Over the Top With the Third Australian Division | Page 8

sun rises, and the mist flees before it, revealing the face of the
earth covered with snow, mud, or in the tight grip of 'Jack Frost.'
Aeroplanes glide gracefully overhead. They are out for observation
purposes, or to prevent the approach of enemy craft. The artillery, ever
alert both day and night, sends out its missiles of death far into the
enemy's lines. The enemy guns reply, and thus it might continue
through the day. Shells are ugly killers and wounders; but for them
there would be little of the slaughter-yard suggestion about a modern
battlefield, with its improved system of well-built and cleanly kept
trenches and its clean puncturing bayonet thrust or rifle bullet. While
the shells shriek and whirr through the air, heaps of humanity are
distributed about the trenches, in the dug-outs, or in the reserve lines.
The men sit or lie about for the most part, as unconcerned as if on
holiday bent. The order to 'stand to' would bring them to their
appointed places, from whence they would resist an invasion of their
lines by the enemy, or launch an attack, make a raid, or go forth on
patrol of 'no man's land.'
[Illustration: The Ostrich.]
Back from the lines units are resting or engaged on the lines of
communication; from such units men are available for church parades.
Men of different units and of different theological views come together

in one place and worship God. Buildings are not always available for
parade services. Sometimes they are held in the open field, in
farm-yards, or in billets; frequently in tents provided by the Y.M.C.A.
Attendance at these services is purely voluntary, and a large proportion
of men attend whenever opportunity offers. While the service is in
progress the war goes on. The men in the trenches catch the strains of
band music, and there is carried over the distance intervening the sound
of the singing of old familiar hymns. It is a privilege to speak to these
men who have been in the shell-swept trenches, who have participated
in raids, who have taken part in one of the most successful battles of
the war, who have seen suffering and even looked into the face of
death.
Several parades might be held during the day at hours convenient to
those who wish to attend, and in the evening a song-service is
conducted, when the men choose the hymns which they would sing.
They are reverent in attitude, earnest in attention.
Sundays are no different from other days of the week. They merely
mark, as do other days, the passing of time, which will bring either
grief or gladness to those who watch and wait for the day of peace, and
to us who war a victory crowned with honour. There is no _Sun_-day.
The thick, dark cloud of war hides the sun's bright face, but there is
hope in the thought that Sun-day is prophetic as well as historic, and
insistently in its recurrence directs us to wait patiently for the
cloud-bursts out of which shall emerge the Sun of Righteousness, who
will proclaim such time to be the Day of the Lord.
For, lo, the days are hastening on By prophet bard foretold, When with
the ever circling years Comes round the age of gold. When peace shall
over all the earth Its ancient splendours fling, And all the world take up
the song Which angels once did sing:
'Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, goodwill toward men.'

SOLDIERS' SUPERSTITIONS

With the advent of Christmas, arrangements were effected by which
officers whose work necessitated their being temporarily separated
from the unit could come together for the purpose of observing the
special season in the established epicurean style. Every effort was made
to make the day as distinct from other days as circumstances would
allow. Donations from the officers and small contributions from the
men enabled those who had the matter in hand to provide the
customary Christmas dinner. Though it was not served up on tables,
spread with linen, and the usual impedimenta of the banqueting-table, it
was greatly appreciated, and afforded a rare opportunity for reunion.
Fresh friendships were formed, acquaintances renewed, brothers and
relatives met after months of separation. Toasts were honoured and
carols or hymns appropriate to the season were sung. A great deal had
been heard or read about our troops fraternizing with the enemy during
the Christmas seasons of the previous years of the war, but there was
none of that during the Christmas of 1916. There was no cessation of
hostilities. The lines were held with the same keenness, and there was
considerable aerial and artillery activity throughout the day and night.
In fact, Christmas 'Somewhere in France' was born to the
accompaniment of the boom of