I also had a watch-night service on New Year's Eve.

The theatre was almost filled with men--there were rows of them even in the gallery.
It was an inspiring sight, and we all felt we were beginning a year that was to decide the destinies of the Empire.

I told the men that somewhere in the pages of the book which we were opening that night lay hidden the tremendous secret of our success or failure.

At ten minutes to twelve we sat in silence, while the band played Chopin's Funeral March.

It was almost too moving, for once again the vision came before us of the terrible battle-fields of the Somme and the faces that had gone.