"'Come on, Smith, you're missing one of the best Christmas dinners of your life."
"Our Sergeant entered the dugout. One look at his face was enough. We knew he was the bearer of ill tidings.
"With tears in his eyes and a catch in his voice, he asked:
"'Which is Smith's pack?'
"We all solemnly nodded our heads in the direction of the vacant place. Without a word the Sergeant picked up the letters, parcels and pack and started to leave the dugout.
"Sailor Bill could stand it no longer, and just as the Sergeant was about to leave he asked:
"'Out with it, Sergeant, what's happened?'
"The Sergeant turned around, and, in a choking voice, said:
"'Boys, Smith's gone West. Some bloody German sniper got him through the napper as he was passing that bashed-in part in Yiddish Street.'