It was a service never to be forgotten, and as I told the men, in the short address I gave them, never before perhaps, in the history of that venerable fane, had it witnessed a more striking assembly.

From a distance of nearly seven thousand miles some of them had come, and this was to be our last Christmas before we entered the life and death struggle of the nations.

Row after row of men knelt to receive the Bread of Life, and it was a rare privilege to administer it to them.
The fog was heavier on our return and some of us had great difficulty in finding our lines.
It seemed sometimes as if we had been forgotten by the War Office, but this was not the case.

We had visits from the King, Lord Roberts and other high officials.

All these were impressed with the physique and high spirits of our men.
The conditions under which we lived were certainly atrocious, and an outbreak of meningitis cast a gloom over the camp.