In the evening we held a united service. When the Presbyterian
gave the address the service was Anglican, and next Sunday the service
would be Presbyterian and the Church of England chaplain spoke. We took
our funerals to that so quickly growing cemetery with its six hundred
little wooden crosses, separately, though up the road those from the
other clearing station were taken by each chaplain on alternate days,
irrespective of denomination. We dispensed the Sacrament of the Lord's
Supper to our own people, using the beautiful little Communion set
issued by the War Office, and having as Table a stretcher covered with a
white cloth and set on trestles.
The drawing power of nationality is immense in the field. It is far more
emphatic and real than the sense of particular church connection. Even
men very loyal to their own branch of the Presbyterian Church, for
example, lay little emphasis on that in their minds. They delight in
meeting a Scots doctor or Scots padre. He understands all the twined
fibres of tradition and training that go to make up their character.
Every man, too, likes to worship according to the forms that he is
familiar with.
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