postponed till two o'clock, Monty held an
open-air Communion Service in Trolley Ravine. The C.O., myself, and
a few others stole half an hour to attend it. This day was the last
Sunday in Advent, and a morning peace, such as reminded us of
English Sundays, brooded over Gallipoli. Save for the distant and
intermittent firing of the Turk, everything was very still, and
Monty had no need to raise his voice. The Collect was probably being
read thus softly at a number of tiny services dotted about the hills
of Helles and Suvla. Never shall I hear it again without thinking of
the last pages of the Gallipoli story, and of that Advent Sunday of
big decisions. "O Lord, raise up thy power, and come among us ...
that, whereas we are sore let and hindered in running the race that
is set before us, Thy bountiful mercy may speedily help and deliver
us." Like an answer to prayer came the words of the Epistle:
"Rejoice.... The Lord is at hand. Be anxious for nothing. And the
peace of God which passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts
and minds." Read at Monty's service in Trolley Ravine, it sounded
like a Special Order of the Day. I remembered what the Colonel had
hinted about Suvla, and wondered whether at similar services there
it was being listened to like a last message to the Suvla Army.

Not long had I returned to my fire trenches before our bombardment
opened. The shells streamed over, seeming about to burst in our own
trenches, but exploding instead the other side of No Man's Land.
Distant booms told us that the Navy had joined in the quarrel. The
awful noise of the bombardment, lying so low on our heads, and the
deafening detonations of the shells disarrayed all my thoughts. My
temples throbbed, my ears sang and whistled, and something began to
beat and ache at the back of my head. My brain, crowded with the
bombardment, had room for only two clear thoughts--the one, that I
was standing with a foot on the firing-step, my revolver cocked in
my hand; the other, that, when the mine gave the grand signal, I
should clamber mechanically over the parapet and rush into turmoil.
Hurry up with that mine--oh, hurry up! My limbs at least were
shivering with impatience to be over and away.

A great report set the air vibrating; the voice of my sergeant-major
shouted: "It's gone up, sir!" a burst of rapid rifle and machine-gun
fire, spreading all along the line, showed that the bombers had
leapt out of the protection of the trench