Next morning I took the train back to the MHICE, and it was very soothing to see the New Forest again. There was a car waiting for me at the station and I arrived to find that everyone was feeling much better. The House had been decorated for Christmas, families had arrived to spend the holiday with their offspring and siblings, and despite the unseasonably mild weather there was a distinct buzz around the place.

Next day was the carol service, so I was away during the afternoon, and returned after dark. I noticed the lights in the rotunda and remembered Mister Brown. I had a little present for him, so I picked it up from The Stables and went straight over to the Rotunda to deliver it.

I suppose I startled him, for I do walk very quietly. At one place where I taught for a while they had me wear a little bell so as to be more noticeable. I saw that he was working away on his device, and so reached out to put the little parcel on the desk. He must have leapt a foot in the air, and cried out, and then everything went dark.

I fell several feet into a hole, and then stayed very still. There were voices at a little distance, some were speaking English, and some, rather closer were German, saying nothing very significant, but the shock of the smell was dreadful. It was cold, but the air was heavy with the smell of death.
‘Mister Brown?’ I enquired quietly, but there was no reply.
There was no light, I could not see a hand in front of my eyes, but I had a strong sense that I would not want to see what there might be in this hole. However, I eventually remembered that I had a small torch in my bag, and found it, turned it on, and then turned it off again. I moved, very cautiously, to a piece of plank that was wedged across the hole, and sat there for a while. The hole opened out in front of me and there was more air there.

The thought came to my mind that if Mister Brown was looking for me, even if he had the right time and place, he would have difficulty in locating this hole.
There was a shout from the German side, and an Englishman shouted back ‘Merry Christmas, Fritz.’
I was beginning to feel that I might not be eating Christmas dinner at home, and I had a bit of a weep at the thought of being stuck out of my time, or maybe even being killed in that dreadful place, when I thought I heard Mister Brown’s voice, though very faintly and from some distance. I put away my handkerchief.
There was no sense in shouting ‘over here’ when sitting in the middle of no man’s land, which is what I suspected might be the case. It is just part of the natural perversity of things that when moved through time it would not be to a summer afternoon in a hay meadow with skylarks and cuckoos.
It then dawned on me that singing might be a good idea. My voice is pitched low, and I can sing in the upper range of a tenor quite easily, and as the German voices seemed to be closer than the English ones, a rendition of Silent Night in German might just do the trick, as long as Mister Brown remembered that I had been practising that carol.
There was more shouting between the lines of trenches, and then a silence – so I took that as my cue.

I sang.

To my surprise – and relief, several voices joined in, some in German and some in English, the song spread along on either side of my hole. I turned on my little torch and pointed it along the hole, first in front, and then behind me, but there was nothing I wanted to see.
I was coming to the end of the carol, but I felt calmer by then, in fact by the end of the last line I felt quite peaceful. I had no doubt that my skills at crossing no man’s land were exactly zero when wearing a light grey outfit that would be as good a white in the night.