I walked through
the town, in the hope of finding a place to get something. But none
could be found. Feeling very tired, I began to retrace my steps, with
the intention of going to bed.

On my way back I had reason to change my mind. Quite an interesting
scene unfolded itself. The boom of the guns rang out sharp and clear.
The moon was shining brightly, and at intervals there flashed across the
sky the not-far-distant glare of star-shells. In the houses, lining both
sides of the road, there was music, from the humble mouth-organ to the
piano, and lusty British voices were singing old English tunes with the
enthusiasm of boyhood.

On the pavement clusters of our Tommies were proceeding towards their
billets, singing heartily at the top of their voices. Some batches were
singing carols, others the latest favourites, such as "Keep the Home
Fires Burning."

No matter where one went, the same conditions and the same sounds
prevailed; just happy-go-lucky throngs, filled with the songs and
laughter born of the spirit of Christmas. And yet as I reached my room,
despite the scenes of joyousness and hilarity rampant, I could still
hear the crash of the guns.

[Illustration: THE PRINCE OF WALES TRYING TO LOCATE MY "CAMOUFLAGED
CAMERA"]

[Illustration: THE PRINCE OF WALES LEAVING A TEMPORARY CHURCH AT LA
GORGUE, XMAS DAY, 1915]

This was my second Christmas at the Front, although not in the same
district. Last year I was with the brave Belgian army. This year was
certainly very different in all respects except the weather, and that
was as poisonous as ever. A miserable, misty, drifting rain, which would
soak through to the skin in a few minutes anyone not provided with a
good rainproof. Donning my Burberry, I proceeded towards a small chapel,
or rather to a building which is now used as one. It was originally a
workshop. On three sides it was entirely surrounded by the floods. The
front door was just clear, but I had to paddle through mud half-way up
to my knees to get there. I intended to obtain a film of the Guards'
Division attending the Christmas service.

Fixing up my camera, I awaited their arrival. After a short time they
came along, headed by their band. What a fine body of men! Swinging
along with firm stride, they came past. Thinking I had got sufficient I
packed my camera, when, to my astonishment, I saw the Prince of Wales,
with Lord Cavan, coming up at the rear. Rushing back to my old position,
I endeavoured