We had hardly been "cushy" three days, when we were sent to hold a position on the left flank of an English battalion of what we believed to be the Sussex Regiment. It was just two days before Christmas when we took up this position. It was much quieter here. Snow had fallen during the night, giving the ground a sort of peaceful appearance, except for a few dark patches where some "Jack Johnsons" or "Black Marias" had landed toward dawn. (It was Christmas Day.) Just after "stand down," our mail was issued. It consisted mostly of parcels. Our part of the trench was very fortunate. Every man had at least two letters and as many parcels. I received three in the same handwriting and a two-pound box of chocolate almonds. Parcels containing socks, mittens, scarfs, etc., were pounced upon by all hands, as these articles were very much needed at this time. Next in importance came the cigarettes, of which we received a goodly supply. I need hardly say that we all tasted one another's luxuries--shortbread, chocolates, and currant cakes (which had to be eaten mostly with a spoon because of the rough handling they had had)--and we exchanged confidences about our letters whether they were from Miss Campbell, Mrs. Low, or Uncle Sandy. Every Tommy, every Jock, learns to know and to love his trench mate as a brother. The men in the "ditches" feel as if they all belonged to the one mother, sharing each other's confidences, both pleasant and sad. There is no selfishness--not even a thought of it--"over there." We were all sitting round the fire-steps of our trenches, thinking, ever thinking, and wondering how many of us would live to see the same sun rise on another Christmas Day. The sun was red. It appeared to be dripping-red--with blood, when a slight commotion started up along to the right. I grasped my rifle and at the same time looked round the little traverse. I saw a few chaps with their heads over the parapet--which seemed unwise and extremely dangerous. I thought we had been surprised by the Huns, and took a glance in the direction of their trenches, which looked as quiet as our own. But I could see thin lines of smoke rising up at irregular intervals from the fires they had built. Almost at the same instant my eye caught sight of a figure some six hundred yards to our right proceeding in the direction of the boches' trenches; and, to crown all, he was a British Tommy! I thought the man must have gone out of his mind, and when I looked at where he came from, it seemed as if the whole regiment was viewing the daring proceedings of this solitary individual "between the lines." At that part the trenches were much nearer than at ours. They seemed there about two hundred yards apart, while ours were about five hundred yards distant from Fritz.