On account of what happened, I recall one of those Sunday mornings in particular. I had noticed, standing among the officers of one of the battalions drawn up in the church parade, an elderly man wearing ordinary blue civilian trousers and a military khaki shirt and helmet. He wore a leather belt but no coat. I no sooner saw him than I said to myself: “An old soldier!” And as I vested for the Holy Sacrifice the question came flashing across my mind again and again: Who can he be? What war was he in? When I turned after the Communion to address the men, there he was standing, well in front with the officers. He listened very attentively to my sermon, which was on the text, “Son, give me thy heart.” Towards the end I said a few words about Our Lady, because it was the Sunday within the octave of the Assumption. I told the lads to run to their Mother in all their trials; to be Knights of Our Lady, to think of her especially during their long hours of sentry duty at night, and never to let a day go by without saying her beads.
Then, after I had given my blessing and had turned to unvest before my little portable altar, my “old soldier” came forward and introduced himself. He was a judge from my home province, and he would be glad if I would permit him to say a few words to the men. I was very pleased that he should do so. A word was said to the officers in charge and the men were called to attention.
The judge stood up on the rifle box that I had just vacated, and there in God’s beautiful out of doors, with the great green mountains looking up to their Creator in silent humility, this old Catholic gentleman spoke to the lads in a wonderfully clear voice of their Mother and his Mother. It was very edifying to hear this educated Catholic layman speak so. He concluded with a few words about the Mass. “I have assisted at Mass,” he said, “in many large cathedrals in different countries; but, I think, never with such devotion as I have this morning here in the open air before your little altar placed on the rifle boxes, and God’s beautiful sky and sunlight above us. After all, gentlemen, it is the Mass that counts; the changing of the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ. God could do it and God did do it.” When the old man finished I could not but say gratefully: “God bless you, judge,” for I felt that his words would do very much good.
Chapter VII
A Little Indignation
The time passed quickly for me, though I think for most of the men it went slowly; they seemed always restless, always longing to get to the front. They used to come to me often with their little grievances. They seemed to think that their troubles would disappear once they reached training-camp overseas.
I remember one Sunday, after I had finished Mass and the last company had marched off the field, two soldiers came forward from somewhere and saluted. One of them, the taller of the two, acted as chief spokesman. “Father,” he said, “we have not heard Mass today. We were ordered to go to the Protestant service.” Excitement flashed in his eyes. “The service is just over, Father, and we slipped over here to tell you.”
It was strictly against K. R. & O. to order Catholics to a non-Catholic service. The lads did not belong to my battalion, but to a construction battalion that had but lately come to camp. Headquarters of this battalion were not far away, so I did not wait for my breakfast, but obeyed the first impulse and went immediately to the training square of the No. — Construction Co. The church parade was over and the chaplain had just finished packing his books and was preparing to leave the field with the adjutant. I asked the chaplain if the Catholics had been ordered to attend the service. “Yes,” he said, and then went on to explain that it was a universal church service and that all the men had been ordered to attend.
I asked him to look up a book entitled K. R. & O. I told him that it was a serious offense that had been committed; that my men had a right to attend their own service; that there was no such thing known in the army as a universal church parade.
When they saw they had made a mistake both chaplain and adjutant were very apologetic. Shortly after this, when the battalion was to leave for overseas, the chaplain wrote me a note asking me to hear the confessions of the Catholics. I think they came to a man; two other chaplains came to help me. This construction battalion was composed mostly of men who had moved quite a lot over different parts of the world, and had grown a little slack in the observance of their religious duties. Big things were done for Our Lord that night. Perhaps many would have passed the summer without even coming to Mass had not this great indignity been offered them.
So the days passed quickly, and then one evening word came that we were to leave—but only for another camp. There was great rejoicing at first, for the lads thought that orders for “Overseas” had come.