The batteries of artillery were all round us in the fields and orchards, and there was great concentration of British and Canadian guns.

In spite of the brigadier's orders, I often went east of Headquarters.

One lovely Sunday evening I had a late service for men of the 16th Battalion in an orchard.

They were going off later into No Man's Land on a working party.

The service, which was a voluntary one, had therefore an underlying pathos in it.