After that, whenever a non-Catholic sister told me that a Catholic lad had need of my ministrations in her ward, I told her how well the last sister had prepared locker, etc., and invariably the following morning, when I went in silence to the bedside, I found that all things had been made ready.
Chapter XXXVI
More Orders
December came. During the first week of that month I prepared my hut to stand the cold of the winter months and began to look forward to a time of relative repose after the past five months of strenuous work. The fighting was not to be so intense during the winter, therefore there would not be so many casualties. I had been given a fine little coal stove, and I was beginning to enjoy coming into the hut at night to be greeted by its cheerful red glow. There were worse places to dwell in, I told myself, than a burlap hut with a coal fire burning in it. I was looking forward to peaceful winter evenings with books to read, or perhaps a few hours writing, when one evening just before dinner a knock sounded on the door and an officer stepped into my hut. I had never seen him before. He looked at me somewhat strangely for a second or two, then asked if I had not been expecting him, “for,” he said, “I am Captain Hawke, the new R. C. chaplain to No. 7 Canadian General Hospital. You are to go up the line.”
For just a second a faint dizziness came over me, and the vision of bright coal fires faded from before my mind and I thought, with considerable falling of spirits, of winter in the trenches.
I shook hands with the new chaplain and then I told him I had not been expecting him, and that so far no orders had come to me to report at the front. Just as I spoke, however, another knock sounded on the door, and before I had time to open it an orderly entered and passed me a D. R. L. S. letter: I was to report at the Seventy-fifth Battalion the following day.
So on the morning of December 11th, 1917, I left No. 7 with real regret. I had always found the doctors very friendly and they had shown me many kindnesses. I had grown to love my work in the hospital, and the peace and quiet of the little marquee chapel at No. 1 Can. Gen. after the day’s work was done. Now, I must break new ground!
It was a cold morning when I took my place on the seat of the ambulance alongside the driver. The waiters crowded about the door of the mess—the doctors had not yet come from their huts—and one of them, an old Scotchman wearing a glengarry, who had already seen service up the line, stepped forward and patted me on the back and wished me “guid luck.” Then the ambulance leaped into high gear and we were off to the station.
There were certain formalities to be gone through at the military station at Etaples: certain papers had to be shown to the R. T. O. and instructions received from him. It did not take long to give my instructions. I was to take the train on No. 9 track. I was to detrain at Calonne-Ricouart; there I would receive further instructions.
There was a great crowd of troopers on my train who leaned from car windows and sang merrily as the train passed through French villages. Then, I remember, as we stopped at one village, I heard in the distance the sound of the guns, and always as we advanced came clearer and clearer the deep booming. For the first time I heard sounds of the actual conflict of the World War.
An officer whom I had met on the train accompanied me to the staging camp, which was but a short distance from the station at Calonne-Ricouart. I presented my papers at the little office. The orderly room clerk looked at me quickly. “Why, sir,” he said, “you’re in luck! The Seventy-fifth Battalion is just a few yards up the road. Better stay here for lunch, then I’ll send a runner with you.”