of perspiration to my forehead. The agony was awful; indescribable. My hand began to shake. Another 250 feet exposed. I had to keep on.

Then it happened."

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Beautiful image, Toby.
 
drummerman said:
Love it
Click to expand...

the artwork is quite something -- actually a "bas-relief" in reverse: the face sinks in as an inverted mask of sort (as opposed to bulging out).

this is one of those situations where just about all the credit has to go to the artist who created that which served as background (kind of like shots of magnificent church interiors/exteriors) and not much to the photographer.
 
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The Sheffield Memorial Park, Serre

"I told the cyclist that everything was dead, even the bombs in the dump were guarded by a dead sergeant, but he appeared to be asleep, and I wished I could do the same. I was very tired...Suddenly, in the late afternoon coherent thought enabled me to cogitate, and for the first time that day fear came with thought. Crawling the few yards that separated us, I examined my silent comrade: the poor lad had been killed by the same shell that concussed me. From the waist down he was missing. His lower half appeared to be buried, but in reality he was standing on his stump. He was faithful to the end, looking towards the enemy with his steel helmet on at a rakish angle. His face was white but not care worn, and he had no blemish on any visible part. If he had a similar experience to my heavenly flight, I thought he must have had a lovely death."

Lance Corporal Fred Sayer, 11th East Lancashire Regiment (Accrington Pals)

The memorial to the Accrington Pals stands a few yards away from this enormous shellhole amongst the British July 1st front line trenches.
 
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