morning. We simply go down and enter the hut or tent and
take our seats. There is nothing formal; the Padre is sure
to be there first, and he sits about and has a chat with
each man before the service begins. The hut is more or less
divided by a curtain or something like that, which separates
the service from the part given up to refreshments, and we
generally sit round in a circle. There is no set form of
worship, and even the hymns are not settled beforehand. The
Padre just says, 'Well, boys what shall we have?' and the
men ask for their favourites, mostly the old-fashioned
hymns, such as 'Abide with Me' or 'Rock of Ages.' Then
follows a Bible reading and then more singing of hymns. The
sermon is generally more of a chat than anything else. The
Padre does not take a text, but talks of the troubles and
difficulties of the day in the most practical manner. I
remember one talk I heard on swearing, and another on
drinking. The Padre didn't preach at us, he did not condemn
us at all. He just gave good, sound, hard reasons as to why
we should not do these things. These friendly chats with
their sound common sense do us far more good than hundreds
of stereotyped sermons.

"The service finishes up with many more hymns and the
Benediction. But even then we do not leave. This particular
Padre of ours has introduced what he calls
'get-away-from-the-war chats.' We sit round and talk about
everything in general--of home, of books, and all general
topics. His idea is that we should try to forget about the
war for that brief half-hour or so. These talks are very
popular; we get large 'congregations,' and these services