St. Louis U. This year the setting was a quiet little village on the edge of France. Feeling properly sentimental, we went out at dusk and sang Christmas carols. The chaplain's assistant accompanied us on an accordion, and a continually growing cluster of villagers chimed in. I don't think I've ever heard it sung with more gusto and more feeling. Very probably, it was the first time they'd sung it in public in four years.
Darkness falls early here now, and the evening was still young when the caroling party broke up.
There was nothing left to do but to go up to our room and warm our toes and reminisce about Christmas past. His violin was tucked under his arm and he was carrying a big bowl of apples. Close behind him trailed his little old rosy-cheeked housekeeper. To his rather uncertain and squeaky violin, we sang the old carols all over again. For most of us, it has taken on a more personal significance now.