Benediction was given by a little Belgian who was doing chaplain’s work among the Canadians at Bramshott, while Father Knox, a recently converted Anglican clergyman, led the soldiers in singing the hymns. Little red hymn-books, which the English government had supplied the Catholic soldiers, were passed around to each soldier. It was a beautiful sight there on that English lawn, as all knelt grouped together, officer and soldier, priest, sister, while the white Host was raised to bless us all. Then the lads sang strongly and clearly that beautiful hymn, “Hail, Queen of Heaven,” that was sung so often during the war under many different conditions. The Irishmen sang it as they advanced to take a difficult position that the English had failed to take at Féstubert.
The Sisters dispensed hospitality; large teapots of tea and plates stacked high with thin slices of bread and butter, and baskets of thick slices of yellow cake with currants in it. Then in the evening the soldiers walked back to camp through winding foot-paths and over stiles.
I am sure there are many men scattered over the country who will remember gratefully the Sisters of the Cenacle at Grayshott. It must have inconvenienced them greatly, yet Sunday after Sunday, all during the war, soldiers went to the convent, and always the Sisters treated them most hospitably.
On Sundays, when the number of men present was not too large, Benediction was given in the Sisters’ chapel. It was a very pretty little chapel and on the altar, day and night, the Sacred Host was exposed for perpetual adoration; and always two Sisters knelt to adore. On the Gospel side of the altar stood a beautiful statue of the Blessed Virgin which was almost covered with the military badges worn by soldiers of the different battalions. In some way known to women the good Sisters had draped a mantle about the statue, and to this was pinned the badges of these modern knights.
After Benediction the lads would all come to a large room where tea would be served. Often among the little khaki-clad groups a Sister of the Cenacle would be seen standing, or sitting, listening to the stories told of the country far away across the seas. The Sisters wore a black habit, a small purple cape which reached to the elbows, and a white cap covered by a black veil, except for a one inch crimped border around the face. Sometimes, when it was time to leave the convent, a certain group would step forward to say good-bye to the Sisters and to ask their prayers. These would be men ordered to leave during the week as a draft for some battalion in the trenches. And the lads “would be remembered in the Sacred Presence there, where remembrances are sacred and each memory holds a prayer.” Day and night, as the Sisters knelt before the Lord and offered their continuous prayers for a world that seemed to have forgotten Him, special prayers were said for those whose badges hung on Our Lady’s mantle.
Chapter XVI
The Battalion is Broken Up
We were not in England three weeks when orders came for a draft of men to reinforce a battalion that had suffered severe losses at the front. In a few days one hundred and fifty men left for France. We thought at the time that reinforcements would soon come to us from Canada, but not much more than a week passed till we were called on for another draft. This time the order was that three hundred and fifty men be sent to the Eighty-seventh Battalion.
This second order came as a shock to us all. Many of the officers had been in the battalion for almost a year; they had watched it grow strong and numerous and had helped to form, the thing most essential in a battalion, an “esprit de corps.” I had never thought of going to the front except as a unit. The idea of our being broken up had never entered my mind, but before Christmas came our battalion had lost its identity as the One Hundred and Thirty-second Battalion, and the majority of the men had gone to join different units at the front. It was impossible for me to be with all my men, as there were no two drafts in the same brigade; still, I thought that I might be permitted to go as chaplain to the brigade in which was the largest number of my men, so I obtained permission to go to London to explain matters to the senior chaplain. He was very kind, but he said I must await my turn; there were other chaplains whose battalions had undergone the same process of annihilation as had mine. These must go first; work would be found for me in England till my turn would come to go to the front.
I returned to Bramshott Camp a somewhat wiser man as to the workings of things military. But as I sat in the cold first class compartment, with my feet on a stone hot water-bottle (seemingly this is the only way they heat the cars in England) my mind was busy with many things. One was that I never should have offered my services as chaplain had I foreseen the catastrophe which had befallen us. I had counted on being with my men till the last. Before leaving for overseas many of the mothers of the lads had come to me and had told me what a great consolation it was to them to have the assurance that a Catholic priest would be with their sons. Now I was not going with them; still, I had been convinced that the lads would be well cared for spiritually.
At Bramshott I became assistant for a time to the camp chaplain, Father John Knox.