A soldier home on leave brought an interesting souvenir of the first 'Threapwood' hut, which did such good work in the Ploegsteert Woods, but was ultimately destroyed by shell-fire—a 2 franc and a 50 centimes piece which had become welded together in the heat of the conflagration. Another Tommy saw a fierce fight take place between British and Germans, actually inside the hut at Neuve Église. The incident that seemed to have appealed most strongly to his imagination was the fact that the pictures were still hanging on the walls. It is interesting to notice the curious freaks of dud shells. Outside the hut at Tilloy we saw one which had pierced its way through the trunk of a tree without exploding—the nose of the shell protruded at the other side of the trunk, the shell itself remaining firmly embedded in the tree.
An Australian officer one day sauntered into the 'Crystal Palace,' an important Y.M.C.A. centre in Havre. He was interested, and well he might be. It is a huge building, and swarms of men assemble there in the evenings. The Australian's interest took a practical form. Before leaving he handed two one-pound notes to the leader, expressing regret that he could not make it more, and adding, 'I think you Y.M.C.A. people will make a religious man of me before the war is over.' 'What do you mean?' said the secretary. 'Well,' said he, 'I have never had any use for religion, but at the battle of —— I felt down and out. I didn't care much if the Boche killed me. I had had nothing to eat for days—when suddenly a Y.M.C.A. man appeared, heaven knows where he came from, but he was there right enough, and he handed me a good hot drink, a packet of biscuits, and some cigarettes. Yes,' said he, 'I believe you Y.M.C.A. men will make a religious man of me before you have finished.'
In war-time people often forget their differences, and in Paris one of our splendid British soldiers, who was a Roman Catholic, lay badly wounded and terribly ill. He wanted to confess, but there was no English priest near. Ultimately a French priest confessed and absolved him through an American Y.M.C.A. lady—a Protestant—who acted as interpreter.
In the early days of the war a valued worker on Salisbury Plain was the grandson of a famous Cornish revivalist. He was an ordained man and a very strong Protestant. He went out to France later on as a chaplain of the United Board. Returning home on furlough, he called at Headquarters and told his experiences on the battlefield. 'You will be surprised,' said he, 'when I tell you that my greatest friend in Flanders was a Roman Catholic padre. He was one of the best men I ever knew, and we had an excellent working arrangement. On the battlefield if I came across any of his men, I would hand them on to him, and he would pass my men on to me. If he were not at hand, I would try my best to help the dying Roman Catholic soldier as I thought my friend would have helped him had he been there, and vice versa. I shall never forget,' said he, 'my last night in Flanders and our affectionate farewell. You know how strong a Protestant I have always been, and my convictions have never been stronger than they are to-day, but see this,'—and he unbuttoned his tunic and brought out a Crucifix which was hanging from his neck—'this was the parting gift of my Roman Catholic friend, and as long as I live I shall keep it as one of my most treasured possessions.'