remembered that it was Christmas Eve and that they were ringing for the
Midnight Mass, so I got up quickly. The large church was packed with
people, every one of the little side chapels was full and people were
even sitting on the altar steps. There must have been three or four
thousand people there, most of them of course the people of the place,
but also soldiers, Red Cross workers and many refugees mostly from
Lowice. Poor people, it was a sad Christmas for them--having lost so
much already and not knowing from day to day if they would lose all, as
at that time it was a question whether or not the Russian authorities
would decide for strategic reasons to fall back once more.

And then twelve o'clock struck and the Mass began.

Soon a young priest got up into the pulpit and gave them a little
sermon. It was in Polish, but though I could not understand the words, I
could tell from the people's faces what it was about. When he spoke of
the horrors of war, the losses and the deaths and the suffering that had
come to so many of them, one woman put her apron to her face and sobbed
aloud in the tense silence. And in a moment the whole congregation began
sobbing and moaning and swaying themselves to and fro. The young priest
stopped and left them alone a moment or two, and then began to speak in
a low persuasive voice. I do not know what he said, but he gradually
soothed them and made them happy. And then the organ began pealing out
triumphantly, and while the guns crashed and thundered outside, the
choir within sang of peace and goodwill to all men.

Christmas Day was a very mournful one for us, as we heard of the loss of
our new and best automobile, which had just been given as a present to
the Column. One of the boys was taking it to Warsaw from Skiernevice
with some wounded officers, and it had broken down just outside the
village. The mud was awful, and with the very greatest difficulty they
managed to get it towed as far as Rawa, but had to finally abandon it to
the Germans, though fortunately they got off safely themselves. It was a
great blow to the Column, as it was impossible to replace it, these big
ambulance cars costing something like 8000 roubles.

So our Christmas dinner eaten at our usual dirty little restaurant could
not be called a success.

Food was very scarce at that time in Zyradow; there was hardly any meat
or sugar, and no milk or eggs or white bread. One of us had brought a
cake for Christmas f