All day we worked in the Banquet Hall; all day long, with the exception of one or two short intervals, came the banqueters. At about half-past twelve a soldier came quickly into the cave calling loudly, “R. C. chaplain!” I stood up and went in the direction from which the voice had come.
“Quick, sir!” said the soldier. “The M. O. of the Fourteenth says one of your men is hit and for you to come quick.” Without delay I followed my guide down the tunnel till we came to the medical aid post of the Fourteenth. There, lying on a table with the doctor of the Fourteenth Battalion working over him was one of the Catholic lads of the Thirteenth bleeding in many places from a number of wounds. He had stepped out from the cave for a minute and had been caught in the enemy fire. “Is it long since you’ve been to confession, lad?” I said. He looked at me through clear eyes, though he was in great pain. “Just about an hour ago, Father,” he said. The doctor whispered in my ear, “He’s going, Padre,” so I put on my stole and prepared the lad for death. I always carried the Holy Oils in my pocket. Just as I finished anointing the dying soldier one of his friends was admitted for a last word.
“What will I tell your people at home?” asked the friend, who was a Protestant.
“Tell them—” he labored a little for breath—“tell them,” he repeated, “I had the priest!”
Shortly afterwards he was taken by ambulance to the Field Ambulance at Agnez-lez-Duisans, and the following morning he died.
I returned to New Plymouth cave and there I found Father Sheehan very busy, for the Fourteenth Battalion was now coming. We heard them quickly, however, as it was but a few days since they had come to confession at Chateau de la Haie.
That evening, after the last man had left, Father Sheehan came over to me. “Father,” he said, “wasn’t it a great day’s work?”
I could scarcely speak for the great joy I felt. There had been such consolation throughout the whole day! Great things had been done for our Divine Lord, who had waited all day long in the dimly-lighted cave, giving His deep, sweet peace to the souls of these lads of “good will.” Centuries before He had come to another cave, when “glad tidings” had been announced to the shepherds.
“Yes, Father,” I said, “it was one of the happiest days of my life.”
Then, simultaneously, we thought of the things of earth. It was time to go back to Agnez-lez-Duisans, for, with the exception of one slice of bread and margarine between us, we had eaten nothing since early morning. It was now evening.