it was inspiring to minister to them. I used
to hear from time to time that so and so had been killed, and I knew
he had made his last Communion at one of such services. It was an
evidence of the changed attitude towards religion that the men in
general did not count it strange that soldiers should thus come to
Holy Communion in public. No one was ever laughed at or teased for
doing so.

Neuve Eglise, at the top of the road, had been badly wrecked by German
shells. I went up there one night with an officer friend of mine, to
see the scene of desolation. We were halted by some of our cyclists
who were patrolling the road. Whenever they stopped me at night and
asked who I was I always said, "German spy", and they would reply,
"Pass, German spy, all's well." My friend and I went down the street
of the broken and deserted village, which, from its position on the
hill, was an easy mark for shell fire. Not a living thing was stirring
except a big black cat which ran across our path. The moonlight made
strange shadows in the roofless houses. Against the west wall of the
church stood a large crucifix still undamaged. The roof had gone, and
the moonlight flooded the ruins through the broken Gothic windows. To
the left, ploughed up with shells, were the tombs of the civilian
cemetery, and the whole place was ghostly and uncanny.

Near the huts, on the hill at Bulford Camp was a hollow in the ground
which made a natural amphitheatre. Here at night concerts were given.
All the audience packed together very closely sat on the ground.
Before us, at the end of the hollow, the performers would appear, and
overhead the calm stars looked down. I always went to these
entertainments well provided with Players' cigarettes. A neat trick
was played upon me one night. I passed my silver cigarette case round
to the men and told them that all I wanted back was the case. In a
little while it was passed back to me. I looked into it to see if a
cigarette had been left for my use, when, to my astonishment, I found
that the case had been filled with De Reszke's, my favourite brand. I
thanked my unknown benefactor for his graceful generosity.

The field behind the huts at Court-o-Pyp was another of my (p. 097)
favourite camping grounds. It was on the Neuve Eglise side of the
camp, and beyond us was some barbed wire. About two o'clock one night
I was aroused by an excited conversation which was being carried on
between my friend Ross in his