On one occasion when going down the lines, I tripped over a rope.

Up to that moment the tent had been in perfect silence, but, as though I had fired a magazine of high explosives, a torrent of profanity burst (p.

021) forth from the inhabitants at my misadventure.

Of course the men inside did not know to whom they were talking, but I stood there with my blood curdling, wondering how far I was personally responsible for the language poured forth, and terrified lest anyone should look and find out who had disturbed their slumbers.

I stole off into the darkness as quickly as I could, more than ever longing for a speedy termination of the great war, and resolving to be more careful in future about tripping over tent ropes.
We had church parades regularly now on Sundays and early celebrations of the Holy Communion for the various units.