Western Mail, Thursday 29 June 1933, page 2
A Harmonious Interlude.
Dear "Non-Com." In September, ‘15, while holding that sector of Anzac under Hill 971, our worries were shared by those stout fellows, the Maoris who formed part of the New Zealand forces. My association with them always brings to mind a service conducted by their Maori padre in circumstances very strange, due to the peculiarities of our position, which was under the very nose of the Turk.
It was a lofty situation and looking seawards, the setting sun made a glory of the sky beyond Imbros between, riding at anchor, were the hospital ships, their twinkling lights of red and green reflected in the waters of the Aegean. All this made a setting in keeping with the beauty of the service.
The soft-voiced chant in the Maoris' native tongue echoed through the quiet of the evening and seemed to hush the guns to silence. Even the ever-watchful Turk, perhaps more in wonder than reverence, refrained from disturbing the harmony and peacefulness of the scene.
Though I understood not a word, my feelings responded to the occasion, and my mind was taken from the worries of fatigues, flies, and broomstick bombs until the service finished. Then the untuneful whine of a ricocheting bullet brought me back to earth. It was an unwelcome reminder that there was still a war on!